Day 15, Peaceful Day.

Nan Liujing was nudged awake by Nian Gao a little after five. The little fox was pacing anxiously in circles, then stood up and crouched by the bed, using its forehead to nudge the hand sticking out from under the blanket. Its wet, black nose rubbed against the back of his hand—it felt ice-cold—and it kept whimpering.

Finally, the noise woke him up. Nan Liujing sat up, still half-asleep, intending to scold the fox, but just as he opened his mouth, he let out a huge yawn, and two tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

Nian Gao was so anxious he was practically dancing on the floor.

Nan Liujing held back from scolding him and sighed, “I know, I know. Let me just go wash my face first.”

He threw back the covers, got out of bed, and walked across the creaking wooden floor to the bathroom to wash up. Nian Gao hurried after him, its little paws making a pat-pat sound as they tapped the floor.

The farmhouse, which had been quiet all night, suddenly came alive with activity. A moment later, the sound of rushing water filled the air, accompanied by Nan Liujing’s slurred warning—his mouth full of toothpaste—telling Nian Gao to stay away. Nian Gao whimpered, retreated to the bathroom doorway, and lay down there, still peering inside with his head propped up.

As if afraid its owner might fall into the toilet and get lost.

Hei Tang was curled up like a flat pancake on top of the large wardrobe. Even with all the commotion around it, she didn’t wake up—at most, she twitched her ears a couple of times, rolled over as if annoyed by the noise, and lay on her back with her four legs splayed, her two white bamboo-like paws covering her ears.

Ten minutes later, Nan Liujing—who had finally managed to get himself presentable—came out of the farmhouse. As soon as he pushed open the door, Nian Gao rushed out ahead of him and took off running toward Slime Pasture.

Nan Liujing scratched his head, couldn’t help but yawn again, then waved at the newspaper bird perched on the mailbox: “Good morning, friend.” He was up so early today that he even ran into the newspaper bird, which had come to work early.

“Caw!” The newspaper bird was startled to see him at first, but then seemed pleased and flapped its wings in a salute.

“Is that today’s paper? You can just hand it to me.”

Hearing Nan Liujing say this, the newspaper-delivering bird took the paper it had been carrying in its little cloth pouch and placed it directly into Nan Liujing’s hand.

Nan Liujing took the newspaper in one hand and, as if performing a magic trick, pulled a fish out of the other with lightning-fast reflexes, shoving it straight into the newspaper-delivering bird’s mouth.

“Caw?”

The newspaper-delivering bird, with the fish still hanging from its beak—half the tail sticking out—stood there dumbfounded.

It blinked a few times, then couldn’t resist—its seabird hunting instinct kicked in, and it tilted its head back, swallowing the fish whole. After finishing, it smacked its lips. Delicious.

Nan Liujing smiled as he watched it eat, narrowing his eyes to reveal the distinct creases beneath them: “Tasty, huh? I raised it myself.” 

“Caw.” The newspaper-delivering bird nodded, lowering its head to reveal its round, white head.

Nan Liujing reached out and stroked it.

The newspaper-delivering bird was in a hurry to deliver the next household’s paper, and Nan Liujing had a Nian Gao that was making frantic whining noises, so the two of them—one person and one bird—weren’t able to chat much longer.

Before leaving, the newspaper-delivering bird glanced at the unfamiliar buildings on the island and called out to Nan Liujing once. Its long beak pecked at the outer wall of the farmhouse; its eyes fixed on Nan Liujing, it called out again.

Nan Liujing sensed a hint of serious warning in the bird’s call.

“What’s wrong?”

The newspaper-delivering bird didn’t answer, but instead brought its wings together and made a swinging motion, as if batting a baseball.

Even after the newspaper bird had flown away, as Nian Gao tugged him toward the Slime Pasture to photograph a blue ocean subspecies slime in the early morning light before dawn had fully broken, Nan Liujing was still pondering the newspaper bird’s earlier behavior.

It clearly wanted to tell him something. Or rather, warn him of something.

What could it be?

The sun was still hidden below the horizon, but the moon was already on its way home. The entire sky and earth were bathed in an inky blue—neither fully dark nor fully light—and visibility was alarmingly low.

Nan Liujing shone his flashlight, its beam chasing after the white Nian Gao. The little fox cub was dancing around the blue slime, happily leaping up and down. The slime looked a bit dazed but followed along, chirping and squeaking nonstop.

As Nan Liujing watched Nian Gao and the slime play, his mind replayed the newspaper bird’s final two movements. First, it tapped on the wall of the farmhouse, then it swung its wings as if batting a baseball.

