Chapter 909: Stop Guarding This Stupid Fish (End of Month, Requesting Monthly Tickets)

The third day of the third month.

"The delay is significant…"

Liang Qu scanned the map, his eyebrows knotted together.

Good news.

The trail of "Meng Meng Bai Huo" was found; even Xiao Xing pushed further to uncover the location of another branch of the Ghost Mother Sect—four Zhen Xiang experts.

So far, Liang Qu had three concrete leads on Ghost Mother Sect branches; just handing these over would be a major achievement!

Bad news.

All traces were from two days ago.

Directly linking Xiao Xing to the "Xu Wanxing Network" carried risk; the information came from fragments of other tentacle limbs torn off by Liang Qu's temporary command of the little fish.

The Eastern Waters are too vast, the distances too great.

Even with maximum speed, the little spirits' delivery took two to three days—fastest compressed to one and a half.

This created "delay."

A delay measured in days posed no obstacle to locating the Ghost Mother Sect, but it was fatal for the Treasure Fish.

At this moment, Meng Meng Bai Huo was certainly no longer in its original position—possibly far off—and he'd need time to search.

Worse news.

Though the Ghost Mother Sect did not capture Meng Meng Bai Huo, keeping it caged to preserve its spiritual essence, they used their Golden-Horned Sharks and Silver-Horned Sharks to subtly alter the fish's course, forcing it to linger nearby.

Flashing past.

Risk of encounter!

"Old Frog! Success depends entirely on you—your divination is the key!"

In the pond courtyard, Liang Qu respectfully offered the Black Tortoise Shell.

When in doubt, cast a divination!

"A trivial matter."

The invited old toad puffed its belly, stroked its phantom beard, yet did not reach for Liang Qu's shell. Instead, it pulled from its ever-present yellow leather bag an even larger one—twice the length of Liang Qu's, gleaming with black luster, slick and well-worn, clearly handled often.

Liang Qu glanced at his own Black Tortoise Shell, vaguely remembering it too had been given to him by the old toad…

Fine.

A trivial matter.

Three-seven split: Liang Qu's matter was the old toad's own matter.

This time, the old toad brought not only a giant Black Tortoise Shell but also donned a special outfit: seaweed skirt tied at the waist, firebird feathers stuck atop its frog head, mumbling incantations—somehow learned, resembling a high priest.

"Got any copper coins?"

Liang Qu patted himself, glanced at Long Long Eying and Long Long Binglin; Long Long Eying lowered her gaze to Teta Kai.

Teta Kai rummaged in its inner pocket, pulling out a stack of greasy copper coins.

The old toad snatched them without ceremony, counted six, tossed them into the shell, stuffed the rest into its yellow bag, then lifted the shell and shook it vigorously.

Teta Kai hesitated, then scampered to the bag, pinched its opening, trying to reclaim the extra coins… The old toad leapt suddenly, its round, plump body executing a nimble backflip, kicking out a foot that sent Teta Kai flying—it curled into a ball and rolled into the pond.

Plop.

Water splashed everywhere.

"Heavenly spirit, earthly spirit! Supreme Old Toad, manifest!"

The old toad flailed wildly, chanting prayers to drown out the splash, running in circles like a spinning top, its head feathers swaying—as if the earlier kick had been an accident.

Splash.

Teta Kai burst out of the pond.

Before it could leap forward, Long Long Eying grabbed its nape and shoved a small ingot into its paw.

Teta Kai beamed, clutched the ingot, gnawed it with its sharp teeth, leaving a small hole to stash in its pouch.

Clinking, clattering—copper coins hit the ground.

The old toad stepped forward and counted.

Two heads, four tails.

It took up an ink brush and marked a line on the calendar for the sixth of March.

"Six more copper coins!"

Everyone froze.

Liang Qu pointed to the ground: "Can't we reuse these?"

The old toad shook its head vigorously, scooped up the coins, stuffed them into its pocket, and declared firmly: "Copper coins have spirit! Once used, they lose power!"

Teta Kai clutched its waist pouch.

