Zhang Lin quietly tugged at him, his eyes signaling not to provoke the Arican, but Lin Yang remained unmoved.
"What international joke is this? If it was about so controlled items, or special uses of special fishing gear, Lin Yang might not be familiar."
"For a casting that tests precision, such skills were second nature to him; he could even do it with his eyes closed."
"Give him my rod, I don’t believe he can do it as easily as he claims," said one of the skinny white youths.
"Right, give him a chance, a chance to make a fool of himself in public."
The group, eager for a commotion, began to clamor again, gesturing for soone to hand the fishing rod to Lin Yang.
They did as suggested, handing the rod to Lin Yang, who confidently took it and gave it a once-over.
It was an M-tuned, pistol-grip, jointed lure fishing rod of a brand he didn’t recognize, 2.1m in length, good to the touch, equipped with a high-end Shimano baitcasting reel that looked rather expensive.
Having the rod in hand, he didn’t start casting imdiately but instead angled the tip 60 degrees upwards, released the line release switch, and observed the speed at which the line was paying out.
The rate of line release was nearly perfect; in a free-fall state, the speed was close to constant. Lin Yang thought for a bit, then casually loosened the drag adjustnt a half turn.
With these settings, the resistance would be looser, which theoretically allowed for smoother line release and farther casting, but it demanded more from the angler, had a lower tolerance for error, and a mont of inattention could cause backlash and line tangle.
"Are you sure you know how to use a lure? Such a clumsy way of adjusting the release speed."
"Ha-ha, Pete, I’ve never seen anyone use your baby like that, I bet he won’t make more than one cast before you get a whole plate of spaghetti," sneered another.
The surrounding foreigners looked down upon Lin Yang’s technique, seemingly predicting his casting would end in a tangled ss.
Lin Yang asked calmly, "Which target?"
"That closest cup will do. If you land it inside once out of two attempts, you pass. But let remind you, Pete’s line isn’t cheap. Should you damage it due to improper handling, you’ll have to pay for it," remarked one of them.
George, the boss, quite sensibly pointed to a wide-mouthed cup six or seven ters away, reminding Lin Yang again of the risks involved.
He nodded and smiled, glanced at the target from the corner of his eye, flicked his wrist, swung the rod horizontally, and the lure with a leech’s shiny piece flew out, landing precisely in the cup George had pointed to with a plop.
The Aricans who’d just made snide remarks were now dumbfounded.
Lin Yang’s technique, a side-arm cast, is favored by top anglers, requiring a wrist action similar to sideways casting with minimal movent, convenient for leveraging but affecting accuracy, particularly useful when there are obstacles overhead.
Before the Aricans could comnt, Lin Yang smiled again, "This distance is too easy, I could do it with my eyes closed."
As he spoke, he retrieved the line and lure, turned to look back at George, then with his back to the target, he flicked his wrist and cast again.
With a plop, the lure accurately landed in the wide-mouthed bottle once more.
Even George’s eyes went wide with astonishnt.
Precise blind casting.
At this distance, a horizontal cast hitting the mark every ti was sothing many high-end anglers at George’s place could manage, but blind casting without visual correction—its difficulty was astronomically higher. They wouldn’t have believed it if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.
What astonished George the most was Lin Yang’s state of mind while casting, that certainty of hitting the target, an assurance that only cos with great confidence in one’s skills.
"The distance was too close; let’s try sothing farther out. When it cos to lure fishing, we Chinese anglers indeed started late, but that’s no reason for mockery. Let share a phrase with you, ’There’s always soone better out there, a higher sky beyond ours.’"
As he spoke, Lin Yang chose the furthest target, loosened the drag fully, and with a shiver of his arm, the lure shot out at high speed, leaving a trail.
Ding, the treble hook on the lure’s bright piece hooked onto a decorative wire several dozen ters away on the edge of a wall, hanging in mid-air. The fishing line, without any windup, was pulled taut, with no more than ten centiters of slack over the many ters.
After making the cast, Lin Yang didn’t bother to reel the line back. Instead, he casually handed the rod back to its owner and then turned to leave.
After Lin Yang and Zhang Lin, along with the other six, had left, George seed to realize sothing and briskly walked over to where the lure had hooked.
When he saw the treble hook precisely hung on the wire, he was beyond words.
This wasn’t a simple cast followed by retrieving the line onto the hook; this was an act of extre precision, a scenario that theoretically could happen.
Anyone who has used a baitcasting reel knows it’s designed for precision but is much harder to use compared to a spinning or spincasting reel.
There are masters of the baitcasting reel who operate without any drag, purely by feel to control the line, but precise control over the length of the line is difficult, and a few ters of error is quite normal.
But the line from Lin Yang’s cast, from the lure to his standing position, was almost taut, with less than ten centiters of error, indicating an insane level of control.
"Shat? What did I see; it must be an illusion," he muttered.
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