What did the first movement signify?

A farmhouse, a home, a wall, wood… wood?

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck him—Nan Liujing’s thoughts suddenly became crystal clear. Wasn’t that baseball-swinging posture very similar to the motion of chopping down a tree?

So was the newspaper-delivering bird reminding him to chop more wood?

Why?

Nan Liujing weighed the newspaper in his hand, realizing he was probably looking for clues in it.

Thanks to Nian Gao, Nan Liujing had woken up very early today—so early, in fact, that by the time he’d finished watering the fields, chatting with the animals in their pens, collecting eggs, and taking a stroll around the marine ranch… it was barely seven o’clock when he returned.

When he entered the house, Hei Tang had just woken up. Standing on top of the large wardrobe, she stretched, extending one front paw straight out, then stretched it again. She hopped down lightly, landing first on the bed, then on the floor.

Hei Tang, tail held high, meowed and scampered over to Nan Liujing’s feet, rubbing against her in a clingy, circling motion. She was only this clingy when begging for food every day.

Nan Liujing took the leftover squirrel meat from yesterday and poured a small handful of pet biscuits for her. Hei Tang left a big pile of cat hair on his pant leg, successfully coaxing the human into handing over some roasted rabbit liver.

Now we’re talking.

Hei Tang twitched its whiskers, lowered its head to eat a small cookie, found the taste quite good, and began to chew slowly and slowly. Just as it started gnawing on the squirrel, Nian Gao raced back at lightning speed to claim its bowl of food.

“Meow!” Food! 

Both little ones were enjoying their delicious breakfast. Nan Liujing glanced at the clock—he had so much time to spare this morning that, even before the tide went out, he had plenty of free time to leisurely prepare a time-consuming but delicious breakfast.

For example, making homemade tomato sauce and frying up some french fries.

Since he was making tomato sauce, he might as well make a big batch, so Nan Liujing brought out a deep stew pot and grabbed 10 large tomatoes.

A classmate who’d had a few too many drinks once shared his tomato sauce recipe at a party: using only tomatoes (preferably Roma tomatoes—a variety with thick flesh and not too much juice), basil, half a sweet red bell pepper, a pinch of salt, and olive oil, he could make the delicious tomato sauce that everyone in his family raved about.

His classmates even described his decision to share the recipe with his friends as “a decision that goes against the will of his ancestors,” so his friends “had to commit every single step to memory.”

To ensure his ancestors’ will wasn’t defied in vain, Nan Liujing wrote down his recipe, but…

Sometimes it wasn’t that he had a sudden inspiration while cooking, but rather that circumstances didn’t allow him to follow the recipe strictly. He had tomatoes, but they were the kind that were juicy but didn’t have much flesh.

No problem—he’d just simmer it a little longer to reduce the liquid.

He didn’t have any sweet red bell peppers, so he’d leave them out—after all, their sole purpose was to add a touch of sweetness to the tomato sauce, and at worst, he could just add a little sugar.

As for basil, he definitely didn’t have any. Although his classmate had repeatedly emphasized that it was the secret to his family’s delicious homemade tomato sauce—giving it a special flavor—didn’t that just go to show that basil was actually optional?

Nan Liujing immediately decided to forgo the special flavor that basil would have added. His cooking style was to make do with what he had and not get too picky. After preparing all the ingredients, Nan Liujing rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

He cut ten large tomatoes into quarters with two swift strokes on the cutting board, then placed them directly into the pot. Without adding a single drop of water, he simply turned on the heat and let them simmer. He stirred frequently to prevent the tomatoes from sticking to the bottom of the pot, while gently pressing them down with a silicone spatula to help them release their juices quickly.

In just a few minutes, the pile of tomato chunks had successfully turned into half a pot of tomato soup. The tomatoes had released far more juice than Nan Liujing had imagined, and he couldn’t tell how long it would take.

He poured off the excess liquid right away, planning to drink it as tomato juice once it cooled; he left the remaining meat and a small amount of liquid in the pot, then used a silicone spatula to mash it into a puree.

He sprinkled a suitable amount of salt into the puree, gave it a stir, and the tomato sauce was ready.

Nan Liujing scooped up a bit with the silicone spatula and tasted it; it was so sour he wrinkled her nose, so he added two generous spoonfuls of sugar.

When he tasted it again, the flavor was just right.

This tomato sauce bears no resemblance whatsoever to the kind served at fast-food restaurants; instead, it’s perfect for making pasta, pizza, and the like.

