A huge thanks to Seraphinareads for the support on Kofi. Enjoyy!

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Nan Liujing tore the blueprint to shreds, and the burst of white light was absorbed into the tablet. This was the first weapon blueprint he’d ever obtained—and a relatively high-tier one at that.

While other players were wildly swinging and hacking away with wooden weapons, pulling out an iron sword would give you a massive advantage. But there was a problem—and it was a very serious one.

I don’t know where to find the iron ore needed to craft a standard knight’s sword. “Go back to the trading area and have a look around—you might just find what you’re looking for.”

Changhai’s islands are as numerous as the stars. More than 80,000 players have now basically established their sanctuaries, joined the Island Management Committee, and obtained the qualifications to set sail and explore.

With so many people scattered about, there’s a good chance someone will get lucky and find a resource spot like a vein or a mine.

If the price is right, this blueprint might just become Nan Liujing’s next money-making tool—even better than the simple water collector. But if the iron ore is too expensive, forget it—I’ll just make one myself.

Nan Liujing really didn’t like hanging out in the trading district—sitting there with a tablet all day, unable to do anything else, and having to haggle with all sorts of people.

Although materials can be quite profitable, they’re time-consuming and labor-intensive.

Between farming, gathering, and stockpiling food, there isn’t much time left at the end of the day to hang out in the trading district.

Plus, most players are broke these days, so the trading zone is still dominated by basic materials—trading back and forth is just boring. Those who have rare items are only willing to trade them for other rare items. You can’t get them with basic materials; you have to go out to sea and find them yourself. If you want to do business, it’s more profitable to trade with the natives.

Thinking about Victor’s catalog, Nan Liujing still felt tempted.

“I really want to knock someone out with a club…”11

If it weren’t for the fact that Victor was tall and burly and looked like a tough guy—and considering that it’s better to make small profits consistently than to strike it rich once—Nan Liujing might have actually given in to the temptation.

After casually dismantling the wooden crate, Nan Liujing turned his attention to the safe.

This was something new—it was the first time he’d seen one in this world. But since it was a safe, there must be something valuable inside, right?

The safe was made entirely of metal; a makeshift axe certainly wouldn’t be able to split it open. Nan Liujing crouched down in front of it to examine it and discovered it was a fingerprint lock. In the lower left corner was a hidden small door; sliding it open revealed a combination dial.

There were 12 buttons arranged in four rows, all displaying unfamiliar symbols Nan Liujing had never seen before—they looked like a bunch of pole-dancing earthworms, writhing around in a sizzling, sultry way.

Nan Liujing took a look, then, without a second thought, started pressing the buttons in the left corner in sequence.

After pressing the buttons four times in a row, the safe suddenly beeped twice, but it didn’t open.

This meant the combination was wrong. Oh well—Nan Liujing hadn’t expected to open the safe this easily anyway. If the combination were really that stupid, the original owner of this little study must have been a complete idiot.

His real goal had already been achieved: confirming exactly how many digits the combination had.

“A four-digit code—not bad.”

Nan Liujing looked at the keypad again. Three of the twelve buttons looked shiny and greasy, clearly different from the dusty ones—they must be pressed frequently. One of them was especially shiny; it was probably the one pressed the most.

“This makes things simple.”

This lock was a breeze to crack—all it took was a brute-force attack. Nan Liujing crouched down and tried for less than ten minutes before figuring it out. Just then, there was a click

and the safe door opened automatically.

Nan Liujing glanced inside and was immediately disappointed. The safe was empty.

“Well, that makes sense. Since everyone’s already left, they must have taken the most important things.”

After putting in some effort, Nan Liujing sighed. Just as he was about to push himself up on his knees to stand, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a small black speck wedged into a crack at the edge of the safe—it looked a bit like…

“A seed?”

Nan Liujing instantly crouched back down, her eyes sparkling. That’s right—this was the Harvest Association’s abandoned experimental field. The Harvest Association—aren’t they experts in seed research?

