Chapter Nineteen: How to Store Food

The northern snakehead's body is covered with a thick layer of mucus, offering exceptional lubrication that allows it to glide through water with minimal friction, enabling faster pursuit of prey. This mucus layer also serves as a protective barrier, lessening the impact of underwater obstacles and reducing the risk of skin injuries and bacterial infections.

However, this defense proved useless now, as the bay crocodile's razor-sharp teeth pierced through it effortlessly, as if shredding paper.

A dull snap echoed through the water.

The immense bite force of the bay crocodile erupted, its teeth plunging into the snakehead's body like daggers. The former predator was now utterly at the mercy of a stronger foe. Dark red blood billowed out, its metallic scent quickly spreading through the surrounding waters.

Only at this moment did the snakehead react.

Its body unleashed another surge of tremendous strength, writhing and twisting violently in a desperate attempt to escape its fate as prey.

This creature was nearly thirty centimeters longer than Lu Chen and weighed over three times as much; naturally, its raw power was far superior.

Experienced anglers know the saying, "A one-pound fish fights like ten." Fish possess astonishing short-term bursts of strength in water—a mere one-pound catch can feel like a behemoth once hooked, often snapping rods and lines. As for specimens over ten pounds, they can even drag a fisherman into the water.

Especially predatory fish like the northern snakehead, whose power is even more astonishing.

If this battle had taken place in open waters, Lu Chen estimated he would have stood little chance against the snakehead's frantic struggle.

But with its body already trapped by a tangle net, further efforts were futile.

No sooner had he seized his prize than Lu Chen unleashed the death roll.

His sharp teeth tore off a huge chunk of flesh in an instant.

He then darted backward, evading the net's grasp.

Agonized by pain, the snakehead thrashed even more fiercely. But this was merely its final frenzy.

Silt and decaying matter from the riverbed whirled up, muddying the water.

But such ferocity could not last.

Roughly half an hour later, the snakehead was drained of blood and strength; its struggles grew weaker and weaker.

Only then did Lu Chen signal the other bay crocodiles to approach.

They clamped their jaws around the net's ropes and, working together, finally dragged the half-dead giant snakehead ashore.

Even in death, the creature's eyes remained wide open—unwilling to close, as if unable to comprehend its fate.

With its limited intelligence, it could not understand: how could it, the overlord of Willow Lake, be slain by a mere reptile?

Once certain of the snakehead's death, Lu Chen extended his claws and ripped apart the net's strands one by one, preparing to savor this hard-won delicacy at his leisure.

A snakehead of this size, weighing nearly thirty pounds, could not be swallowed whole.

But for the young bay crocodiles, this was a trivial matter.

A few quick death rolls, and they tore mouthfuls of flesh from the carcass.

Afterward, they lay quietly among the reeds, digesting their meal.

As the food in his stomach was gradually digested, the system panel displayed new information.

"Northern snakehead, Channidae family, Channa genus, provides 4.5 energy points."

This result once again surpassed Lu Chen's expectations.

He had assumed it would be comparable to a king rat snake, but the quality of the flesh was evidently higher.

Having just eaten about two pounds, he calculated that the entire snakehead could provide around sixty energy points.

This was truly a windfall... It seemed a waste to let the other young crocodiles eat it; without the system's enhancement, they could not fully convert the meat's energy.

Lu Chen decided not to share the remaining half of the snakehead, intending to store it for his own use.

Such high-quality food was rare and could not be squandered.

But where to store it?

Keeping it in the cave was out of the question—the young ones would surely steal it, and the temperature inside was too high, risking rapid spoilage.

Unless absolutely necessary, Lu Chen would not eat carrion.

As the saying goes, the fundamental difference between humans and animals lies in humans’ ability to think, use, and create tools.

While the young ones digested their meals, Lu Chen took the opportunity to drag the snakehead carcass to the water’s edge and swim toward the lake’s deep center.

Now, having slain the giant snakehead, Lu Chen was truly the master of Willow Lake. Thus, he no longer moved with caution; instead, he swam with the swagger of one who feared nothing.

Upon reaching his chosen spot, he dove again.

With increasing depth, the temperature dropped steadily.

Indeed, Lu Chen was applying the rural wisdom of cooling watermelons in a well.

Many who grew up in the countryside in the eighties and nineties have similar memories: in the heat of summer, before eating a watermelon, it was left to chill in a well for half a day.

Such watermelons were refreshingly cold, crisper, and sweeter—one bite instantly dispelled the oppressive heat.

However, Lu Chen did not intend to sink the snakehead remains to the lake’s deepest point—his last exploration there had nearly cost him his life, and the memory still haunted him.

He planned to stop at twenty meters, a depth that was just right.

Thanks to the cover of aquatic plants and algae, even in the hottest summer, sunlight could hardly penetrate to the lakebed at twenty meters.

With surface temperatures just above thirty degrees, but only seven or eight degrees below, it was perfect for food storage.

Moreover, the water would isolate the carcass from air, inhibiting bacterial growth.

Diving to the bottom, Lu Chen once again felt the chill seeping through his body. His blood flow slowed, his limbs grew sluggish.

But with prior experience, he remained unflustered. He chose a flat spot and laid the snakehead carcass down.

There were plenty of predatory fish in these depths, and they, too, would be interested in snakehead flesh—it paid to be cautious.

Within minutes, the bone-chilling cold set in; his vision began to blur.

Under these conditions, he could not remain nearby for long. To prevent his food from being stolen, he dug a pit with his claws and buried the carcass deep in the silt.

Only when all was done did he return to the surface, swaying his tail as he slowly swam away.

As for whether he could find his cache again, Lu Chen was unconcerned.

Like birds, bay crocodiles can navigate using the Earth’s magnetic field, allowing them to determine their precise location.

Foreign scientists once conducted an experiment to test crocodiles' homing abilities: they captured several, caged them, covered the cages with black cloth, and transported them by car more than ten kilometers away before releasing them.

A week later, every crocodile had trekked back to its original habitat.

Moreover, as a human, it was basic knowledge to use landmarks to determine one’s coordinates.

At worst, he could rely on his keen sense of smell to locate the spot—though it would take some effort.

As warm currents massaged his body, his surface temperature rose rapidly.

Lu Chen felt as if he were soaking in a hot spring, supremely comfortable. With the weight on his heart finally lifted, he relaxed completely, drifting on the edge of sleep.

Wait—what was that?

As he swam a short distance, a faint glimmer of light flashed across the lakebed.

Fortunately, his vision was exceptional; otherwise, it would have been easy to miss.