Chapter 119: Fishing Competition Qualifying Round (Six)

Although it was a bit dangerous for the several competitors around him, dead dao friends don't die poor dao; after he hooked someone's clothing again, everyone collectively moved outward two meters.

If it weren't for the venue limit of the competition, Ye Cheng estimates that within a 100-meter radius there would be no one.

Even Laolin and Laochen got a bit scared, hiding far away.

This cast was not bad, fairly far; the float hadn't stabilized yet, but there was already movement.

Ye Cheng saw a good opportunity, following the opposite direction of the bite, he pulled the rod again; the fishing rod bent down, and he hooked another fish.

Laolin opened his mouth wide, from afar exchanged a glance with Laochen, feeling something was off; this fish-hooking is happening a bit too fast.

"Another one?" Laochen asked aloud.

"Yeah, hooked, a little fish." Ye Cheng stood up, his eyes excitedly gazing at the sea surface, like a general wielding a big blade, constantly pulling and tugging.

Fighting heaven, fighting people, fighting fish—its joy is endless.

A silver fish, flailing its tail, was pulled halfway into the air, struggling nonstop, but couldn't escape Ye Cheng's fishhook.

A sardine, a bit small, only over half a catty, but fortunately the bait wasn't consumed much.

After Ye Cheng got it down, he cast the line again.

The fishhook, with bait attached, sank into the sea; there was still one hour twenty minutes left, and Ye Cheng already had five fish.

Only half of the competitors remain in the match.

Some had caught quite a few, feeling they could advance, so they got lazy and stopped; it's already been four or five hours, even the iron-clad would be tired.

Of course these are just a minority; most still haven't gotten a bite!

Right, Ye Cheng just has low luck value, not that he has none.

But there's still a small half of unlucky ones who got no bite for four hours, almost dropping their fishing rods.

Since advancing is hopeless anyway, they all stopped fishing.

"Ma de, what lousy thing, you can't even catch anything." A balding, middle-aged man who wasn't overweight said.

This guy looks like a seasoned fishing veteran at a glance; his skin is almost merging with the earth.

"Hey, Da Fu Ge, it's normal for you to have no bite, but having no bite is still better than that newbie who came for the first time and still wants to win the championship." Another friend who also had no bite beside him teased Ye Cheng again.

No way, the two highlights of today's fishing competition are Cui Shuran, who is a truly awesome expert, and...

One is Ye Cheng, a negative highlight—a newcomer who got in through connections, boasting he'd take first place, then hooked someone's clothing, that newbie Little White.

Speaking of Ye Cheng, Da Fu Ge scornfully curled his lip, proudly reeled in his own rod, saying, "That's right, I admit my skills are poor, I don't boast, I'm just this down-to-earth as a person."

Having said that, he paused, then said to the friend beside him, "Hey, you just said that—how many fish has he caught today?"

"I don't know; let's go over and check later." The friend casually said, then pointed toward Ye Cheng's side, "I remember it's over there."

Da Fu Ge looked over, furrowed his brows, "Is that the place over there where a bunch of people are gathered?"

The friend turned his head, gave a definite nod, "Right there, I didn't misremember—by the way, what are those few non-fishermen standing there looking at?"

"Let's go over together and have a look."

The two simply packed up their stuff, didn't take anything, just left it in place and walked over.

Just as they arrived, they heard the onlookers exclaim, "Wow, another fish hooked!"

In the crowd, one person held the rod with both hands; a white little fish was on the hook—another sardine.

"Three sardines in a row."

"Seems they said they were using six hooks together."

"Sardines—catching them isn't much fun, what's the point?"

"It's a competition, bro—it's not about eating the fish."

"This technique is too immature; if it were me, I'd have set the hook already—maybe it wouldn't even be a sardine."

Hearing this group's discussion, Da Fu Ge realized someone had been hooking fish consecutively, and everyone had come to look.

When he saw clearly who was inside, he was instantly stunned, turned his head toward his friend, and asked,

"Is that person that rookie Little White?"

"Ah, it's him—how is he still getting bites consecutively?"

The friend also looked bewildered.

Ye Cheng, starting from the first sardine, this is already the fourth; he doesn't know why, but as soon as it goes in, he hooks a fish.

Although the fish are small, there are many of them, and fishing enthusiasts love the feeling of hooking fish, so many who had given up the competition started gathering around, watching Ye Cheng fish while smoking and exchanging experiences, commenting.

"In literature there's no first, in martial arts no second"—everyone critiques each other and refuses to concede, but evaluating this newcomer who came today for the first time, everyone still has plenty of insights.

Ye Cheng now focuses all his thoughts on fishing; he blocks out whatever the people around him say.

There are still six baits left, and only forty minutes remain; he truly doesn't know how many he can catch.

Drop the hook.

Steadily watch the float.

"It moved, it moved!" He didn't even need to shout; the onlookers cried out first.

"Don't rush, kid, this is just testing the waters."

"Yeah, at first glance it's just testing..."

"Set the hook, hurry up—ah, this bite isn't just testing."

"Alas, what a pity."

All these off‑field coaches made Ye Cheng a bit flustered; in the end he still followed their shouts and lifted the rod.

Fortunately, he hooked a fish.

Another sardine.

Da Fu Ge: "Take a look, listen to me, there's definitely no problem."

Just now he was the most excited; there's no way—he himself got no bite, but watching others, especially giving them guidance, is still quite thrilling.

"Yo, Da Fu Ge, you're a mute, yet you still have the nerve to point out others?" Those who knew Da Fu Ge started laughing.

"The seawater where I'm from is no good; the timing and location belong to location, which doesn't work, and it's nothing to do with me—look, my guiding him is enough." Da Fu Ge, not discouraged, retorted, then continued to give Ye Cheng pointers.

"It's time to get up, get up, oh dear!"

"What's the point of getting up? We've barely started—maybe the line came up empty."

Ye Cheng felt like a hundred ducks were quacking in his ears, really unable to fish anymore.

As for chasing people away, he couldn't bring himself to do it, so he could only go with the flow.

Fortunately, after all that shouting, they still let him catch two sardines.

There were still 20 minutes left, but the bait was all used up, so he quit.

He cupped his fists toward the surrounding crowd, "Sirs, I'm done, about finished—you can also head back."

A bunch of bored men, with a boom, decided to disperse.

Just then, Da Fu Ge in the crowd suddenly spoke again, "Hey, kid, I think you might be able to advance—let the referee weigh it, we'll watch for you."

"Yeah, yeah, we haven't seen the ending yet—how could we leave?"

"Maybe he really did advance—this amount is not small."