[Jake's POV]
The smell of the Inner Harbour docks was a pungent mix of diesel fuel, rotting fish, and salt water. The morning fog was still burning off the Pearl River delta, obscuring the massive cargo ships anchored in the distance.
I walked down the cracked concrete pier, flanked by two Golden Koi soldiers. They were young, nervous, and kept their hands resting on the grips of the pistols tucked into their waistbands. I carried the heavy canvas duffel bag slung over my shoulder.
Ahead of us, gathered around a rusted shipping container, was a group of about twenty men. They wore the cheap leather jackets and heavy boots typical of the Black Lotus dockworkers. They were arguing loudly in rapid-fire Cantonese, their voices carrying over the sound of the lapping water.
As we approached, the arguing stopped. Twenty pairs of eyes locked onto us.
