The moon was bright and the stars sparse, the ocean was a gray blur with nothing visible, only the sound of waves hitting the cargo ship, like a high-pitched symphony. The clear wind howled with a strong ocean scent. The cargo ship was silent, except for the light in the bridge, surrounded by armed guards in black suits, short hair, hands crossed on their abdomen, holding a pistol, vigilantly watching the surroundings, their eyes shining with a cold light. Remaining highly alert at such a time showed how extraordinary these people were.
On a container not far from the bridge, Little Lang lay quietly, motionless, even slowing his breathing as much as possible, not daring to exhale loudly for fear of disturbing these people. Through the sniper scope, Little Lang had grasped the positions and numbers of these people, not daring to move, waiting for the right moment.
