Hestin Street, Vancouver.

 I’m wearing the cloth which Captain Wick gave me. It’s a cotton jacket, black, slightly bigger. I put my hands in pockets, not conspicuous at all, carrying a backpack casually behind my back.

 Apparently, I’m no different from most people on the street. I come all the way to see two policemen. When I swagger past them, their eyes just sweep around me, not even a second to stay. I know I’m not far from success.

 Previously, that truck only took me to the door of a fishery company in Vancouver. I asked the driver about the direction of Hestin Street, then I walked for nearly one and a half hour to arrive here finally.

 I didn’t take a taxi because I don’t understand the language and was afraid to show off. In North America, there is a strong sense of law among the people. Once people have any questions, they will call the police at the first time. So, I just walk for so long way.

 Looking at the sign of the Hestin Street, I’m finally laughing and sighing with relief.

 Funny to say that I don’t even recognize the word “Hestin” too. Through half-guessing, I can just figure it out.

 B1, 107 Hestin Street, Vancouver.

 Actually, on the way here, I called the number left by fat fellow in a telephone booth beside the road. Unfortunately, the phone rang for a long time but nobody answered. I can only find here by myself. It seems that I am unlucky today.

 I check the address again. Yes, here it is.

 In front of me is a car wash shop, a two-storey building which is not very high. The building style of the whole street is similar, and the road is not broad. There are few cars and pedestrians on the street.

 I’m a little confused. How can a car wash shop do business in this area? The door of the shop is wide open. I stand at the front of the door, knocking hard, but no one answers me. There isn’t even a clerk in.

 There are two cars in the shop. An electric automatic car washing device is running, making a loud noise.

 I tighten my backpack slightly, enter the shop and calling: “Is anybody there?”

 No one answer me except the roars of the car washer. I see some water hydrants in the corner, and there are some car washing equipments and tools, but nobody is working, which makes me somewhat feeling a little strange.

 Inside the shop, there is a staircase leading upstairs. I stand downstairs and calling loudly, but still nobody answers. Then I hesitate a while and stepping upstairs.

 I have just come to the corner of the stairs when a strong music is coming, as if someone suddenly turns on the stereo. I’m really shocked.

 Upstairs is a long corridor. There are several rooms with the doors open. But there is still nobody there. As soon as I go up the stairs, I reach out half of my head and hear a “boom” sound. These days of experiences let me recognize immediately that this is the sound of gunshot!

 I tighten my head and fall down immediatly. Then I hear the sound of wood cracking. The railings on the stairs are smashed by the gunshot and the sawdusts are flying. Some sawdusts splash on my face and neck.

 I can’t help cursing: “FXXX!”

 Next, the scene in front of me is like the gunfight movie I saw. My ears are banging with the sound of gunshots. I’m lying on the ground and find several people dressing in different clothes are coming out of the rooms on both sides at the same time. Under the cover of the corridor rooms on both sides, they are raising the pistols and firing fiercely at the end of the corridor, that is, the place on the left side of my side.

 As I’m lying on the ground, I hear bullets whistling in my ears and the gunshots like thundering! The sounds of glass breaking, the wood breaking and extra are one after another.

 Finally, after a burst of fierce shooting, a short recovery of calm, the whole second floor is still reverberating with the strong music!

 I’m stunned. I’m totally stunned!

 I come here according to the address provided by Ocean, but I didn’t expect to run into such a thing!

 It’s as if I’m breaking into a battlefield. People are shooting at each other on both sides. But the funny thing is, I’m just in the middle!

 From the angle of where I’m lying, I can see the people hiding behind the door on the right. There are three or four people. And there seems to be only one person on my left side.

 The two sides are quiet for a while, and I hear the people on the right side are shouting a few words of abuse. From these figures and their skin color, plus my previous experience at sea, I immediately judge that they are speaking Vietnamese!

 On the other side, an old voice is shouting immediately: “FXXX You! You Vietnamese just go to hell. If you want my life, just come and get it!”

 The voice is strong, neutral, and, in our language.

 I immediately judge that this guy is mostly the one fat fellow ask me to look for!

 Actually, I don’t need to judge much.

 I’m sandwiched in the middle when I meet two groups fighting. Vietnamese on the one side and the other side is from my home town. Fools know who I should help!

 After yelling and scolding for a while, suddenly I hear a Vietnamese is trying to lean out a little. This is immediately attracted shooting. The two sides are firing another round at each other. But the sound of gunfires on the left is thinning out.

