ã€ŠMy Stuff Talks to Me: Survival with Sentient Gearã€‹


 Chapter 1: Sentenced to 1000 Years For Being Too Handsome

    [Zhao Qiang: Public urination, an uncivilized act with severe negative impact. Sentenced to 2000 years in prison. Transferred to Survival Zone 23 for reform.]

    [Zhang Guanghui: Takes pleasure in stealing the possessions of others, especially stealing women''s undergarments, a serious violation of privacy and dignity. Sentenced to life imprisonment. Transferred to Survival Zone 2134 for reform.]

    [Kana Momonogi: Due to the excessively pornographic and violent nature of her films, many male viewers have developed the strange habit of masturbation. Sentenced to 1200 years in prison. Transferred to Survival Zone 10001 for reform.] (Note: Kana Momonogi is a real AV actress. I have used her real name as requested.)

    [Cao Jinliang: Due to a physiological defect, specifically a micropenis, leading to an inferiority complex and resulting in a distorted personality that negatively impacts society. Sentenced to 800 years in prison. Transferred to Survival Zone 6000 for psychological treatment and personality reconstruction.]

    ...

    Around noon, a mysterious voice suddenly echoed in everyone''s minds.

    Hank Fowler, who had been peacefully napping on his bed, jolted awake.

    What the hell?

    Where''s that voice coming from?

    Am I hallucinating?

    Just as he was spacing out, the mysterious voice spoke again.

    [Hank Fowler: Guilty of being excessively handsome, causing countless young women and housewives to become lovesick. Such handsomeness is shameful and criminal. Sentenced to 1000 years in prison. Transferred to Survival Zone 10001 to repent.]

    Hank: "..."

    Wait, is that me? Is that who they''re talking about?

    Hank instinctively grabbed a small mirror from the nearby table and took a good look.

    A strikingly handsome face stared back at him.

    In terms of looks, even if it wasn''t earth-shattering or soul-stirring, it was still damn good-looking!

    (Though, compared to all of you readers, it''s still a bit lacking.)

    "Looks like they are talking about me," Hank muttered thoughtfully, a wave of indignant fury washing over him.

    Everyone else was sentenced for some sort of wrongdoing, more or less.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    But what crime had he committed?

    He was just a bit too handsome.

    Since when was being handsome a crime?

    Is there no justice?!

    Is there no law?!

    Just as Hank was mentally ranting, the mysterious voice chimed in again.

    [All those sentenced, prepare for immediate transfer to your respective Survival Zones for your sentences.]

    "Transfer?"

    "To where?"

    Panic started to set in, but before Hank could even process what was happening, his vision went black.

    It felt like the entire world was collapsing, and an endless darkness swallowed him whole.

    A powerful wave of dizziness hit him, nearly making him lose his balance.

    Then, Hank''s body gradually became transparent and finally vanished from his bed.

    A few seconds later, the infinite darkness receded, and his vision gradually cleared.

    Hank slowly opened his eyes and found himself on a small, isolated island.

    The island wasn''t very big, maybe about a thousand square meters in area.

    Surrounding the island was a vast, turbulent blue ocean. Waves crashed against the shore, kicking up white spray and creating a constant roar.

    The sea breeze brushed against Hank''s face, carrying a salty tang and a slight chill.

    The sky was as blue as a sapphire, and the sunlight shimmered on the water''s surface, creating a breathtaking scene.

    A mix of excitement and nervousness welled up inside Hank.

    This must be Survival Zone 10086. So, what am I supposed to do now?

    Just then, the mysterious voice sounded once more.

    [Greetings, Survivors! I am the Heavenly Dao, the master of this world!]

    [Welcome to the world of survival! Here, you will redeem yourselves!]

    [During your sentences, you need to keep the following points in mind:]

    [1. Upon entering a Survival Zone, each Survivor will receive a precious set of survival supplies. These are crucial to your survival, so use them wisely.]

    [2. Each Survival Zone contains one thousand islands, and each island will have four Survivors.]

    [3. Every Survivor has access to a game panel, which can be activated with your mind. The game panel has many functions; explore them yourselves.]

    [4. Every Survivor will randomly receive a talent. Talents vary in strength; it all comes down to luck.]

    [5. Every so often, a crisis will occur. The only way to survive is to constantly improve your own strength.]

    [6. Death in the game means true death!]

    [7. Treasure chests will appear around the islands from time to time. Some may contain various supplies, while others may hold dangerous items. Open with caution!]

