Searching for someone in northern Myanmar, and you call that earning tuition fees?

Outside the carriage, the sound of snowmobile engines was like a pack of hungry wolves circling around.

The searchlight beam swept across the car window every few seconds, casting a pale white spot in the dark compartment before quickly disappearing.

Su Ming squatted down in front of Ivan and pulled out a new stack of documents from his canvas bag.

Su Ming politely began, "Sir, I haven't asked your name yet."

Ivan gritted his teeth, his face deathly pale, the excruciating pain in his arm causing the veins on his forehead to bulge. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle at his side, each breath pulling at the dislocated joint, making his temples throb with pain.

"Ivan... Ivan Sokolov," he uttered through gritted teeth.

"Very good." Su Ming nodded, took out a ballpoint pen from the side pocket of his canvas bag, and quickly filled in the document: "Russian nationality, Level 3 combat squad leader of the Arctic Fox Mercenary Group, employment relationship is... well, it should be outsourced."

He wrote and read aloud, like a bank teller checking customer information.

"age?"

Ivan didn't answer, but stared at him intently.

"I'd guess between thirty-five and forty." Su Ming filled in a number on the form. "Weight is about 105 kilograms, height is 1.92 meters. Hmm, BMI is on the high side, I suggest eating less red meat."

Ah Xue huddled in the corner of her bunk, staring at the scene before her, her mind blank.

"What...what is he doing?" Ah Xue asked in a low voice.

Old Zhao, with a pill in his mouth, spoke indistinctly, with a numbness that seemed to have seen through the world: "Going through the procedures, completing the formalities. Before the King of Hell takes someone, he has to make them sign the Book of Life and Death first, and our Teacher Su is no exception."

Ah Xue opened her mouth, then closed it again.

She looked down at the brown stain left by the quick-acting heart pill that Old Zhao had given her in her palm, and suddenly realized that she hadn't taken enough.

"Mr. Sokolov." Su Ming finished filling out the form, looked up, and gave a professional, standard smile. "Based on what just happened, I need to confirm an account with you."

Ivan's eyelid twitched.

"The three of you carried out an attempted armed attack on our personnel on the train." Su Ming counted on his fingers, "According to Article 91 of the Convention on International Railway Transport, the indirect economic losses caused by the unjustified interruption of train transport, plus the actions of those seventeen motorcycles outside forcing the train to stop—"

He quickly wrote a string of numbers in the blank space of the document.

"Three hundred thousand US dollars."

Ivan's lips twitched.

"That's a conservative estimate," Su Ming added. "If we include the emotional distress compensation, lost wages, and the cost of Uncle Zhao's nitroglycerin pills—"

"He doesn't need to pay for my medicine!" Old Zhao cried out anxiously from behind. "It's my own life!"

"Uncle Zhao, you've already eaten eleven today." Su Ming didn't even turn his head. "At the market price of two yuan and thirty cents per piece, plus the premium from polar logistics, we need to calculate this clearly."

Old Zhao choked.

Upon hearing these words, Ivan had only one thought in his mind—the advantage was in my hands.

Thirty-four fully armed brothers were outside, armed with AK-12s, snowmobiles, and searchlights.

What makes him so calm?

"You're wasting your time," Ivan said through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse. "When my brothers storm in, I'll shove this contract down your throat."

Su Ming was not angry at all; instead, he showed an understanding expression.

"I know you don't have money." His smile widened. "A level three squad leader's monthly salary is about eight to twelve thousand US dollars. After deducting equipment depreciation and insurance, you only get six or seven thousand. Three hundred thousand US dollars, you'd have to save for four years without eating or drinking."

Ivan's expression darkened further.

It wasn't because of the pain, but because the number was calculated too accurately.

Su Ming pulled out a new contract from the stack of documents, unfolded it, and laid it out in front of Ivan.

"That's why I've prepared this Debt Transfer Agreement for you."

He picked up the contract, pointed to the key clauses with the tip of his pen, and patiently persuaded, "Once you sign it, this $300,000 debt will be legally and compliantly transferred from your personal head to your employer—that oligarch."

Su Ming patted the contract, his tone so sincere that it didn't sound like he was threatening anyone.

"See how considerate I am of you?"

Ivan stared at the contract and remained silent for a few seconds.

He wasn't stupid; whether he signed the contract or not was completely irrelevant to him. It was just a piece of paper; once the outsiders stormed in, the student and his worthless document would become worthless.

Sign it, let this madman have his fun. They won't live past tonight anyway.

"Pen," Ivan uttered a single word.

Su Ming shoved the pen into his left hand.

Ivan signed his name shakily, then gave a cold laugh: "Satisfied now?"

"Very satisfied." Su Ming carefully put the contract away, blowing on the ink stains as if handling a precious work of art. "Mr. Sokolov, thank you for your cooperation."

He put the contract into the waterproof lining of his canvas bag and zipped it up.

Then, his expression changed, and his eyes turned cold.

"Now, pick up the walkie-talkie." Su Ming handed the captured walkie-talkie to Ivan's mouth. "Tell the people outside that the target has jumped out of the car and is escaping east."

