Chapter 631

Chapter 631: The Audacious College Student

Although the conditions and environment were far from ideal, Lin Mo was unwilling to squeeze into the filthiest regular cabin on the ferry, living with countless tiny creatures.

Surrounded by Turkish, Kurdish, and Arab Muslims, the sudden appearance of a foreigner on the boat drew much attention—oh no, it truly attracted a crowd (the author has experienced being surrounded by Afghans before, as a group stopped their activities and conversations, staring silently at you like you were a corpse, giving a chilling feeling).

This passenger-cargo ship did have some rooms prepared for wealthy travelers, which were just slightly cleaner, being wiped down once a week, with six bunk beds converted into four, allowing some space to stretch out legs and a plate of mosquito coils placed in the corner.

The price? Fifty dollars a day, and they only accepted cash in dollars, no card service.

This outrageous price, in China, could at least get you a decent three-star hotel standard room in a top tourist city.

On such an expensive and dirty ship, Lin Mo unexpectedly spotted another Chinese person.

A Chinese?!

Yes, aside from Lin Mo heading to the "Abyss Nirvana" battlefield, there was another Chinese person en route to Syria.

Compared to the Arab Bearded Squad Leaders, seeing a fellow countryman offered a natural communication convenience, allowing for more conversation.

Not a journalist, not a doctor, but a student—a college student from Fudan University in his second year, named Luo Yang.

This undergraduate in Business Administration must have felt stifled by the inability to communicate smoothly in a foreign land, as he unexpectedly became quite talkative upon seeing Lin Mo.

This unexpected young college student came to war-torn Syria with the reason of doing social practice during the university summer vacation. His study major was Business Administration, and he believed that the marketplace is like a battlefield—why not gain firsthand experience?

It truly was an utterly laughable reason.

Having grown tired of a comfortable life, with no military training or proper preparation, he traveled to Turkey with nothing but a tourist visa, hoping to enter Syria and participate in an internal conflict that had nothing to do with him.

Youthful and brash, swept away by excitement, he wanted to experience valiant action on the battlefield.

Perhaps to prove his bravery and win admiration from his girlfriend.

Or maybe just to write an impassioned, moving summer social practice paper. If he survived to return home, maybe Colonel Riyad al-Asad, the commander of the Syrian Freedom Army, would sign his paper and leave some commendations.

This paper presented a dilemma for the instructors: was it a manifesto of rebellion or a revolutionary treatise?

Yet on the battlefield, there would be no rose-tinted views. There was no elegant 007, undaunted amidst gunfire; only ruins covered in blood, dismembered corpses, and the nauseating stench of death from once-living beings now decaying. Bullets and explosions came from unknown origins, and without medical resources, human death often occurred faster than you could imagine.

On the battlefield, no one knew if they would die in the next second. A flourishing life could freeze in an instant—sunshine, air, water, family, friendship, career—everything could be ruthlessly abandoned in the blink of an eye.

Was this a death wish? Perhaps even his family did not know.

It’s quite absurd; one could only say that modern kids have become so audacious that they disregard life and death.

Lin Mo couldn’t help but think of Ma Jun from the Red Scorpion organization, another Chinese in a foreign land. However, he believed this young man named Luo Yang was not a member of any foreign organization. The watch that maintained communication with satellites provided sufficient validation; this young man was even a bit younger than Lin Mo and was not lying out of sheer foolishness.

Listening to Luo Yang passionately expounding upon his ideals, filled with the revolutionary spirit of previous heroes, Lin Mo chose not to advise him.

In fact, intellectuals filled with passionate ideals, once they lock onto their beliefs, often digress into dead ends, obstinately pressing forward against all walls. They don’t turn back before hitting the wall; they don’t give up until they see the Yellow River; they won’t shed tears until they see the coffin. Until facing hardships, they probably won’t understand the price they must pay.

Lin Mo, in a non-combat state, was not always cold-hearted.

Life and death are fated; everyone must pay the price for their own growth—whether through death, injury, or failure. The good and the bad become catalysts for the growth of the entire nation, as blood and life will teach future generations everything.

Upon confirming Lin Mo was not Korean or Japanese, but Chinese, Luo Yang delightedly offered him a bottle of medicated oil.

In tropical and subtropical environments, medicated oils and cooling oils are indeed artifacts.