Seeds worth storing in a safe—just how precious must they be?

She carefully picked it up with her fingertips, and the moment it touched her hand, the item’s description immediately appeared.

【Sun Grass Seed☆】

【Category: Seed】

【Seeds of a golden-hued magical plant, the primary ingredient for Stamina Potions. Can be harvested 9 days after planting. Requires at least 8 hours of sunlight per day; the plant dies if its leaves come into contact with water. Can only be planted in farmland.】

【Suggested Price: 300 Sol】

“Sun Grass!” Having read several reports on it, Nan Liujing finally saw the true form of this legendary Sun Grass. She didn’t yet know what the mature plant looked like, but the seed appeared quite ordinary—just a round, jet-black grain about the size of a sesame seed. Judging by the item description, growing it didn’t seem too difficult.

“It takes a long time to grow, and the leaves have to be kept moist—Nan Liujing can just imagine how much of a hassle it must be to grow them.

As for the potion’s ingredients, the Witches’ Roundtable has been collecting them all along—growing this plant is definitely profitable.

300 Sol—a single Sun Grass seed costs 300 Sol. The value doesn’t seem quite right.”

Nan Liujing thought about it for a moment. She figured it must be one of two things: either the ingredients for stamina potions were relatively economical, or the Witch’s Roundtable wouldn’t sell potions at a loss.

It goes without saying that’s impossible.

Putting away this precious seed, Nan Liujing hugged the safe and searched it slowly three more times, leaving no crevice unexamined, and finally managed to pry out four more Sun Grass seeds.

That made five in total. Once he got back, he could plant them in a row in his field and just wait for the lettuce to ripen tomorrow.

“Let’s see what the weather’s like tomorrow. If it’s sunny, I’ll plant them right away.”

Leaving the Harvest Association’s hut, there was less than an hour left before the exploration time ended.

There was no time to stroll leisurely, so Nan Liujing hurriedly broke into a run and darted into the nearby thicket.

“Phew—phew—”

As the 8-hour countdown ended, the canvas sail of the small wooden boat automatically unfurled, billowing in the wind. It tried to set off but was held back by a hemp rope, swaying precariously at the dock. The rope was stretched to its limit, taut and on the verge of snapping.4

At the very last moment, Nan Liujing darted out of the palm grove, ran at a brisk pace across the beach, leaped onto the boat, and—before he could even steady himself—turned around and quickly untied the rope, thus saving the only one they had.

Now free from its bonds, the small wooden boat plowed through the waves as usual. Nan Liujing caught his breath and plopped down onto the deck.

“That was close—I almost didn’t make it!”

He ducked into the thicket to look for the wild blueberries mentioned in Hal’s diary. Just searching for them took over ten minutes, but fortunately, he finally found them—though there were only a few blueberry bushes, all of them stunted shrubs less than 1 meter tall.

They were laden with berries, but time was limited. Nan Liujing was in a hurry, so after picking them haphazardly, she ran off without even checking her haul.

Now that she was back on the boat, she finally had time to check her haul.

To free up a backpack slot, Nan Liujing popped the remaining piece of dried grilled octopus into his mouth and started munching on it; the stamina he regained was just enough to gather blueberries.

Nan Liujing opened his in-game backpack and took a look: 44 blueberries.

“Not bad… I’ll process them as soon as I get back.”

Berries don’t fetch much in the trading zone, and Nan Liujing had no intention of selling them anyway; instead, he decided to turn them all into jam to keep for himself and enjoy little by little.

On the other hand, the lotus roots he’d dug up on the island could count as a staple food; he should be able to trade them for some other supplies in the marketplace.

Although he’d just been busy for eight hours, Nan Liujing showed no intention of resting. Instead, he immediately clicked into the trading zone to carry out various transactions.

The contract manufacturing business for simple water collectors was still going strong; even small, scattered orders could bring in a little extra income. Right now, there were two listings in the transaction backend. Nan Liujing quickly finished processing the order and shipped the goods to the buyer, earning 10 basic materials.

