"Boss, can that black poker of yours really catch the seven-hundred-pound bluefin tuna you've been bragging about?"
Wrapped in a windbreaker, Selene leaned against the rocking gunwale and eyed the fishing rod in Yang Ming's hands skeptically. The thing looked less sturdy than the battered fishing net Arthur had just used.
"Philistine." Yang Ming pushed his Gold-Rimmed Glasses up his nose, his voice brimming with absolute confidence.
"This is a top-of-the-line, heavy-duty carbon-fiber sea fishing rod, fitted with Daiwa's latest spinning reel. Fishing is a sophisticated art combining fluid mechanics, biology, and psychology. Barbaric methods like Arthur's-diving in and herding fish through brute force-have no elegance whatsoever."
Arthur, who was tipping a basket of black grouper into the live well, snorted and casually picked up a beer, pulling the tab.
"Expensive toys for city folk." Arthur took a long swig and wiped the foam from his beard. "The waters off Amnesty Bay aren't exactly friendly. If that thin line of yours hauls up anything over ten pounds, I'll chew up this empty can and swallow it."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, savage." Yang Ming walked to the stern, planted his feet apart, and assumed an impeccably professional casting stance.
He snapped his wrist.
Whoosh!
The sinker carried the colorful popper lure skyward, tracing a perfect parabola before landing precisely among the waves a hundred meters away.
"Full marks for form." Retsu Unohana stood nearby with her hands folded in front of her, offering a fair assessment. "However, the currents here seem rather erratic. Doctor Yang, are you certain your lure can attract any prey?"
"Retsu, just sharpen your sashimi knife." Gripping the rod, Yang Ming stared intently at the water. "Today, you're not only going to enjoy top-quality fatty tuna belly. Certain uncultured savages are also going to learn what