    [8. The survival game officially begins now. Good luck, Survivors!]

    As the Heavenly Dao''s voice faded, a backpack suddenly appeared in Hank''s hands.

    He opened it and found three loaves of bread, three bottles of water, two blueprints, a military shovel, and a bag of unknown seeds.

    So, this is it. These are all my survival supplies.

    Hank''s brow furrowed.

    Three loaves of bread and three bottles of water? That''ll last a day or two, tops.

    Then what?

    Was he just going to starve to death?

    "Sigh!"

    Hank sighed, but his eyes quickly hardened with resolve.

    What''s done is done. Complaining won''t change anything. The most important thing right now is to survive.

    After a moment, Hank picked up the bag of seeds for a closer look.

    There were ten seeds in total, each about the size of a peanut. They were green all over and looked like peas, but much larger.

    So, what kind of seeds are these?

    Hank examined them for a while but had no clue.

    Just as he was about to put the seeds away, a strange voice suddenly popped up in his head:

    "What are you waiting for? Hurry up and plant us in the ground!"

    "Do young people these days even know how to farm?"

    "Dig a hole, water it, and bury us in the soil. What''s so hard about that?"

    "Looking at his dumb expression, I doubt he''s capable!"

    Hank''s jaw dropped.

    Who''s talking?

    Could it be... these seeds?

    But how can seeds talk?

    Am I seriously losing it already?

 Chapter 2: I Can Hear the Voices of All Things

    Right then, the strange voices echoed in his mind again.

    "Do you think he heard us?"

    "He''s just a human, not a god. How could he possibly hear us?"

    "But he looks like he actually understood."

    Hank Fowler''s eyes widened, his gaze filled with shock. "It''s not a hallucination!" he muttered.

    This time he was absolutely certain. The voices were coming from the seeds.

    But that raised a question.

    Why could he hear the seeds talking? And if he could hear them, could he hear other things too?

    His eyes flickered, and he turned his gaze to a large boulder nearby.

    Suddenly, a gravelly voice rumbled in his mind. "What are you staring at, kid? I''m just an ordinary rock. Useless. Don''t even think about getting any ideas."

    Hank narrowed his eyes, a thought striking him. The System had mentioned that each survivor would awaken a random talent.

    Could this be it? Hearing the thoughts of seeds and rocks? Seemed a bit niche, but hey, he wasn''t complaining.

    He focused his mind, and a transparent screen, about half a meter square, materialized before him.

    This was the game panel.

    It was divided into five sections: World Channel, Regional Channel, Trading Hall, Stat Panel, and Private Chat.

    Hank''s eyes scanned over them, finally settling on the Stat Panel. He tapped it.

    Survivor: Hank Fowler

    Region: 10086

    Level: 1

    Experience: 0/100

    Physique:

    Strength: 8 (Below the cosmic average. Seriously?)

    Agility: 10 (Cosmic average. Mediocre.)

    Defense: 5 (Far below the cosmic average. Ouch.)

    Spirit: 11 (Slightly above the cosmic average. Small victories, I guess.)

    Overall Assessment: An utterly unremarkable physique. Nothing stands out. Plain as plain can be.

    Talent: Healing (Talent will improve with level. At least there''s that.)The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Hank stared at the panel, scratching his head.

    His talent was¡­ healing? Then what was this whole ''listening to inanimate objects'' thing? A bonus feature?

    He decided not to dwell on it. Whatever the reason, it was a good thing. An extra ability meant an extra edge in this dangerous world.

    Taking a deep breath, he closed the panel and took out the two blueprints. He was about to examine them when a female voice called out, "Hey, you! Come over here for a second."

    Hank looked up and saw three women standing under a large tree some distance away.

    These must be the other three survivors.

    He casually strolled over, taking the opportunity to size them up.

    The one on the left looked to be under twenty, with a petite figure and light-yellow curls that shimmered like sunlight on water. A slight smile played on her lips, revealing two dimples that made her look exceptionally cute. Her most striking feature, however, was her chest. It was¡­ impressive. Like two ripe melons threatening to burst free from their confines.

    "Good lord," Hank muttered under his breath before shifting his gaze to the other two.

    The woman in the middle was older, probably around thirty, with a voluptuous figure and a pretty face. Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, and a subtle, enigmatic smile graced her lips. She exuded a mature charm, like a perfectly ripened apple, alluring and fragrant.

    The woman on the right looked to be in her early twenties, tall and slender, with delicate features that were marred by a hint of coldness. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, giving her a sharp, capable look. Like a rose with thorns.

