The faint, stolen warmth from the damselfish eggs pulsed within Zhao Mingrui like a dying candle flame in a hurricane. It was a whisper against the crushing reality of his situation: a speck in an ocean teeming with things that viewed him purely as a crunchy, calorie-rich amuse-bouche. Yet, that whisper was everything. It was proof. Proof that the frantic energy he'd felt wasn't just adrenaline, but something *more*. Proof that the absurd cultivation tropes he'd devoured in his past life might have a terrifyingly literal application here at the absolute bottom rung of the food chain.
Huddled in his rocky crevice, the furious chirps of the thwarted damselfish gradually faded as the plump guardian, perhaps deciding three eggs weren't worth abandoning the rest of its clutch, resumed its patrol. Zhao Mingrui's wide, unblinking fish eyes remained locked on the prize deeper in the kelp forest: the cluster of faintly *glowing* blue eggs. They pulsed with a soft, internal light, radiating a subtle energy he could now *feel* even from this distance – a gentle tug, like the scent of freshly baked bread to a starving man, but translated into pure, aquatic instinct. *Power.* Survival. Growth.
Guarding them was the sleek, iridescent green fish. It moved with an unnerving grace, not the frantic darting of the damselfish or his own panicked scrambles, but a slow, deliberate patrol. Its scales shimmered with an internal light, a faint emerald aura that seemed to repel the drifting plankton and tiny shrimps. Its eyes, cold and intelligent, scanned the surroundings with methodical precision. No wasted movement. No obvious distractions. This was no Stage Zero bottom-feeder. This was Stage One: the Coral-Guardian, as Zhao Mingrui mentally dubbed it. A true cultivator.
*Okay, Zhao,* his human mind reasoned, pushing down the primal fear screaming *SWIM AWAY!*. *Observe. Adapt. Exploit. You didn't get that peer review by charging in blindly.*
He spent what felt like hours (though time was a fluid concept in this sun-dappled gloom) studying the Coral-Guardian. Its patrol was flawless, a tight figure-eight around the precious blue clutch attached to a particularly thick kelp stalk. It never looked away for more than a fraction of a second. No obvious weaknesses. Attacking head-on was suicide. Distraction? With what? He was a cashew. He couldn't throw a rock.
Then, he noticed the currents. The kelp forest wasn't static. Gentle underwater breezes swayed the massive stalks, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow, and more importantly, complex micro-currents. Near the blue eggs, a particularly dense cluster of kelp fronds created a small, persistent eddy that swirled detritus – bits of shell, dead plankton, sand – in a lazy circle just behind the Guardian's primary patrol path.
An idea, born of desperation and his nerdy knowledge of fluid dynamics, began to form. It was stupid. It was reckless. It was probably the only shot he had.
He needed bait. Not living bait – that was beyond him. But *moving* bait. Something to draw that cold, intelligent eye for just a crucial second.
Painstakingly, using his tiny mouth and nudging with his snout, Zhao Mingrui began to gather small, light objects from the sandy bottom near his crevice: a particularly buoyant piece of dried seaweed, a hollow snail shell, a brittle fragment of coral. He carried them one by one, his heart pounding with every exposed journey, to the edge of the persistent eddy near the Guardian's territory. He positioned them carefully within the swirling current. They began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing speed, caught in the miniature whirlpool.
Now came the hard part. The terrifying part. He had to be *fast*.
Zhao Mingrui positioned himself on the far side of the Guardian's patrol route, hidden behind a thick kelp stalk. He focused inward, on the tiny spark of warmth from the stolen eggs. It felt slippery, alien, but he willed it, imagined it fueling his muscles, his fins. *Just one burst. One impossible burst.*
The Coral-Guardian completed its turn, its back momentarily to the swirling eddy. *Now!*
Zhao Mingrui shot forward. Not towards the eggs. Not directly. He darted *across* the Guardian's patrol path, a silver-gray blur aimed directly at the swirling debris in the eddy. He hit the swirling mass of shells and seaweed with a tiny *thump*, sending them scattering chaotically out of the current, tumbling erratically towards the Guardian's flank.
The reaction was instantaneous. The sleek green fish snapped around, its aura flaring momentarily brighter, a pulse of emerald light and pressure that made Zhao Mingrui's tiny body shudder. Its cold eyes fixed on the unexpected shower of debris tumbling towards it. A potential threat? A clumsy intruder? Its focus shifted, just for a heartbeat, towards the disturbance.
It was the only opening Zhao Mingrui would get.
