Chapter 94: The Golden Compass

I kicked the wooden plank of the cabin. Damn it, the door didn’t budge at all.

Qi Qiqi, annoyed, gave it a powerful kick and sent the entire door flying open. With my face covered, I charged forward and roared, “How dare you rob women and children!”

The leading Japanese ghost crawled swiftly and lunged at me in an instant.

A-Lang and Ma Ruoxing were stunned—where did this masked hero come from?

Without a word, I grabbed the bucket behind the cabin, which had been serving as a makeshift toilet, and dumped its contents like pouring beans. Ma Ruoxing had relieved himself in that very bucket at noon, and A-Lang was even more familiar with it, having stood on it leisurely many times.

Before the Japanese ghost could react, it was showered with white toilet paper, leaves, and a mix of yellow, black, and greenish filth.

The ghost, tainted by the foulness, rolled on the ground once before dropping dead.

Abe Lips was so furious he nearly cried, and the stench only made his tears flow harder. A-Lang couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up. “Mr. Abe, your emotions are truly moving—I’ve never seen such a scene in my life…”

Just as he spoke, a green leaf used for wiping floated up and landed right on his mouth, effectively silencing him.

I flung the bucket toward Abe Lips and yelled, “Screw you! Brothers, charge! Drown them in night soil!”

Abe Lips dodged the flying bucket and, hearing that more filth was coming, hastily retreated.

Ma Ruoxing shouted, “Master, someone of your status mustn’t be sullied by such filth… Hurry, go wash your mouth first. Let me chase them!”

He turned and bolted outside with Qi Qiqi—or rather, Qi Qiqi was the one dragging me along.

“If I hadn’t come to check if you were dead, I wouldn’t have been caught by that disgusting Japanese,” Qi Qiqi snapped.

My heart warmed—she had willingly come to help me.

Ma Ruoxing chased after us, yelling, “Where do you think you’re going?” I shot back while running, “You hypocrite!”

Seeing we were getting away, Ma Ruoxing shouted, “Xiao Qi, I know it’s you!”

I reached the taxi and spat, “I misjudged you.”

Ma Ruoxing replied, “Xiao Qi, I’m trying to avenge your grandfather. Be careful and leave now.”

I laughed. “Don’t lie to me—I’m not that gullible. My grandfather didn’t want me to seek revenge because I wasn’t capable yet. You’re colluding with the Japanese for that seventy or eighty thousand…”

The adrenaline from the chase had completely sobered me up. I started the car and sped off, leaving Ma Ruoxing standing in the middle of the road, watching from afar.

Qi Qiqi exhaled in relief. “I’ve never met anyone so disgusting in my life. Just… ugh.”

She cursed, thoroughly repulsed. By the time we returned to the city, it was already 3 a.m.

Bai Yueming was hungry again. I scavenged some leftover chicken blood from the Zhonghua Qing barbecue shop and fed him several rounds.

He drank it all, though his subsequent bowel movements reeked horribly. Pinching my nose, I collected the waste in a small bottle—it would definitely come in handy later.

I warned Qi Qiqi again, “Staying with me is dangerous. Leave at dawn tomorrow.”

She scoffed, “Without me, you’d already be dead.”

I shook my head. “Even if you’re a taekwondo master, it won’t help. Do you know what I just hit with that bucket? A crawling Japanese ghost—invisible to you but deadly. And that monk? He’s even weirder. If he unleashes his twin-headed ghost infant, you’re finished.”

Qi Qiqi froze. “Are you joking? Such things don’t exist.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “And that Abe Lips has taken a liking to you. You should leave.”

She shrugged. “You handle the ghosts. I’ll handle the humans—one kick per head.”

We finally slept at 4 a.m. By 9 the next morning, a text arrived: “To save Xie Lingyu, go to the Golden Triangle.”

The sender was an unknown number. When I called back, it was disconnected.

The Golden Triangle, where Thailand, Myanmar, and Laos intersect, is infamous for drug production due to its climate and terrain. Despite Thailand’s crackdowns, the trade persists like an incurable cancer, with entire villages relying on poppy cultivation.

These drugs flow north into China and south to Hong Kong, Europe, and North America. The staggering profits fuel warlords and cartels, their networks tangled like lice on a dog.

The rugged mountains and rivers create dead zones for modern transport, making large-scale military operations nearly impossible—a natural shield for drug lords.

If you hate someone, send them to the Golden Triangle.

I couldn’t wait. Had Xie Lingyu been taken there? I quickly packed supplies, bringing Bai Yueming along. Qi Qiqi, fascinated by the Golden Triangle’s notoriety, insisted on joining.

The place from movies was now within reach. Heading north from Chiang Mai, the subtropical rainforest unfolded before us.

The Thai government encouraged alternative crops, but satellite scans still detected roughly 200,000 acres of poppy fields.

In Chiang Rai, the gateway to the Golden Triangle, I spotted Ruan Nan in a car—now wearing leather shoes and a shirt, a far cry from his old liberation shoes. I ducked out of sight as his jeep sped past.

With him was Zeng Jie, Zuo Shan’s disciple, who looked reluctant.

For two days in a Chiang Rai guesthouse, no further messages came. The Golden Triangle was vast—where to even start looking?

Qi Qiqi mused, “Poppies are beautiful. It’s people’s greed that taints them.”

I chuckled. “Most growers have no choice. No crops mean starvation. Survival isn’t about right or wrong—just necessity.”

She hadn’t known the desperation behind the trade.

At dusk, I bought a gun from a local Thai-Chinese man—a worn, unreliable piece.

On the third day, Qi Qiqi returned with baby clothes, tense. “Guess who I saw?”

The basket held bottles of blood mixed with formula, which Bai Yueming had grown accustomed to, though his waste smelled less foul now.

“Who?” I asked.

She shuddered. “Those three psychopaths. I barely dodged them. They seemed in a hurry—what are they up to?”

If Abe Lips sought General Dai, was he hiding in a Golden Triangle village?

Qi Qiqi, now dressed masculinely with a black cap, had gone unnoticed. Still, I worried they might’ve tailed her.

I pulled her aside, checking the window for followers. She stumbled, nearly crashing into me before hitting the wall, annoyed.

Just then, a knock. The door revealed only a box.

Wary of bombs or bugs, I hesitated until Qi Qiqi teased, “Man up.”

Inside gleamed a golden object—blinding at first.

A round disk, its brass edges aged, glass polished clean, engraved with intricate characters and a spinning needle.

Qi Qiqi gasped. “What is this? Some con artist’s prop?”

I examined it closely. “Gold-plated center… It’s a compass.”

A golden compass.