Liang Qu sighed, sent the little Xiao Shenlong to ask Long Yao and Long Li for over a hundred coins, then handed them to the old toad in batches of six.

The old toad stared at Liang Qu's palm, looking regretful.

Shake again. Toss again.

Three heads, three tails.

Mark a line for the seventh day. The pond echoed with constant clinking of coins; the sleeping giant clam tightened its shell in annoyance.

Noisy!

Only after calculating the entire month did they find most days mixed heads and tails—except the twelfth and twenty-fifth, both five heads, one tail—the best fortune.

"The twelfth!"

Liang Qu made the decision.

The sooner, the better.

The old toad removed the calendar and drew a simple sundial on the ground.

Zi Hour.

Five heads, one tail.

"The twelfth, from Zi Hour to Shen Hour!"

…

The sturgeon bit the tentacle and thrashed its tail with all its strength, charging toward Xiao Xing's location.

Liang Zhai.

"Aren't you preparing more?" Long Long Eying asked anxiously. "The twenty-fifth is also a good day."

Liang Qu shook his head: "Delay invites change. Old Frog isn't omnipotent. I have this opportunity now—I'm leveraging the advantage of early intelligence."

The old toad's reminder led him to the Eastern Waters, to command the sub-bodies, to crack the enemy's intel and communication system.

The Ghost Mother Sect's plan was indeed sound.

If a master lurked, one glimpse and instant death—dangerous, yes—but they were still in the phase of building momentum around the Eight Beauties of Jianghuai; they hadn't even released Meng Meng Bai Huo's trail yet. Before that, they wouldn't waste manpower on round-the-clock surveillance, and they had no idea Liang Qu had already seen their underwear.

"Let's go!"

Liang Qu leapt into the pond.

Eastern Waters.

Three small flat boats floated on the water.

Today's wind was strong, waves rough in deep water, yet the little boats remained steady.

"Come on, come on, eat up!" A youth held a porcelain plate and jumped onto the neighboring boat.

"What's for dinner?"

"Bran cakes, raw fish with soy sauce, and two jars of meat paste left."

Yi Yi Zhiyu complained: "Again with the raw fish? Any cooked food? Hot food?"

Yi Yi Zhiheng set down the plate, ignoring him: "All our firestones are used up. Go find firewood, and I'll cook for you?"

"Ah, never mind, just eat it."

The others boarded, picked up chopsticks, and urged him on.

"Where are those two jars of meat paste? Bring them out!" Yi Yi Zhiyu waved.

Yi Yi Zhiheng pulled out a small bottle and dolloped a spoonful of congealed fat paste to each person.

The weather was too cold.

The so-called meat paste had lost all flavor—just dry salt and frozen grease, greasy and unpleasant—but on open water with no land or islands, this was all they had.

"Ugh, I wish I were a Jiao person—I can't stomach raw food. And as a two-legged human, my cultivation talent is lousy." Yi Yi Zhiyu shook his head, slapped his knees. "Once I get to Langyan Liu Island, I'll never take this miserable fish-guarding job again—I'll have hot meals every day."

"Dream on."

As they swallowed the unpalatable food and mocked him, a silver fish fin broke the surface.

"Hey hey hey, movement! Movement!"

"It's Meng Meng Bai Huo again! Follow it! Follow it!"

They dropped their bowls and chopsticks.

The three boats sped after it.

Midnight.

Stars glittered, cold wind blew.

Yi Yi Zhiheng pulled his blanket tighter, half-asleep, feeling someone shake him—he opened his eyes to see Yi Yi Zhiyu, the same one who'd complained about no hot food earlier.

He yawned.

"How fast—our watch shift already?"

"Yi Zhiheng, I have an idea—will you listen?" Yi Yi Zhiyu's eyes glowed fiercely, like a green-eyed wolf spotting meat in the night.

Yi Yi Zhiheng felt a pang of unease, pausing: "What idea…?"

"Let's stop guarding this damn fish—catch it, take it ashore, and sell it!"

(End of Chapter)