Just as Bao Yancheng expected, the moment he set foot on the deck, he was surrounded by a team of mercenaries.
His eagle-like eyes quickly scanned the surroundings; seven or eight people—he could still handle that.
But he did not see the figure of Wang Biao.
Bao Yancheng held his breath, observing the mercenaries' movements.
The two who charged at him were knocked away by his punches, and with a leap, he evaded another three closing in on him.
The people on the deck scattered, fleeing far away to watch the commotion from the safety of the cabins.
The dark-haired man descending from the sky seemed to be conserving his strength, moving effortlessly.
"What's the deal with this guy? Can't see his face."
"Those are Wang Biao's boys, right? Bold of him to come alone."
"The fellow's quite skilled, it's not clear who will lose."
After several exchanges, the bulky mercenaries were beginning to pant, their movements slowing.