Chapter 67: The Crow Protects the Undercover
Seabirds kept feeding them information—one update after another—pinpointing the enemy’s location for Lin Jiangye and the orca matriarch beneath him.
When they were still ten nautical miles from the ships, Lin Jiangye patted the matriarch’s head, signaling her to surface with him.
She didn’t really understand why, but she still complied obediently.
Soon, on the vast open sea, several humans riding orcas appeared above the waterline.
“What is it, Advisor Lin?” Of the six people who had gone down with him, four were the same men who had been assigned to stay close—protecting him and looking after him. The other two were new; they hadn’t personally witnessed Lin Jiangye’s abilities before. But with lives on the line, they had chosen to trust his plan.
And after being carried by orcas—shooting forward underwater at an unbelievable speed—they no longer doubted him in the slightest.
Now, even if he suddenly said “Stop,” no one would question it.
Lin Jiangye removed his oxygen mask and raised his hand toward the sky. A familiar crow swooped down and landed neatly on his forearm.
“How is it?”
The others looked confused—until the crow burst into rapid ga-ga chatter.
Oh. So that question wasn’t for them at all.
Opal was reporting what it had seen on the twenty boats:
“About eighty of them are carrying long black guns. I can’t tell if there are more than that. And I saw ten people wearing masks and gloves—those should be the black-hearted doctors you mentioned. Oh, and! They don’t just have twenty boats.”
Those twenty were the fishing boats on the surface. But alongside them hung a whole cluster of inflatable dinghies.
If danger came, the crew could set the entire fishing boat on fire and flee on the dinghies.
Lin Jiangye’s face darkened. The undercover agents hadn’t mentioned this. Was it because they hadn’t seen it—or because the dinghies were added only after they boarded?
“How many inflatables?” he asked.
Opal tried hard to remember.
“Um… maybe… seven or eight? Ten? Around that?”
It hadn’t dared get too close, so it hadn’t counted precisely. But for Lin Jiangye, a rough range was enough.
One inflatable could probably carry five or six people. Even ten dinghies wouldn’t be enough to evacuate everyone on board.
Meaning: the fishing boats likely had other escape plans as well.
“Inflatables, huh…” Lin Jiangye gave a cold little snort. He had no intention of letting them escape. He instructed Opal to take some smaller birds and destroy those dinghies first.
After Opal flew off, the others finally voiced their concern. “But if we need dinghies later to evacuate the victims… what do we do without them?”
“What do we do?” Lin Jiangye patted the massive orca beneath him. “Same as us.”
Even with every dinghy, you still couldn’t move everyone at once. But they had orcas.
The shortest orca in the pod was still six or seven meters long—easily enough space for more than ten people on its back.
Wasn’t that far more useful than a rubber boat?
“Right?” Lin Jiangye smiled as he patted the matriarch again.
The matriarch had nothing to say to that. Carrying ten humans was indeed no trouble at all.
Still, she pretended to hesitate—then answered slowly, with deliberate gravity:
“That’s a different price.”
“Deal.”
With the orcas as backup, no one had to worry that destroying the dinghies would trap the victims.
Meanwhile, Opal followed orders. It found a group of young gulls and storm-petrel chicks and led them quietly toward the fishing boats with the inflatables attached.
There were simply too many birds around. The people on the boats had stopped paying attention. They never noticed what those “chicks” were actually doing.
Even as juveniles, their beaks and claws were sharp enough. They scratched and tore again and again, leaving long gouges.
Later, those dinghies wouldn’t just be unusable—they wouldn’t even hold air.
“Hehe! We did it!” Opal shot back into the sky at once, avoiding discovery.
Some chicks, inspired by Opal, got bolder. One even slipped into a fishing boat’s interior. A crewman glanced at it and ignored it.
A tiny chick—what could it possibly do?
Using that neglect, the chick memorized the layout and movement patterns inside.
Soon, Lin Jiangye’s side was receiving more and more information. By the time they were closing in, he had control of most key details:
Which boats were mainly transporting “piglets,”
which boats were dedicated to organ-harvesting surgeries,
which boats carried the largest stockpiles of weapons.
Then Tourmaline brought a shocking update:
“Dad! The crow found the undercover agents!”
Lin Jiangye froze.
“Wait—what? How did you find them?” Even the other maritime officers with him jolted in disbelief.
How could a raven identify an undercover agent? Did Advisor Lin already know who the undercover agents were?
Impossible.
Only Lin Xia knew their identities—there was no way he would reveal that at a moment like this.
“Don’t look at me—I don’t know anything either… wait.” Lin Jiangye suddenly remembered something. It might be exactly why Tourmaline recognized them.