    After a moment, Hank spoke up. "Hi everyone, I''m Hank Fowler. Nice to meet you."

    "I''m Luna Lovelace!" The curly-haired girl giggled, tilting her head as she looked at Hank. "You''re really handsome, Hank!"

    "I guess," Hank mumbled, rubbing his nose, a mix of emotions swirling within him. It was because he was too handsome that he''d been sentenced to 1,000 years of hard labor by the System! The thought still rankled.

    "I''m Zara Vance," the long-haired woman said with a smile.

    "Willow Frost," the ponytail woman added, her voice flat.

    With introductions out of the way, Zara spoke up. "Now that we''ve been transported to the survival area, we need to face reality. The priority is to build a shelter."

    "How do we do that?" Hank asked. Building a shelter wasn''t easy, even a simple wooden hut required a lot of wood. And this island didn''t exactly have a surplus of trees.

    "It''s simple," Zara said, a slight smile playing on her lips. She opened her backpack, took out a blueprint, and placed it on the ground.

    Then, an astonishing scene unfolded.

    The blueprint began to glow, emitting a soft, warm light like the first rays of dawn.

    And from within that light, a simple thatched hut began to take form.

    At first, its outline was blurry, like a phantom. But as time passed, the hut became clearer and clearer.

    Finally, when the light faded completely, a real thatched hut stood before them.

    It was simple and rustic, but it gave off a sense of peace and tranquility.

    "Zara, how did you conjure up a hut?" Luna asked, her eyes wide with amazement.

    Zara smiled. "That blueprint was for a thatched hut. Just place it on the ground, and it automatically generates one."

    "That''s incredible," Hank said, raising an eyebrow. He quickly opened his backpack and examined his own two blueprints.

    One of them clearly depicted a thatched hut. The other showed a wooden fence.

    "Zara, I''m a bit of a scaredy-cat," Luna said, looking at Zara with pleading eyes. "Can I build my hut next to yours? I''ll feel safer with you around."

    Zara smiled warmly. "Of course."

    "Yay!" Luna cheered. She quickly took out her blueprint and placed it next to Zara''s hut.

    In moments, another hut sprung up.

    Willow, after a brief look, placed her blueprint next to the two newly built huts.

    Hank, following their example, walked up with his blueprint.

    But just then, Willow''s voice cut through the air. "You can''t build your hut here!"

 Chapter 3: I Am God!

    "We''re supposed to be a team," Hank Fowler said, his brow furrowing with a hint of annoyance. "Sticking together means we can help each other. Why can''t I build here?"

    Willow Frost''s expression was as cold as a winter storm. "We''re three women, and you''re the only man. What if you get any funny ideas and try to sneak into our hut at night?"

    "What? I''m not that kind of guy!" Hank felt a surge of indignation. He was a paragon of virtue, a man of unwavering righteousness! To be accused of being some kind of creep who''d try something like that was an insult to his very being.

    Willow merely curled her lip. "You can''t judge a book by its cover. How do we know what you''re really like?"

    Hank gave Willow a once-over, his gaze lingering just a tad too long for politeness. "Honestly," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "you really don''t have to worry. Even if I was that desperate, you wouldn''t exactly be my first choice."

    "What did you say?" Willow''s chest heaved, her eyes flashing with icy fury. She was used to being considered a great beauty. How dare this Hank treat her with such disdain?

    "Oh, are we getting offended now?" Hank shot back. "You were pretty quick to dish it out a minute ago. Can''t handle a taste of your own medicine?"

    "You..." Willow sputtered, her jaw trembling. She looked like she was about to throw a punch.

    Sensing the escalating tension, Zara Vance quickly interjected. "Hank, it really might be better if you built your shelter a little further away. It would just be more... comfortable for everyone."

    "Fine," Hank huffed, turning on his heel. "I wouldn''t want to cramp your style anyway." Some team they were. So much for sticking together.

    As Hank stormed off, Luna Lovelace watched him go, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Do you think we were too harsh on him?" she mumbled. "He might be really mad."

    "Good riddance," Willow muttered, crossing her arms. "He was getting on my nerves anyway. Let''s just focus on building our shelter."

    Zara nodded, eager to change the subject. "Right. Let''s get to work."

    Having separated from the three women, Hank began to explore the island. If he was going to build a shelter, he needed to find the perfect spot.

