After nightfall, the three sat together in the clearing in front of the ice house. Ethan had lit a campfire, and the warm glow dispelled the darkness. On the simple, temporary grill, fish were skewered for barbecuing. Lindong had gathered wild vegetation nearby and ground it into spices, sprinkling it on the grilled fish, releasing an enticing aroma.
It was originally a very cozy scene, yet McCarthy Delin felt unhappy.
He had been hanging his head, his face akin to those sub soldiers who sensed that the war was already lost.
Not long ago, Ethan returned excess spoils to the pond, never expecting his beginner-level fishing skills to be this effective, piquing his curiosity about what master-level fishing could catch.
Perhaps rarer fish, or even creatures beyond the realm of fish like the Boi Long or Storm Carp.
Lindong explained the principle to him.
