The Ocean is Deep

Shane did not fully follow Tom's rules.

After sailing with Tom to a spot in the ocean, setting up the fishing net together, casting the rods, and patiently waiting for an entire morning...

Staring at the still-empty fish bucket, Shane stood up.

Tom seemed to see through Shane's intentions, sighed, and offered a word of advice.

"The seawater is dirty. If it touches your wounds, they'll get worse."

Shane's response was to tear off the bandages on his body, gesturing toward the scars on his chest that had faded to only faint pink marks.

"Thanks for your concern, Tom. Watch me dive to the bottom and catch you some big ones."

Then, with a light tap of his toes, his body slowly lifted off from Tom's small fishing boat.

He didn't dare push off too hard. Though he'd enjoyed a few rare days of leisure, Shane was long accustomed to familiarizing himself with his increased strength through combat. Without a suitable opponent now, and with his power suddenly more than doubled, if he wasn't careful with his control, a casual stomp might shatter the little boat Tom relied on to make a living.

Only after rising about two or three meters above the sea surface did Shane stretch out his arms, take a deep breath of the fishy sea breeze, and plunge headfirst into the deep blue ocean.

As the cold seawater enveloped his body, Shane instead felt a wave of refreshment.

The physique of a Viltrumite meant he had no need to worry about water pressure or lack of oxygen. The darkness of the deep sea was as bright as day to him. Wherever his gaze reached, the scales of swimming fish shimmered in the faint light, their trajectories as clear as if slowed down several times over.

"This speed is way slower than the targets back in the training camp."

Shane thought to himself, sinking slightly as he chased after a school of mackerel swimming past nearby.

He deliberately slowed his movements. Just as his fingertips were about to touch the tail fin of the fish on the edge, it suddenly jerked its tail and darted away as if stung by a needle.

The entire school scattered in an instant, leaving only a trail of bubbles rising through the water.

Shane froze for a moment, then furrowed his brow.

He had already made his movements as gentle as possible, even deliberately suppressing the aura around him. How had it sensed him?

Shane refused to believe it. Though he had lived two lives, he had never gone into the sea to catch fish before. But he had survived and achieved excellent results on Viltrum itself.

These were just a few low-level creatures from Earth.

Turning his head to scan for a while, he locked onto a solitary grouper swimming by.

The fish was thick-bodied, moving slowly and lazily, looking clumsy and dull.

This time, Shane slowed his heartbeat, approaching like a lurking hunter.

When he was less than a meter from the grouper, he suddenly reached out, his fingertips precisely aiming to grip the fish's body.

But just as his fingertips were about to touch its scales, the grouper suddenly burst into action, twisting its slippery body and slipping right through his fingers, kicking up a cloud of sand that blurred his vision.

"Damn it."

Shane cursed under his breath, waving away the sand in front of his eyes.

After two consecutive failures, Shane began to wonder if his control over his strength was still not refined enough.

His power had surged twofold after recovering from his severe injuries, and he hadn't fully adapted to the change yet. When he deliberately restrained himself in the fishing hut, it didn't feel like this. Maybe he was just too relaxed here in the sea.

He closed his eyes to calm his mind, then locked onto another target.

This was a medium-sized yellow croaker, swimming along a steady path, seemingly unaware of the danger.

This time, Shane was especially careful, suppressing his strength to the minimum, gently cupping his fingers around the fish's body.

The touch was cold and slippery. Just as he tried to apply a little force to secure it, he heard a "swoosh" as the yellow croaker flicked its tail, slipping out of his palm with a layer of mucus, leaving only his hand wet and slick.

After three straight failures, Shane's patience was still intact, but his heart unconsciously pumped a little harder.

A trace of heat rose in his chest.

In the training camp on Viltrum, he had never stumbled on such "low-difficulty targets."

No, these weren't even low-difficulty targets. In Shane's view, this should have been nothing more than a game.

"Stop right there!"

No longer deliberately suppressing his speed and strength, his body shot forward like an arrow from a bowstring, charging toward a slightly larger sea bass ahead.

The sea bass seemed to sense the deadly danger and fled in panic, accelerating away. But its speed was still laughably slow in Shane's eyes.

Just as he was about to catch up, Shane reached out to grab it.

This time, the moment his fingertips touched the fish's body, he heard a crisp "crack." The sea bass's spine snapped cleanly, and its body went limp instantly.

Blood seeped through his fingers, spreading through the seawater.

Staring at the lifeless fish in his hand, Shane looked at it for a moment, then casually tossed it aside.

His gaze swept toward the deeper sea, where a massive dark shadow was swimming slowly—a tuna.

The tuna was over a meter long, probably weighing at least eighty pounds, moving with steady, powerful strokes.

Shane's body suddenly sank, and he shot toward the tuna like a cannonball.

This time, he didn't even bother reaching out to grab it, intending only to use his body to force it to a stop.

A dull "thump" rang out, especially clear in the silent deep sea.

His shoulder slammed solidly into the tuna's body, and the immense impact instantly shattered the fish.

He could even clearly feel the sensation of bones breaking—a feeling he had experienced more than once against other opponents from Viltrum.

The next second, the tuna's blood gushed out like a fountain, quickly forming a thick cloud of blood mist around him, staining his vision a dark red.

Shane floated in the center of the blood mist, looking down at his own hands, and suddenly let out a helpless smile.

These hands could clearly tear through the hulls of interstellar ships and shatter hard cosmic meteorites.

"It seems I've been influenced by Viltrum's culture in ways I haven't noticed."

He lingered in the deep sea for another half hour, no longer rushing for results, but slowly groping to master the measure of his strength.

When his fingertips touched a fish's body, he would first feel the slipperiness of the scales, then gently adjust his force.

But even so, a few fish were either crushed by him or took the chance to escape.

It wasn't until an hour later that Shane finally grasped some tricks.

He held his breath, carefully clamping down on two medium-sized, silvery-white unknown sea fish, making sure the force was just enough to trap them without harming their lives.

But just as he was about to surface, one of the fish suddenly struggled. He subconsciously added a bit more force, and with a "crack," the fish's head was crushed directly in his hand, blood spilling all over.

Shane stared at the fish in his hand and sighed helplessly.

He gave up on further attempts, clutching the only fish that was still somewhat intact, and with a flicker of movement, shot rapidly toward the sea surface.

The moment he broke through the water, he shook the droplets from his head, took a deep breath of fresh air, and looked up to see Tom sitting on the fishing boat, holding a rod, calmly watching him.

"How's the catch?"

Tom's voice carried a hint of amusement, his gaze falling on the fish in Shane's hand that was somewhat deformed from the grip.

Shane pouted slightly, tossed the fish into an empty bucket on the boat, and said with a trace of reluctance.

"The fish here are too sensitive, and... I'm not used to Earth's gravity yet."

Tom chuckled, put down his rod, picked up a nearby bucket, scooped some seawater, and poured it into the fish bucket.

"Fishing isn't about brute force. Just like how you understand your enemies on the battlefield, here, you have to understand the sea."

Shane leaped into the air, tilted his head to feel the sunlight on his skin, then twisted his waist and spun around, turning into a blur as he shook off all the moisture from his body.

He landed lightly, and just as he steadied himself on the boat, Tom's voice came out of nowhere.

"Do you want to become a superhero?"