The officers stared, baffled, as Lin Jiangye covered his face—oddly embarrassed.
“Tourmaline has met an undercover officer before,” he admitted. He did not mention that the man now lived in his home.
Tourmaline knew the word “undercover,” but didn’t truly understand what it meant. So before the operation, during a casual chat, Lin Jiangye had explained it:
“An undercover officer is someone who hides among bad people—pretending to be a victim or one of them—so they can get close to the criminal hub, gather evidence, and send it back to the police to dismantle the whole operation.”
The officers nodded. Yes. That was correct.
Then little Tourmaline had asked: what’s the biggest difference between an undercover officer and other humans?
Lin Jiangye had answered:
“Anyone chosen for undercover work must endure hardship and humiliation. If they’ve held out this long without turning, their conviction must be incredibly strong. And what is that conviction? Justice. Law. Their people.”
Animals sense things far more sharply than humans.
While the other birds caused a commotion outside, Tourmaline deliberately slipped into the ship compartments for a look.
It didn’t check every compartment—only about half.
And in that half, it found two people who seemed like undercover agents.
“You’re sure you didn’t mistake them?” Lin Jiangye trusted Tourmaline not to fabricate things, but it could still misjudge.
“Of course not!” Tourmaline bristled instantly, feathers flaring in outrage.
“When they looked at me from inside the cages, their eyes were calm—different from everyone else. And when I hadn’t shown myself, they were still quietly watching their surroundings. They’re not like the rest.”
If every boat had people like that, Tourmaline wouldn’t be so confident. But after checking nearly ten boats and seeing only those two? The odds were high.
“Alright. Even if they are undercover—why did you find them? What are you planning to do?” Lin Jiangye was curious what his little bird had in mind.
Tourmaline pressed close to his ear, awkwardly fidgeting, then whispered hoarsely:
“I want to protect them. I don’t want them to end up like Uncle Jiang.”
Lin Jiangye had been thinking—no one else could understand Tourmaline anyway, so “whispering” was almost pointless.
But the moment he heard that line, his heart lurched.
“Uncle Jiang” meant Jiang Xin.
Most of Jiang Xin’s disability had come from years of fighting and holding the line while undercover.
As the first human ever invited into the Lin household, Jiang Xin’s place in their world was different from everyone who came later.
Tourmaline liked him. After learning from Opal how Jiang Xin had been targeted for revenge by traffickers, it had felt even more protective.
“Love me, love my dog,” was suddenly—absurdly—true for a raven.
Because Jiang Xin had once been undercover, and had once walked straight into hell for his belief, Tourmaline cared deeply about other undercover officers too.
Lin Jiangye almost wanted to record it and send it to Jiang Xin—he’d cry on the spot.
How could a raven be this smart, this tenderhearted?
When the maritime officers heard Lin Jiangye translate, they all sucked in a breath and clutched their chests.
Trained professionals—now teary-eyed—stared at Tourmaline.
They’d been cared for by family, by comrades, by the people they protected.
But never—never—had they been cared for by an animal.
It was… strangely overwhelming.
“Alright,” Lin Jiangye said softly. “Go. Their safety is in your hands.”
If Tourmaline wanted to do it, he would support it.
“But protecting them means protecting yourself too. Otherwise—”
He didn’t even finish before Tourmaline thumped its chest and swore it would not get hurt.
The memory of Lin Jiangye’s fury and grief after Opal was shot—still burned vivid in Tourmaline’s mind.
Tourmaline understood: if it got injured, Lin Jiangye would go berserk.
But this time wasn’t like last time. There were more enemies. The environment was far more dangerous.
If Lin Jiangye lost control again—no one could guarantee he’d survive.
Tourmaline refused to let that happen.
After sending Tourmaline off, Lin Jiangye urged everyone forward at full speed.
With so much intelligence in hand, the risk level dropped sharply.
The orcas’ massive bodies were perfect cover. At first, their presence drew attention from the ships—but radar showed no immediate threat. Gradually, the crew stopped caring about the “big things” under the water.
As long as they didn’t attack the boats, fine.
That was exactly what Lin Jiangye had been waiting for.
The seabirds overhead confirmed the timing.
In the next instant, dark silhouettes rose from the sea like ghosts—while another orca breached violently on the far side, instantly drawing all eyes.
Lin Jiangye sprang off the matriarch’s back and flipped onto the deck of the ship.
He tossed his oxygen tank down into the water. The matriarch swallowed it in one gulp, ready to spit it back later when he returned.
