Chapter Eighteen: The Demise of the Giant Snakehead

Human interference could only be considered an accident. Lu Chen continued to focus his attention on the giant northern snakehead. This, after all, was the matter of greatest importance at the moment.

The reality proved far more challenging than he’d imagined. He had no idea where the creature was hiding; for more than a week, it hadn’t appeared anywhere nearby.

Yesterday, the mallard had died under the sun, and the moorhen now tethered in the ditch was his newly placed bait. The moorhen’s habits were similar to the mallard’s, though it resembled a tailless female pheasant, usually found in rice paddies or along water’s edge.

It possessed a fascinating characteristic: when winter’s chill arrived, it would burrow into crevices or caves to hibernate, always preferring to gather in numbers. When Lu Chen was a child, he had followed his grandfather to catch water moorhens; sometimes, a single cave would yield over a dozen birds.

Thinking back, he felt a twinge of nostalgia, though all of it was irretrievable now. He wondered if his family, in that other world, were safe and well.

Lost in thought, the night passed without him noticing.

Just as Lu Chen assumed another night would end in disappointment, he suddenly sensed the chorus of frogs fading around him. Where aquatic plants had been lively and noisy, silence now settled.

Was it finally coming?

He spotted the faint outline of a monstrous, jet-black head emerging underwater, and excitement flickered in his eyes. Yet he dared not make a move, remaining perfectly still among the grass.

For the northern snakehead to grow into a beast over a meter long, it relied not only on aggression but also on extraordinary vigilance and a keen instinct for danger. The slightest anomaly would make it retreat at once.

Thus, Lu Chen’s task was to remain hidden until the creature entered the ditch.

The thick scent of blood in the water and the moorhen’s frantic clucking were luring the snakehead closer, promising a feast nearby.

It lingered in the vicinity for half an hour, ensuring no threat was present, before gliding silently toward the ditch. When it reached the barricade of aquatic plants, it hesitated for a few seconds, but ultimately swam toward its prey.

Ripples spread across the surface. Sensing danger, the moorhen beat its wings frantically against the water, its cries growing louder.

A few young saltwater crocodiles, seeing the prey enter the trap, became restless. But Lu Chen did not trigger the trap immediately, remaining hidden.

The snakehead was far faster in the water than the crocodiles, its explosive speed astonishing. If it detected any danger and escaped, he might never get such a chance again.

It might not even be possible to encounter it again; Lake Willow was simply too vast. Only after it had captured its prey and relaxed would the moment to spring the trap arrive.

So for now, he had to suppress his killing intent and wait patiently.

The moorhen’s cries grew more urgent as the giant drew near, its wings splashing the water noisily. Its slender legs were tightly bound with rope, unable to break free.

Suddenly, the monstrous black head shot forward, jaws wide and sharp, biting down on the prey and dragging it underwater. Mud and sand swirled through the ditch, clouding the water.

Yet the snakehead failed to notice another group of predators watching it.

In the grass at the outlet of the ditch, a piece of black rotting wood quietly rose, cold eyes shining.

Lu Chen extended his claws and gently dragged them along the bank; the sticky net laid on the ditch’s bottom instantly sprang upright, silently cutting off the waterway.

He quickly pushed bundles of aquatic plants and branches into the water, intending to block the entrance completely.

Seeing their leader move, the other three young crocodiles followed suit. As the grass bundles splashed into the water, a loud rustling followed.

Hearing the commotion behind, the giant snakehead, still tearing at the moorhen’s flesh, whipped its head around. Its bean-sized eyes showed a hint of confusion.

With its limited intelligence, it couldn’t fathom what these small creatures on the bank were up to. To its predatory instincts, reptiles with limbs were also considered delicious prey. It had encountered them several times in the lake before, though never had the chance to hunt them. Now they were on land, out of reach.

If it met them again in the lake, it would surely devour them.

With the assurance that these small reptiles posed no threat, the snakehead resumed devouring the moorhen, breaking its neck in a few bites and swallowing it whole.

Lu Chen had expected the snakehead to leap and flee when it saw the outlet blocked. Unexpectedly, after a glance, it showed no reaction at all.

Its indifference suited Lu Chen perfectly, prompting him to quicken the pace of plugging the entrance with grass bundles.

The inlet already had a half-meter-high levee of aquatic plants; within half a minute, it was sealed completely.

Only then did the snakehead realize it was trapped in the ditch.

Yet it did not panic, instead using its massive body to ram the bundled grass at the outlet. It failed to notice the semi-transparent mesh net over a meter high before it.

As a child growing up by rural rivers, Lu Chen knew well the tricks of setting sticky nets. The net should not be taut, but loose, to better ensnare large fish. When the fish struggled, the water’s flow would absorb some of the impact, preventing the net from tearing.

A loud crash sent water splashing three feet high.

The snakehead struck the net, and its body became entangled in the filaments.

Panic finally seized it. It thrashed and leapt violently, unaware that the more it struggled, the tighter the net would bind.

Soon, the giant snakehead was completely enveloped, unable to break free. It pressed forward, only to be blocked again by the dam of grass and branches.

Seeing this, Lu Chen breathed a sigh of relief.

The hunt had gone perfectly so far. Now, he only needed to wait for the creature’s strength to drain, then deliver the fatal blow himself.

Just as he’d guessed, the snakehead was enormous but had very little intelligence.

It could only struggle blindly with brute force. After ten minutes, its motions inside the net slowed, clearly exhausted.

Lu Chen stopped the young crocodiles from following him and crawled alone into the water. He didn’t let them help for fear they might get caught in the net by accident.

The net could ensnare not just the giant snakehead, but their bodies as well. If they became entangled while the snakehead struggled, even he might not be able to free them.

So when he reached the net, he didn’t attack immediately, but searched for the right spot.

Sensing a reptile approaching, the snakehead instinctively felt danger and thrashed anew, but only wasted more strength.

Choosing his moment, Lu Chen opened his jaws wide and bit down on the snakehead’s tail.

Simple, direct, efficient—a single blow, perfectly executed.