Chapter 108: Will There Be a Big Haul Tonight?

Examining the drowned child closely, Zhou Qing could tell from the swollen state of the body that the boy had not just drowned recently, but had been dead for some time. The same was true of the dead ox he had helped pull from the water—the animal’s skin was puffed and bloated from soaking, not yet putrid but clearly lifeless for more than a little while.

Puzzled, Zhou Qing questioned a sturdy, honest-looking fellow at his side, and soon gleaned the truth from his words. The child had vanished the previous day after leading the family’s ox to graze; his body had only just floated to the lake’s surface and been discovered.

After a few casual inquiries, the crowd at the lakeshore dispersed, leaving Zhou Qing alone. He circled the lake by himself, and then, with a sudden movement, leaped straight into the water.

By this time, the villagers had all departed, so no one witnessed Zhou Qing's silent entry into the lake. Once submerged, Zhou Qing glided through the water like a phantom, directing the current with his will to propel himself beneath the surface.

He wandered the not-so-large lake bed for a while but found nothing amiss. Eventually, he followed a concealed underwater current to the lake’s outflow, which connected to a narrow river.

The river was not wide, barely more than two armspans across, and at its deepest was just over ten feet. Zhou Qing paused beneath the surface at the river’s mouth and saw that he could walk along the riverbed with his body hidden. With a thought, his crimson figure drifted silently into the river.

Traveling underwater was a novel experience for Zhou Qing. Though his pace in the water could not match his speed on land, he had no urgent destination, so he let his whims carry him downstream.

Soon, this small waterway merged with a much broader river, five or six times wider, with depths nearing twenty feet at its deepest point. The current was steady, not swift.

Zhou Qing continued along the broad river’s flow, and as dusk approached, he halted at the riverbed. Not far from him, on the muddy bank, a man’s body was thrust headfirst into the soft earth, his head buried completely in the mud, his body floating upright in the water in a bizarre tableau.

After a glance, Zhou Qing hesitated a moment at the river's bottom, then floated over to the thoroughly dead man. As he drew near, a thick aura of sinister energy emanated from the corpse. Circling the body once, Zhou Qing grasped the man's leg and pulled him free of the mud.

He hauled the corpse to the shore, where he noticed a sparse grove beyond the riverbank, and, behind the trees, a village.

As night neared, most homes in the village sent up curling threads of cooking smoke. Zhou Qing examined the man’s body carefully—the swelling was less severe than that of the drowned child he had seen earlier, suggesting this man had died more recently.

After a cursory inspection of the body, Zhou Qing stepped into the woods behind the riverbank and made his way toward the village.

He stopped at the door of a villager’s home and saw an old man sitting in front, weaving a nearly finished bamboo basket.

“Excuse me, sir,” Zhou Qing said politely at the threshold.

The old man looked Zhou Qing up and down, then set his work aside and gestured with his hands before hurrying into the house.

“What’s the old man up to?” Zhou Qing wondered. Soon, the old man reemerged from the house, this time with a young man in his mid-twenties in tow.

The old man tugged at the young man’s sleeve and pointed at Zhou Qing, and Zhou Qing realized the elder was likely mute, which explained his earlier silence.

“Brother, is there something you need?” the young man asked, stepping closer.

“It’s nothing serious. I just passed by the river outside your village and found a corpse in the water. I thought I should let you know.”

“A corpse?” The young man hurried to Zhou Qing’s side. “Brother, can you show me?”

Zhou Qing led the young man back to the riverbank, with the mute old man following behind. Upon seeing the body Zhou Qing had hauled from the water, the young man froze, and the old man made anxious, inarticulate sounds.

“Is he from your village?” Zhou Qing asked.

“Yes, this is one of our villagers,” the young man answered, puzzled. “I saw him fishing here just this morning. How could he have suddenly died in the river?”

“I can’t say,” Zhou Qing replied. “I only discovered him by chance while passing by. Since he’s one of yours, you should notify his family. I have places to be, so I’ll take my leave.”

With these words, Zhou Qing left the father and son behind and went on his way. He had no intention of revealing the true, uncanny cause of the man’s death; such sinister matters, if spoken aloud, would bring only trouble upon himself.

He followed a path along the riverbank for less than half a mile before night fell completely. Zhou Qing considered retrieving his glowstone to walk by land at night, but after some thought, he plunged back into the river.

Traveling by water was far less obstructed than overland and spared him much hassle, so he decided to continue on beneath the surface.

Moonlight spilled across the river as Zhou Qing floated through the water like a phantom, drifting forward at an unhurried pace.

As he moved, a fish suddenly bumped into him. He caught it in his hand, examined it for a moment, then released it and continued on his way.

Beneath the water, guided by the power of the current, Zhou Qing had no inkling of the odd spectacle he presented. Had anyone been standing on the riverbank, they would have seen a wave surging steadily down the center of the river, as though a great fish was swimming beneath the surface.

The commotion Zhou Qing caused as he traveled was not small. After some distance, less than half a mile ahead along the riverbank, a father and son stood by a thick wooden stake.

Resting atop the stake was a bamboo pole as thick as a bowl, with two slightly thinner, bent bamboo rods tied crosswise beneath it, forming an arched shape.

The two arched rods formed a cross, from which hung a large fishing net that spanned more than half the width of the five- or six-zhang-wide river.

“Father, do you think we’ll get a big catch tonight?” the young fisherman asked his father.