I'm Trapped in the Block

Inside a rustic wooden house, a stooped, gaunt Old Fishman sat at a table, intently reading a wooden book.

The surface of the wooden book had a strange, oily sheen, as if it had been waxed. It looked brand new.

The book was covered in densely packed Fishman script. The characters were crooked and twisted, like little fish coiled to varying degrees. Some of these Little Fish were adorned with marks resembling horizontal and vertical strokes, slants, and dots.

Mo Ling stared at the peculiar script, feeling a bit dizzy.

When he closed his eyes, the Little Fish seemed to linger before him, swimming back and forth across his eyelids.

A Little Fish curled into a ball, slipped out from under a "horizontal stroke," and entered the vast emptiness of the book. A light shaped like "slants and dots" descended along the book’s surface, spilling into the dark, carved grooves.

"This is..."

’Moon?’

For some reason, a flash of insight struck Mo Ling’s mind, and he suddenly understood the meaning of the strange character.

’This means "moon".’

’What about the one before it?’

Mo Ling looked back at the book.

It was two Little Fish, each biting the other’s tail. They refused to separate, forming a shape like an Olive.

’This is... Sea!’

Gazing at the glyph, Mo Ling had another flash of insight and understood its meaning.

Looking further, he saw a group of Little Fish clustered together. In the center was a "horizontal stroke," and above it, a "vertical stroke" reached toward the sky.

In the Fishman language, this meant "rite" or "ceremony."

’Sea... Moon... Rite...’

The three interwoven Fishman characters were not separate images; they shared a strange connection.

A single Little Fish wandered between the characters. It was as if this one Little Fish was experiencing the scenes within the text, like a comic book. This Little Fish was the protagonist, always present in the picture.

’How brilliant.’

Mo Ling looked at the other characters and saw that this same Little Fish appeared in all of them.

This comic-like script didn’t detract from the original meaning. On the contrary, it made the scenes more vivid and lifelike.

Just by looking at these characters, their meaning transformed into images that played out automatically in his mind, simple yet ingenious.

Before he knew it, Mo Ling was completely immersed in the scenes of the wooden book, following that one Little Fish as it wandered among the characters, watching the book’s world materialize around him.

’This is the record of the Sea Moon Rite.’

As he read the book’s contents, Mo Ling quickly understood why the Fishman Race placed so much importance on the Sea Moon Rite.

The immersive feeling of this ancient Fishman tome was simply too strong. Any Fishman who could read it would surely identify with the Little Fish inside, personally experiencing a deadly adventure.

’The fog spreads, and all things decay.’

The Little Fish was like a witness, watching everything on Fishman Island fall into ruin:

Living creatures turned to dry bones.

Rocks turned to foul sludge.

Civilization became dregs.

Life dissolved into the sea of fog.

...

These were the consequences of the spreading fog. The ancient Fishman book didn’t describe it in an exaggerated way, but simply narrated it all dispassionately before calmly and patiently explaining how to conduct the Sea Moon Rite.

The book explained the method of conducting the Sea Moon Rite through a kind of "experience," as if the event had actually happened before. It felt incredibly real.

Like the Little Fish, the reader was just a detached observer, looking on from above.

Experiencing it firsthand, yet completely separate from the world.

’Who in the world wrote this?’ After finishing the record of the Sea Moon Rite, this was the only question in Mo Ling’s mind.

It was as if the author of the ancient book had personally witnessed that scene of destruction.

And had also personally seen the Sea Moon rise and disperse the fog.

’Could Fishman Island have truly been destroyed by the fog before?’

’But isn’t Fishman Island still here, perfectly fine?’

Mo Ling had initially thought the Fishman civilization wasn’t very advanced. He assumed this *Fishman Almanac* was probably just a book of folksy mumbo jumbo, taking natural laws, adding a dash of subjective opinion, and mixing it all with a jumble of fabricated supernatural nonsense.

But now, it seemed more like a—diary?

A timeless diary, written simply to record the author’s personal experiences.

No wonder the Fishmen who read this book later felt such a strong sense of immersion.

What could be more real than a diary?

Just from reading the book, Mo Ling, an outsider, was already letting his imagination run wild, half-believing and half-doubting the Sea Moon Rite. It was surely even more impactful for the native Fishman Race.

At that moment, the Old Fishman was still engrossed in the *Fishman Almanac* in his hands, not noticing the two visitors.

It wasn’t until Jeff spoke up that the Old Fishman came back to his senses.

"Great Clan Leader, I’m back. The captain had me bring you a case of wine."

The Old Fishman’s eyes were somewhat cloudy. Only when he saw the wine in Jeff’s hands did he tremblingly set down the ancient book.

He slowly rose from his chair and walked over to Jeff, his movements sluggish. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Well done, Jeff." The strange, twisted Fishman language drifted from his mouth. But compared to Jeff’s resonant voice, the Great Clan Leader’s was hoarse and weak.

Just then, Mo Ling realized something strange. ’Why can I understand the Fishman language?’

When he first came ashore, he clearly couldn’t understand what the Fishmen were saying.

But now he could comprehend it perfectly, without any difficulty.

’When did this start?’

His gaze shifted to the ancient Fishman book on the table. Mo Ling was astonished. ’Is it because of this book?’

’Does this book have the function of teaching people the Fishman language?’

After a moment’s thought, Mo Ling felt it wasn’t that simple.

’Perhaps it’s because of the Block.’

Back in Oasis City, he had been able to understand the language of the Shell People.

Still, regardless of why he could understand it, a language barrier being gone was always a good thing.

Seeing Jeff and the Great Clan Leader chattering away, Li Luo, who was standing to the side, took a translation device out of his bag and put it in his ear.

"Has the cargo been stored?" the Great Clan Leader asked.

"It has. It will be transported to the Moon Altar tomorrow."

"Good." The Great Clan Leader clearly trusted Jeff and didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he turned to Li Luo. "My human friend, what business brings you to our Fishman Village?"

His tone was very gentle.

Hearing the Great Clan Leader’s words, Li Luo once again explained that he wanted to hire a boat.

However, upon learning of Li Luo’s intention, the Great Clan Leader shook his head apologetically.

"I am truly sorry, my friend. The other side of Fishman Island is full of reefs. Because of the spreading fog and the long journey, the human ferries have all stopped running. No one dares to come."

The Great Clan Leader sighed. "That’s why all our recent trade has been with Glass Island, but even so, very few ships are willing to make the trip."

He carefully took the wine from Jeff’s hands and placed it on the table.

Li Luo was very surprised to hear this news and stood frozen on the spot.

But the Great Clan Leader’s next words were good news:

"The Sea Moon Rite is approaching. Once it’s over, the fog will disperse, and the shipping lanes will reopen. If you don’t mind, you’re welcome to stay in the village for a while."