Chu Mingcheng assessed the rock crevice where the mandarin fish was hiding, positioning his snare carefully. The space was too narrow and awkward to maneuver properly.

The snare wasn't going to work—he'd have to use his hands.

He approached slowly. The mandarin fish seemed oblivious to the danger until, in the next instant, it felt its head being pinned firmly against the rock.

Its dorsal fin flared, and its tail thrashed wildly.

"Hiss~!"

A stream of bubbles escaped Chu Mingcheng's mouth as sharp pain shot through his palm. The mandarin fish's dorsal spine had pricked him.

But there was no time to worry about that. He clipped the snare to his belt, grabbed the fish with both hands, and slid his fingers under its gills. The fish's struggles immediately subsided—its escape route was cut off.

Only then did Chu Mingcheng secure it with the live fish stringer, clipping it to his belt.

One mandarin fish was successfully caught. From its size, it was definitely over a jin.

But he couldn't celebrate just yet. He swam to the surface, pulled off his glove, and inspected his hand.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the skin wasn't broken.

He checked the glove and found a small puncture. It seemed the glove had absorbed just enough of the impact; otherwise, the spine would have pierced right through his hand.

Putting the glove back on, he submerged again to search for another fish. But after a thorough search around the stream's mouth, he found nothing. They had cleaned it out that morning.

With that, Chu Mingcheng had no choice but to swim along the base of the mountain, searching as he went.

A seven or eight-liang crucian carp?

No good.

A grass carp around a jin…

Still too small.

A two-liang mandarin fish…

Practically a fingerling.

After leaving the stream's mouth, the mandarin fish were either too small or he found other species that weren't particularly impressive either.

Without realizing it, Chu Mingcheng had followed the mountain base and slowly arrived at a small cove.

He couldn't make out the underwater topography clearly, but he did spot a submerged reef.

Many small fish were swimming above it. He figured he might find something bigger here.

As he approached, he saw a thick-bodied fish moving slowly over the rocks below.

It looked a lot like a snakehead, and a large one at that.

This was promising. He took his snare and cautiously moved closer.

The water was murky at the bottom, making it hard to see clearly. But as he got nearer, he realized it wasn't a snakehead. The way it moved suggested something else entirely—it looked almost like a snake.

But he was certain it wasn't a snake. A snake wouldn't be this short and thick. It might even be a freshwater eel.

Seeing this, he positioned the snare in front of the fish. He had intended to slowly guide it over the fish's head, but seeing it was still moving toward him, he decided to wait for it to swim right into the trap.

After a short wait, the fish did indeed stick its head into the snare. Chu Mingcheng immediately pressed the switch.

The snare tightened abruptly. The fish below was startled and began thrashing its body wildly, instantly churning the water into a murky cloud.

Chu Mingcheng started swimming toward the surface—it was too dark below to see the fish clearly.

"Holy crap~!"

The moment he broke the surface and looked at the snare, he couldn't help but curse.

A marbled eel was struggling in his snare. If he actually tried to sell this, his peaceful days would probably be over.

Chu Mingcheng quickly opened the snare and released it.

The marbled eel was a Class II protected species in China, and wild specimens were on the verge of extinction.

However, marbled eels were now being farmed. Some people would release the fry into reservoirs, and eels raised this way weren't much different from wild ones—their price was comparable to that of an earth dragon.

If they were purely farm-raised, the price was naturally much cheaper.

Muttering about his bad luck, Chu Mingcheng shook his head and continued searching for target fish.

A short while later, he found a three or four-jin grass carp resting in a rock crevice.

The snare successfully looped around its tail, but a grass carp of this size had considerable strength. For a moment, Chu Mingcheng could barely hold on.

Fortunately, the snare rope was thick enough. Chu Mingcheng relaxed his body and let the fish pull him.

To his surprise, he was actually dragged along, though the speed was slower than a tortoise crawling on land.

After a few minutes, the grass carp exhausted itself, and Chu Mingcheng was able to secure it with the live fish stringer.

Grass carp were cheap. Even wild ones only sold for a dozen or so yuan per jin—twenty at most.

But a three or four-jin specimen could still fetch a decent price. Not bad.

Over the next half hour, Chu Mingcheng caught two more jin-sized mandarin fish, which he found hiding in a patch of aquatic plants.

Unfortunately, the efficiency was rather slow. At this rate, his afternoon earnings probably wouldn't surpass his morning's haul.

As Chu Mingcheng continued his search, a particularly large shadow flashed past in his peripheral vision.

He turned to look but only caught a glimpse of a tail.

But what a tail it was—massive, the kind that could knock him unconscious with a single slap. This was clearly a very large fish.

Now this was more like it. A lake this size had to have big fish!

Chu Mingcheng changed direction, clipped the snare to his belt, and gave chase at full speed.

Before long, he spotted the large fish that had just swum past.

He had expected it to be a black carp, bighead carp, or grass carp, but to his surprise, it was a ferocious giant snakehead.

And it wasn't just a meter-class fish. Chu Mingcheng estimated its length was nearly the same as his own height. This was a true underwater behemoth!

But perhaps sensing the approaching danger, just as he was about to catch up, the giant snakehead suddenly accelerated, leaving him behind again.

Chu Mingcheng was helpless. His speed in the water was much faster than any athlete's, but he still couldn't match a real fish.

However, after the fish shot away, just as it was about to disappear, it slowed down again.

Seeing this, Chu Mingcheng pushed himself and gave chase once more.

But… the fish bolted again.

Damn it… Where's my speargun?

Chu Mingcheng's temper flared. He could sell this giant snakehead even if he had to kill it.

But he couldn't go back for his speargun now. If he turned back, he'd probably never find this fish again.