    After surveying the island for about fifteen minutes, he finally stopped in front of a massive boulder. Building a shelter next to a large rock wasn''t usually the ideal choice, but this boulder had a unique feature: a small pool of water, about a foot (30.48 cm) in diameter, nestled beside it. The water was crystal clear, with tiny bubbles rising to the surface.

    In any survival situation, water was the most precious resource. The system had only provided three bottles of water, which, even if rationed carefully, would only last a day or two. If this pool was drinkable, he wouldn''t have to worry about water anymore.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    That was the big question, though. Was it safe to drink? What if it was poisonous?

    As these thoughts raced through his mind, his gaze drifted to the pool. Suddenly, a voice echoed in his head.

    [Don''t worry, I''m perfectly pure. I''m even packed with minerals, totally up to drinking standards. Just a heads-up, though, I can only produce about ten bottles of water a day.]

    "Perfect!" A grin spread across Hank''s face. Ten bottles might not seem like much, but it was more than enough to meet his daily needs.

    He pulled out the blueprint for the thatched hut, found a suitable spot, and placed it on the ground. With a flash of light, a modest dwelling materialized, about ten feet (3.05 meters) high, sixteen feet (4.88 meters) long, and eight feet (2.44 meters) wide. It was a simple structure, with the roof, walls, window frames, and even the door all made of thatch.

    Hank stepped inside. Apart from the little pool, the hut was completely bare.

    Just then, the hut''s voice spoke in his mind. "I know I''m a bit basic, but I''m not completely useless. At least I can keep you out of the wind and rain. Plus, I can be upgraded! Just get me some more thatch, and I''ll become sturdier. I can even make you a thatch mat, a thatch bed, a thatch table... Don''t underestimate me!"

    Hank''s mind started racing. The hut was empty. Where was he supposed to sleep? On the ground? He needed a bed, or at least a mat.

    But first things first. He needed to install the wooden fence and plant those seeds.

    He exited the hut and pulled out the blueprint for the wooden fence. Another flash of light, and a three-foot (0.91-meter) high fence sprang up, encircling the hut. The shelter was starting to take shape.

    Hank approached the fence, giving it a once-over before reaching out to touch it.

    Suddenly, a voice shrieked in his head. "Have you finished your inspection? Can you not touch me? Don''t you know I have a cleanliness issue?"

    Hank paused, "...". So, the fence had a germ problem?

    "Take your filthy hands off me! You''re disgusting me!" the fence whined again, its voice filled with disgust and anger.

    A mischievous glint sparkled in Hank''s eyes. He pressed both hands against the fence and started rubbing vigorously.

    "Noooo!" the fence wailed. "I''m not clean anymore! I want to die! Just destroy me already!!!"

    "Learn some respect," Hank growled. "Or I''ll keep touching you until you beg for mercy."

    He then strode over to an empty patch of ground and, using the engineering shovel, began digging.

    Soon, ten bowl-sized holes dotted the ground, each about eight inches (20.32 cm) apart, perfectly aligned. Hank had never farmed before, so he wasn''t sure if the depth was right. He pulled out the bag of unknown seeds.

    "Yo! This guy actually knows how to dig!"

    "We''re finally going to be buried."

    "What are you so excited about? Look at those holes! They''re at least twelve inches (30.48 cm) deep! Is he trying to bury us alive?"

    "Yeah, two inches (5.08 cm) would have been enough. This guy really doesn''t know what he''s doing."

    "He''s obviously a newbie. Be grateful he even managed to dig holes. Don''t expect too much."

    Hank paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. He then grabbed the shovel and started filling in each hole until they were all about two inches (5.08 cm) deep.

    "What''s going on with this guy?"

    "I''m starting to think he can actually hear us."

    "That''s impossible! I told you, only a god can do that!"

    A sly smile crept onto Hank''s face as he looked at the ten seeds. "I... am God!"

    The ten seeds: "....."

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 Chapter 4: On This Island, Im the Boss

    "Holy crap, he can actually understand us!"

    "Is he really a god?"

    "Bullshit, he''s just a charlatan at best."

    "Yeah, the dude''s only level 1. What kind of weak-ass god is that?"

    The ten seeds chimed in with their two cents.

    Hank Fowler cleared his throat. "Alright, folks, that''s enough. Let''s get you guys into your little dirt beds. You can chat all you want later."

    "Hold up, you haven''t watered us yet. How are we supposed to sprout without water?" one of the seeds piped up.

    Hank rubbed his nose. "How much water does one hole need?"