Nan Liujing was satisfied anyway—after all, he hadn’t made the other kind of tomato sauce.

He poured the finished tomato sauce into sealable glass jars and added a layer of olive oil on top to create an oil seal—a double safeguard to ensure the sauce wouldn’t spoil for several months.

Ten tomatoes turned into four jars of tomato sauce. Nan Liujing went to wash the pot and then set about making French fries. Delicious French fries need to be steamed before frying.

The idea is to steam the potatoes until tender, then cut them into thick, long strips before placing them in the oil.

This method results in fries that are crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. When steamed potatoes are cut into strips, they inevitably get slightly damaged, leaving the surface pitted and uneven. After frying, these irregularities transform into a textured, crispy crust that crunches with every bite—and even when cooled, they remain crisp rather than soggy.

Nan Liujing spent over an hour making a plate of French fries, which were devoured in less than ten minutes with a side of ketchup. They were so delicious that he completely forgot about reading the newspaper while eating.

It wasn’t until he had finished eating and was staring at the empty, greasy baking sheet that Nan Liujing felt a wave of indescribable emptiness. Good thing he’d unlocked the recipe for french fries—it won’t be such a hassle to make them again in the future.

【French Fries】

【Category: Cooking · Snacks】

【Ingredients: Potatoes x1, Oil x1.】

【Optional Ingredients: Salt, ?, ?, ?.】

【Estimated Cost: 230 Sol.】

【Freshness: Fresh】

【Effect: Restores 20 HP.】

【Crispy and crunchy french fries—the perfect combination of carbs and oil. They’re delicious even when they’ve cooled down.】1

With his mouth still greasy from the fries, Nan Liujing saw he still had some time, so he brewed another cup of green tea, sat down on the couch, and started reading the newspaper.

Today’s delivery was the *Impermanent Sea Daily*. Nan Liujing was quite looking forward to it; ever since he discovered that the *Impermanent Sea Daily* had pioneered the launch of many new columns, the newspaper’s prominence had gradually risen to rival that of the *Heart of the Rising Sun Daily*.

He started with the food column. This time, the food critic had shared a recipe for carrot cake, written in great detail. After reading it twice, Nan Liujing had successfully mastered the recipe.

【Carrot Cake】

【Category: Cooking · Desserts】

【Ingredients: 1 carrot, 1 cup flour, 1 nut, 1 egg, 1 stick butter.】

【Optional ingredients: sugar, salt, vanilla, cream.】

【Recommended Price: 890 soles.】

【Freshness: Fresh】

【Effects: Restores 40 HP; makes it easier to increase animal affinity (1 hour).】

【A thick layer of buttercream is spread over the orange-yellow cake base; the natural sweetness of carrots replaces sugar, making this a healthy and delicious country-style cake.】

The fashion column recommended a perfume from Madame Liz’s Salon, and he saw that name in the Alliance Weekly. Their most expensive line is the Christmas Rose series—a half-star perfume costs 12,000 sol, and the essential oil is even pricier, at 45,000 sol for a small bottle.

Only a beauty made of gold would be worthy of such precious perfume and essential oils.

Therefore, even though the column’s lead writer raved about the Christmas Rose perfume, Nan Liujing remained uninterested; instead, it was a legend tucked away in the margins of the article that caught her attention.

【On Flower Field Island, renowned for its vast flower fields, a legend has been passed down since ancient times: beautiful flowers attract fairies. These are tiny sprites, no bigger than a thumb, that live among the flowers. They have been searching for their companion flowers since time immemorial, and once they find them, they never leave. The sprites are masters of honey-making; the honey they produce is more potent than a witch’s potion, and a single drop can fetch 10,000 sol.】

The agriculture and farming column introduced methods for saving seeds from crops, an issue that had long troubled Nan Liujing. This was especially true a few days ago when he harvested a batch of potatoes. In theory, he could have used them directly as seed potatoes, but potatoes are classified as 【food】 rather than 【seeds】. He placed a few under the eaves, but even now, there was no sign of them sprouting.

Instead, their skins had turned slightly green from the sun—a sign that solanine had set in. Once potatoes turn green, they’re no longer edible, so Nan Liujing had no choice but to quickly return them to the warehouse.

Where exactly do crop seeds come from in this world? That question was finally answered today.

