Pesca nos Céus: Você chama isso de alma marcial amarela?

"Yu Le, you've got a bite!"

Startled from his reverie, Yu Le snapped to attention at the shout of his fellow angler, gripping his Panlong fishing rod tightly.

"Wow, it’s a first-tier Bloodscale Grass Carp! Judging by the commotion, it must weigh at least a hundred pounds. Little Yu, you’ve struck gold this time!"

The other anglers nearby all turned to look, their gazes filled with envy or jealousy.

"Don’t shout, don’t shout, Brother Wang—help me with the landing net!" Yu Le’s cheeks flushed red. He’d caught Bloodscale Grass Carp before, but never one this large.

After a fierce contest of wits and strength, amid the jeers of his fellow anglers, the massive first-tier spirit fish managed to escape the hook!

With a flick of its tail, the Bloodscale Grass Carp sent waves splashing, as if mocking the incompetence of the fishermen.

"What a shame! If you’d landed such a big Bloodscale Grass Carp, you’d have enough rations for a month. Now it’s gone, and this fishing spot’s as good as ruined," Old Wang sighed, shaking his head, the landing net useless in his hands.

Among the dozen or so anglers present, some looked disappointed, but most wore expressions of schadenfreude.

It’s not scarcity but inequality that breeds resentment. Most of the anglers here rarely catch anything, but Yu Le had been fishing in this water for half a year and his catches were the envy of all.

Someone had tallied it up—Yu Le’s haul was nearly a hundred fish in six months!

Yu Le sighed and reeled