The mountain gate stood a hundred meters tall, and the hollow in its belly was forty or fifty meters high and wide. The countless fireflies gathered here suddenly fell into turmoil. The water around the mountain gate began to churn, and a vast school of densely packed black carp, large and small, appeared. They swam beneath the waterline, constantly kissing the surface, their black tails and dorsal fins stirring the water from time to time. Everyone looked at one another. They could all see clearly now—these truly were black carp—and their faith in the legend of Carp Leaping Over the Dragon Gate grew firmer still.
After a brief burst of chaos, the densely packed black carp abruptly became orderly, swimming head to tail in circles around the entire mountain gate. After only a few rounds, a Nether River Black Carp over two meters long suddenly broke away from the procession. With a swish, it leaped from the water like an arrow and shot toward the center of the hollow mountain gate. It plunged into the dancing fluorescent light, shook its head and tail, opened its mouth wide, and swallowed several fist-sized fireflies in succession. Only then did it lose momentum and, with a splash, plunge headfirst back into the water.
Once one took the lead, the patrolling school of Nether River Black Carp immediately followed suit. One after another, they burst from the water and shot into the swarm of fireflies gathered at the center of the mountain gate, biting a firefly before tracing an arc and falling into the Nether River. Before long, the sounds of fish breaking the surface and splashing back down rang out densely as rain, rising and falling one after another. Such a spectacle was truly rare. Strangest of all, the fireflies would rather flit