Chapter Eighty-One: Hunting the Tiger Shark

Half an hour later, Lu Chen had already arrived at the estuary waters.

The mangrove belts on both banks were as lively as ever. Black bears hunting by the river, bay crocodiles basking lazily in the grass, deer and wild boars nibbling tender leaves in the shrubs, monkeys leaping and chattering among the branches—these were all rare delicacies.

But with his hunger sated, Lu Chen felt no urge to hunt. Instead, he cast his gaze farther afield.

The seas near Madura lay in the tropics, where the surface water temperature hovered around twenty-eight degrees year-round—ideal conditions for ordinary bay crocodiles.

The same held true for Lu Chen.

Drifting along the ocean current for two or three hundred miles, he soon found himself surrounded by nothing but vast emptiness, not a single island in sight.

He took a deep breath, flicked his tail gently, and his body vanished from the water’s surface.

With a single breath, he dove straight down thirty meters, where the water temperature suddenly dropped to the teens. Lu Chen paused, feeling no discomfort in his body, then continued descending.

Forty meters, fifty... one hundred meters.

Typically, seawater temperature drops with depth, while pressure does the opposite. Every ten meters deeper brings an increase of one atmosphere.

Diving to a depth of over a hundred meters meant that Lu Chen’s body was enduring at least ten atmospheres of pressure. Though he sensed a subtle pressure from the water around him, there was no discomfort.

It seemed that after evolving to the fourth rank as a bay crocodile, his body’s resistance to pressure had multiplied several times over.

Now, Lu Chen was completely at ease. He flicked his tail again, swimming toward even deeper waters...

After about two minutes, his limbs finally touched the soft, silty seabed.

It was near noon, the sun at its brightest. The sea near Madura was ecologically well-preserved, and the water clarity was high—the sunlight could penetrate several hundred meters deep.

Thus, even at a depth of over a hundred meters, he could still sense the presence of sunlight.

With his extraordinary eyesight, Lu Chen could see everything within fifty meters.

The seabed here undulated with rolling slopes, densely packed with tall reefs. From a distance, it resembled a chain of underwater mountains stretching endlessly.

Nearby, sea grasses and algae grew luxuriantly, and in several spots, sizable coral clusters could be seen.

Pomfrets, mackerels, eels—various fish darted to and fro.

Suddenly, Lu Chen sensed a strange disturbance in the water.

He rapidly flicked his tail, swimming toward a different reef zone.

Vaulting over a massive reef, he glimpsed, dozens of meters away on the seabed, an irregular, blue-black broad band undulating slowly like a giant serpentine creature.

What on earth was that?

Approaching, Lu Chen’s eyes widened in astonishment.

Good heavens, it was a mass of crabs!

Thousands of swimming crabs, large and small, had formed an enormous procession, scuttling rapidly off into the distance.

A swimming crab migration... he’d actually witnessed such a spectacle!

Though Lu Chen had never seen this in person before, he recalled similar scenes from “Animal World” documentaries in his past life and understood what was happening.

During mating season, or when their habitat’s food ran short, crabs would gather en masse and migrate in search of more suitable grounds.

The most famous of these was the Australian red crab. When mating season arrived, millions of them would migrate together, surging out of the forests toward Christmas Island to breed.

The sight was spectacular—a veritable “red tide”—even blocking roads and paralyzing traffic, forcing humans to impose controls.

It was still early for crab breeding season; this must be a simple migration.

If he were still human, just this shoal of crabs on the seabed would fetch tens of thousands.

But Lu Chen quickly dismissed such thoughts as vulgar.

He now ruled the whole ocean; swimming crabs were nothing—if he wanted abalone or lobster, he could have them. But those offered little nutrition and too few energy points; he had no interest in eating them.

For now, he wanted a change of flavor with some big fish.

But with his massive body, it was hard to chase down large sea fish. Setting a trap and lying in wait was much easier. And these swimming crabs before him were the perfect bait.

Decision made, he twisted his tail and sped to the edge of the crab procession. With swift sweeps of his claws—crack, crack, crack—hundreds of crabs were quickly reduced to fragments.

The strong scent of fresh crab flesh spread rapidly through the water.

Having finished, Lu Chen dug a shallow pit at the center of the bait, then swept his tail back and forth, soon burying himself in the silt, leaving only his eyes exposed, keenly watching the trap’s surroundings.

It wasn’t long before the water brought signs of movement.

Several large, robust figures appeared...

Seeing his prey clearly, Lu Chen was surprised—it was a group of seals.

Many people assume seals only live in cold oceans, but in fact, they range throughout the seas, including the tropics.

These creatures are expert divers, able to hunt at depths of three to four hundred meters. The best, the Weddell seal, can dive over six hundred meters and remain submerged for nearly an hour.

So, encountering them at a hundred-meter depth was hardly unusual.

There were no big fish, but catching a seal or two would do nicely. If their flesh proved high quality, he could come to the sea more often to hunt.

Compared to land, the ocean offered far more food—a key reason for Lu Chen’s expedition.

His appetite was growing at an alarming rate: he now ate over a hundred jin of food at a sitting, with a daily consumption of more than three hundred. At this pace, the forest near his cave would soon be depleted.

For the sake of the elder crocodile and the others, Lu Chen had to plan ahead.

Seals swam swiftly, so Lu Chen did not attack rashly, continuing to lie in wait.

Only when one drew near did he explode from hiding.

As expected, the prey had no chance to escape—a single bite, and it was finished.

Crack—blood gushed, and the seal lay still.

The others fled in terror, vanishing into the depths.

This one weighed about seventy jin—enough to soothe his hunger, if not fill his belly.

He slashed with his claws, quickly dismembering the seal.

As for the blood spreading in the water, Lu Chen paid it no mind—it would only lure more predatory fish.

He hoped a shark would come by so he could take revenge—and perhaps enjoy a taste of shark fin.

Lu Chen had just swallowed the seal when he suddenly sensed a massive disturbance behind him.

More prey!

He whipped his head around, and a glimmer of surprise flashed in his beastly eyes.

Well, speak of the devil...

A spindle-shaped body, broad dorsal fin, razor-sharp teeth—a brutal, intimidating presence that sent other marine creatures scurrying.

It wasn’t the bull shark he’d hoped for, but it was still one of the three most ferocious sharks: the tiger shark, known as the “tiger of the sea.”