This is the second time a fish has been hooked since going out to sea. Although we still don’t know whether this fish can be caught, people who heard the news basically ran over and started watching with interest.

Even the awkward Margaret did not suppress her inner curiosity and stood at the hatch and watched from a distance. Of course, she brought her own umbrella to block the sea breeze.

Hawthorne, on the other hand, seemed to have no interest in this. He continued to read in the restaurant holding his Bible, which was always close to his body, as if he didn't care about it.

"What kind of fish could it be?"

"Hopefully it's a marlin. The marlin looks better."

"I think sharks are pretty cool too! Maybe I'll catch a great white shark!"

"It could also be tuna. Although it's not as handsome as marlin, it's still beautiful."

While Ernest Miller Hemingway was wrestling with the fish on the bottom of the sea, he listened to various chirping sounds in his ears. He squinted his eyes and felt as if he was in a bullring.

In front of him was a terrifying opponent that was far larger than him, and there was a lot of noise around him.

Bullring. Hemingway thought to himself. This word is not unfamiliar to him. He dedicated his time there for a while. At that time, he was always trying to prove something. Of course now

Same thing: he has an inexhaustible desire to prove his strength and masculinity.

He is eager to prove that he is strong, resolute, full of tough guy temperament and a sense of oppression.

The fishing hook was stuck in its mouth. Hemingway stabilized his body, moved his other hand up slightly, pressed his fingertips slightly on the line thrown by the fishing rod, and quickly moved with skillful movements while trembling almost imperceptibly.

Gesture realizes this.

He breathed out very softly.

"It's swimming forward."

Hemingway spoke, his voice slightly hoarse due to excitement, his iron-gray eyes flashing with excited flames, but the flames were calm, as if they had been solidified into rigidity at the moment they had just risen.

Hot iron.

Fitzgerald was equally excited. He looked not far away from the railing and found that the fish did not seem to have floated to the surface. He most likely couldn't see it and sighed regretfully, leaving it to this private boat.

The captain of the ship made a phone call.

"Keep an eye on the fish detection radar, and slowly follow the fish to consume its energy! Remember to keep swinging left and right, don't tell me you can't even figure eight fish!"

The captain nodded in a cold sweat, embarrassed to say that he really didn't know how to sneak fish away.

After all, he usually drives a luxury liner, not a real fishing boat. With such a large tonnage and length, it is difficult to maneuver flexibly, at least not as flexibly as the fish.

Don't become a slutty person then...

Fitzgerald hung up the phone. He also knew that his request was a bit embarrassing, but there was nothing he could do about it.

According to common sense, the more suitable strategy at this time is to release the line. But when facing opponents that may be sharks or marlins, this is not a very wise strategy.

Extremely fast speed, flexible steering, and relatively stable endurance compared to other fish, these are all risks that must be considered when setting out the line. After all, the fishing line is not endless, and a fishing line that is too long will be lost in the sea.

It is also very likely that it will catch something and cause entanglement and breakage.

As the boat began to slowly follow the fish pulling the fishing line, Hemingway also felt that the burden on his body was much lighter. He grinned and then exerted force from his waist to his hands to steadily lift the fishing rod.

, when he was about to fall, he suddenly recovered a few meters of line and carried the several-meter-long fishing rod on his back.

That's a lot of strength, he thought, feeling that the bones on his shoulders were making a sound of being overwhelmed. Of course, it could also be that Fitzgerald's fine fishing rod was too heavy.

It should have been fixed on the ground, so that everyone, including himself, would be much more relaxed. But Hemingway did not trust the fishing rod that was fixed on the ground. He only believed in himself, and he felt that he should not hand over everything while fishing.

Give a fishing rod that cannot be moved.

This is an upright war, and there is no need for methods that overly insult the opponent.

The old man gasped deeply, but this level of exhaustion was normal to him. He twisted his neck and raised his head to look at the people around him. Sweat fell from his eyebrows.

The feeling in the eyes is a sharp and sour sting.

In his slightly blurred vision, Fitzgerald, who stood out among the crowd in height, had an expression of trust and pride on his face. There were two little girls hiding behind him, sticking their heads towards him and looking at him.

After catching his eye, she clenched her fists in encouragement. The red-haired girl turned her head, but soon couldn't help but look back, her green eyes shining brightly.

The young man holding the raccoon seemed to be muttering something about "the endurance of humans and cold-blooded animals." The young man with two-color hair watched his actions expectantly. The red-haired young man sat on the railing and pumped his fist happily.

, looked even more excited than he had caught the fish, and the young man with golden hair beside him was smiling at him.

This is his first time fishing with so many people watching.

Hemingway thought this, and felt a little weird in his heart. He felt that the development of this matter seemed to be a bit beyond his expectation, but he still tried to straighten his body, extremely slowly, but extremely firmly, straightening his back bit by bit.

He heard the moans of his own bones, and a tearing feeling like fire surged from his lungs to his throat, and there was a burning pain that often occurred when he started strenuous exercise. The same was true of his shoulder, which was pressed by the fishing rod. His shoulder might have been damaged.

The skin was roughly scratched.

