As a behemoth weighing around two tons, Logan's rate of spider silk protein secretion was utterly incomparable to that of spiders weighing mere grams or tens of grams.
In no time, he had woven a tough rope over 50 meters long and as thick as a chopstick. Pinching one end with his claws and yanking hard, the silk rope stretched instantly under his immense strength yet showed no sign of snapping—demonstrating extraordinary toughness.
He tied this custom "fishing line" through the small hole in the center of the bone shuttle, wrapping it twice around the hole for reinforcement to prevent the bone from cracking. Then, with Zhu Peiniang in tow, he headed toward the Ancient Tree dock deep in the marsh.
He had been waiting for this day for a long time. Every day, he had diligently chummed the waters—not because he truly needed the fish to eat, but purely to relive the joy of fishing.
Two massive beasts covered in sleek, smooth scales ran freely under the bright sunlight. Their scales gleamed with a soft pearl luster amid shifting light and shadow, kicking up veils of dust with every stride.
Logan and Zhu Peiniang moved at astonishing speed with impressive endurance. Before long, they arrived once more at the fallen Ancient Tree.
Thanks to consistent fixed-point chumming and a period without large-scale electrofishing, the surrounding fish schools had long treated this spot as a permanent "cafeteria." Even without fresh bait, they habitually lingered here.
Thus, when Logan lightly dipped his tail into the water and blue-white current flashed, a large swath of small fish instantly floated belly-up on the surface.
These palm-sized fellows were clearly not his target. He scooped them all up, crushed them in his palm with tons of force—the flesh and bones shattering instantly into a pinkish-white fish paste.
As the paste was tossed back into the water, pale red ripples spread outward. The thick bloody scent drifted with the current, drawing even more fish.
This "fish-luring-fish" strategy—left foot stepping on right—snowballed: more fish meant more bait, and more bait attracted denser schools.
After half an hour of patient waiting, Logan finally caught several larger prey—streamlined bodies 30 to 40 centimeters long, silver-white scales glinting metallic in the sun. They closely resembled tuna from his previous life and, according to the game's bestiary, were likely called "Gastronome Tuna."
Though puzzled by these obviously oceanic fish appearing in marsh waters, Logan was too lazy to dwell on it.
He unwound the silk line from his tail, threaded the largest tuna onto the bone shuttle, and cast it with a claw swipe. The silver body traced a graceful arc through the air, trailing a long silk tail before splashing down with a plop. The remaining tuna were put to good use: half fed to the impatient, grumbling Zhu Peiniang, the other half crushed into paste to reinforce the chum spot.
While Logan lounged comfortably on a dry branch of the Ancient Tree, basking in the sun and leisurely awaiting a bite, trouble was brewing far away at the Astera outpost.
Recently, a massive flock of Gajalaka had suddenly flooded the nearby forest. Though not particularly dangerous monsters, their innate curiosity and love of mischief led them to frequently harass surrounding creatures, severely disrupting daily life at the outpost.
Fortunately, the Gajalaka pack Logan first encountered had empty stomachs—otherwise, what smashed against his scales might not have been ordinary nuts, but far more "lethal" aerial droppings.
The scene shifts to the jungle edge near the outpost: A Hunter's Guild member executed an agile forward roll, narrowly dodging "primate poop" raining from above. His companion—a Research Commission scribe—wasn't so lucky, getting doused head-to-toe. The two stumbled out of the jungle in disarray, only stopping pursuit once they reached the open coastal area. The Gajalaka leaped excitedly in the branches, screeching triumphantly.
Stopping beside a shallow stream, the scribe immediately plunged in, scrubbing furiously while complaining loudly.
"I'm so done with these damn monsters! The smell is disgusting—why can't we just exterminate them all?"
The hunter on the shore stifled laughter, spreading his hands helplessly.
"Without formal Guild approval, we can't hunt any monsters at will. Besides, these Gajalaka haven't caused substantial ecological damage—you know the rules..."
"But they're seriously interfering with our investigation!" the scribe raised his voice. "This stench is burning my eyes. If supplies weren't tight, I'd throw these clothes away!"
When he realized the odor lingered even after thorough washing, his face turned greener than the stream water.
"Even if we can't cull them, we should at least drive them away from camp range, right?"
The hunter nodded seriously. "These Gajalaka aren't native to this area. The Field Team is already investigating the migration cause—results should come soon."
"They better. I can't stand another day of those things!"
The scribe grumbled as he climbed out, prompting the hunter to instinctively step back.
"Don't worry! Probably a week or so for results—but until then, could you stay a bit farther away? Of course! I'm not saying you stink; I just suddenly feel that keeping proper distance between people helps us better appreciate each other's good qualities."
...
Though waiting felt long, Logan kept busy—occasionally dipping his tail to zap small fish for snacks and turning the catches into paste to maintain the chum.
Time meant little to a beast relying on biological clocks for timing. As the sun gradually dipped west, the line on the surface suddenly jerked violently: the float sank at visible speed, the silk snapping taut.
It's on!
Logan's spirits surged. He sprang up from the Ancient Tree. The thick branches pre-tied to the line's end came into play—one clamped firmly under a claw. The next second, tremendous pull nearly unbalanced him, staggering his massive frame half a step.
He quickly jammed the stick into his jaws, locking it with terrifying bite force, while sharp claws dug deep into the trunk like steel nails, anchoring him. Zhu Peiniang swiftly joined, biting the other branch to share the load.
By conventional fishing technique, now was the time for "reel-release-reel" to tire the fish out gradually.
But as a non-human behemoth, Logan couldn't manage such finesse. Fortunately, spider silk's natural elasticity provided perfect buffering, creating a temporary stalemate with the underwater giant.
If nothing unexpected happened, a lengthy playing-out phase would follow—but as a supernatural beast, Logan had a more direct method. While spider silk itself didn't conduct electricity, the water soaking it certainly did.
Blue-white arcs danced along the line as powerful current surged into the depths, continuously stimulating the fish's muscles into spasm-like contractions. This rapidly weakened its struggles and accelerated stamina drain.
Under dual assault of electricity and tension, resistance on the other end soon diminished. Finally, a dazzling golden-yellow dorsal ridge broke the surface, sending up waves taller than a man...
(End of Chapter 32)