Chapter 117: Fishing Preliminaries (Four)

Fortunately, this time Ye Cheng's direction control was better; the fishing line at least flew forward, not as far as Laolin and Laochen's, but much better than before.

The float stood steadily on the Sea Surface.

In the next hour and a half, Laolin and Laochen each caught a Black Seabream, and they were overjoyed.

Ye Cheng's side, however, still came up empty-handed, but his insight into fishing deepened considerably.

It's quite a skill to get the fish to bite the bait; you have to lift the rod according to the fish's species, temperament, and other factors—too early and you get an empty hook, too late and the bait is gone.

Although the competition had only been going for an hour, the top contenders were already apparent.

Cui Shuran had already caught seven or eight fish; aside from the first one being a bit small, the rest were each over three catties.

Most of the others had also caught one each.

Of course, there are plenty of unlucky folks like Ye Cheng.

The float twitched slightly; Ye Cheng's spirits tightened, he gripped the rod firmly with both hands, and his eyes locked onto the float.

It dipped once.

It dipped twice.

On the third dip, it sank a bit—hold on, hold on!

On the fourth dip, the float clearly showed a downward trend; it was time, and Ye Cheng jerked the rod upward.

A feeling of strain!

Got a fish!

A splash rose on the water surface, and a fish was firmly pulled in by Ye Cheng.

"Yo, hold steady, hold steady."

"Right, don't rush, first tire it out."

Laolin and Laochen quickly started acting as advisors, speaking to Ye Cheng from the side.

Tiring out a fish—Ye Cheng is familiar with that.

This fish is a bit wild; the tip of the rod was bent down by a pull, but from the feel Ye Cheng knew it wasn't a big fish, so he wasn't in a hurry.

He just stood there, lowering it a bit then raising it a bit.

After a few minutes of fussing, Ye Cheng began slowly raising the rod, wanting to see just how unlucky this fish was, to be caught by himself with a Luck Value of 30.

Through the ripples, he could basically see what kind of fish it was—a Sea bass.

It's a common seafood, not expensive; some say the texture isn't great, but Ye Cheng thinks it's fine, especially when he eats grilled fish—he chooses this one because it offers good value.

This Sea bass weighs a little over one catty, considered relatively small; Ye Cheng lifted the rod and line to haul it up, and it was already out of strength.

He probably caught it thanks to his own skill; Ye Cheng put it into the Water Tank.

"Lao Er, you've got a fish—great start!"

A familiar voice came from behind.

Ye Cheng knew who it was without turning around—Zhao Zhiming.

Zhao Zhiming had been sitting there drinking tea and chatting, and he could barely stand it anymore, constantly being mocked.

Seeing Ye Cheng catch a fish, he couldn't wait to run over, seeking some peace.

"Brother Zhao, after so long just one fish—I doubt I'll even make it past the preliminaries." Ye Cheng began to self-mock.

That's quite possible; right now about half the people haven't caught a fish, but given his fish, it definitely lacks weight advantage—there's no way a quarter of them would make it.

"Brother, fishing is like that—sometimes you get a bite, sometimes you don't; it's all normal. Keep a calm mindset; if we don't make the finals, next time we'll just go fishing for fun ourselves—no problem."

Zhao Zhiming's tone had completely changed; at first he said Ye Cheng would win the championship, but now he suddenly switched to advocating a calm mindset.

Ye Cheng smiled understandingly and continued to bait his own hook.

Zhao Zhiming.

Lao Zhao.

Laolin and Laochen also greeted Zhao Zhiming; they were all regular anglers, so they knew each other to some extent.

After Zhao Zhiming said hello, he just left.

Yeah, that guy left.

Anyway, the result is already set; he doesn't want to waste time here either.

Jiang Weiyang and company also left, leaving a few referees to watch; six hours, who can stand that?

Ye Cheng originally thought that after catching one fish, a second would quickly follow.

But the fact is——not even a hair.

No matter how Ye Cheng pulled the rod, feigned, or changed bait, the float didn't budge at all.

"Come on, it's time to eat, time to eat."

Behind him, the staff began handing out boxed meals.

Only then did Ye Cheng notice it was already 11:30 a. m.; three hours had passed, and he still had only one fish.

As for the boxed meal, Ye Cheng took a look—two meat dishes and one vegetable, not bad, and it was free, supposedly funded from the membership fees.

One braised pork, one fish, and a stir-fried cabbage.

"Give me some chili sauce." Ye Cheng turned to the staff and got some more chili sauce—this time garlic chili sauce—mixed it into the rice, very good with rice.

Ye Cheng finished eating in less than ten minutes, because he didn't have much time left.

It's now noon; the competition ends at 3 p. m.

Now many people's fish keepers or fish boxes are already half full; Cui Shuran is even more impressive—he's filled his completely.

After filling it, he didn't keep fishing; instead, he waved for the referee to come over and weigh it, then he packed up and left.

"Damn, with half the time left they're not fishing anymore—damn impressive." Laochen said while picking at his rice.

"Others have caught so many; this is just the preliminaries, not the finals—making the cut is enough." Laolin took it in stride; he'd only caught five today, guessing it was just enough to make the cut.

This guy is interesting; I'm not fishing anymore—he's really confident.

Number 23, Cui Shuran, caught a total of 20 fish, weighing 98 catties.

The judge loudly announced Cui Shuran's score: 20 fish, 98 catties. The fish aren't particularly large, but the count is truly high.

As soon as the first score was posted, it immediately sparked a discussion.

Holy shit, Cui Shuran really is something—I haven't caught a single fish, and he's already landed 20.

This guy couldn't have pre-baited the spot, could he?

What bait? The numbers are random—how could you bait?

Sigh, he's good-looking and well-off—why does he have to come play fishing? Can't he leave us a chance?

His uncle is Jiang Weiyang; the family just likes fishing—what's the problem?

Huh? Jiang Weiyang is his uncle?

You couldn't have just found out now—he hasn't been hiding it.

No wonder, he's one of us.

Tch, you're just petty—Cui Shuran caught those fish by real skill; we anglers are the fairest: whoever has skill is awesome, and if he can catch them, he's awesome.

Ye Cheng had only just learned that Cui Shuran was Jiang Weiyang's nephew.

But it doesn't affect him; besides, he's catching them by real skill, and Ye Cheng admits it—now all he needs to do is catch his own fish well.

Ye Cheng estimated that the cutoff should be around five fish, and he's still far short.

If it keeps going like this, he's definitely doomed—he has to think of a plan.

He glanced at the lone dead sea bass in the water tank, then at the large pile of bait left, and suddenly a bold idea struck him.