Naming Technique of the Night-Chapter 676 - The best battlefield
Chapter 676: The best battlefield
Chapter 676: The best battlefield
The Golden Crab Farm had always existed only in legends, occasionally appearing once every few decades before continuing as a legend.
The three crabbing vessels next to the Arctic gradually made way, wanting to see what the situation was like in Arctic’s other crab pots.
One pot, two pots, three pots…
Almost every pot hauled up contained more than 100 king crabs.
Kreg did a quick calculation and realized that this single deployment of crab pots was enough for the Arctic to return fully loaded!
He shouted to the sailor beside him, “Put our crab pots down too! This is definitely the Golden Crab Farm. The Arctic only dropped 180 pots, there must still be king crabs down there!”
The Arctic was small and battered, able to carry only 180 crab pots, even less than the quota allowed for other crabbing vessels.
Normally, the Alps would carry 300 crab pots.
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However, they had just hoisted the crab pot crane when they hadn’t had the chance to hang the cod bait inside it, they heard the whizzing of a sharp object slicing through the night air.
In an instant, a playing card flew hundreds of meters, slicing through the rope of the Alps’ crane.
The card did not stop there; it continued spinning forward and left a long gash on Kreg’s right cheek before slowly fluttering down onto the deck.
Joker.
The red and yellow Joker card, lying on the deck, seemed to emit a silent mockery.
The crab pot plummeted into the depths of the sea with a splash.
Kreg looked incredulously towards the Arctic, taking out his binoculars just in time to see that young man who had once visited the Walnut Bar, grinning at him and flashing his pearly whites.
That oppressive feeling, even hundreds of meters away, struck him squarely in the face.
He looked at the deck, picked up the playing card, and gently tore it. The Joker was split into two pieces of paper.
It was just an ordinary paper playing card; why could it cut through the rope?
You must understand, that rope was meant for lifting a 680-pound crab pot. How could a playing card cut through it?
Still shaken, Kreg touched the cut on his cheek, wondering if he would have died had the playing card slashed his neck instead.
He recalled the sailor’s encounter with the ‘sea monster,’ thinking that since they didn’t intend to kill anyone, the best course was not to provoke them needlessly.
Otherwise, the outcome would be very grim.
Just like a sailor falling into the sea and encountering a tiger shark—if it does not plan to eat you, you’d better not flail around and draw attention to yourself.
With that thought, Kreg silently pocketed the torn playing card.
To avoid provoking the other party by them seeing him tear the card…
In the wheelhouse, the sailor steering the ship said, “Captain, the Arctic has informed us that we can drop pots in the Golden Crab Farm no problem since it’s all nature’s bounty, but according to the rules of the Barents Sea, we must wait for Arctic to leave before we can start.”
Kreg suddenly said coldly, “Drop the anchor, everyone go back to the cabin and rest until the Arctic has left, then we’ll drop the crab pots.”
Frankly speaking, Kreg was conceding.
By now, Time Traveler had already become a hot topic in various bars.
Thinking of where the opponent might be from, Kreg suddenly felt as if he was under the sway of mysterious eastern powers.
Why would Time Traveler want to help Zhang Jian? Kreg couldn’t understand.
Kreg wasn’t sure if the Alps, Tiger Whale, and Long Tail vessels would have enough king crabs if they all set pots here in the Golden Crab Farm.
But since they had found the Golden Crab Farm, it was worth the wait.
…
…
“Thank you for helping me,” Zhang Jian said earnestly to Qing Chen and Yingying, “I now have a rough idea of who you are, so you knew from the start that this is the Golden Crab Farm, right? Tonight, Fern and Kreg probably sent sailors to cut our buoys, and it was you, Qing Chen, who helped fend them off.”
Standing beside the deck handling the crab pots, Qing Chen and Yingying responded with a smile. “We didn’t plan to help you; don’t overthink it. We came here with our own agenda; many things were just done incidentally. We are neither kin nor friends, nor do we have a friendship worthy of us taking action,” Qing Chen continued.
Zhang Jian was taken aback, “Then why did you still…”
“For fun,” Yingying tilted her head and smiled, “Isn’t that enough? We’re more interested in fun than helping you, so stop thanking us, it gets tiring with all the formalities.”
One has to say, Qing Chen and Yingying shared one thing in common—they both hated pleasantries.
Moreover, they indeed had no intention of helping Zhang Jian.
After all, if they could help this year, could they do it every year? If Zhang Jian couldn’t find another crab farm next year, his crew would still be in trouble.
There’s a big difference in income among sailors on crabbing vessels; on a good vessel, sailors could earn over 80,000 Euros a year.
On a poor vessel, they might earn just over 50,000 Euros, and last year on Zhang Jian’s boat, the sailors received just over 20,000 Euros, a basic salary indeed.
At that moment, Qing Chen earnestly said to Zhang Jian, “You talk about your dream of adventure in a very touching way, but I think I understand why you never find the crab farm.”
“For you, coming to the Barents Sea is a journey of freedom and adventure, but you should think more about your crew, who risk their lives coming here and have families to support,” Qing Chen continued, “You can always remember your original intentions and refuse capital, you can continue your adventures, but a crabbing vessel is meant to catch crabs, otherwise you’re just a failed adventurer. So do your homework and research where king crabs might appear. In my opinion, finding king crabs is not that difficult; they have their own patterns of movement.”