His private message inbox was overflowing with messages; Nan Liujing’s practice of using the trading board as a temporary warehouse had caught the attention of some people. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with doing this per se—at least eight out of ten players venturing out to explore these days do the same.

The problem was that the items Nan Liujing had listed—fresh meat and lotus root—were all rare commodities, especially the fresh meat.

Few players know how to hunt, and even fewer dare to hunt wild animals. Currently, there are just over a thousand sellers of fresh meat in the trading area, and their asking prices are all quite high. The meat they sell is also incredibly varied—some of it is so exotic you’ve never even seen it, let alone eaten it.

Every time a new fresh meat seller pops up, players who are craving meat and have the money eagerly swarm around to make offers and haggle, interspersed with a large number of beggars trying to get free stuff.

Nan Liujing skillfully blocked some freeloaders, then clicked through to check some of the offers. Although she planned to smoke and preserve all the venison, she wouldn’t mind trading for something special if it came along.

You get tired of eating the same thing all the time, after all. It’s nice to switch things up.

First, he ruled out trading basic materials for meat—meat was far too expensive compared to the materials. Trading materials for meat meant that if he gave too little, he’d be unhappy, and if he gave too much, the buyer would be unhappy. That would inevitably lead to arguments, and just thinking about it gave Nan Liujing a headache, so he decided not to even start down that path.

However, high-grade materials traded for food and items of equal value were definitely worth a look. Among them were even some items that caught Nan Liujing’s eye. Since he had nothing better to do sitting on the ship anyway, Nan Liujing picked up his tablet and began carefully sorting through the options, even taking the time to categorize them.

There were over a dozen players looking for deer blood. Perhaps because the item description mentioned it had certain restorative properties—boosting virility and strengthening the kidneys—it attracted a certain group of, um, players with specific needs.

Nan Liujing couldn’t figure out what exactly they were after—they were stranded on a deserted island, yet they were still fixated on that? Oh well, you’d be a fool not to take the money when it’s offered.

With over a dozen people wanting it but only 6 portions of deer blood available—not nearly enough to go around—Nan Liujing picked out the few who offered the highest prices and sold off all the deer blood, trading it for 2 wild carrots, 4 wild eggs, and 6 rhubarb stalks.

The rhubarb here isn’t a medicinal herb—it’s edible rhubarb. It looks like oversized spinach, with heart-shaped leaves, thick leaf flesh, and wrinkled surfaces. The sturdy leaf stalks are pale red.

This vegetable—or is it a plant?—is quite common in Hai. The leaves are poisonous, so the edible part is the thick central petiole. It has a sour taste and can be used with sugar to make pies, sauces, candied fruits, sweet wine, and appetizers.

Nan Liujing ate a lot of it while studying abroad.

Don’t ask—if you do, it’s because I can’t afford proper water. My neighbor is a kind and gentle retired teacher who loves gardening and is especially fond of growing rhubarb.

Even now, seeing this plant, Nan Liujing still feels a bit nostalgic.

Some players also asked about deer offal. One person specifically wanted a single deer heart and was willing to trade a small Hami melon for it.

A deer heart weighs two jin, which is about the same as a small Hami melon, so Nan Liujing agreed. In her opinion, Hami melons taste much better than deer hearts, so she’ll never cook with them again.

No one showed any interest in the remaining deer offal, but Nan Liujing didn’t mind; he planned to toss it into the compost bin as soon as he got home, making the most of it.

The most frequent inquiries were about venison—people asked about both bone-in and boneless cuts, and the asking prices were relatively high. Some were even willing to trade meat for meat. 

Blue Mood Island—Zheng Haiyang: Friend, would you trade 【wild boar chops】 for venison chops? 

Nan Liujing took a quick look. The cutlet on the other side was a boneless, pure meat cutlet weighing 500g—the same weight as the venison cutlet in her hand. 

