Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Whether it was exhaustion from the long battle or the Fish King suddenly throwing everything it had into one last surge, Mr. Qin’s footing gave out and he stumbled forward several steps, nearly pitching face-first into the pond.
He let out a startled yelp — the Fish King had clearly caught him off guard.
"Careful, Grandpa!"
Fortunately, Qin Fen’s reflexes were sharp and he shot out a hand, grabbing Mr. Qin before he could go over.
"Grandpa, let me take over. I’ll land this thing, guaranteed."
Qin Fen volunteered himself for the Battle Fish King.
"Fine, take it for a bit." Mr. Qin thought it over and nodded.
Black carp were far stronger than most other species, and a hundred-plus-pound Fish King was a beast unto itself. Bringing one in alone was no small feat — and age did have a way of wearing down your stamina.
He handed the rod over to Qin Fen and swung his arms in wide circles, shaking them loose, recovering his strength for round two against the Fish King.
"Fish King, is it? Your Mr. Qin is coming for you."
Qin Fen took the rod like a general receiving his sword before charging into battle. He leaned his whole body back, gripped the rod with both hands, and yanked hard.
"You little shit, stop yanking like that!"
Mr. Qin swore out loud. That was no way to fight a big fish.
"Trust me, Grandpa. Watch how I handle this."
Qin Fen was brimming with confidence. He planted his feet wide in a half-squat horse stance, threw his chest back, and hollered, "Behold — the Eighteen Casts of Fish Subjugation! The Immovable-as-Mount-Tai Cast!"
Pfft.
Chen Yuan, who was filming the whole thing, cracked up laughing. This guy Qin Fen was something else — the Eighteen Casts of Fish Subjugation? Who did he think he was, some kung fu hero of the angling world?
"Eighteen Casts of Fish Subjugation — the Buddha’s Divine Cast! Foul fish, surrender yourself at once!"
Qin Fen was fully committed to the bit.
But the moment a big fish breaks the surface is exactly when it fights hardest. A beast like this one? That final thrash would be the most savage of all.
Hold the line through it, and the odds of reeling it in shot up dramatically.
Fail to hold the line, and it was a snapped rod, a broken line — or a person in the pond.
"Scrape, scrape~"
Sure enough, the Fish King’s surge was ferocious. Even with his wide horse stance, Qin Fen was dragged stumbling backward two full steps, nearly toppling straight into the pond.
"Son of a bitch — Eighteen Casts of Fish Subjugation — the Donkey Roll~"
Qin Fen dug in with everything he had, leaned his upper body forward, and threw his raw strength into a flat-out tug-of-war with the Fish King.
"You little bastard, I told you to stop yanking like that, you’re gonna—"
Mr. Qin, still swinging his arms nearby to recover, looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. He couldn’t afford to rest any longer and lunged forward to take the rod back.
If Qin Fen kept hauling on it like this, the rod was going to snap.
"CRACK~"
But before Mr. Qin could get there and grab the rod, a dull, heavy bang rang out.
The deeply bowed rod snapped clean in two. Qin Fen lurched forward and went down face-first like a sack of potatoes, while the top half of the rod was yanked swiftly beneath the surface by the Fish King.
Oh no~
Mr. Qin stood there stunned for a moment, then started stomping his feet in frustration. Even Chen Yuan felt a pang of regret — they’d been so close, and now the Fish King was gone.
Still, they’d gotten exactly what they needed on camera. More than they’d hoped for, really.
This video was going to make waves, no doubt about it.
But before Chen Yuan could stop filming, something happened on screen that made his jaw drop — Qin Fen scrambled back to his feet and threw himself forward, lunging for the broken top section of the rod.
"I’ve got one more move — Eighteen Casts of Fish Subjugation — the Burn-the-Boats Cast!"
Chen Yuan couldn’t even process what he was seeing.
Mr. Qin, who had already been glaring daggers at Qin Fen, saw him try to launch himself into the pond and didn’t hesitate — he shot out a kick that knocked Qin Fen flat on the ground just as he was getting up.
"Burn-the-boats my ass! You can’t even swim, you idiot — you’re not burning boats, you’re just drowning!"
Mr. Qin barked, not bothering to hide his fury.
"Grandpa, that’s the Fish King out there! As long as it’s still hooked, the fish isn’t lost. As long as I don’t sink, there’s still a chance to bring it in."
Qin Fen grunted in pain and stared helplessly at the rod tip still drifting in the pond, unable to let it go.
The Fish King was still there.