Ivan stared intently at Su Ming, his eyes darting around.

He got it.

This is to make him a traitor.

"If I tell..." Ivan's voice was hoarse, "they'll kill me."

"If you don't tell me," Su Ming smiled, "guess what will happen next?"

Ah Xue was nearly in tears in the corner, whispering, "He won't tell! He's a professional mercenary! They're disciplined! Betrayal has consequences worse than death!"

Old Zhao nodded in agreement, the nitroglycerin pill in his mouth almost completely dissolved: "Yes! These bastards are all desperate criminals, they'd rather die than—"

"Snap!"

A crisp sound of bones realigning rang out.

Amidst the horrified gazes of the crowd, Su Ming grasped Ivan's dislocated arm, twisted and pushed with his wrist, and put the joint back in place.

The excruciating pain disappeared, and a warm, tingling sensation spread throughout my arm.

Ivan was stunned, sweating profusely as he looked at his arm, which had returned to normal; his fingers could move, and his joints could bend.

"See, I told you I've studied bone setting." Su Ming's hand was still on his elbow, his thumb gently rubbing the gaps in his joint. "If I can set it, I can naturally use many methods to take it apart again."

"for example--"

Su Ming suddenly exerted force with his thumb, pushing it in the opposite direction of the joint!

"Ugh—!"

Ivan let out a suppressed groan as the joint that had just been repositioned dislocated again! And this time the angle was even more tricky than before, doubling the pain!

Old Zhao almost dropped his thermos.

Ah Xue covered her mouth.

"This is the second time." Su Ming's voice was completely flat. "After repeated dislocations, the ligaments in a person's elbow joint will gradually loosen. The third and fourth times, it will become easier and easier to dislocate. By the seventh time, your arm will basically be useless."

He then grasped Ivan's arm.

"Click." (Continued.)

Ivan shuddered, his shirt soaked with cold sweat.

"Snap." It's taken apart.

"ah--!"

"Click." (Continued.)

"Snap." It's taken apart.

"Aaaaaah—!"

Old Zhao, watching from behind, turned green with fright. He whirled around, feeling as if the nitroglycerin pills he'd just taken were about to vomit from the shock. Trembling, he pulled out his blister pack and shoved three pills into his mouth in one gulp, muttering, "What a terrible thing to do, Amitabha..."

Ah Xue was speechless. She gripped the edge of the bunk tightly, her knuckles white, and her eyes were filled with pure fear as she looked at Su Ming.

This person...

He set the bones with a smile, he disassembled them with a smile, he set them again with a smile, and he disassembled them again with a smile.

The expression on his face didn't change from beginning to end.

"This is the fifth time." Su Ming released his grip, his tone gentle. "You have two more chances left. Have you thought it through?"

Ivan was deathly pale, his lips were bleeding from being bitten, and he was drenched in cold sweat, looking utterly disheveled. His right arm was completely numb, hanging limply at his side, his fingers twitching uncontrollably.

"I... I'll say it." Ivan's voice sounded like a breath squeezed out from deep in his throat.

"Very good." Su Ming picked up the walkie-talkie, but did not hand it over directly.

"However, before you speak," Su Ming's gaze fell on Ivan's Adam's apple, "I have a little reminder."

Ivan raised his bloodshot eyes.

"I spoke to someone outside using your walkie-talkie in the private room before." Su Ming shook the walkie-talkie. "That time, I spoke myself because they hadn't heard my voice before, so impersonating your team member wasn't a problem. But the situation is different now—your commander is waiting for a report from 'Viper' himself. No matter how fluent my Russian is, my voiceprint can't fool your superior who has worked with you for many years."

Ivan's pupils contracted slightly.

"So this time, you have to say it yourself." Su Ming held the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "But I also know that your line of work has a code system."

He paused.

"By the way, I've seen a few declassified reports on the conflict in Eastern Europe, and they mentioned an interesting set of '11 tactical codes'," Su Ming's voice sounded like he was discussing an academic matter. "For example, adding two bullet sounds before the prefix indicates being captured and requesting assistance. Although this system is old, the Arctic Fox's communications manual should still retain this tradition, right?"

Ivan's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Furthermore," Su Ming continued, "if you deliberately emphasize the third syllable during your report, according to NATO standard communication protocols, that means 'the information is unreliable.'"

The private room was eerily quiet.

Ivan stared at Su Ming, his lips trembling.

It's not because of pain.

It's because of fear.

What the hell kind of monster is this?

He's a finance student? How would he know code number 11? How would he know NATO communication protocols? Even many active-duty special forces personnel might not know these things!

"I advise you to speak more clearly before you speak," Su Ming's voice echoed in the darkness. "I will understand everything you say and how you say it. I will check every syllable for you."

He held the walkie-talkie to Ivan's mouth.

What the hell kind of monster is this?

Ivan's Adam's apple bobbed. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the struggle in them was gone.

"Yes... I understand."

The burly man finally couldn't take it anymore; cold sweat rolled down his forehead and splattered onto the floor.