In terms of value, wild boar meat has a gamey flavor, and wild venison is tough—neither is significantly better than the other. But if Nan Liujing had to choose, wild boar meat is still better. That’s because after the pork is marinated and placed in a cold smoker, it can be smoked into bacon.

Bacon is much tastier. 

Unknown Island—Nan Liujing: Sure, one for one?

Blue Mood Island—Zheng Haiyang: Right, one for one. I can offer 4 pieces. What about you? Unknown Island—Nan Liujing: Let’s go with 4 pieces.

Blue Mood Island – Zheng Haiyang: Alright, I’ll take the boneless ones. Unknown Island – Nan Liujing: OK.

With four wild boar chops in hand, Nan Liujing traded them all at once for 5 bone-in venison chops, in exchange for 10 pieces of Snow Mountain Cowhide Cloth.

【Snow Mountain Cowhide Cloth】

【Category: Processed Goods】

【A fabric handwoven from the hair of Snow Mountain yaks. It’s impervious to water and weather, making it an excellent material for tents.】

【Suggested Price: 820 Sol】

According to the player across from him, this was discovered on a resource island. There was an abandoned campsite on the island with a large pile of tents; he dismantled 10 sets and brought them back.

He asked Nan Liujing how much he wanted for them.

Need I even ask? Nan Liujing went all in right away.

This startled the other player, who immediately paid lip service by calling him “Big Shot,” while inwardly thinking he was a “big fool.”

“Is there really someone who believes Xu Jia’s prophecy?”

Nan Liujing didn’t care what others thought. Ever since he figured out the nature of the natural disaster, he’d been searching for waterproof items, spending most of his daily time on the forum’s trading section, scouring it for various keywords—but unfortunately, he hadn’t found anything yet.

Ultimately, the problem lies in the limited channels through which players can obtain resources. To make matters worse, the items she wanted wouldn’t even fit into a single wooden crate. Aside from hoping for a Resource Island drop, Nan Liujing had absolutely no other options.

After so many disappointments, to be told now that he could trade just 5 bone-in venison steaks for this much waterproof cloth? What a deal—an absolute steal.

He’d be doing his brain a disservice if he hesitated even for a second.

As for what the next natural disaster will be—ever since the day he first learned that “this world periodically faces natural disasters,” Nan Liujing has been searching for the answer to this question. Based on the clues he’s gathered over the past few days, after repeatedly reviewing the situation and constantly analyzing the details, Nan Liujing believes his hypothesis has at least a 70% chance of being correct.

After attending the gathering to divine the natural disaster, several witches immediately went to the Harvest Association to buy a large batch of dew grass seeds—this was the most important clue.

Later, Nan Liujing learned that dew grass is a magical plant that requires a large amount of water to grow and has no other value. 

Furthermore, since the witches appear to serve as apothecaries in Changhai, they likely grow a considerable amount of medicinal herbs at home. The purchase of dew grass seeds was clearly intended to be planted around the edges of their herb gardens to prevent the plants from drowning.

With this clue in hand, Nan Liujing concluded that the next natural disaster was most likely to be water-related. 

Furthermore, considering that this world consists entirely of separate islands, a natural disaster affecting the entire ocean is unlikely to be a flood; and if a tsunami were to occur, a mere few dew grass plants would probably be of little use. With flooding ruled out, there is only one possibility left.

A flood from the sky. A torrential downpour.

A day or two of rain isn’t scary, but what if it rains for ten days? Ten days? A month? 

If torrential rain really were to fall from the sky, the dangers of setting out to sea to explore would become extreme; one might be swallowed by the waves before even reaching Fang. Therefore, setting out to explore the seas during a natural disaster will likely be impossible. 

As a result, players would lose their current primary source of resources and would be forced to stay on their islands.

Shellfish in the reef areas won’t regrow easily once harvested; venturing into the coral forest in the rain is extremely risky, and it’s uncertain whether you’ll come back.

Not to mention the illnesses that getting drenched might cause; on an island with limited medical care and scarce medicine, a severe cold could very well prove fatal.