The ship Lin Jiangye boarded was the largest of the fleet—and, according to the birds, the one with the most damning evidence.
Because it held eight operating rooms.
No cameras onboard. Perfect.
With the birds’ eyes, he could pick them off one by one.
But he had to strike carefully. If the whole ship got alerted at once, their only choice would be to withdraw.
A small bird chirped urgently:
“Human! Here—here! No one’s coming this way!”
Following its guidance, Lin Jiangye slipped along the corridor and reached one operating room.
He tested the handle.
It wasn’t even locked.
Good news: easy infiltration.
Bad news: an unlocked “operating room” meant they weren’t sterile, and they didn’t care. Even if the surgery stopped now, anyone already opened up on the table might not survive until rescue.
Lin Jiangye pressed his lips together, forced his breathing quieter, and eased the door open—just a crack.
He didn’t rush in. He observed.
Inside, a doctor was bent over his work, entirely unaware the door had been opened.
Lin Jiangye waited.
When the doctor turned his back to reach for another instrument, Lin Jiangye yanked the door open and lunged in—landing a punch straight to the back of the man’s head before he could even make a sound.
No warning. No alarm.
Down.
Lin Jiangye kept one hand clamped over the man’s mouth, then drove another punch in—ensuring a long blackout—before lowering him carefully to the floor.
He shut the door fast.
Then, while no one had noticed, he stripped the doctor and swapped outfits.
Mask. Gloves. Surgical cap.
Now tell—who was who?
He scanned the room, stuffed the unconscious Southeast Asian doctor into a cabinet, then moved to the table.
The victim lay cut open.
Lin Jiangye began to stitch—rough, not pretty, but he couldn’t leave someone split open like that.
Afterward, he strode out.
Passing a guard, he noticed the man step back instinctively—never asking where “the doctor” was going.
So Lin Jiangye walked openly into the next operating room.
The second doctor stared at him, stunned—confused, as if no “colleague” was supposed to come by.
Lin Jiangye used that hesitation. He closed the distance in a flash and locked a hand around the man’s throat.
This time he didn’t knock him out immediately.
He had a question.
“Tell me—which ship is your control ship?”
Not this one. Once onboard, Lin Jiangye realized it couldn’t be.
The doctor refused.
Lin Jiangye sighed—and snapped the man’s limbs with quick, brutal precision, preventing him from escaping or raising the alarm.
Then, to keep the scene quiet, he shoved a hand towel into the man’s mouth.
“If you don’t talk,” Lin Jiangye murmured, voice low and chilling, “then I’ll have to do something else.”
The doctor couldn’t fight back. Lin Jiangye’s grip was terrifying—absolute. When the blade kissed his skin, the man’s will finally shattered.
He had no idea where this monster had come from—or why the guards outside hadn’t reacted.
At first the doctor held his tongue.
So Lin Jiangye turned methodical—slow, controlled cuts, no anesthesia—until the pain drove the man beyond pleading.
Lin Jiangye hadn’t wanted to be this cruel.
But then he saw the victim on the table was still conscious.
Meaning they’d been harvesting organs from a living person.
At that point, mercy wasn’t on the table.
When Lin Jiangye finally got the answer he needed, the doctor was barely breathing—more air leaving than entering, on the edge of death.
Even so, Lin Jiangye didn’t relax. He bound the man tightly with rope and tossed him aside.
Only then did he notice the victim—smiling at him.
“Thank you.”
She used the last scrap of strength in her body to whisper it.
She didn’t know who he was.
But to see the person killing her brought down—even if she died too—made that “thank you” worth it.
Lin Jiangye fell silent, then stepped closer, gently stroking her hair.
“Our police are coming,” he said softly. “No one here is getting away.”
A bright, fierce light flared in her eyes—only for a heartbeat.
Then, like someone finally satisfied, she left the world smiling.
Lin Jiangye exhaled soundlessly. He picked up a cloth, covered her body, and moved her into a hidden corner.
After this ended, the victims’ remains would be taken home—properly buried.
After tidying up, Lin Jiangye took the ID he’d rifled from the doctor’s pocket and left quickly.
He’d already forced the man to reveal where the control ship was. One of the compound’s leaders was on it—along with radar equipment and a heavy cache of weapons. He needed to destroy that radar.
With radar running, the moment the coast guard ships moved in, they’d be detected.
But the smooth streak seemed to end right here. The instant he stepped out of the operating room, he heard an uproar.
Worried that the people who boarded earlier had been exposed, Lin Jiangye headed straight for the noise. On the way he passed several guards. But the moment they saw his “doctor” outfit, their suspicion melted away—some even stepped behind him, as if instinctively letting him take cover while they shielded him.
