Day Fifty-One: Revisiting the Coastal Woods (Part Two) — An Extra Chapter for Sect Leader Bewitchment

Finally, Little Black came running out, howling at the top of his lungs! At last, I understood why his cries were so heart-wrenching. It turned out he had gone crab hunting again, but this time the crab he caught was particularly fierce. Although it wasn’t very large, its claws had clamped tightly onto Little Black’s nose.

He looked absolutely miserable, shaking his head repeatedly. I knew how sensitive a dog’s nose was, and seeing him in such pain made my heart ache. I rushed over without a second thought. When I reached him, I crouched down and pulled him into my arms, holding him still so he wouldn’t worsen the wound by thrashing.

Crabs have a particular habit: unless they escape or are set down on the ground, they never release their claws. Even if you cut off their pincer, it will remain clamped shut! So, after hugging Little Black, I wrapped my arms around his neck and slowly pressed his head toward the ground.

Thankfully, Little Black didn’t resist me; he only shivered a little from the pain. Within a few seconds of the crab touching the ground, it released its mighty claw and began to scuttle away!

Of course, I had no intention of letting it go. I sprang to my feet and landed a hard kick on it.

With a crack, the crab was smashed to pieces, its yellow roe, juices, and flesh splattering everywhere.

To vent my anger, I stomped it several more times before stopping. Meanwhile, Little Black licked his wounded nose while watching me exact his revenge. But I could tell he was happy—his tail was wagging rapidly, something he only did when he was truly delighted.

I walked over to him and stroked his head to comfort him. Then I lifted his chin to inspect the wound. It was a bit deep, but the cut wasn’t large. I unfastened the plastic bottle from my belt and used its fresh water to clean the wound, hoping it wouldn’t become infected.

To my surprise, Little Black suddenly dashed forward, grabbed a piece of the crab I’d stomped flat, and gulped it down.

I didn’t even have time to stop him—I could only watch, dumbfounded...

Time always passes slowly when one is waiting. To be honest, from a different perspective—say, that of a spectator—this place was an incomparably beautiful paradise.

The sky was a deep blue, the trees lush and green, all reflected in the sea. The clear shallows teemed with swimming fish, and one could see all sorts of shells, shrimps, and crabs.

Near the gnarled roots of some of the larger trees, I could clearly see schools of brilliantly colored fish gliding by in great numbers. Sitting on a rock by the shore, watching these vibrant fish before me, I became utterly entranced by this leisurely scene. I even wished I could become a fish myself, to leave this place and roam freely in the open sea.

But could I really become a fish?

Of course not. To survive, I needed more experience, and though I’d made many mistakes, I felt I’d improved by at least one level compared to before.

There were so many kinds of fish. For instance, the one before me—I initially thought it was some kind of bright floating debris, but then realized it might be the same kind I’d seen at the flower and bird market, called a lionfish, I think. I wasn’t certain, but its fanned-out fins and vivid colors left a deep impression on me.

Nearby, a school of fish with black and yellow stripes, like miniature zebras, swam gracefully together. The crystal-clear water revealed everything: quietly moving snails, starfish crawling along the seabed, and even an unknown fish that looked like a ray, waving its wing-like fins as it glided along the bottom...

It was breathtakingly beautiful!

“Huh? What’s that?”

A large fish had entered my field of vision, but the sunlight reflecting off the water made it hard to see clearly.

“My god, even in such shallow water?”

My jaw dropped in shock.

“What did I just see? Heaven help me!”

A lemon-colored shark! Though it wasn’t huge, from here it looked to be about a meter long. The sight filled me with dread at the thought of going into the water to set my fishing net.

In my mind, sharks belonged to the deep sea. They had always been, apart from the delicious shark fin soup, the evil hunters and killers of the ocean.

Instinctively, I felt a surge of fear. Before I could recover, three more sharks swam past right in front of me. I was utterly stunned—this place felt like a terrifying abyss, making me want to turn and flee.

They moved swiftly, seemingly hunting the schools of fish.

It was terrifying. I unconsciously took a few steps back. The newcomers were even smaller than the first, perhaps only eighty centimeters—maybe juveniles, I guessed.

I sat by the sea for two or three hours in total and saw no fewer than ten sharks, all of different appearances.

One type was the lemon-colored shark, actively chasing and hunting the fish, clearly formidable predators.

Another type looked similar, but the tip of its dorsal fin—and its tail fin, too—was edged in black. These were smaller, maybe only sixty centimeters, and swam leisurely rather than hunting.

There was another one that looked different, but I didn’t get a good look—probably over a meter long, but it vanished from sight in an instant...

This discovery threw me into another round of indecision. Still, I couldn’t bear to give up on my fishing net; if it worked well, it would provide me with a steady supply of food.

“Wait—the trees!” An idea struck me.

I took the hatchet from my belt and headed to the woods where Little Black had just been, chopping down a small tree.

It wasn’t thick—no bigger than my arm—which made it perfect for my purpose.

I stripped off the branches, cut off the narrow tip, and sharpened one end.

That’s right—I’d fashioned a crude spear! Of course, it wasn’t for hunting, but to ward off any sharks that might come too close while I worked.

I had no desire to provoke a shark, no matter how tempting shark fin soup might be—not worth the risk.

Luckily, my fears proved unnecessary. Not a single shark appeared while I was there, allowing me to haul up my carefully made fishing net.

A true haul—an absolute bounty.

Dragging the funnel-shaped net up took every ounce of my strength. Conservatively, I guessed it weighed at least twenty kilos, including the rocks inside.

It had to count as a fruitful day. Once I dragged the catch ashore, I’d see exactly what treasures it held...