Luo Yang, studying Business Administration, cleverly managed to sneak some personal items out of the country, such as medicated oil made in China. This light green, clear liquid, with its unique scent from a blend of mint, camphor, and eucalyptus oil, was quite popular in many places abroad. The Chinese customs didn’t care much about someone carrying out large amounts of medicated oil; they just wouldn’t allow it on flights. Luo Yang shipped it by sea, timing his arrival so he could pick it up from the appropriate customs warehouse upon reaching Turkey.

This inexpensive little item became Luo Yang’s ticket to easier travels, and fortunately, its special smell kept the mosquitoes away, preventing a miserable start to his journey.

Lin Mo was the perfect audience as Luo Yang rambled on excitedly, discovering that Lin Mo’s fake identity was "reporter," assigned by the military, which, like the medicated oil, was a highly adaptable role. Xinhua News Agency would provide Lin Mo with a genuine press card, but his fake profile would only last for two months before it was slated for destruction.

Listening to Luo Yang chatter non-stop, Lin Mo felt a bit drowsy. As a Dragon Knight, he was competent, and as an audience member, he was also patient.

The entire cabin turned into Luo Yang’s speaking stage, while the two Turkish men in the opposite bunks, heading to Syria for some small business, just exchanged glances, unable to join the conversation except during Luo Yang’s brief pauses to catch his breath.

“Come on, Morin! Try the Turkish grilled meat jerky I got in Elazig; the flavor is incredibly authentic! It’s been sitting for a couple of days, but it still tastes good. You wouldn’t believe how overpriced the food is on this boat—five dollars for a piece of bread the size of your hand! Why aren’t they out robbing people instead?”

Perhaps feeling a bit parched from his excitement, Luo Yang pulled out a large, oiled paper bag from his backpack, which was nearly half his size, and offered it to Lin Mo, eagerly showcasing one of his treasures from Turkey.

As he opened the bag, he grumbled about the awful food on the ship. Fortunately, they were speaking in Chinese, so only Lin Mo understood. If the crew could comprehend the words of this Chinese college student, they would likely toss him right into the Euphrates River, hoping the fish that didn’t accept dollars would carry him straight to Syria.

This ferry, which traveled the Euphrates River year-round, did offer some food, but it was outrageously priced and of poor quality; the greedy captain never missed an opportunity to profit.

“Thanks!” Lin Mo shook his head and said, “I brought my own food.”

He pulled out items from his travel bag, which looked like relay sticks, making Luo Yang’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What’s this?”

“High-nutrition energy bars! One bite can replace a meal.”

“My goodness! I’ve never heard of such a good thing!”

Luo Yang, always bold, reached out instinctively, realizing that this item was more valuable than life itself on the battlefield.

Without food, there would be no strength; without strength, one could only wait for death or be unable to escape. In war, food is as crucial as ammunition. Isn’t fighting just to secure a decent meal?

“Here are five for you to try; remember to drink plenty of water and don’t eat too much—no more than five bites, or it could be dangerous.”

Lin Mo definitely remembered the serious warning in the instruction manual; twenty pieces of these could kill an elephant. If in the wild without any weapons, and like hunting, these would be the best way to barter for food.

“Brother, you’re awesome!”

Luo Yang was not shy at all, shoving the energy bars into his pocket. He glanced at the two Turkish men above him and gestured with his bag of grilled meat jerky to them, “Want some? It’s free!”

He had at least learned a bit of Arabic and Turkish pronunciation for simple exchanges from classmates in the foreign language department, even noting it down in pinyin to avoid feeling lost abroad.

The two Turkish men in their round hats looked surprised. Even though Luo Yang’s pronunciation wasn’t perfect, they understood him and exchanged glances before waving their hands and smiling to decline.

In foreign lands, it is a basic survival principle not to eat strangers’ food. If it weren’t for Luo Yang being a foreigner, they would likely be watching him with wary eyes, as Middle Easterners had a reputation for intense scrutiny.

“Alright, alright, lucky me!”

Luo Yang shook his head in disappointment, just as he was about to shove a piece of jerky into his mouth, when a deafening crash echoed, followed by vibrations that startled him, causing the jerky to slip from his hand and fall to the floor.

“Oh no, my jerky!” Before he could express his distress, shouts and the sound of running footsteps filled the ship from all directions.

What on earth is happening?