【……It is not impossible to obtain seeds from mature crops, but a “seed-making machine” must be used; the entire crop is placed inside the machine……】

The Seed Maker is an alchemical device. Its inventor did not originally develop it to support agriculture, but rather to challenge an alchemical paradox known as “rejuvenation.” During the period, this paradox was as famous as the theory that “alchemy cannot create life,” and was considered one of the two insurmountable obstacles that all alchemists were unable to overcome.

The remaining one was the transmutation of base metals into gold.

No alchemist who considered themselves exceptionally talented could tolerate such a challenge, and so, during the era, alchemy experienced a period of vigorous development, with all manner of alchemical devices emerging in a veritable flood of innovation.

The Slime Maker emerged during this period; it successfully refuted the theory that “life cannot be created,” but was eventually discarded because the machine itself was of little practical use.

The Seed Maker was invented around the same time as the Slime Maker. The difference was that it failed—yet it became famous precisely because of that failure, transforming into one of the most successful alchemical devices.

Once mature crops are placed inside, the seed-making machine “reverts” them to their seed form; each crop can produce only one seed.

However, this “rejuvenation” is incomplete; the seeds retain a certain trait of the mature crop—its star rating.

If you insert a five-star cabbage, you’ll get a five-star cabbage seed; once planted, it won’t need any additional fertilizer, and it will naturally grow into a five-star cabbage.

If you continue to fertilize it, it may reach an even higher star rating.

To alchemists, this is an incomplete rejuvenation—a failed experiment.

But for the Harvest Association, this is “the greatest invention of the century!”

No, the seed-making machine only works well for high-yield crops. When it comes to crops like cabbage and radishes—which can only produce one plant per seed—it’s like taking off your pants to fart.

As for methods of collecting ordinary seeds from mature crops—they do exist, but they require special techniques and skills, as well as a touch of magic, and are monopolized by the Harvest Association.

Everyone is welcome to purchase seeds at the Harvest Association’s seed stores.

Right at the end of the column, there was even an advertisement for the Harvest Association. Only then did Nan Liujing realize that this article had been written by someone from the Harvest Association.

“So, either save up to buy a seed-making machine, or save up to buy seeds from the Harvest Association.” Nan Liujing put down the newspaper and sighed. “I can’t believe the method of collecting seeds can actually be monopolized.”

And according to the article, it’s a very slow monopoly. Even an experienced farmer from Earth, arriving in this world with a wealth of knowledge on seed selection and breeding, wouldn’t be able to obtain a single seed on their own.

The Harvest Association’s monopoly stems from a wish and a sacrifice—transforming the rule that “only members of the Harvest Association may collect seeds from crops” into a universal law of the world. To break this, one must challenge their authority.

Well, the Harvest Association vowed when making their wish to sell seeds at fair and reasonable prices, to refrain from predatory monopolies, and to ensure that all farmers could turn a profit; they also continuously improved the seeds for the benefit of the world. It is precisely because of this that this rule was established and has been passed down through the ages.

No, for Nan Liujing, the player trading zone still offers better value than buying seeds from the Harvest Association.

Flipping through the latter half of a newspaper, he finally found a somewhat plausible news story that appeared to be related to the warning from the newspaper-delivering bird.

【……As a spokesperson for the Impermanent Sea Meteorological Bureau stated the day before yesterday, clear skies will prevail across the entire Impermanent Sea region for the next 10 days, describing it as “the calm before the storm”……】 

However, the main focus of this news report is the temporary closure of a ski resort on a certain island. The report quoted this statement and noted that several other facilities have also chosen to close during this period to ensure that visitors planning to visit won’t make the trip for nothing.

The simultaneous closure of multiple facilities was certainly unusual, and the Meteorological Bureau spokesperson’s reference to “the calm before the storm” also gave people a sense of foreboding.

Nan Liujing combed through the newspapers but couldn’t find any more detailed reports.

He could only speculate: “The Meteorological Bureau spokesperson made the statement the day before yesterday; perhaps the related reports were published in yesterday’s newspapers.” But as it happened, the only publication he received yesterday was *Business Alliance Weekly*, a magazine that read like an advertising compendium and contained virtually no news. How unlucky could he get? Did this major news story have to land on the very day he was reading ads? 

At first, he thought the free newspapers given out by the staff would be enough, but now he sees they’re not nearly enough. However, I subscribe to a newspaper every day—but that costs 50 sol, or even 100 sol, every day.

How could Nan Liujing possibly afford that? 

Frustrated, Nan Liujing ran his fingers through his hair. Resigned, he screenshotted the news article, edited in the newspaper delivery bird’s warning, and sent it to Xu Jia.

