Chapter 93: Sympathy Does Not Mean Forgiveness

However, the idea that this might be divine punishment was merely a fleeting thought in their minds. After all, nothing like this had ever appeared in their scriptures. They were not exactly devout followers themselves. Yet that did not stop them from praying and repenting out of fear.

Wu You slowly entered the house from outside, watching as the three men inside knelt on the ground, murmuring prayers. He could not understand Somali, but besides the official Somali and Arabic languages, English and Italian were also commonly spoken here, especially among pirates who boarded ships for plunder—English was a necessity.

Seeing a human enter, and the monsters nearby actually making way for him, the three pirate leaders realized that this was the true master. These men were all hardened criminals; their mentality was far from ordinary. Since a human had arrived, praying to God was pointless, so they immediately stood up.

"Are you an American?" Abdullah Hassan asked in fairly fluent English.

Wu You was somewhat puzzled. Though he had changed his appearance to that of a middle-aged man using his mask, he still looked obviously Asian, with black hair, black eyes, and yellow skin. How did this pirate leader come up with the question about being American? Well, there were Asians in America, but to ask this reflexively, unless Asians made up more than sixty percent of the population...

"America really is researching this...this..." Abdullah Hassan struggled to find the right English term, simply pointing at Garuru and the Mantis Demon and saying, "this."

Now Wu You understood. This man was clearly a middle-aged fanatic poisoned by American movies and tales of American monsters. It was reminiscent of the time when foreigners believed all Chinese people were kung fu masters. The flood of American films—like "Resident Evil" and others—along with rumors, had led many to believe the United States was developing dangerous anti-human projects. Even if most dismissed such ideas, confronted with Garuru and the Mantis Demon, Abdullah Hassan instinctively assumed they were American bioweapons.

One had to marvel at the breadth of his imagination.

Wu You walked over, answering in English—less fluent than Abdullah Hassan’s, but clear enough.

"It doesn’t matter who I am. You just need to answer a few questions."

Now that his mental strength had grown, Wu You hadn't deliberately retrained his English, but his old college vocabulary came easily and could be used flexibly—more than enough for communication.

Abdullah Hassan didn’t dwell on whether the man was American; he only knew he could be communicated with.

"If I answer, will I...survive?"

Wu You glanced at the three, replying candidly.

"In a certain sense, yes. But by your understanding, no."

Abdullah Hassan bowed his head, hiding the fierce light in his eyes.

"Then why should I answer..."

His right hand drew a knife from his waist, left hand lunging at Wu You, hoping to seize him—his only real chance at survival.

Wu You watched the slow-motion attack, his expression mocking. Now able to sense emotions without relying on Qiongqi, the shift and tension in Abdullah Hassan’s mood were clear as day. Before the man's hand could touch him, Wu You struck like lightning, gripping his throat with his right hand.

He lifted Abdullah Hassan’s not-insignificant bulk, then slammed him to the floor with a resounding thud. The floorboards of the second story shuddered slightly.

"Ah...cough..." Abdullah Hassan coughed up blood flecked with foam, feeling as though his whole body had come apart.

The other two leaders, witnessing this scene, halted their planned assault and stepped back two paces.

"I was naïve, thinking I could reason with a pirate. Still, I only wanted to see what the so-called Coast Guard was really like," Wu You said with some depth.

"When you were still yourselves..."

"I only want to ask—have you, as a pirate, ever repented for the innocent lives lost to your hands? As for your secrets, I don’t need your mouths to tell me."

Abdullah Hassan’s agitation grew as he struggled on the floor.

"Cough...innocent? Ha...are there innocents in this world?"

He spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, then braced himself and sat up.

"I was once an honest fisherman. But look at Somalia’s coast—our country has no control over its own shores. Foreign vessels come and fish at will, leaving us with no means to survive. We wanted civilization, but the civilization you offer cannot fill the bellies of Somalis; it only forces us to bow and scrape."

Abdullah Hassan took a few breaths, a smile appearing on his face.

"Since you all think us barbaric and backward, we pick up machine guns, and let you witness our savage pride!"

The other two pirate leaders, stirred by Abdullah Hassan’s words, glared at Wu You, nostrils flaring as their emotions rose.

Truthfully, Wu You was once again struck; he hadn’t expected a pirate from a war-torn small nation to speak such truths. In China’s revolutionary era, one who could utter such words would at least be a heroic patriot.

Wu You abandoned his mocking, lofty attitude, replacing it with a calm, even tone.

"I sympathize with Somalia’s plight. Indeed, ‘innocent’ is a luxury. To show my respect, I will grant you a swift end."

After several quiet groans, the small building fell into silence.

...

In several locations where foreign fishermen or cargo ship crews were held captive, people gathered to discuss what had happened the previous night.

Though there had been wind and rain, they all heard sporadic gunfire from certain areas, some of it fairly intense for a brief period. There were also faint screams, some coming from just beyond the courtyard walls.

Yet none dared go out to investigate. They waited and waited, but today, the people who usually brought water and food had not come to unlock the doors. Those in the holding areas hesitated anew—should they go out and have a look?

In the holding area for two oil tankers, the captains were conferring.

"I think maybe international rescue forces broke in last night."

"Or perhaps it was an internal coup," another suggested.

A chief engineer spoke up, "I recommend we stay put. We can't outrun bullets."

With a bang, the door outside was opened.

"Come out," someone called from outside.

A group of people nervously walked out, finding one of the well-known pirate leaders outside—someone whose name they remembered: Abdullah Hassan. Behind him stood only two armed men.

"You’re free now. Return to your ships and leave Somalia."