Chapter Seven: The Attack of the Royal Brocade Snake

In the misty rain, both Lu Chen's vision and sense of smell were severely diminished. He couldn't be sure if there were other predators lurking in the surrounding undergrowth, so once he emerged from his burrow, he didn't linger on the open ground. Instead, he headed straight for the fishhook trap.

Luck was on his side. Even in such heavy rain, a prey had been caught. After swallowing a plump frog from the hook, Lu Chen still felt hungry.

As his body grew, his appetite had become astonishing. An adult saltwater crocodile weighing six hundred kilograms could eat slightly more than a tenth of its body weight in one meal, then go days, weeks, or even months without eating again. Of course, if they overate, they could easily die from indigestion.

Lu Chen, however, had no such problem. Thanks to the system's enhancement, his stomach's digestive power was extraordinary. He needed to eat at least twice daily, about half a kilogram each time. The frog he'd just eaten barely served as an appetizer.

For the past few days, he’d been hungry.

Glancing at the relentless downpour, Lu Chen decided to risk entering the lake to hunt. Given his size, as long as he was careful, there shouldn't be much danger. Moreover, Willow Lake covered several hundred acres; the odds of encountering the giant snakehead, the lake’s overlord, were slim.

Amid the patter of rain, Lu Chen slipped silently into the water. The lake was slightly warmer than the shore, gently soothing his cold body with a comfort he couldn’t describe. He stretched his limbs, his powerful tail flicking lightly as he swam freely through Willow Lake.

Even with his eyes closed underwater, he could clearly perceive his surroundings, thanks to his unique ocular structure. Besides the upper and lower eyelids, he possessed a transparent nictitating membrane—like built-in goggles—that protected his eyes perfectly in the water.

My goodness—so many fish!

Although Lu Chen had entered the lake a few times recently, he’d mostly stayed near the shore, never swimming so freely as today. Rainy weather made the fish especially active; the runoff delivered plenty of humus, grass seeds, insect eggs, and other feed into the shallows, attracting large fish to forage.

Koi, big crucian carp, catfish, loaches, eels, crayfish… Under his gaze, the aquatic bounty lay exposed.

He chose his target and swam toward it. Not a ripple or bubble marred the surface—he moved like a ghostly submarine, silent and swift.

A few crucian carp, foraging near the water grass, sensed no danger at all.

Suddenly, Lu Chen lunged. His jaws snapped shut—crunch—on a large crucian carp weighing half a kilogram.

Splash! Water churned as the startled fish scattered in all directions, and the air filled with the sharp scent of blood.

After biting off the carp's head, Lu Chen swallowed the rest. Using the same method, he quickly caught a second fish.

Swallowing two large crucian carp finally sated his hunger. On the system panel, new messages flickered:

"Crucian carp, Cyprinidae, subfamily Cyprininae, provides 0.5 energy points."

…

Mindful of the giant snakehead, Lu Chen didn’t stay in the water long. Once his hunger was satisfied, he hurried ashore, carrying a big crucian carp in his mouth for the other three.

As he neared the burrow, familiar scents drifted through the rain, heading off in other directions.

Have they gone out to hunt too? Lu Chen was surprised and quickly dove into the burrow.

As expected, the other young crocodiles were gone. Setting down the crucian carp, he left again, following their scent.

Though predators usually hid during rainy weather, one could never be too careful.

Passing through dense reeds, Lu Chen was surprised to find the three young crocodiles had split into two groups. He chose one direction and, after crossing the reeds, soon spotted the eldest and second-youngest in the shallows.

The two were wildly chasing a group of young frogs, playing merrily. Many tadpoles had sprouted four legs and were losing their tails—making them a little better at evading predators. But their jumping was no match for young crocs. Their swollen bellies showed they'd just eaten well.

That’s just as it should be—providing for themselves.

Lu Chen had worried they’d go hungry, but was now reassured.

At that moment, the eldest, carrying a small frog in its mouth, quickly crawled up to him, dropped the frog, and pinned it with a forepaw.

"Roar-hiss, roar-hiss…"

What did that mean? Lu Chen quickly understood: the little one wanted to show off its hunting skills, and perhaps offer the frog as a treat.

Excitement and pride colored the eldest’s calls—it was like a child scoring perfect marks, eager for praise.

Lu Chen felt both amused and moved.

This little one truly regarded him as the leader!

He patted the eldest’s head with a forepaw in encouragement, then glanced around: Where was the youngest? Why hadn’t he seen it yet? Could something have happened?

A sudden, instinctive unease gripped him. He hurried back to the fork in the path and followed the other direction.

Barely four or five meters on, he heard a faint, desperate hiss through the storm.

It was the youngest!

Recognizing the sound, Lu Chen sped up. Seconds later, he saw the wet grass ahead thrashing, accompanied by a rustling sound.

Suddenly, a tangled mass tumbled out.

The youngest’s small body was being constricted by a yellow-black creature. Its eyes bulged and bloodshot, its breaths came in weak, desperate gasps—the little one was being strangled and was near suffocation.

It was a king rat snake!

Lu Chen instantly recognized the predator. He’d never expected such a formidable snake to be lurking in these seemingly peaceful reeds.

King rat snakes, also called flower snakes or king pythons, are colubrids that can grow over two and a half meters long and weigh up to ten kilograms—veritable giants among snakes. They are fierce, agile, and skilled constrictors. They feed on mice, birds, and other small animals, and when prey is scarce, will even eat their own kind.

Facing a snake over two meters long, Lu Chen was terrified, his body trembling instinctively—not just because of its size, but from the depths of his human memories.

It was odd; as the planet's dominant species, humans should fear little. Yet almost all humans are afraid of snakes—even small, harmless ones can make many shudder.

This fear seems etched into human genes, given a name: ophidiophobia.

Even now, as a crocodile, Lu Chen couldn’t escape that deep-seated terror.

His first impulse was to run.

But when he saw the desperate, pleading look in the youngest’s eyes, he halted, reason gradually returning.

He was no longer human—but a saltwater crocodile.

Survival in the wild meant facing danger. Running wasn’t always the answer.

With his strength, he might not lose.

"Roar-hiss… roar-hiss…" Lu Chen cried out urgently, then opened his jaws wide and lunged.