He didn't hesitate. He channeled every ounce of that stolen warmth, every shred of panicked energy, into a single, desperate lunge *away* from the Guardian, *towards* the glowing blue eggs. He wasn't aiming to grab them; he was aiming to *pass* them. His tiny mouth opened wide, not to bite, but to *inhale* as he shot past the clutch like a living bullet.
*WHOOSH!*
Water, carrying the faintest essence of the glowing eggs, rushed into his mouth and over his gills. It wasn't swallowing an egg whole. It was breathing in their *energy*. The effect was immediate and electrifying. The tiny spark inside him roared into a sudden, fierce flame. It felt like gulping pure oxygen after suffocating. Energy surged through him, making his scales tingle and his fins vibrate. It was raw, untamed, and infinitely more potent than the damselfish eggs.
He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He shot past the clutch, deeper into the kelp forest, weaving frantically through the swaying stalks. A furious, guttural *hiss* vibrated through the water behind him, carrying a wave of cold, predatory rage. The Coral-Guardian had realized the deception.
Zhao Mingrui didn't look back. He swam as he'd never swum before, the stolen energy burning in his veins, fueling his escape. He dodged around thick kelp trunks, plunged through curtains of fronds, shot downwards into darker, colder water where the sunlight barely penetrated. The Guardian's hiss faded, replaced by the pounding of his own blood (or fish equivalent) in his ears. He didn't stop until he found sanctuary: a narrow fissure in a sheer rock wall, barely wide enough for his body, plunging deep into darkness. He wriggled in, pressing himself against the cold stone, trembling uncontrollably.
*Alive. Still alive.*
The energy from the blue egg essence was incredible. It buzzed within him, a restless, vibrant force. It felt… *alive*. Unlike the passive warmth of the stolen eggs, this felt dynamic, like a captured current. But it was also chaotic, threatening to burst out. He felt… fuller. Stronger? Maybe. Definitely more *aware*. He could sense the subtle vibrations in the water more clearly, distinguish the faint clicks and groans of the deep. His vision seemed sharper in the gloom.
*Cultivation. This is cultivation!* The realization hit him with giddy terror. He hadn't stolen a resource; he'd stolen *potential*. Raw spiritual energy.
But how to use it? How to *control* it? His human mind raced through half-remembered cultivation lore: meditation, cycling energy through meridians, refining the raw Qi… but did a fish *have* meridians? Did he sit cross-finned on the seabed? The sheer absurdity almost made him laugh, a sound that came out as a frantic series of bubbles.
He focused inward again, trying to grasp the buzzing energy. He imagined it not as a wild flame, but as a stream. He visualized it flowing through his body – not along complex human meridians, but along the pathways he *felt*: from his core, down his spine (did he have one?), out along his fins, back through his gills. He didn't know what he was doing. He was making it up as he went, guided by instinct and sheer, stupid hope.
Slowly, erratically, the chaotic buzz began to settle. The energy didn't diminish; it just became less frantic, more contained. It pooled within him, a reservoir of warmth and power. He felt… denser. More *real*. Less like a drifting leaf and more like a tiny, determined pebble.
He cautiously peeked out of his fissure. The kelp forest was quiet, the immediate danger passed. But the Coral-Guardian would remember the silver-gray thief. And he was still tiny. Still vulnerable.
A flicker of movement caught his enhanced eye. Higher up, near the sunlit surface, a massive, slow-moving shadow drifted past. It was vaguely turtle-shaped, but easily the size of a small bus. Its shell was encrusted with glowing barnacles that pulsed with a soft, ancient light. An aura radiated from it, vast and deep and utterly serene, like the ocean floor itself. It paid no attention to the tiny drama below. Stage Three? Four? *Ancient.*
Zhao Mingrui shrank back into his fissure, humbled. He'd stolen a sip of power, dodged a Stage One guardian by the skin of his fins, and felt like he'd conquered the world. And above him drifted beings for whom he wasn't even a speck of dust.
A slow, determined grin spread across his tiny fish face (or at least, it felt like one internally). He was Zhao Mingrui, PhD (almost) in Ichthyology, self-appointed Scavenger Sage, and now… a cultivator. Sort of. He had energy. He had a method (sort of). He had a world full of glowing eggs and terrifying turtles.
He looked down at his own small, silvery body. The scales seemed… slightly brighter? Maybe it was the gloom. Or maybe it was the first, faint shimmer of an aura. Stage Zero-point-Five? He'd take it.
The warmth inside him settled into a steady, comforting hum. Survival wasn't just about hiding anymore. It was about growing. Stealing smarter. Cultivating cunning.
And somewhere out there, he knew, were eggs that glowed *brighter* than blue.