HLM – Chapter 953 Snatching Fish

Seeing that Wang Bo had freed up his hands, Father Bo shouted, “Cut off the other fishing lines!”

There were fifteen rods on the boat, and they had run into a rare school of tuna. Almost every rod had a fish on the hook. With fish thrashing around underwater, the lines could easily get tangled into a mess.

If that happened, it would be disastrous—most likely they’d end up with nothing.

Wang Bo began cutting the lines one by one. Father Bo winced with every snip, sighing endlessly—one might not encounter a tuna school even once in an entire year!

Zhong Dabao, with his brute strength, was the first to haul his catch close. A giant yellowfin tuna surfaced—at least two and a half meters long, nearly twice the size of Wang Bo’s fish!

Wang Bo grabbed his harpoon and walked toward him. “Pull backward—closer! I’ll spear it!”

Gritting his teeth, Zhong Dabao roared, “Damn it, this fish is strong as hell! I can’t hold it anymore! But I swear I will drag this bastard up! Never caught one this big in my life!”

A two‑and‑a‑half‑meter yellowfin tuna was monstrously powerful. In the water it was like a heavy-duty motorcycle gone wild. The fact that Zhong Dabao had even managed to lift it above the surface was already a miracle—normally, they could tow a small skiff around.

When Zhuang Ding saw the fish break the surface, he got excited. He leaped into the water with a splash, dove beneath the fish, and bit hard onto its tail.

But the always-victorious mastiff finally met his match. The crazed, wounded tuna whipped its massive tail fiercely—and sent the dog flying!

This is no exaggeration. Zhuang Ding was literally flung out of the water, his whole body lifted airborne. That alone showed how terrifyingly powerful the fish’s tail was.

Dazed, dizzy, and angry, Zhuang Ding turned feral. He swam at the boat, clamped his jaws on the hull, and gnawed while whining furiously.

“What the hell is he doing?” Zhong Dabao yelled.

Wang Bo gave an awkward laugh. “Damn… the silly brat got smacked senseless. He thinks the boat is a giant fish.”

After more struggling, Zhong Dabao finally succeeded. The tuna was dragged to the side of the boat, and Wang Bo thrust the harpoon like a flying arrow, piercing the fish’s back.

That marked the successful capture of the yellowfin. Wang Bo looped a knot around its tail, tied it to the gunwale, and began bleeding it as quickly as possible.

Tuna are fascinating creatures. They breathe by ram ventilation—they must swim with their mouths open to let water flow over their gills.

This means they must keep swimming at high speed all their lives. Even at night they do not stop—only slow down to reduce metabolism.

Because of this, their blood circulates quickly. Once a tuna dies, its blood quickly seeps into the flesh. Since the flesh is cold and the blood is warm, it ruins the meat quality. If the tuna isn’t bled immediately, its value drops sharply.

Wang Bo cut the gills and opened a cut at the tail to bleed it, while Zhong Dabao went to help Father Bo.

Father and Mother Bo’s fish weren’t as large, but still comparable to the one Wang Bo had caught earlier—at least 1.2 to 1.3 meters. After another ten minutes, those two were also hauled up.

Altogether, after more than half an hour of intense work, four giant tuna were secured to the boat.

Wiping sweat, Father Bo lit three cigarettes at once, then went into the cabin, took a bowl of uncooked rice, stuck the three cigarettes into it, and bowed toward the south.

“Thank you, Dragon King. Thank you, ancestors! Four sea chickens—this year will be a good year!”

Tuna aren’t just food. Because they’re large and highly valuable, fishermen regard them as bringers of wealth. Around New Year, in some big families, there is even a tradition of offering a tuna during ancestral rites to pray for luck in the coming year.

This tradition is similar to raising koi or arowana—believing these fish can attract fortune.

Looking at the four giant fish, Father Bo was beaming. “How many years has it been? At least ten… I haven’t seen sea chickens this big!”

“There must be a huge school underneath! Too bad we didn’t take the big boat. Otherwise one cast of a net and we’d be rich!” Zhong Dabao said regretfully.

Father Bo waved him off. “No use regretting. Who’d expect to run into a tuna school? I don’t think I’ve seen one since Xiao Bo started school!”

Eva snapped photos from every angle, even posing for a picture with the giant tuna Dabao caught.

Wang Bo turned his head and noticed that the two fishing boats they’d seen earlier were approaching. They were steel-hulled, at least a hundred tons each—large nearshore vessels.

They circled from a distance at first, and once the tuna were nearly processed, one of them headed straight toward them.

A bald brute stood on the bow. When they pulled up alongside, he shouted, “Hey! Where are you from?”

Father Bo, still cheerful from the good catch, shouted back with a smile, “We’re from Linhai City! And you? There’s a tuna school here—just giving you a heads-up! Cast your nets quickly, you’ll definitely get a haul!”

Eva glanced at them and whispered to Wang Bo, “These men look aggressive. They’re not here to thank your father.”

Wang Bo trusted her analysis. She worked in intelligence, after all, and it was she who analyzed the situation correctly when they were kidnapped that time.

Hearing her, he stepped behind his father and tightened his grip on the harpoon.

But no sooner had Father Bo spoken than the bald man roared, “Bullshit! Of course we know there’s tuna here! We drove this school here! Damn it! What the hell did you do? You scared our fish away!”

Wang Bo sneered, “Get lost.”

Because tuna rely on ram ventilation to survive, they must swim nonstop across oceans all their lives—they’re called “fish without borders.”

And they still cannot be reliably farmed. Japan claims progress, but the cost is so high it isn’t truly successful.

So the bald man’s claim was pure nonsense—he was clearly picking a fight.

Zhong Dabao saw through it too. Unlike Wang Bo, he lacked subtlety. He yelled back, “Bullshit! Who the hell are you cursing at?! Listen up, you bastard! These fish belong to all Chinese! What do you mean ‘your’ fish? Are your names carved on them?!”

The bald brute exploded with rage. He jabbed a finger at them. “Little bastard! Believe it or not, I’ll jump down and kill you right now?!”

Dabao raised his harpoon. “Come down then! Let’s see who kills who! I’m an idiot anyway—killing people doesn’t count for me!”

Wang Bo sighed bitterly. Dabao didn’t like people calling him dumb, and now he’d gone as far as to call himself an idiot.

The second fishing boat pulled up as well, carrying six or seven burly men, each with a face full of menace.

One of them shouted, “Brother Tao! Stop talking to these hicks! Damn it, they’ve even got our fish on their boat—take them back!”