 I’m afraid he’s running out of bullets! An idea is flashing through my mind.

 Sure enough, the Vietnamese seem to be aware of this too. One of them dares to step out and rushing past. In the opposite room, that guy is cursing: “Damn Vietnamese!”

 I’ve been lying on the ground. When I came upstairs, those Vietnamese must have seen me. But after a burst of shooting, I didn’t get up. They probably think I was dead. The Vietnamese is tentatively approaching the room on my left. Just as he is passing by me, I’m suddenly springing up from the ground and grabbing him. We two are rolling together in arms. I have no weapons in my hand, so I can only grab a broken piece of wood I have just picked up on the ground and insert the sharp end into the root of the Vietnamese’s thigh.

 He’s screaming and wrestling arms immediately softens down. I see two Vietnamese behind have been raising their guns in surprise. I quickly hug the Vietnamese and rolling into a room. While two of us just rushing into the room, I hear the thumping sounds of gunshots behind my head. There are several craters on the ground where we were.

 In fact, I am very lucky. This building is a wooden building and the bullets be fired in the wood will not rebound. Otherwise, just the bullets rebound may kill me!

 The Vietnamese is screaming with his hands over the root of his thighs. He’s bleeding a lot. I’m not sure where that piece of wood has stuck to him, maybe it’s his secrets, or maybe just the artery of his thigh. I just let go of him, pick up his gun and dodging behind the corner.

 The Vietnamese is rolling on the ground. From my angle, I’m just facing him. Another Vietnamese wants to come to save his companion on the ground. I fire two shots at once to force him back.

 I shot those two shots awkwardly. No idea, I’ve never fired before. Where can I use a gun when I was in hometown? But that’s enough to intimidate them not to coming up. The Vietnamese on the ground is bleeding more and more. I hesitate for a moment, but don’t shoot him. At this time, the guy in my left side is shouting: “Which brother come? Damn, kill these Vietnamese devils! Have you got a grenade?”

 I gasp for breath. I don’t understand what he said. What’s the “grenade”? I don’t understand. As I’m about to speak, I hear a few gunshots outside.

 Now the situation is that I am still sandwiched in the middle, on both sides of the corridor, they each occupying a room, and I am in a room in the middle. I’d love to go out and meet the guys on the left, but unfortunately, I can’t go out. Once I go out, I’ll be shot into a honeycomb.

 I’m gasping for breath, then shouting out: “What grenades? I am not…”

 Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

 Gunshots are overwhelming my voice.

 The guy on the left is scolding: “Damn, can’t you understand me? Is this a stupid foolish coming?”

 I feel more and more confused. I can’t understand what this guy said at all. I take advantage of the chaos outside and take a glance at the furnishings in the room.

 The room is very empty. It can be seen that it’s an office with only one table and several cabinets, and nothing else.

 But when I glance at the window in front of me, I have a good idea. I run over quickly and pushing the window open.

 I take a breath, flashing to the door, and fire several shots to deter the other side. Then I’m running quickly to the window and stretching out my legs.

 Outside is the street, but fortunately there’s a windowsill under the window. I grab the bulge on the window wall and moving quickly to the other side. I’ve judged that moving a few meters from my window to the left is the room where that fellow is staying.

 It’s not too high from the ground, only about three meters high. As I’m climbing fast, I’m wondering why that fellow didn’t run away. If he jumps out of the window, it would be easy to escape within three meters of the ground.

 Finally, I arrive at the window of his room, smashing the glass with a punch. At the same time, I’m shouting: “Own side, don’t shoot!”

 I smash through the glass, then my body rushing in and rolling on the ground. Before I get up, I feel a chill on my neck!

 I feel the edge of the knife cold against my neck, one hand is holding the handle of the knife, very stable, and then a cold voice says: “What own side? Who are you?”

 It’s the voice of that guy! I take a breath, then hand the gun in my hand back to him upside down.

 He releases the knife immediately, takes the gun, and shooting to outside. I turn over, get up, and finally see this man clearly.

 He is about fifty years old, very thin, side-to-side face to me, long hair, prominent facial contour, standard mainland face shape.

 I finally know why he didn’t jump out the window and escape! He’s sitting! Underneath his ass is a wheelchair!

 He fires two shots, then turns around and pointing the gun at me: “Who are you? I’ve never met you before!”

 I look at the muzzle of the gun, take a deep breath, looking into his eyes, and then saying slowly:

“The knife mountain and the sea of the fire!”