Chapter 100: It’s All About That Fish Part 1

Luo Shang had come up empty-handed again.

When the fishing line gave that telltale tug that screamed “fish on,” Luo Shang reeled it in with textbook precision—only to find a tattered plastic bag hooked on the end.

He fell silent for a moment.

“Why the hell can I fish up crap like this even in the Pacific Ocean?” Luo Shang grumbled. “Can’t humans give a damn about the environment? If this keeps up, the microplastics building up in our bodies—the top of the food chain—will be off the charts. What happens when Alzheimer’s hits the young? Can’t people take some responsibility for society!”

“I think you need to keep in mind that your Native World’s civilization hasn’t advanced to the point of discovering plastic alternatives yet,” the System replied. “Why don’t you just hand them the tech for a plastic substitute?”

Luo Shang pondered it. “I could share it, no problem. But even if I did, they lack the energy infrastructure to mine and process it.”

“Unlocking biodegradable materials via biotech requires them to master combustible ice extraction first. Only then can they develop the gear to utilize it. And that material? It’ll come from synthesizing the compounds left over from burning combustible ice into an eco-friendly plastic.”

“Of course, that’s the closest thing to their current tech level,” Luo Shang added with a shrug. “At least they can already detect all that combustible ice under Antarctica.”

“There are other materials out there, sure. But with this world’s spiritual energy density, they can’t even form the basics needed for those, let alone exploit them.”

“Look on the bright side—at least here at home, you’re just pulling up plastic bags. Remember what you hooked back at the Abyss Black Lake…” The System tried to console him.

Stuff like Chef Demon leftovers, an Abyss Monster’s boot, even the Book of Necromancy and a thoroughly corrupted Emerald Jade Record twisted by the Abyss’s taint.

Even though the System was just a terminal spawned by the Main God—with no real sense of smell, sight, or hearing—it still shuddered at the memory.

Anyone but Luo Shang would’ve died on the spot if they’d hauled up junk like that.

Of course, no other Player had the guts to fish in the Abyss’s Black Lake…

After that fiasco, the Abyss species fixed around the lake got a full turnover—Luo Shang had gone on a rampage, scouring the place clean and restocking it with species that actually improved the water quality. Things like Slimes that devoured the muck.

The upside of fishing in his hometown? Luo Shang wouldn’t just wipe out the surface humans on a whim. Even with a plastic bag on the line, he’d just toss it aside and move on.

“You know, why can’t I catch any fish?” he mused. “My first time fishing, I got lucky right out of the gate. Nabbed a rare-quality fish on the first try—and that was in some random world I picked, no prep at all. Hell, I made the rod from a tree branch.”

Luo Shang reminisced again.

“But after that? Nada. Like I’d burned through all my luck in one go. Haven’t hooked a fish since.”

“I could still snag a few back when I was a Junior or Mid-tier Player. But once I hit Senior Player? Zilch. Is this just my destiny?”

He’d even burned Spirit Energy Points to have the Reincarnation Space’s Main God System scan him for blessings, curses, or whatever. Nothing showed up.

Back in his younger days, he’d tried defying the heavens to change his fate.

Too many failures later, Luo Shang had made his peace with it.

“What a shame. Looks like another bust tonight. I figured coming home might give my luck a tiny boost.”

A Player’s fortune could vary wildly between worlds.

Each world’s Heavenly Dao was unique. If it meshed well with a Player’s traits, they’d get lucky there. If it clashed? They’d be even more jinxed.

“You say that every world you visit,” the System said, utterly unfazed by now.

Luo Shang had picked the Abyss Black Lake—that death trap for most Players—precisely because he figured his bad luck might cancel out the poison.

No dice. Even the Fish-Shaped Demons ignored his bait, crushing his ego.

“No fish likes my hook,” Luo Shang complained.

“That’s not true,” the System countered.

“There are fish that like your hook.”

Luo Shang said, “This joke isn’t funny at all.”

“Is that so? Haha, guess my sense of humor’s lacking,” the System replied.

“I think you need maintenance again.”

Luo Shang glanced at the hook where the extraordinary fish bait had vanished, then shook his head.

No fish had taken the bait, but it had disappeared cleanly, so the bait itself wasn’t the issue.

“A-Jin…”

Thinking of Ke Yanjin brought a slight softening to Luo Shang’s expression.

“Whatever I cook, he loves eating it. Back when we first met, we were on a mission together, and that task world happened to celebrate the Lantern Festival. I remembered the traditions from home and made him some dumplings to try. But I accidentally mixed a fish hook into the meat filling. He ate it without flinching—it was me who tasted one, got pricked, and realized what happened…”

“Wait, I definitely wasn’t around back then,” the System said.

“That’s right. It was your predecessor,” Luo Shang recalled.

“I actually thought it was better than you. Shame my temper was pretty bad at the time…”

“You just dropped something terrifying like it was nothing! I knew there was a reason the last one needed repairs!!” The System’s reaction was explosive.

Then it kept griping.