In the worst-case scenario, for the entire duration of the natural disaster, players would be forced to stay indoors, trapped in their small shelters, relying on previously stockpiled resources to survive. If they hadn’t stockpiled enough resources beforehand…

The more Nan Liujing thought about it, the more uneasy he became.

He couldn’t keep this suspicion to himself any longer, as if it were a secret. If his suspicions were true, many people would indeed die when the natural disaster struck. He both hoped his suspicion was correct and hoped it was wrong. In this complex state of mind, he thought of one person.

Xu Jia, a player who had posted strategy guides on the forum many times.

Fortunately, after exchanging honey, he’d added Xu Jia as a friend.

Xu Jia, a strategy guru with a natural talent for deep thinking, was the sharpest mind Nan Liujing had met in this game. On the very night they became friends, Nan Liujing took a photo of a related news article and sent it to Xu Jia, briefly outlining his own theories and seeking his opinion. 

After discussing it, Xu Jia agreed with Nan Liujing’s idea.

They both agreed that these full 30 days of “Peaceful Days” were the time the system had set aside for them to gather resources. They had to accumulate enough supplies within these 30 days to sustain themselves through one natural disaster cycle in order to ensure their survival.

Food was the top priority, and just as important were items for rain protection and warmth, as well as building materials. 

Currently, the vast majority of players only have makeshift shelters that let in wind and rain. If the next natural disaster is indeed a torrential downpour, it will absolutely be a catastrophic disaster for players.

Regarding speculation about the natural disaster, Xu Jia posted a dedicated thread. Before posting, he asked Nan Liujing for his opinion; Nan Liujing told him to do as he pleased and that he didn’t need to mention any names in the post. 

He has no intention of hoarding this information for himself, nor does he plan to profit from the disaster. On the contrary, the sooner players know about this, the better. The sooner they know, the more time they’ll have to prepare.

Xu Jia strongly agrees that players should be given advance warning; at least for now, players do not seem to be in competition with one another. Moreover, from a more self-interested perspective, only if more players survive will the forum continue to provide new information and ensure the trading section remains active. 

For us players, everything on Earth—including civilization, books, and everything else—has been lost, and only our minds still retain some precious knowledge.

People—the players themselves—are our greatest asset. 

Therefore, even if Xu Jia hadn’t brought it up, Nan Liujing would have proactively suggested this. If Xu Jia refused to post, Nan Liujing would go to the forum to find a few active users and ask if they were willing to post.

If everyone refused, there would be no other option, and Nan Liujing would have to post himself. Just thinking about the possibility of things turning out that way in the future made him want to sigh.

So, it was truly a stroke of luck that Xu Jia took the initiative to bring up the idea of posting.

Nan Liujing was truly not good at handling social media; speaking in person was one thing, but posting behind a screen felt entirely different.

Once he’s in the public eye, any statement he makes will attract a flood of comments. There will certainly be people who thank him, but there will inevitably be skeptics as well.

“What gives you the right to do this?” 

“You’re lying!” 

“What proof do you have?” Just thinking about how many comments like these would pop up under his post made Nan Liujing feel exhausted.

Avoiding it might be shameful, but at least it’s good for his mental health. 

What’s more, he knows there are people out there who are the exact opposite—people who are in their element on social media, unafraid of unknown hostility, and who even revel in others’ praise.

For example, Nan Liujing has become familiar with a few players who’ve been making quite a splash on the forums lately. Anyway, no matter who posts it or whose name is attached to it, a message is just a message.

That being the case, why not let someone more skilled and better suited to the task post it?

Especially since this is a piece of extremely bad news that’s bound to cause panic among players once it’s posted. Whether to release it early to put players on alert or to do so gradually so they’re better mentally prepared—deciding when to post it and how to phrase it so players can accept it more easily—Xu Jia is better at weighing these matters than Nan Liujing.

And since Xu Jia is the one posting it, there’s no need to mention Nan Liujing’s name. Perhaps some people believed Xu Jia’s warning post and survived the natural disaster because of it—that’s Xu Jia’s achievement, and it has nothing to do with Nan Liujing. After all, he was the one who bore the brunt of the earlier criticism, so any subsequent gratitude can only go to him.