When he reached the side of the ship, he saw one figure grappling with a guard.
It looked like the guards on that ship had already been dealt with. The commotion was so loud—yet there wasn’t a single response from within the ship itself. The “onlookers” crowding the edge were guards from other boats.
Those guards tried to pry the two men apart. But the one doing the fighting knew the moment he let go, he’d be turned into a sieve. So he clung to his enemy with a death grip, refusing to loosen even a fraction.
Lin Jiangye glanced over—relieved, at least, that the fighter wasn’t one of the coast guard officers who’d boarded with him.
But then he spotted Tourmaline relentlessly harassing the guards, and his heart sank.
Tourmaline was here.
Which meant the man in the struggle was almost certainly an undercover cop.
Damn it…
The noise was growing by the second. Lin Jiangye took a step back and shot a quick look toward the direction the captured doctor had mentioned.
Sure enough—shadows and movement. People were already coming out to investigate.
Alright. So much for slipping quietly to the control ship.
Once he accepted that, Lin Jiangye didn’t waste a word. He drew the scalpel he’d pocketed earlier and stabbed the nearest man without hesitation.
The man took the blade in the waist before he even realized what had happened—then Lin Jiangye smashed a fist into his temple.
The sound drew the guards’ attention immediately.
They spun around—only to be met with a flash of cold silver.
Thud. Two bodies dropped.
The remaining guards recovered fast. Guns came up. A wild burst of automatic fire tore toward Lin Jiangye.
Lin Jiangye yanked up the bodies of the three men he’d dropped and used them as a human shield, advancing at speed. He closed the distance to one guard and slashed down—cleanly cutting the man’s Achilles tendon.
A scream ripped through the air.
In that instant, Lin Jiangye hurled the three bodies into the last guard. The sheer weight—hundreds of pounds—crushed him to the deck.
Lin Jiangye stepped down hard.
Crack. The man’s wrist snapped under his boot.
Tendon severed, wrist broken—still he tried to raise his gun.
A slap slammed into his face.
Just one.
It sent him reeling, vision spinning, body collapsing—there was no getting up from that.
Lin Jiangye scooped up the four or five submachine guns.
He wasn’t confident using them, so he didn’t fire. The last time he’d used a gun—against Liu Ningxin—he’d nearly missed and hit the river dolphins nearby.
But once the guns were gone, the guards became far less dangerous.
He turned to the final man, who was still struggling to rise.
Lin Jiangye answered with a vicious backhand.
The man’s head buzzed like it was filled with bees.
Another slap—and the guard collapsed for good.
But even after neutralizing the guards on this ship, the undercover cop across the way was still locked in a desperate struggle.
Lin Jiangye lifted the scalpel, closed one eye, and aimed for a moment—then suddenly called Tourmaline’s name.
In the next instant, the raven darted away from the grapple.
Lin Jiangye flicked his wrist.
The blade flew like a hidden weapon and buried itself in the guard’s neck.
Hot blood sprayed, soaking the man.
Human and raven—perfect timing, flawless coordination.
The threat dropped.
Tourmaline didn’t return. It stayed on the ship, sharp-eyed and vigilant, scanning the surroundings.
Lin Jiangye didn’t force it back. With the undercover cop in that condition, Tourmaline staying near him was the safer choice.
“Take a weapon. Save people.”
Before the man could even react, a fully loaded submachine gun was tossed down onto his head.
It hurt—sure.
But the rush of relief was stronger.
“You are…?” He started to ask who Lin Jiangye was.
He didn’t get the question out.
Lin Jiangye yanked off his mask and blew a loud, piercing whistle into the sky.
It was like flipping a switch.
The birds that had been sitting quietly on the ship—preening themselves, acting harmless—suddenly went feral, launching at guards and “doctors” with savage precision.
A harsh cry tore through the air.
Two black silhouettes dove like blades from above, raking their claws across two guards who were about to rush Lin Jiangye.
Chang Geng was larger; one strike tore a chunk of flesh clean off an arm.
Qi Ming was smaller, but its dive was lightning-fast. To the victim, it was only a black blur—then an explosion of pain across the face.
Screams began erupting across ship after ship. Anyone coming down to investigate was thrown into confusion—unable to make sense of what was happening.
Lin Jiangye, meanwhile, slipped away without pause, melting into the flow of other “doctors” on deck.
Since the alarm was already raised, he might as well make it worse.
The bigger the chaos, the easier it was for him—and everyone on their side—to move through the mess and strike from the shadows.