In the end, after chasing it for twenty minutes, he chose to give up.

Although he felt little resistance in the water, his stamina drained faster than the fish's, and he couldn't maintain the pace. He was completely helpless against this giant snakehead.

If this had been a large grouper in the sea, it definitely wouldn't have escaped, given its sluggish swimming speed.

"Huh~! Slow swimming speed!"

Chu Mingcheng's eyes suddenly lit up. He thought of rockfish—another slow-swimming species that liked to live in groups.

If he encountered those, he could catch them with ease, right?

The only thing to watch out for was their venomous dorsal fins. He'd need gloves that couldn't be easily pierced.

He'd skip it for today. Tomorrow, he planned to try shore diving at the coast.

If he could catch a whole bag of them, he could make a good profit.

He went back to searching for mandarin fish. Any that were seven or eight liang or larger—he wouldn't let them escape.

Finally, around three o'clock, his live fish stringer was full.

He had twelve fish in total. Besides one three or four-jin grass carp, the rest were all mandarin fish. He had spotted some topmouth culters, but they were almost never still, making them impossible to catch.

However, half of the mandarin fish were only seven or eight liang, so the price would be somewhat lower—around eighty yuan a jin.

Just as Chu Mingcheng was about to head back to shore, he encountered that giant snakehead again.

Was it determined to be caught by him?

This time, Chu Mingcheng didn't hesitate. He immediately returned to shore, transferred all the fish from his stringer into the fish box to keep them alive, then removed his weight belt, snare, and other gear and stored them in the car.

Carrying only his speargun, he re-entered the water.

He returned to the spot where he had last seen the fish, but it was already gone—which didn't surprise him.

He began swimming, searching for the large snakehead.

Since he had encountered it twice, it meant the fish lived in this area. If he searched thoroughly, he might find it again.

After swimming four or five circuits around the area, Chu Mingcheng finally encountered the giant snakehead again.

This time, he couldn't let it get away.

Previously, it would flee when he got within about five meters, so this time Chu Mingcheng didn't approach too closely.

Instead, he positioned himself to the side, stopping at a distance of about eight meters.

He pulled back the rubber bands, raised his speargun, and took aim.

"Bang~! Swish~!"

The spear shot through the water just above the fish's head, leaving a clear wake.

Chu Mingcheng didn't even have time to reel in the line after the miss. He immediately gave chase in the direction the snakehead had fled, reeling in the line as he went.

He still hadn't spearfished enough—his accuracy was still lacking.

But even though he'd missed, the fish was thoroughly spooked.

This time, it burst away at maximum speed, and Chu Mingcheng quickly lost sight of it.

Seeing this, he had no choice but to slow down, retrieve his spear, and continue searching for the snakehead.

This time, he searched for a long while but didn't find it again.

Chu Mingcheng surfaced to catch his breath, feeling slightly disappointed. In the end, the fish had gotten away.

He checked the time—it was already past three-forty. He had no choice but to dive back down and swim quickly toward shore.

But as he passed a section along the mountain base, he caught a glimpse of a silvery-white figure pressed against the wall.

He immediately performed an underwater emergency brake…

He couldn't stop in time, shooting forward five or six meters before finally coming to a halt.

He looked back and found the giant snakehead hiding there, pressed tightly against the wall, completely motionless. It seemed he had scared it badly.

But with it staying still, it made for an easier target.

He pulled back the rubber bands, raised his speargun, and pulled the trigger again.

"Ding~!"

The spear pierced through the fish's belly and struck the rock behind it. The snakehead, in agony, immediately shot away. The force was so great that Chu Mingcheng could barely hold on—the speargun was nearly ripped from his hands.

Half the line in the reel disappeared in an instant. Seeing this, he grabbed the line with one hand and kicked his legs to keep up.

The speargun line was thick, but that didn't mean it wouldn't break. And a person in the water couldn't match a large fish in a contest of brute strength.

If he wasn't careful, he could be dragged into deep water and drowned.

Chu Mingcheng was now following to prevent the line from snapping. At the same time, he wasn't swimming at full speed, letting the fish pull him along to quickly drain its stamina.

This was somewhat like spearfishing for tuna, except that for tuna, you'd prepare a much thicker line.

And unlike Chu Mingcheng, others couldn't stay underwater for extended periods. They had to choose between having a tug-of-war with the tuna while frequently surfacing for air.

The injured snakehead ran for about ten minutes before its speed decreased. The wound was causing its stamina to drain faster. Chu Mingcheng tested the line and found he could already influence its movement.

He then slowly reeled in the line, closing the distance between them.

Up close, Chu Mingcheng was even more amazed by the fish's size. Its length was indeed nearly the same as his height.

The spear's barb was holding firm and wouldn't come loose. Chu Mingcheng simply pulled the fish and swam toward shore.

The fish had run for over twenty minutes—who knew how far? It took him more than forty minutes to get back to shore with his catch.

But when he reached the bank, Chu Mingcheng suddenly found himself in a dilemma.

Damn it, I got the fish, but how do I get it back?

It wouldn't fit in the trunk. It could fit in the back seat, but he couldn't lift it!

A fish that probably weighed a hundred jin—even with his improved physique, lifting it would be a serious challenge. This was completely different from lifting a woman.

And the car belonged to Jiang Luoluo. If he got it all fishy, even after washing, the smell would linger for days.

At this moment, he felt he really needed a tricycle.

He didn't know anyone in Xiamen, and Jiang Luoluo couldn't help with this. In the end, Chu Mingcheng thought of Wei Jianguo.

After some consideration, he swallowed his pride and made the call. After all, the only person who could help him here was probably this old man.