Chapter Twenty-Six: The Cards Are on the Table

Amidst the dense water plants, Lu Chen silently raised his head, quickly pinpointing the exact location of the bloody scent. On a large stone by the shore lay a fish nearly half a meter long, its enormous head chewed into a mangled mess of flesh and blood. Despite the grisly scene, Lu Chen recognized it as a big silver carp—a fish prized for its tender meat, favored by northerners in his previous life but not much liked by southerners.

Beside the fish, a robust otter was half-squatting before the stone. It was the first time Lu Chen realized such creatures could capture fish of this size. Yet, the otter wasn’t eating; instead, it seemed to be waiting. Puzzled, Lu Chen glanced around and soon spotted the other members of the otter family. The remaining otters were still darting through the water, chasing schools of fish. With another splash, one more otter surfaced, its mouth clamped around a carp weighing half a pound. This one, like the first, didn’t eat but slowly climbed onto the shore, stacking its catch beside the first fish.

What kind of ritual was this? Lu Chen grew increasingly baffled as a third otter came ashore, repeating the same action. The fish were laid out neatly, heads and tails aligned, resembling offerings in a human ceremony. The otters, half-squatting and craning their necks before the stone, looked uncannily like humans bowing in worship. Was this the legendary “otters sacrificing fish”?

The term suddenly surfaced in Lu Chen’s mind. The odd behavior of these creatures was too extraordinary. Driven by intense curiosity, he instinctively crept closer, eager for a clearer view. He hadn’t expected otters to possess such keen hearing; his slightest movement was instantly detected. With a shrill cry, the largest otter leapt into the water, swimming straight toward him. The others followed closely behind.

What on earth was happening? Faced with the charging otters, Lu Chen, now in his current form, felt no fear. If they wanted to fight, then so be it! It was the perfect chance to assert his dominance as the ruler of the waters.

Within seconds, the otters bared their teeth, forming a swift circle to surround Lu Chen. The leader lunged forward, swiping at him with sharp claws, while the smaller otters shrieked in support. One slipped behind, attempting a sneak attack from an unseen angle.

Surprised by the otters’ boldness, Lu Chen was stunned. Why were these creatures so fearless, daring to confront a crocodile head-on, as if the river’s apex predator meant nothing to them? In truth, Lu Chen was simply ignorant of their capabilities. Otters, though small, possess tremendous strength; their claws can move rocks weighing sixty kilograms, several times their own weight. Their temperament is fierce, earning them the nickname “water honey badgers.” Many know the honey badger by reputation—its real name is ratel, infamous for its fearless rampages in the animal kingdom, with tales such as “Africa’s chaos is decided by the badger.”

The ratel is notoriously stubborn; when provoked, it will take on lions and hyenas without flinching. Otters have also been captured on film battling large predators, resisting hunting dogs much bigger than themselves and even killing them. In another world, someone recorded five giant otters in an American national park attacking a crocodile—and, after a fierce struggle, actually killing it, though they lost one of their own.

Lu Chen soon realized these otters were not as simple as he’d imagined. Their attacks weren’t chaotic—they coordinated like a wolf pack, always keeping two up front to distract him while three launched attacks from behind. Fortunately, a saltwater crocodile’s hide is thick and tough, and Lu Chen’s agility allowed him to dodge, escaping harm for the moment. Had it been one of the older crocodiles, distracted and slow, they might have already been bitten to death.

In shallow water, these otters moved with even greater agility than Lu Chen. Frustrated by repeated setbacks, Lu Chen’s temper flared. He’d hoped to coexist peacefully as just another animal, but instead found himself under assault. He decided to drop the façade—he would declare his true status as the master of the waters. If they were courting death, he would oblige.

He charged straight toward the stone pile on the shore, risking a bite for the opportunity. He had noticed that otters’ crawling on land was slow, far less nimble than their movements in water. Predictably, the otters followed him onto land, unaware of the trap. As they approached, Lu Chen unleashed his speed, lunging forward and clamping his jaws onto an otter’s head. He intended to use his powerful bite to end its life, but to his embarrassment, he couldn't crush it.

Still, Lu Chen had other methods. He shook his neck, slamming his prey hard against the stones. This was one of the saltwater crocodile’s killing techniques: when unable to chew through tough prey, drag it to the shore and smash it against rocks or tree trunks until it breaks or softens, then eat it bit by bit. With his current strength, Lu Chen couldn't break the otter, but he could kill it by force. After two or three strikes, the otter ceased struggling.

Seeing their companion killed, the remaining otters snapped out of their rage, shrieking and retreating rapidly into the water. Lu Chen detected both anger and terror in their cries, but he remained unmoved. This was nature’s law: the strong prey on the weak, and only the fittest survive. He was simply fighting to stay alive.

It was a windfall for the old crocodile and the others, who would now enjoy an extra meal. As Lu Chen dragged the otter’s corpse away, he sensed movement above in the canopy. Instinctively, he looked up to find a large cat, its fur tawny yellow and covered in irregular black spots, staring intently at him.

A leopard? The realization jolted Lu Chen. Without hesitation, he dropped the otter’s body, launching himself like a cannonball two meters into the air before crashing into the water. He sank to the bottom, not daring to linger, rapidly propelling himself with his tail and limbs. In seconds, he swam over twenty meters away.

Damn, that was too dangerous! Last night he’d encountered a pack of gray wolves—today, a leopard. His luck was uncanny. Only when he felt safe did Lu Chen cautiously raise his head from the river’s center. He watched as the cat leapt silently from a branch three meters high, landing soundlessly. It swaggered over to the otter’s corpse, picked it up in its jaws, and bounded back into the tree, where it settled in to feast.

Lu Chen sensed something was off: the creature resembled a leopard but had larger spots and was noticeably smaller. Its appearance lacked the imposing aura of the legendary leopard—he realized it must be a clouded leopard, known as the “Lotus Leopard.”

Understanding its true identity, Lu Chen breathed a sigh of relief. Still, even a clouded leopard was nothing to take lightly; smaller than a leopard, perhaps, but still a formidable beast weighing dozens of kilograms.