Chapter Forty-Six: The Guide – "Hey, friend, the sea urchins are over here, you know."

Wang Cheng, constrained by the requirements of the divine ritual, refrained from intervening and, after watching for a while, concluded that there would be no further mishaps. Left to Han Shushu’s own methods, she would be able to clean up everything within a day or two. After all, this place had been personally chosen by Han Zechang, the “River-Turning Rat,” as the site of his niece’s advancement. Even if there were dangers, they could not possibly originate from the wreck itself.

He greeted her briefly, then turned away to begin his own search.

Carefully combing through the nearby kelp beds, he soon found his quarry: a jet-black sea urchin the size of a human head, bristling with dagger-long spines, resembling a massive morning star from afar. It was inching its way through the kelp on its tube feet and spines, feasting contentedly.

[Curio: Ten-Thousand-Treasures Monkey-Brain Sea Urchin, weight: one jin, seven liang.
The urchin’s golden roe is sweet and tender, replenishing both essence and spirit—an excellent tonic even for third-rank officials.
Value: 210 incense coins.
Taboo: Consuming its roe causes loss of speech for a day, leaving one able only to shriek like a monkey. Eating peaches or bananas will cure it.
Devour the brains of ten Monkey-Brain Sea Urchins in full to permanently acquire the skill “Eye Within the Mind.”
Greatly enhances the already acute senses and bodily control of an official, granting inner vision, perfect night sight, early threat detection, and immunity to ambush.]

Upon reading this, Wang Cheng was delighted by an unexpected bonus:

“The ‘Eye Within the Mind’ skill is divine for a water-rank official. The difference in lighting between a sailing ship’s open deck and its hold is deadly during boarding actions. Look at the Frankish pirates, so many sporting eye patches like one-eyed ogres—not because they’re blind, but to keep one eye always adjusted to darkness for instantaneous combat readiness.

Most of the Ten-Thousand-Treasures are encountered by sheer luck, let alone ten at once—but since Monkey-Brain Sea Urchins are social, there’s hope!”

Wasting no time, Wang Cheng surfaced and retrieved two items from Zhang Wu before diving back down.

The four water-rank trades—Sea-Dredgers, Treasure-Divers, Pearl-Maidens, and Whitewater Men—each had their own taboos and secret skills for retrieving treasures. Among these, Treasure-Divers were the most particular in their methods. They believed mountains embodied yang and water yin, and that where nature was most vibrant, treasures were born from the union of these forces, nurtured in the veins of the earth.

Such treasures hid deep within mountains and waters, drawing on the mysteries of sun and moon, influencing the very fate of the land. To seize them by ordinary means was to invite calamity; only with arcane techniques and rituals of the Five Elements could one claim them safely.

In the South, this trade was known as “Treasure-Diving” and belonged to the water division; in the North, it was called “Shepherding the Sheep” and fell under the earth division—both were professions of the Eight Outer Gates.

Their most common method was to classify treasures into five types and use the cycles of generation and restraint between them to obtain various riches. Take, for example, the well-known practice of ginseng harvesting: four-leaf ginsengs, possessing spiritual energy, must be pressed down with a copper coin (metal subdues wood) and tied with red string before being dug up; centenarian Snow Dragons, being of earth, must be taken with a wooden spade (wood conquers earth); even in legends, when a monkey steals ginseng fruit, the local deity says the fruit falls when touched by metal, withers under wood, dissolves in water, burns in fire, and is buried by earth—all echoing this principle.

While Whitewater Men perhaps lacked the Treasure-Divers’ overall skill in treasure-finding, none could match them in capturing the Ten-Thousand-Treasures of the sea!

Just listen to Hou Ying’s nickname, “Otter Who Offers Fish,” and you know his trade.

Previously, when Wang Cheng had caught parrot wrasse or swallowtail yellowtail, a simple net sufficed. But this time, facing a large school of wood-type Monkey-Brain Sea Urchins, he had to proceed carefully.

Following the principle of metal overcoming wood, he’d had a master craftsman weave a “Diamond Pouch” from gold thread, silver filament, and ramie silk, and also prepared a heavy iron hook with an extended handle—ensuring that once an urchin was inside, there’d be no escape.

Clang—

A clear, resonant note rang out as his iron hook neared the urchin; one of its spines suddenly contracted and shot out like a crossbow bolt, leaving only a faint scratch on the iron before drifting to the seabed.

But Wang Cheng was quick—using both hands, he coordinated the hook and pouch to net the creature in one swift motion. Even after being captured, the Monkey-Brain Sea Urchin thrashed violently, launching a third of its spines in all directions. Any ordinary predator would have been turned into a pincushion just by this, but, as with bullets underwater, these barbs could barely travel three feet—well short of Wang Cheng’s position at the other end of his long-handled hook. He’d caught it firmly.

Encouraged, he searched the wreck further and soon bagged two more.

Yet, when he went to continue, he realized that—strangely—all the other urchins, which should have been clustered nearby, had disappeared.

“How odd. Could these Monkey-Brain Sea Urchins actually warn their companions?”

This was quite a conundrum.

Just as Wang Cheng was pondering the mystery, he heard a disturbance behind him in the water. Whirling around, he found a large red fish swimming his way—a scarlet snapper, at least five feet long. It was a splendid specimen, and for a snapper to reach that size, it was almost supernatural.

Unfortunately, while snappers were delicious, the scarlet snapper was not; nor was it one of the Ten-Thousand-Treasures. Even if it offered itself, Wang Cheng had no interest in catching it.

He was just about to wave his hook to drive it off when, to his surprise, the fish circled him, wagged its tail, and swam purposefully into another kelp bed—pausing halfway to look back at him, blowing bubbles as if to beckon him to follow.

“What’s going on... Wait! Scarlet snapper? Sea urchins? I feel like I’ve heard of this combination somewhere before.”

A flash of insight struck Wang Cheng.

Scarlet snapper, also known as the “Undersea Farmer,” did more than just eat seaweed—they cultivated underwater kelp fields much like humans tended crops. Diligently, they bit down the weeds they didn’t like, protected their preferred algae, and even herded mayflies and amphipods into their gardens to fertilize the plants.

But their greatest nemeses were the sea urchins—these spiny thieves that no fish could bite would often invade the snapper’s fields and devour the crops. And if the intruders were the spine-shooting Ten-Thousand-Treasures, the snapper couldn’t just lose the harvest—it might lose its life.

Powerless against the urchins, the snapper could only watch as these bullies ransacked their gardens. Luckily, humans happened to be the urchins’ natural enemy!

In his previous life, Wang Cheng had seen documentaries about the snapper’s intelligence. Observing that sea urchin numbers decreased after human divers appeared, the fish had learned to act as guides, leading humans to their gardens to hunt the urchins—signaling divers with swaying movements to follow along.

Clinging to a powerful ally was, in a way, the snapper’s racial gift.

Clearly, this was another case of the old farmer’s ire!

As Wang Cheng looked again at the snapper, he seemed to hear a diligent voice by his ear: “Sir, the sea urchins are over here, please take care of them.”