Chapter 18: Zealous Believers

In the grand first-class dining hall of the Titanic, the circle of wealthy Westerners all turned their eyes to Ma Jun. Regardless of his skin color, regardless of their private prejudices, they were all deeply curious about who Ma Jun’s employer was.

The warm, sun-like orange glow of the lamps shone upon Ma Jun’s smiling face, making the hue of his skin stand out even more.

“Is this question truly so important?” Ma Jun stared at Carl.

“I believe it is. You should be a gentleman who keeps his promises,” Carl replied.

“No!” Ma Jun’s face suddenly grew solemn, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes. “I think what you all truly want to know is the truth behind Miss Rose’s death last night! Was it a suicide or an accident?”

Carl’s brows furrowed. He glanced around at the other wealthy guests, seeing the same puzzled expressions on their faces—including Mrs. Brooke. In such a public place, there was no way he could deal with Ma Jun as he’d wished; he’d thought Ma Jun was about to blackmail him!

“Everyone calls the Titanic a miracle!” Ma Jun’s voice rose as he swept his gaze around the room, speaking with the fervor of a president mustering his nation before war. “All praise her! You are proud of the Industrial Revolution, of your boundless wealth!”

The wealthy guests watched Ma Jun with great interest, eager to see what this man with yellow skin was concocting.

“But you have forgotten reverence!” Ma Jun’s voice grew louder, his expression impassioned. “You believe mankind can conquer nature, that there is nothing you cannot do! You wage wars of slaughter and plunder, spreading your colonial ambitions across the world! You no longer understand heartfelt prayer or sincere hope. You have angered the Lord! You have angered God!”

Ma Jun’s face was the very image of religious fanaticism—spittle flying, arms flailing, voice hoarse as he shouted, “The Lord will punish humanity! Calamity will descend upon the world! This ship, proclaimed unsinkable, will founder on its maiden voyage! War will scorch the earth, and mankind will fall into suffering!”

His words left the assembly of Westerners dumbstruck; brows knitted, their eyes betrayed varying shades of contemplation, disdain, or ridicule.

Yet Ma Jun pressed on. Taking two quick steps, he sprang onto a chair. The wealthy guests recoiled as if from a cockroach.

Standing tall, fists clenched, right arm raised, Ma Jun cried, “You think the lady’s death yesterday was suicide or an accident? No! It was a sign from the Lord, a final warning to you! If you wish to live, then pray! Confess your sins to the Lord and beg His forgiveness! Otherwise, you will follow the Titanic, lost forever in the abyss!”

“Is he some sort of religious fanatic?”

“He seems to believe in Jesus and God as well.”

“How ridiculous, coming from an Oriental!”

The guests murmured among themselves. Even though most aboard the ship were indeed believers, none put any credence in Ma Jun’s words. To consider him merely eccentric was already being charitable.

To these wealthy elites, God was never a consideration during their campaigns of conquest and slaughter. Only when facing hardship themselves would they invoke the Lord and Jesus, firming their faith in their own resurgence.

Ma Jun’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, sweat beading on his brow, yet he did not stop. He shouted, “All mankind should keep hearts full of kindness and compassion! Everyone, kneel now and pray—atone for your sins! Otherwise, hell awaits you! Soon, war will engulf the world! For your children, for humanity, kneel and pray! Amen!”

With that, Ma Jun traced a cross on his chest, half-closed his eyes, and muttered a prayer—though inside, he was nearly overcome with laughter.

In a previous life, Ma Jun had played the villain; here on the Titanic, he opted for the role of a religious zealot. Though his acting was not particularly refined, such wild, uninhibited performances didn’t require subtlety. True masters were those who could convey complex emotions in a single fleeting moment.

But enough digression. The inspiration for Ma Jun’s act came from “Left Behind”—a Nicolas Cage film he had mistaken for a disaster movie, only to discover its religious core. The Titanic, too, was meant as a pure disaster story, but under the hand of the “King of the World,” it became a grand romance. Thus, Ma Jun decided to return the film’s melody to its calamitous roots.

Once the Titanic sank, Ma Jun’s fiery sermon would surely become legendary. In two years, with the advent of the Great War, someone would inevitably recall his prophecy, and Ma Jun’s achievements would be more than complete.

Perhaps one or two in the dining hall believed him, but most regarded Ma Jun with thinly veiled displeasure.

The captain’s expression was particularly grim. After conferring with several wealthy guests, he declared, “This gentleman is clearly unwell. The Lord would never choose an Oriental to proclaim His word. Please remove this man from first class! We do not wish to see him here again!”

A throng of crewmen and bodyguards surged forward, dragging Ma Jun away.

Ma Jun feigned resistance, shouting all the while, “I am the Lord’s apostle! My name is Ma Jun! The Lord will welcome me to heaven, while you, who have embraced the devil, will be cast into hell! You are damned!”

He was unceremoniously dumped onto the icy deck. The crew laughed derisively and walked off.

Once they were gone, Ma Jun got to his feet, brushed the dust from his clothes, ran to the ship’s rail, and burst into hearty laughter. After a while, he pulled a bottle of mineral water from his spatial ring and gulped it down.

Lighting a cigarette, still in high spirits, he chuckled, “Well, Xiaohua, how was my performance? Did you see their faces? They nearly killed me with laughter!”

“Hehehe,” Xiaohua replied, grinning, “Uncle, you really are shameless—using God’s name for a speech like that. They must think you’re completely mad!”

“God, by my hand, commands you back to hell!” Ma Jun slapped his forehead. “I forgot that line—it was from some horror film, sounded pretty impressive.”

“Our reputation just went up by three hundred points!” Xiaohua said. “Once the Titanic sinks, you’ll be at full renown. I didn’t expect you to be so reliable, you know!”

“They already look down on me,” Ma Jun mused, his smile fading. “They probably won’t take my words seriously. If my performance stops the ship from sinking, all my effort will be for nothing! No, I need to be even more outrageous—I’ll have to do something else!”