It was a snapped rod, not a lost fish. Who dared call it over?
"So you do know it’s the Fish King."
Mr. Qin got angrier with every word Qin Fen said. He couldn’t hold back anymore — his fists started raining down, fast and relentless as a striking fish, while Qin Fen howled and yelped.
"I told you not to yank like that and you wouldn’t listen."
"You lost the fish and then tried to jump in after it — what do you think you are, some Olympic swimmer? A diver?"
Mr. Qin showed no signs of stopping.
On one hand, Qin Fen had let the Fish King get away — snapping the rod by brute-forcing it was the most aggravating way to lose a fish.
But more than that, it was what Qin Fen had tried to do next. The dumb bastard couldn’t swim and he still wanted to jump into the pond. If he’d actually gone in, there was no telling what might have happened.
Mr. Qin was teaching him a lesson.
Chen Yuan thought the lesson was well deserved, so he didn’t step in. Still, once he snapped back to reality and looked at what he’d caught on camera, he couldn’t help but smile.
He stopped recording, then walked over slowly to break things up.
"What’s going on over there — who’s killing a pig?"
"Killing a pig my ass, sounds like there’s a fight over at that fishing pond that Chen Jun’s kid set up."
"I saw him out there yesterday, digging and filling with a hoe. Heard he was turning it into some kind of fishing spot. Didn’t think anyone would actually show up today."
"People are straight-up throwing punches and you’re calling it a fun day out?"
"Young kids are just reckless like that, one wild idea after another. Look at this — barely got started and he’s already brawling with his customers. If someone ends up in the hospital, he might be looking at jail time."
"I always said that fishing pond nonsense was never going to work. Who in their right mind pays good money to go fishing? See, now he hasn’t made a single yuan and he’s about to put himself behind bars."
"Didn’t Chen Yuan go to university? Why not go make something of himself in the city? What’s he doing dragging himself back to the village for this?"
"You haven’t heard? Chen Yuan — he got himself into trouble in the city. Guess some people just can’t help themselves..."
Chen Yuan had been on his way over to break up the fight, but he stopped when he noticed a crowd of villagers gathering in the fields nearby, some of them already heading toward the pond. Most of them had probably been drawn over by Qin Fen’s screaming.
Village folk.
Watching drama was their greatest talent.
And there they were — pointing, whispering, gossiping. The rumor mill had fired back up, and this time it would probably spread to every corner of the village, reaching friends and family alike.
Chen Yuan couldn’t be bothered to care.
Still, some of what they were saying wasn’t wrong.
Safety had to be taken seriously. Qin Fen couldn’t even swim and he’d been ready to dive in after a fish. Other anglers might get the same idea.
Because when a Fish King was on the line, very few anglers could keep a cool head.
And losing a fish was the single hardest thing for any angler to accept. Losing a Fish King? You’d carry that with you for the rest of your life.
This was something that needed to be addressed.
If someone actually jumped in and got hurt, it would be a disaster.
"Alright, Grandpa, that’s enough. Yeah, the Fish King got away — but tell me honestly, wasn’t that a hell of a ride?"
Mr. Qin hadn’t actually been hitting that hard, and Qin Fen had just been playing along. Once he sensed that Mr. Qin had gotten most of it out of his system, he turned the question on him. His round eyes were stretched wide open, his whole body buzzing with energy.
He was clearly still riding the high of the Fish King.
Mr. Qin’s fists stilled. He stood there for a moment, caught off guard by the question.
Was it a hell of a ride?
Of course it was!
What do anglers live for?
Not a full keep net — it’s the big fish. It’s the snapped rod. Today they’d had both, and even Qin Fen — who’d never cared much about fishing and was terrible at it to boot — was buzzing like a livewire. Mr. Qin didn’t even need to say how he felt.
Setting aside Qin Fen’s reckless stunt with the pond, losing the Fish King was a damn shame — but today was, without question, the best day of Mr. Qin’s fishing life.
"A hell of a ride doesn’t mean you throw safety out the window. A fish that gets away can be caught again. But you — you can’t even swim. What happens if something goes wrong?" Mr. Qin said sternly.
Sure enough, what really burned Mr. Qin was Qin Fen’s recklessness.
"Grandpa — so do we keep going?"
Qin Fen grinned his dopey grin. The feeling of fighting the Fish King had been absolutely incredible, and he was already itching to go again.
Next time, he was pulling out all Eighteen Casts of Fish Subjugation. He was going to land that Fish King no matter what.