Bloodied hands suddenly burst out of the water, droplets falling from the palms, the outstretched hands with clearly defined joints firmly grasping the wooden pole, squeezing and pulling with force, the long pole knife writhing like a serpent, slipping from the fisherman’s grasp.
But the purpose of the bloodied hand went beyond that, the scythe in his grasp now wielded with a different flair, no longer a tool for killing fish but more like a spear dancing about, its body cutting through the air, smashing directly into the fisherman’s waist, before finally pressing down hard.
"Splash!"
The loud sound of sothing hitting the water frightened everyone senseless.
"Ghosts!"
One fisherman, having seen the bloodied hand, scread in terror, shouting that there were mountain ghosts; after a few steps, he stumbled and fell off the boat, plunging into the water as well.
Bloodied spray scattered everywhere.
With two people falling into the water one after the other, the rest began to panic, not even understanding what was happening.
Mountain ghosts?
Who would believe in ghost stories ant to lull children to sleep?
But no one could make sense of the current situation.
First, the sound of gunfire was terrifying enough, followed by the sight of bloody hands, and now people were falling into the water; the fishern still casting nets were overco with fear, not daring to move, as if beneath the bloody waters lurked a Great White Shark waiting to choose its prey. Your next read is at .Côm
Bi Fang stood on his feet beneath the fishing boat, crouching as if seated, then he grabbed the edge of the boat and pushed hard with his legs, shooting through the water like an arrow released from its bow, heading towards the depths.
The other fishern could only see a dark shadow moving under the bloody water, like a large fish, but when they rubbed their eyes and looked again, the shadow had disappeared.
"What, what was that?"
"A shark?"
"No, not a shark."
"Thud!"
An eerie knocking sound ca from beneath the wooden boat, causing a slight tremor on the surface of the water.
The fishern shouted, "What’s that noise?"
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
A series of rhythmic knocking sounds emanated from below the boat, and the fishern on board, in a state of chaos, thrust their long knives into the sea with all their might.
The waters of Dolphin Bay were shallow, and the fishing boats here were different from the ones outside that beat on poles; these were large, wooden flatboats.
Bi Fang arrived under one of the fishing boats and raised the long-handled knife he had just seized, flexing his muscles and stabbing forcefully at the bottom of the boat.
Perhaps it was because he had killed too many dolphins, but the wooden spear in his hand was unexpectedly blunt; when it struck the bottom of the boat, it made a sound similar to that of the fishern beating on their poles.
Matsumoto Kiyotaka’s handgun hadn’t hit him at all, leaving Bi Fang still in top form.
Ordinary people with a gun have less than a 10% accuracy rate beyond fifteen ters; even for professionally trained personnel, accuracy is below 30%.
Key to this is that the resistance in water is eight hundred tis that of air; an AK47 bullet fired into the water can only travel one and a half ters.
What Matsumoto Kiyotaka and his n were using were P230s, standard issue for Japanese police, which Japan had also modified sowhat, generally speaking, a handgun only slightly more powerful than a revolver.
With limited firepower, hoping to hit a target that’s already off-angle due to refraction and impeded by water resistance is practically a pipe dream.
Accompanied by mysterious knocking sounds, the fishern dared not move recklessly, and the dolphins, which had been pushed to Dolphin Bay, finally got a chance to catch their breath and began to struggle mightily, splashing huge waves of blood onto everyone.
"Dolphins! Catch the dolphins! They’re escaping! Pull the net, pull the net quickly!"
A fisherman with a beard, clearly older, dove into the sea with a lunge, pulling up the fishing net that was nearly breached by the dolphins.
The special anatomy of the dolphins prevents them from moving backward, allowing them only to move forward, so once entangled in the fishing nets, they’re almost certainly dood to be unable to escape.
Underwater, Bi Fang clenched his teeth, still feeling exhausted.
Since diving in and working on the boat, he hadn’t gone to the surface for air, and the wooden planks at the bottom of the boat had turned into sawdust, with just a bit left to go.
Stirring his lungs, Bi Fang exhaled a breath of spent air. It was hard to push against anything in the water; he could only rely on the strength of his waist and abdon. To facilitate swimming, he had already removed his upper garnt.
The muscles on his upper body surged as the serratus muscles along his ribs undulated like the gills of a shark, accumulating an invisible force that finally transferred to his arms.
Bang!
A silver blade, spotted with rust, stabbed through the bottom of the boat, and blood-red water gushed out through the hole.
With the breach in the fishing boat, the spectators felt as if a hole had been opened in their own lungs, gasping for fresh air. From the mont of jumping into the sea, every fra was a climax.
The fishern on the boat looked on in terror: "Ah!! The boat is broken! The boat is broken!"
Bi Fang pried forcefully, and the entire wooden plank was pried open, the gushing water instantly turning into a spray.
Grabbing the broken edge, he widened the hole in the boat, and soon it was subrged by more than half, forcing the fishern on board to jump into the sea.
Bi Fang grabbed onto the sinking plank and rose from the water, rapidly expelling the spent air and taking deep breaths, his tired muscles swiftly regaining vigor.
Then he sank again.
Soon, another fishing boat began to sound with those mysterious knocks, and then, a second boat started to sink.
The fishern shouted about a mountain demon and leaped into the water, scrambling toward the shore to escape.
More dolphins slipped from the nets’ control, and as the fishern tried to hold onto the fleeing dolphins, they were turned over in the water.
Just then, a third boat was drilled with holes. A burly fisherman, hardened in his resolve, clenched his spear and lunged at the dark shadows underwater, causing the audience to scream.
Although the bloody water obscured his view, Bi Fang had been attentively observing and, following the direction from which the spear was coming, rolled in the water, agilely avoiding the spear thrusting into the water.
As the fisherman tried to withdraw it, Bi Fang grabbed onto the pole, braced against the side of the boat, and pulled hard, causing the spear-wielding fisherman to fall into the water unintentionally.
Another tried to escape, but the next mont felt a sharp pain in his abdon. A round, wooden pole jabbed quickly and precisely at his spleen. Even without a spearhead, the sheer force was enough to cause so much pain that he lost the ability to even cry out, kneeling on the boat, drenched in cold sweat.
A lithe and stretched arm wrapped around a fisherman’s head, flipping him over into the seawater, and waves of blood blood again, like roses blossoming on the sea bed.
All the fishern scread, waving their spears chaotically. If they occasionally struck a dolphin, they’d excitedly shout that they had subdued a mountain demon, only to be turned over into the sea by a "blood man" who suddenly appeared.
In just ten short minutes, Dolphin Bay was thrown into chaos, and the trainers on the shore waiting for the goods took advantage of the chaos to flee, while the fishern’s families were too afraid to approach because of the previous gunfire and talk of "mountain demons."
In such a situation, Bi Fang was surprisingly left to play his role, with more than six fishing boats within Dolphin Bay and over three sinking beneath the surface.
Those banging on poles outside Dolphin Bay looked towards the chaotic scene—a sight of bodies covered in blood, like a demonic dance—and they all forgot their actions for a mont.
The sound barrier broke, and dozens of dolphins took the opportunity to rush past the fishing boats.
The older captain grabbed the pole, shouting at them to pick up the hamrs, pick up the hamrs.
Asuka dumbfoundedly watched the scene before her, and for so reason, felt a sense of relief and satisfaction in her heart.
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