Hemingway held the fishing rod with his hands. When the boat changed direction and tried to eliminate the pulling force of the fish through the figure-eight fish maneuver, his strong hands turned the heavy fishing rod to restrain the movement of this surprisingly strong fish.

This is really a powerful fish, maybe it is a beautiful whale. But he seems to have never heard of a whale being caught by a fishhook. Whaling is usually done with a harpoon. But even if it is not a whale, it is definitely

It also has similar beauty - such as the most elegant streamlined body, a powerful tail, and a dazzling posture that sparkles in the sun.

"Do you need this?"

At this time, a gentle voice sounded, temporarily interrupting his thoughts.

He raised his eyes and saw the traveler walking out of the cabin at some point, holding a thick piece of cloth in his hand. His orange-gold eyes seemed to shine brightly under the sun. It seemed that this piece of cloth was shining brightly under the sun.

There is a sun reflected in the lake like sunset, but it is not the rising sun, it looks like the evening sun.

The rising sun always hurts my eyes.

Hemingway thought: But the evening sun is not like this. Its light is warmer, more intense and softer, and it does not hurt people's eyes so much.

Thinking of this, a smile appeared on his lips, as if he couldn't help it.

"Thank you." He said, taking the cloth from the traveler's hand, raising his shoulders, tilting the fishing rod up, pressing it with his hand, and then stuffed the cloth into the gap.

The fishing rod fell heavily again, pressing against the cloth as a buffer. It no longer looked so aggressive and abrasive to the skin. Hemingway felt much more comfortable about this, so he hummed twice in contentment.

"That's great, thank you, young man."

It's not actually much better, maybe a little more comfortable, but definitely not to the "greater" level, but Hemingway at some point - and I mean at some point, actually meant that he was facing a situation that he had to be prepared for.

When facing opponents, such as hunting, bullfighting and fishing - he is very optimistic about himself.

He believed and was sure that he would win.

This is the first time I've been called a boy.

The traveler smiled helplessly, but did not really comment on this title. Instead, he glanced at Sigma who was standing next to him, walked to him and hugged him tightly, and then continued to watch this scene.

It's enough to make people feel a tense and exciting war.

"How is the fish doing now?" Fitzgerald asked nervously

Hemingway asked as he looked at the fishing rod being pulled left and right by the fish, and that even though it was being pulled by the fish, it was still moving forward, putting tremendous pressure on the fish.

"It's slowing down."

Hemingway held the fishing rod with his hand, and his tendons seemed to tremble slightly, but his movements seemed unusually steady. He raised his head and opened his white teeth that had been well taken care of on the sea, which contained the pride and confidence of a warrior.

The pair of iron-gray eyes were slightly narrowed, and the next sentence gradually slowed down and became lower-pitched:

"It's tired."

On the bottom of the sea, the huge and magnificent marlin twisted its body, slapping its tail on the surrounding water, trying hard to break free from the hook in its mouth, and its sharp front beak tried to wrap around and break the long fishing line, but the strong steel wire

The mixed nylon thread is almost impossible to be easily broken by its mouth.

It is a beautiful blue marlin, also known as marlin - it has a deeper blue color than the sea, its scales are like cobalt blue gems attached to its silver-white skin, and the base of its pointed mouth

A trace of blood is spreading, and there is extremely human anger and stubbornness in the eyes.

This fish is indeed tired. Even though the blue marlin is a fish with amazing endurance, it is only a cold-blooded animal. Compared with warm-blooded animals, it is born with a shortcoming in endurance.

"Woo!" The fish folded up its broad dorsal fin and looked at the depths of the ocean with some fear. It was worried that the blood stains spread by the fishing hook would attract sensitive sharks, so it quickly slapped its tail.

Struggling to swim in the direction that takes the least effort.

This is a war.

The blue marlin opened its cobalt blue fins on both sides, felt the sting in its mouth, and slapped its tail vigorously.

It has been caught by humans more than once, but in the process, it has also learned a lot. It knows how to deal with humans, which is a very effective method.

Humans are delicate creatures, they are scared to death of getting hurt. Although this seems a little different.

This idea came to the blue marlin's mind. It walked through the seaweed, hoping that the fishing line would be entangled in the seaweed, but this method did not work. Another time it tried hard to go into the sea, but it felt severe pain and more

The expanding blood stain - the other party stubbornly did not let go of the fishing line, as if determined to fight it to the end.

In the end, the blue marlin compromised. It was afraid of the unnecessary trouble brought by the sharks. Under the constraints of the fishing hook, it had no way to exert its racial talent of high mobility, so it had no choice but to continue swimming forward and endure it.

The painful feeling coming from the muscles continued to torture the human on the ship.

Maybe the person dragging it was not a human being. It thought so for a moment. It heard that humans are now starting to use a huge thing that looks like dead coral to drag fish up.

That was what a swordfish that was dragged onto the boat told it. The swordfish stabbed several humans with its sharp beak, and then jumped back into the sea while they were running away in a panic. However, its sharp beak also

It was injured because it poked those human bones.

But soon, the fish gave up this fleeting thought. It felt that the other party was a human, an old opponent that it had never seen before but was extremely familiar. It could feel every subtle sound coming from the hook.
To be continued...