Unknown Island—Nan Liujing: I have a very bad feeling about this, but I don’t have any more copies of the paper, and I can’t make any guarantees. You’ll have to decide for yourself whether to post this on the forum.

Just as he was about to close his tablet, Xu Jia’s reply popped up. A reply in a split second?

Coral Island—Xu Jia: I was just about to talk to you about this. Nan Liujing raised an eyebrow.

Unknown Island—Nan Liujing: You already know about it?

Coral Island-Xu Jia: Not entirely. Just like you, I’ve only received an incomplete omen; I can’t piece together the truth just yet.

Unknown Island—Nan Liujing: What do you mean, “me”?

Coral Island-Xu Jia: Do you know Li Shechu? 

Unknown Island-Nan Liujing: That bed salesman?

Coral Island—Xu Jia: Right. He had previously completed a hidden quest and received a pearl from a mermaid that can predict danger. This morning, when he woke up, he noticed the pearl was reacting.

Coral Island – Xu Jia: Besides that, a few other people have reached out to me. I just set up a temporary group chat—want to join? 

Unknown Island – Nan Liujing:?

Nan Liujing wasn’t particularly surprised that others had reached out to Xu Jia. Xu Jia was the first player to post a walkthrough on the forum, and also the first to post a call for players to submit reports on Resource Islands. His talent for deep thinking, calm and rational approach, strong practical skills, charismatic leadership, and friendly personality all acted like a natural magnet, drawing others to him.

Just as Nan Liujing would first turn to Xu Jia to share his dilemmas and seek advice when faced with difficult decisions, others naturally gathered around him as well.

After all, Xu Jia was the go-to guide expert on their forum! What truly surprised Nan Liujing, however, was…

Unknown Island – Nan Liujing: Can you create a group in this game? 

Coral Island – Xu Jia: …Yes. Are you joining?

Nan Liujing thought for a moment.

Unknown Island – Nan Liujing: What do I have to pay after joining? What are the requirements for leaving? What obligations do I have?

Coral Island—Xu Jia: No need for any of that. This is just a temporary group chat to make it easier for everyone to communicate directly. If you feel uncomfortable, you can leave at any time—there’s no obligation.

Unknown Island – Nan Liujing: Add me.

Nan Liujing took a sip of tea, crossed his legs, and leaned back into the sofa.

A few seconds later, a brand-new icon appeared in her friends list, flashing rhythmically. Nan Liujing tapped it lightly and found herself in a group chat interface.

【Coral Island—Xu Jia: Group name changed to “Information Exchange Group.”】 

Xu Jia: To facilitate communication, please change your group nicknames to just your real names. Some people’s island names are too long and take up too much screen space. 

Zhao He: Agreed.

“Mom, I Never Have to Work Again” Island—Li Shechu: …I suspect you tagged me. 

Zhang Zihan: Agree.

Li Shechu: Okay, okay, okay! I’ll change it, all right!

……

……

【Unknown Island – Nan Liujing joined the group chat.】

Xu Jia: Welcome.

Li Shechu: Another newcomer? Which big shot is this?

Zhang Zihan: Ah! You’re a sword dealer! 

Zhao He: Welcome.

Xu Jia: He’s “J.” 

Nan Liujing: Hi, everyone. 

Li Shechu: A sword dealer?

Li Shechu: Wait, you’re J??? Holy crap, that’s the big shot!

Messages flew by rapidly in the group chat. Nan Liujing paused for a moment, then decided to message Xu Jia privately first.

Unknown Island – Nan Liujing: What does “J” stand for? 

Coral Island – Xu Jia: You don’t know? 

Unknown Island – Nan Liujing: ???

Coral Island – Xu Jia: 【Screenshot】 【Screenshot】

After clicking to view them, Nan Liujing finally understood what was going on.

It turned out that all the intel he’d previously given to Xu Jia had been posted by Xu Jia on the forum. Although he’d repeatedly emphasized, “Don’t mention my name on the forum,” Xu Jia didn’t want to take all the credit either, so as a compromise, he’d given him a codename—and all the intel received from him was credited to “J.”

The anonymous “J,” who preferred to remain unseen, provided the crucial tip that “natural disasters exist in the game world” and deduced that the first disaster would be a “torrential rain.” Afterward, “J” continued to help players avoid several resource islands, effectively saving the lives of some players.

Since the information in Xu Jia’s post originally came from J, Nan Liujing had never clicked on it—until now, when he realized that, at some point, J had already gained a bit of fame on the forum.

Nan Liujing：“……”

Wait, this is… a little awkward.