Chapter Eleven: If I Do Not Give, You Cannot Take by Force!

As night fell, boundless darkness once again enveloped the earth. The heat of day faded from the reeds, replaced by a gentle coolness. Frogs, crickets, and other unknown insects hid among the stalks, sending out shrill, incessant calls. Fireflies rose from the lakeshore, scattering specks of starlight across the sky. Further off, cicadas sang in the willows, their voices echoing one after another.

The nights by Willow Lake remained lively as ever.

From underground, a massive, jet-black saltwater crocodile emerged, its crimson eyes radiating a fierce and ruthless aura. In that instant, the surrounding insects fell silent.

This was Lu Chen.

After a long day’s work deep within their den, he and several young crocodiles had finally come out again to hunt and move about. At their current pace, it would take only a few more days to complete their underground project.

With a series of cracking sounds, Lu Chen stretched his powerful body. Once he had finished his warm-up, he dug his four claws into the earth, tensed his muscles, and shot forward like a cannonball, aiming for a large willow tree twenty meters away.

A world-class sprinter could reach about ten meters per second; ordinary humans managed seven or eight. On land, Lu Chen’s speed was only slightly less than that of an average person.

He didn’t pause when he reached the tree. His toes gripped and pressed against the ground, the motion springing him more than a meter into the air. While airborne, his muscular tail swung violently to keep him balanced. Sharp claws scratched deep grooves into the willow’s bark as he hung suspended in midair. Then, moving his limbs in quick succession, he climbed more than three meters up the trunk in half a minute.

These smooth, practiced movements were the fruit of a month’s relentless training. There was nothing clumsy about him—he was as agile as a great cat.

Were a human to witness this, they would surely cry out in disbelief.

Lu Chen alone knew the hardship it had taken to progress from his early, clumsy attempts to this level of ease. Everything was for survival.

From below came the rustling of the other young crocodiles as they struggled upwards. With brains no bigger than walnuts, they could not imagine what use tree climbing might be for a saltwater crocodile. Their efforts were only in response to their leader’s command. After a few lessons administered with tooth and claw, these little ones had developed a deep, instinctive fear of Lu Chen. Any command he gave was carried out without question.

With their recent training, their climbing skills still fell short of Lu Chen’s, but had improved greatly over time. Perched on a branch several meters above the ground, Lu Chen gazed through the sparse leaves at the distant lights hundreds of meters away—the human world.

He knew that the gap between himself and humanity was widening, and that there was no way back.

A sense of loneliness crept into his consciousness. The other young crocodiles were companions, but conversation and true connection were beyond them.

Suddenly, he heard a low, rumbling sound from one of them. Turning, he saw the fourth one sidling up behind him, red eyes bright with both fear and hesitation.

When Lu Chen looked over, the little one’s calls grew more eager and subdued.

Saltwater crocodiles could communicate with one another through sound, but only to convey simple messages. Complex ideas were beyond them. So Lu Chen could not quite tell what this little female wanted.

She climbed the trunk carefully, inching closer, as if she too wanted to enjoy the view.

Lu Chen shifted his body aside, puzzled but accommodating.

It was indeed the little female. Only recently had Lu Chen realized that the fourth was not a brother, but a sister. Gender mattered little to these young crocodiles, but Lu Chen found himself exercising a bit more patience and tolerance with her.

The sturdy willow branch could easily support them both. Seeing Lu Chen make space, the little crocodile chirped excitedly and nudged his body with her snout.

What did she mean—did she want him to move further? Was she feeling bold and looking to challenge him for leadership, like the eldest had once done?

Lu Chen wondered if she was out of her mind. He could be tolerant, but that did not mean he would allow his authority to be challenged. As the writer Lu Xun once put it: "What I give you is yours; what I don’t give, you may not take."

Before he could react with anger, the little one nuzzled his head again and then settled beside him on the branch.

Two crocodile heads, one large and one small, leaned close together.

Was this a gesture of affection? Lu Chen realized at last. She had not come to challenge him, but to show closeness in her own way. It was a special emotional expression for crocodiles.

He almost forgot—cold-blooded creatures had feelings too. Their emotions were thinner, harder to discern than those of mammals, but they were there all the same.

Lu Chen suddenly recalled a story he had once seen online—the tale of Chito and Pocho, the five-meter American crocodile. Chito had rescued Pocho, who had been shot in the head, nursed him back to health, and released him into a lake miles away. But the next day, Pocho crossed the distance to find Chito’s home and refused to leave. For nearly twenty years, Pocho treated Chito as his master, swam and played with him, even guarded his house. The most touching scene was of the two, man and beast, resting together in the lake as rain fell at night, quietly enjoying the beauty of the moment.

The little female’s gesture must have been her way of sensing his sorrow and offering comfort.

Looking over at the eldest and second-youngest, Lu Chen thought he saw concern reflected in their eyes as well.

He greeted the two with a soft hiss and shifted aside to make room.

A family should be together.

The other two, surprised by his invitation, climbed onto the branch beside them. Four young crocodile heads pointed toward the distant glow of human civilization.

The sight was unexpectedly warm.

All this time, as a saltwater crocodile with a human soul, Lu Chen had regarded the others as partners or subordinates. He had planned, once strong enough, to strike out on his own, caring little for their fate.

Now, for the first time, he truly felt the bonds that had formed. They might part ways when they matured—perhaps even fight over territory. But for now, Lu Chen resolved to protect these young ones, to see them safely to adulthood.