The night was deep, and Snake Island was silent.
On a cliff more than fifty meters above the coastline, an emaciated old man sat cross-legged, holding a fishing rod. By his pose, he appeared to be fishing?
How could one fish from such a high cliff?
Upon closer inspection, there was actually no fishing line on his rod. He simply sat there, his posture seemingly unchanged for ages, like a piece of deadwood.
In the pitch-blackness of Snake Island, where one couldn't see their own fingers, the elder was completely unaffected by the darkness. His ears were attentive to his nose, his nose to his heart, exhibiting a high degree of concentration.
"Teacher! You can rest now. Mother Michiya has determined that Doctor Pang won't possibly come to the South Sea!" A deep voice arose in the night.