Chapter Fifteen: A Boat, a Straw Raincoat, and a Bamboo Hat

The fisherman gripped his harpoon, thrusting it toward the little sea beast. The sharp blade flashed with a cold gleam, reflected in its innocent, wonder-filled eyes. It was only when its imagined world overlapped with the true one that it realized how laughably naive it had been.

The harpoon pierced its shoulder, blood dripping down the shaft. Another fisherman raised his own harpoon, intent on delivering the killing blow. The sea beast closed its eyes, hope for life extinguished, tears of grief slipping down its face. Just then, a small boat happened to pass by.

On the boat sat a man clad in a straw raincoat, his hat pulled so low that his features were obscured. He held a wine gourd in one hand and cradled a long sword, apparently napping.

His sudden appearance interrupted the fishermen’s next move. The mysterious air of this reclusive figure, emerging out of nowhere, filled their hearts with unease.

The sea beast, surprised that death had not come, opened its eyes in confusion. It too noticed the man on the small boat but, already harboring a deep hatred and mistrust of humans, could not believe in any difference—surely this one was yet another hunter after its life.

Yet the man’s next words left it stunned.

“You’ve already killed its parents. That should be enough to fetch you a decent reward. Why be so ruthless? Must you truly exterminate them all?”

He lifted his sword hilt, pushing up the brim of his hat to reveal a refined, handsome face. A faint, sparse mustache lent him neither slovenliness nor age, while his thick, long white hair added an air of mystery.

“Who are you supposed to be? I advise you not to meddle in what’s not your business!” The fisherman swung his harpoon around to point at the white-haired man. Clearly, anyone who blocked his way to profit was no friend, and if not a friend, why show courtesy?

On the fishing boat, the second man ducked into the cabin to fetch a knife, then slung it across his shoulder, boasting, “You think you’re a hero with that broken sword? Listen here, I used to be a notorious bandit in the mountains!”

“How come I never heard of that? When was this?” the scrawny man interjected, earning an eye-roll and a painful pinch to his waist that shut him up instantly.

The white-haired man glanced at the speaker—a fat man, belly protruding, his face fleshy and cruel. If not for that bluster, the man might have mistaken him for a butcher.

Seeing disbelief in the stranger’s eyes, the fat fisherman picked up his broad knife and slapped its flat against his belly, producing two dull thuds as the blade struck his fat. The scrawny fisherman recoiled in fright.

“Apologize quickly! He really does kill people! I’m not lying to you,” the scrawny fisherman whispered urgently to the white-haired man from behind his companion.

Amused by their performance, the white-haired man found himself entertained after so many monotonous days at sea, reluctant to spoil their act.

“So what should I do next?” he asked, deciding to play along. The scrawny fisherman, pleased with his cooperation, instructed him that, typically, when confronted by a bandit, one should admit to being terrified.

“Help! I’m so scared!” the white-haired man deliberately pitched his voice high and sharp, mimicking a woman’s shriek. The scrawny fisherman gaped in astonishment, drool running down his chin.

Wiping his mouth, the scrawny fisherman thought, I told you to imitate, not to outdo me! He waved his hand and corrected, “No, you need to put more feeling into it.”

“Help, I’m just passing by! Please, sirs, have mercy, spare my humble life! My heart is pounding so fast, I—” The scrawny fisherman plugged his nose, pulled out a handkerchief, and, feigning a woman’s voice, began to whimper and sob. The fat fisherman beside him frowned, as if his eyes were in pain.

Unable to stand it any longer, he kicked the scrawny man off the boat. Even the little sea beast, watching all this from the water, was so amused it clutched its belly and laughed with tears in its eyes.

“You little beast, daring to laugh at me? See if I don’t kill you!” The scrawny fisherman climbed back aboard, wiped the water from his face, grabbed a harpoon, and lunged at the little creature.

Seeing this, the white-haired man swiftly drew his long sword and slashed in their direction. The move seemed unremarkable, yet it shook heaven and earth.

As the sword left its sheath—a strange, unfamiliar weapon—threads of red light shimmered along its length. In the instant it swung, a blade of sword energy cleaved through the air.

Where it passed, the sea itself seemed split, opening a deep chasm. Fish below were sliced in two, and even the rocks on the ocean floor were split apart.

The harpoon in the scrawny fisherman’s hands shattered instantly, leaving him grasping only a sharpened stick.

Crack!

The boat groaned as if breaking apart, and the two fishermen clung to each other in terror. Barely had they regained their footing when the vessel snapped with a loud crack, splintering into countless fragments that floated on the water.

Tears streamed down their faces as they watched the sea beasts they’d worked so hard to catch slip free of the nets and escape, some even spitting seawater at the pair in gleeful revenge before disappearing beneath the waves.

A chill settled in their hearts—the true meaning of despair.

The man sheathed his strange long sword, stood, and stretched lazily. The two fishermen, thinking he was about to strike again, immediately fell to their knees, trembling and not daring to look up.

The little sea sprite, seeing its mother and the others freed, had eyes brimming with tears. It had not expected that a human could move it so deeply.

“Think of this as compensation,” the man said, rummaging in his robes and producing a money pouch. Finding it rather full, he took out two silver coins, but then, glancing at the wrecked boat he’d inadvertently destroyed, he shook his head and put them back.

“Sigh, what a headache. There goes tomorrow’s wine money! Oh well, I’ll just endure a day—once I reach Tianyu City, I’ll drink my fill.” Muttering to himself, he tossed the heavy pouch toward them. The two fishermen felt something hit them, but still didn’t dare look.

Only after a while, when the world had gone quiet, did they dare peek. The man in the straw hat was already nowhere to be seen, and the sea beasts had all seized the chance to escape into the deeper waters.

Not far off, a brown money pouch rested on a drifting plank. Using a long board, the scrawny fisherman fished it over. Opening it, they saw enough money not only to buy a new boat, but, even after deducting the value of the released sea beasts, there was still a large sum left—enough to open a shop and start anew.

It was as if the white-haired man had awakened something in them, and they cried even harder. From that moment, they resolved to turn over a new leaf, to give up the cruel business of hunting sea beasts and make an honest living.

Kneeling once more in gratitude, they bowed in the direction where the white-haired man had vanished.

Thus ended the little sea sprite’s memory.

It never expected, ten years later, to meet a descendant of that white-haired man. Removing the fishhook from its ear, it bowed deeply to Li Pingyang, then turned and dove headfirst into the sea.

“Goudan, the fish... it got away on its own,” Li Hu said, patting Li Pingyang on the shoulder as he watched the sea beast disappear into the distance. In the creature’s eyes, for a fleeting moment, Li Pingyang had looked just like its father.