The small wooden boat rocked gently back to Unknown Island; it was already nearly 11 p.m.

As soon as Nan Liujing jumped off the boat, Gao came dashing out of the farmhouse, squeaking and throwing himself into his arms.

Nan Liujing immediately broke into a smile. He spread his arms, crouched down slightly, and scooped up the fluffy little bundle: “Gao, I’m back!” 

“Yi-yi! Yi!” The little fox pup wagged its tail excitedly, tilting its head back as far as it could to try to lick his face.

Nan Liujing, beaming, reached out and gently pushed the little fox’s head away: “That’s not allowed.” 

“Yi!!” Gao cried out in protest.

“Okay, don’t be mad. I brought you something yummy.” With that, Nan Liujing pulled out a handful of blueberries as if by magic, instantly capturing the little fox cub’s attention.

The deep blue berries gave off a strange, sweet scent. The little fox cub nuzzled up to Nan Liujing’s hand to sniff them, then carefully picked one up in its mouth, chewed it, and swallowed it.

“Do you like it?”

“Yi!” Apparently finding the taste delightful, Gao instantly forgot the unpleasantness of being scolded by its owner moments ago and happily buried its little head in Nan Liujing’s hand.

Its little tongue licked wildly, scooping up the blueberries and leaving Nan Liujing’s hand covered in purplish-red juice.

After finishing the blueberries, Gao lifted its head and licked its lips, still wanting more; the white fur on the lower half of its face was now completely purple. Nan Liujing felt a laugh welling up, and then she actually burst out laughing.

“You little slob!”

Gao didn’t quite get it and tilted his head: “Huh?”

Since it was already a mess, Nan Liujing casually rubbed all the juice from his hand into Gao’s head. After a good rub, the little white fox turned into a little purple-faced fox. 

Nan Liujing couldn’t stop laughing; the little fox, oblivious, was still grinning like an idiot.

It was a sure thing he’d be pulling an all-nighter tonight, so Nan Liujing wasn’t in a rush; he methodically took care of everything.

He tossed the deer’s remaining offal into the compost bin, washed and dried the empty bottles, and marinated the fresh meat chops with salt, sugar, and cardamom powder, preparing them to be sent to the smokehouse tomorrow. 

After washing his hands, Nan Liujing took out the Snow Mountain cowhide tarp—it was a huge piece; just four of them sewn together would be enough to cover the roof of a farmhouse. If a heavy rain really did fall from the sky, these ten tarps would be enough to hold out for a while, and they could also be used to set up a shelter over the poor-quality farmland.

Once at the shed, Nan Liujing thought again of the slime-making machine he’d started at noon. He wondered if it had finished by now. He shone his flashlight over to check—the machine’s indicator light was already glowing green, signaling completion.

Nan Liujing hurried over and tapped the machine’s body a few times—tap, tap, tap—and the slime maker began to shake violently.

Nan Liujing took a few steps back and watched as a deep blue round blob was spewed out of the large funnel. It splattered onto the ground, flattening into a puddle, then slowly regained its round shape, bouncing twice with a bouncy, elastic bounce.

“Squeak!” The round blob turned around, revealing two adorable black bean-shaped eyes. 

【Slime (Ocean Subspecies)】

【Classification: Magical Creature】

【Element: Water】

【An oceanic subspecies of the Water-element Slime, known as “Sea Frost,” it is one of sea turtles’ favorite delicacies, second only to jellyfish. Produces Sea Salt Jelly x1 daily.】

【Elemental Skill: Torrent.】

【Torrent: Sprays a small stream of seawater; not particularly useful.】

【Sea Salt Jelly】

【Category: Food】

【A chewy, sea-salt-flavored jelly produced exclusively by artificially raised slimes. Eating it restores 5 Stamina.】

【Suggested retail price: 150 sol.】