Chapter 1622 - 1623: Fishing
At this moment, Yang Fei received a call from Mad Blade.
It turned out that the masters from the Yinxue Tower Martial Arts Alliance had arrived at the airport and were picked up by Mad Blade to the Taihe Hotel.
At this moment, Li Island was overcrowded.
Experts and martial arts enthusiasts from all over the world had come here, preparing to participate in the Martial Arts Golden Sword Tournament three days later.
At such a time, finding a hotel to stay in was as difficult as climbing to the heavens.
Thus, many residences on Li Island were also converted into temporary inns to provide accommodation for guests attending the Martial Arts Golden Sword Tournament.
Taihe Hotel is the most luxurious hotel on Li Island.
A week ago, Yang Fei and Xiao Xuanya had already booked two entire floors of the Taihe Hotel, a total of over 30 rooms, plus a conference hall.
Yang Fei hummed a tune, turned the car around, and headed towards Taihe Hotel.
Just 30 kilometers from Taihe Hotel is the famous Crescent Lake scenic area on Li Island.
Crescent Lake is surrounded by mountains, lush palm groves, and other tropical plants, distributed around the lake.
The calm Crescent Lake is like a mirror, clearly reflecting the surrounding plants and the shadows of clouds above into the heart of the lake.
By now, it's early winter, and the reflections of green, yellow, and red tree shadows colorfully fill the lake, overwhelmingly beautiful.
On the eastern side of Crescent Lake stands a sign for a military restricted area.
Though unguarded, the one-person-high barbed wire fence is intimidating.
Standing outside the jungle, one can faintly see silhouettes inside the forest patrolling with guns.
Locals know this is an inviolable restricted area on Li Island.
Once, a brave local ventured in but was mercilessly shot dead.
This incident spread, and no local dared to linger around here anymore.
At this very moment, a middle-aged man in a hemp Taoist robe was leisurely fishing on the fishing platform in the middle of Crescent Lake.
He sported short facial hair, a square face covered in rough muscles yet bizarrely displayed a gentle, quiet demeanor.
Few knew Crescent Lake was an outpost of the Eight Gates Ninja on Li Island.
And the middle-aged man fishing was the Sect Leader of the Eight Gates Ninja, Miyamoto Taro.
Miyamoto Taro calmly watched the tranquil lake surface, the water still as a mirror, and his expression serene.
Behind Miyamoto Taro stood a pine table, atop which lay a small red clay charcoal stove.
A pot of delicious fish soup was bubbling on the stove.
Behind Miyamoto Taro, a samurai stood with a straight posture, exuding a fierce, formidable aura.
However, in his gaze toward Miyamoto Taro, there was profound respect.
At that moment, the fishing float on the lake lightly moved before suddenly sinking down.
Miyamoto Taro tugged the fishing rod, slowly reeling in the fishing line.
Gradually, a two-to-three-pound bass emerged from the water, struggling vigorously as the water splashed noisily.
Miyamoto Taro's face showed a leisurely smile.
He slowly pulled the fishing line in, and the bass steadily swam towards the shore under the pull.
Miyamoto Taro picked up a net to start catching the large bass.
With a meaningful glance at the samurai behind him, his face retained a tranquil smile.
"See, the key to fishing is patience. Once you've cast the bait and have enough patience, big fish will always bite."
He said, netting the fish and lifting it from the water, placing it on the birch floor of the fishing platform.
Out of the water, the fish struggled fiercely, its tail flapping against the birch floor with a series of "pop pop" sounds, its mouth opening and closing.
The samurai looked at the bass without a word.
After a while, he said coolly.
"I don't like fishing, I only like killing fish."
He spoke, suddenly kicking a wooden board, which landed lightly on the water, spinning across the surface.
Simultaneously, the samurai's figure lightly descended onto the water, like a falling autumn leaf.
His left foot stepped onto the board, which propelled forward under his weight at a rapid pace.
In that instant, the samurai drew his longsword, its light flashing swiftly before disappearing.
As the board barely supported his weight, the samurai flipped acrobatically, soaring back from the water to the fishing platform.
This feat, whether in the agility of spearing the fish, the cleverness in riding the momentum, or the ruthless execution of a fatal strike.
All of it embodied the swordsman's exceptional Martial Arts Skills.
The samurai's longsword pierced through the chest and belly of the two-three-pound bass that desperately thrashed and swung on his sword.
Blood dripped along the swordsman's sword, appearing very brutal.
Meanwhile, Miyamoto Taro had already taken out a silver little knife.
He leisurely scraped the scales off the bass, filleting it into slices, placing them in the hotpot.
In an instant, the savory aroma of fish wafted from the hotpot, enchanting the senses.
Throughout, Miyamoto Taro never glanced at the swordsman, seemingly oblivious to his incredible swordsmanship skills.
The swordsman, finding it dull, flicked his longsword, splitting the bass into pieces that fell onto the floor.
Miyamoto Taro finally looked at the swordsman, letting out a long sigh.
"Crescent Lake's freshwater bass is a tribute, isn't it too wasteful of you to handle it that way?"
The swordsman immediately put on a stern face, snorting.
"I've already said, I don't like fishing, don't like eating fish, I only enjoy killing fish. This fish is fortunate to die by my sword."
"Alas, your lust for killing is too strong. It goes against Huaxia's Martial Spirit."
Miyamoto Taro shook his head, slowly picking up the bass off the floor, beginning to prepare it.
"Whether it's fishing or cooking fish, the result is crucial, yet the process is equally important."
"If you can't understand this, your swordsmanship will never advance."
The swordsman coldly snorted, remaining silent.
Then, after a while, he couldn't resist speaking again.
"Sect Leader, I really don't understand. We already know the headquarters of the Red Shirt Army is in Li Wang Town, why don't we act immediately?"
Miyamoto Taro smiled and continued focusing on cleaning the bass, meticulously removing the scales.
Seeing Miyamoto Taro remain silent, the swordsman's face showed a hint of annoyance, his eyes suddenly becoming colder.
Miyamoto Taro slowly placed the bass into the hotpot and handed chopsticks to the swordsman.
"Try the taste of the bass I cooked?"
The swordsman reluctantly tried a bite of the bass, suddenly throwing the chopsticks onto the table, standing upright.
"Mr. Miyamoto, I formally request authorization to strike the Red Shirt Army headquarters on Li Island without delay."