Get a rebuff

Both were fishing, but from the rod to the fishing line to the hook, hers was the finest of the finest in terms of material and craftsmanship.

As for the bait, it was all refined from the essence of heaven and earth, something she had gone to great lengths to obtain.

Yet, after sitting here for over half a year, her float hadn’t even twitched once.

She wasn’t expecting a dragonfish, but at least some other spiritual fish could take a bite—just something to give her a sliver of hope in this endless waiting.

Meanwhile, Yi Feng beside her was the complete opposite.

His rod was just bamboo.

His hook was a simple iron one.

His float was a reed stalk.

Even his bait was nothing more than earthworms freshly dug from the soil.

And yet, the moment he sat down, his line would stir. Once or twice might be luck, but this happened every single time—every cast, a catch.

The stark contrast shattered Feng Qianyue’s composure.

Her frustration grew with each passing moment…

“Hah!”

She took a deep breath, circulating her cultivation technique to forcibly calm herself.

What could a cheap rod and earthworm bait possibly catch? Just small fry, right?

Feng Qianyue, why are you even jealous?

A single decent spiritual fish from your line would outweigh his entire basket.

With that thought, she felt slightly better.

She settled back into meditation.

Half a day passed in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, almost full!”

Yi Feng glanced at his creel, set down his rod, and stretched lazily.

Then, he dug a pit behind him and set up a pot.

Soon, the water boiled.

He casually pulled a few fish from his creel, cleaned them, and tossed them in, adding various seasonings.

Before long, a pot of fragrant fish soup was ready.

“Ah, life is good!”

Yi Feng lounged back, serving himself a small bowl to savor.

Nearby, Feng Qianyue, who had just entered meditation, wore a frosty expression.

This was blasphemy.

Absolute blasphemy.

And Yi Feng was squandering treasures.

Even if she considered his catches mere small fry, anything living in Cloud Lake was extraordinary by default.

Yet, here he was, wasting such spiritual creatures in such a crude manner. It made her blood boil.

Just as she was grinding her teeth in anger, the straw-cloaked elder who had been sitting motionless all this time suddenly stood up.

This shocked Feng Qianyue.

In all her time here, the elder had never moved a muscle, as if the world beyond his fishing line didn’t exist. But now, he was leaving.

The elder slowly reeled in his line.

Holding an empty creel in one hand and a damp stool in the other, he began walking along the lakeshore.

Yi Feng, still enjoying his meal, looked up at the elder.

Seeing the empty creel, he couldn’t help but smirk.

A total blank.

He felt a little awkward.

Here he was, pulling fish left and right, his creel nearly overflowing, while the old man nearby hadn’t caught a thing. Anyone would either change spots or leave in frustration.

After a moment’s thought, as the elder drew near, Yi Feng called out cheerfully, “Elder, I’ve had good luck today. Would you like some of my catch?”

“Thank you,” came the aged voice from under the straw hat, accompanied by a faint chuckle. “But no reward without merit. Besides, this old man enjoys the act of fishing itself. Whether or not I catch anything is irrelevant.”

“Oh?” Yi Feng was surprised. “What a lofty mindset, Elder!”

“Hahaha.”

The elder’s laughter echoed, though whether it was self-mockery or humility was unclear. “Compared to you, young man, I still have much to learn.”

With that cryptic remark, the elder continued on his way.

Feng Qianyue sneered inwardly.

As if your pitiful small fry would interest him. Do you even know who he is?

He might be the only person in Cloud Lake’s history to ever hook a dragonfish.

What use would he have for your scraps?

Pathetic.

Just as she was thinking this, the elder passed by her.

Noticing him, Feng Qianyue quickly rose and bowed.

The elder paused.

He turned his head slightly toward her.

As she straightened, a breeze lifted the black veil of his hat, revealing a pair of unfathomable, chaotic eyes that gave her a strange look.

Then, without a word, he walked away.

Feng Qianyue stood frozen.

What had that look meant?

Was there some hidden message?

Before she could puzzle it out, a mocking voice echoed in her mind.

“The Feng family’s descendants grow weaker with each generation…”

“Out of respect for your ancestors’ ties to me, I’ll give you a hint: take a closer look at what he’s actually catching…”

The words burned in her mind, flooding her face with humiliation and rage.

The implications struck her like a tidal wave.

When she whipped her head around to seek answers, the elder had already vanished.

She sat there, dazed.

Her thoughts were in turmoil.

Fishing was the last thing on her mind now.

The elder’s voice replayed endlessly in her head.

Her gaze kept drifting back to Yi Feng.

What had the elder meant?

Were Yi Feng’s catches not just small fry after all?

She desperately wanted to know—what kind of fish was he really pulling up?

But her pride wouldn’t let her ask him directly.

And so, she endured this torment for half a month.

Not a single moment of peace.

Watching Yi Feng fish had become pure agony.

Hook after hook after hook…

Sometimes two or even three fish at once.

And later, he’d only fish for a short while each day…

Not only that.

Behind him, he’d set up a makeshift tent. Outside it: a soup pot, a griddle, a grill…

The smaller fish, he released. The bigger ones, he cooked in every imaginable way—fish head soup, roe and bladder stew, fried fish jerky, sizzling griddle fish, skewered roast fish…

The contrast between them couldn’t be starker.

But after the elder’s message, she no longer dared to underestimate Yi Feng.

She was fixated on one thing: uncovering the truth about his catches.

The elder wouldn’t have spoken idly.

Yet, after two weeks, she still hadn’t found an opening.

Then, Yi Feng began dismantling his tent.

He packed up his cooking gear and fishing rod.

His agreement with Piaomiao Hong was for half a month, and now that time was up. His fishing itch had been scratched—it was time to regroup.

So, creel in hand, he got up to leave.

His path would take him right past Feng Qianyue.

As Yi Feng approached, Feng Qianyue quickly closed her eyes, assuming an expression of serene indifference—like an untouchable white lotus blooming in the heavens. Clearly, she didn’t want him to know she had been watching him.

But what she didn’t realize was that Yi Feng paused briefly behind her, his hand already reaching into his fishing basket.

This girl had arrived even earlier than him.

The two weren’t far apart, and no matter how little Yi Feng paid attention, he couldn’t help but notice.

In the half-month since he’d been here, he had never once seen her catch a single fish—worse off, even, than the old man he’d initially pitied.

It left Yi Feng feeling a bit guilty.

After all, he’d been hauling in fish left and right while she came up empty-handed. That kind of thing would bother anyone.

Originally, he’d planned to offer her a couple of fish as he passed by on his way out. But seeing her icy demeanor—a fortress against any approach—he dismissed the idea.

No sense in extending kindness only to be met with frost.

And so, Yi Feng walked away, his basket of fish in hand.