“Why the hell would you mix an iron hook into the meat filling? And I remember your personal panel lists your cooking skill at 5!”

If personal skills capped at 10, a 5 would be nothing special—just average human level.

But they capped at 100!

A 5 was straight-up Hell-tier! He could wash his hands and head straight to the Abyss to become a Chef Demon!

And yet Ke Yanjin ate it and still hung out with Luo Shang like best buds… Terrifying man. No—Male Fish.

The System shuddered faintly.

“Well, I’d just come back from fishing, and it felt wasteful to toss the leftover bait. You know the bait’s ingredients are actually pretty tasty, so I mixed them in with mushrooms and stuff to make dumplings. The iron hook was an accident. Not really my fault, right?”

It absolutely is your fault! the System thought.

No wonder the only boyfriend he could land was a Kunpeng that’d eat literally anything. Swap in any other species, and you’d have poisoned them dead. What pot goes with what lid—a nutcase deserves another nutcase. Locking you two down was a public service to the other Players in the Reincarnation Space!

“Maybe. Everyone’s got their strengths and weaknesses; it’s only natural. A-Jin’s cooking is delicious, and that’s plenty.”

Even at their level, where eating was optional, the psychological need lingered.

Eating and sleeping were a creature’s most primal urges. Nailing those two did wonders for mental stability.

Ke Yanjin hadn’t known a thing about cooking at first. For a species that could stomach anything raw, it was a pointless skill—ingredients were edible uncooked, processed or not.

He’d picked it up entirely for Luo Shang. Luo Shang’s cooking was awful, yet he loved food. In grueling mission worlds, he’d starve before touching sketchy stuff.

So Ke Yanjin taught himself, grinding to improve until he could satisfy Luo Shang’s cravings even under harsh constraints.

“I miss him again. Am I turning into a total lovebrain?”

Luo Shang cast the hook back into the lake, watching it sink still and silent.

“Heh,” the System said.

“Not total lovebrain. If you were, you wouldn’t be hiding all this from him.”

“If only I could wrap it up in a day… Sadly…”

Luo Shang said.

“He’s definitely in this world somewhere, but I can’t track him down. I’m not as good at this stuff as he is—it’s normal for me to come up empty.”

“Actually, I know how to flush him out. I’d just need to grab some random guy and kiss him.”

“He’d sabotage the poor sap later, make sure he dies off mysteriously. Then I could trace the sabotage. Per Locard’s Exchange Principle—any action means interaction with the world, leaving material traces and triggering Entropy Increase. That’d give me the lead to pinpoint him.”

“Shame I don’t like making out with random guys,” Luo Shang said.

“Don’t talk about stuff you won’t actually do,” the System replied.

“I’ve been chatty tonight. Got a bad feeling.”

That’s your premonition of striking out, the System held back. It knew better.

Meanwhile, as Luo Shang fished and reminisced with the System, Su Mingyao drew near the lake.

The navigation pinged: the lake lay just beyond the next bend.

Su Mingyao killed the music, punched the gas, and cranked the wheel.

The off-roader crunched through the tall grass along the path, swung around—

Su Mingyao sensed that something was wrong.

The cool breeze still carried a hint of moisture, and the thatch grass swayed gently in the wind. But after rounding the bend, there was no sign of the lake’s shimmering surface—only the same narrow path stretching onward.

Narrow path after narrow path, endlessly.

Had ten minutes passed? Twenty?

Su Mingyao gripped the steering wheel of his off-road vehicle, the road eerily silent. Not even the chirp of crickets broke the quiet—only the yellow dirt track ahead, flanked by thatch grass towering over a man’s head, and the moon hanging silently overhead.

How long had the Heavenly Curtain been in place?

Were Roland and the others managing to keep operations stable?

What about Su Bingyao and the Su parents? Were they safe right now?

Su Mingyao’s thoughts churned in chaos, but the road ahead stretched on forever, with no lake in sight.

Was this Luo Shang’s silent rejection?

He refused to entertain the possibility.

If Luo Shang turned him away… it would all be over. Everything.

Su Mingyao slammed his fist into the hood of the off-road vehicle. The horn blared, shattering the stillness of the night.

Then, something shifted.

Su Mingyao possessed spiritual energy talent. He might not know precisely what had changed, but he could feel subtle ripples in the air.

The sound of something crushing through the grass.

It was drawing closer—straight toward him!

Run, or stay?

Two choices flashed through Su Mingyao’s mind.

Running was easy: just spin the wheel and floor it. No one around to witness it, no one the wiser. He could simply tell the others that Luo Shang had refused, and they could all await death together.

Death might even reunite him with his mom and dad. But what would they say then?

Would they blame him? Blame him for crashing into Su Shang’s peaceful life, for dragging disaster down on him?

Or would they just pat his head, like they always did when he’d screwed up before…

Staying put, though…

Luo Shang hiding from him was rejection enough. Lingering here like an unwelcome guest would only invite whatever punishment he had coming.