    "About a third of a bottle of mineral water," another seed helpfully offered.

    "That much?" Hank frowned.

    One hole needed a third of a bottle, so ten holes would take over three bottles of mineral water. That was a hefty chunk of his supply.

    "We''ll only need this one drink, don''t be so stingy."

    "If you water us, we can sprout by tomorrow morning. The faster we mature, the sooner you''ll reap the rewards. Surely you can figure that out."

    "We''re a worthy investment, so stop hesitating."

    "Fine," Hank nodded. He opened his backpack, pulled out three bottles of mineral water, and licked his slightly parched lips. "I haven''t even had a sip of water myself, and I have to give you guys a drink first. If you don''t show me something special tomorrow, I''m gonna kill you all!"

    "Don''t worry, we won''t disappoint you!"

    "Stop being such a wuss and get on with it!"

    "I''m dying of thirst here, get a move on!"

    Hank gritted his teeth, opened the bottles, and started pouring water into each hole, one by one.

    Soon, three bottles of mineral water were gone, just like that.

    He''d watered nine holes, leaving one dry.

    Hank grabbed an empty bottle, went into his thatched hut, filled it with water, and returned to the last hole. He then tipped his head back and chugged down two-thirds of the bottle in a few gulps.

    Gulp! Gulp!

    "Ah, refreshing!" Hank wiped his mouth and laughed heartily.

    "Human, do you have to flaunt your water-drinking in front of us? Have you considered our feelings?"

    "That''s just rude!"The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Where''s your humanity?"

    The seeds started complaining.

    "Here it comes!" Hank chuckled, pouring the remaining water into the tenth hole.

    Then, he carefully placed each of the ten seeds into their respective holes.

    After finishing, he started backfilling the soil.

    Soon, all ten holes were covered with a layer of dirt.

    Immediately, the holes filled with the seeds'' cheerful chatter.

    "So comfy!"

    "I feel like I''m back in my mama''s embrace."

    "Brothers! Let''s absorb the nutrients quickly and grow up big and strong!"

    "Grow, grow, grow... get bigger!"

    "Stealthily develop, don''t get cocky!"

    Hank paused to listen for a while, then grabbed his entrenching tool and headed out.

    The shelter was built, the seeds were planted, and the next step was to collect some thatch.

    Leaving the shelter, Hank headed straight for the east side of the island.

    During his previous exploration, he''d discovered a large patch of thatch growing there.

    The thatch grew thick and tall, each stalk reaching about two meters high.

    If he could gather all that thatch, he could make tables, chairs, beds, and even reinforce his hut.

    The thought filled Hank with renewed energy, and he picked up the pace.

    But just as he was about to reach the thatch field, he suddenly noticed two beetles next to a large rock.

    The beetles were jet black, their bodies covered in a hard shell. The surface of the shell shimmered faintly, as if carved from obsidian.

    They weren''t large, only a few centimeters long, but they gave off a sturdy and imposing vibe.

    Their heads were relatively small and conical, with two bulging eyes.

    Right now, the two bugs were huddled together.

    One in front, one behind.

    "What kind of bugs are these?" Hank wondered, intrigued. He''d never seen this species before, and his curiosity was piqued.

    "Honey, stop, there''s a human spying on us!"

    "What a jinx!"

    "Honey, let''s go somewhere else. I''m shy with him staring like that!"

    "No way, I''m right on the edge of exploding, I can''t stop now. Don''t worry about him, if he wants to watch, let him. He''ll get a good look at my virility!"

    "But he''s so big, hundreds of times bigger than us. And his eyes... they don''t look friendly. What if he wants to kill us?"

    "Don''t worry, during mating season, my body produces a deadly toxin! One bite from me, and not just a weak human like him, even a gorilla would drop dead."

    "Wow! Honey, you''re so amazing!"

    "Just wait, I''ll show you my true power in a bit!"

    Hearing that the beetle was packing poison, Hank took a few hasty steps back, a shiver running down his spine.

    Now he understood what the two beetles were up to.

    Spring had sprung, nature was awakening, and it was mating season again...

    Normally, this was just nature taking its course.

    But couldn''t they find a more private spot?

    Did they have to do it out in the open like this?

    Did they even consider other people''s feelings?

    "No manners at all!" Hank muttered, turning to leave.

    But before he''d taken two steps, he heard the beetles'' voices again.

    "Honey, the human''s leaving!"

    "I told you, he looks tough, but he''s all bark and no bite. Just a small fry, probably scared witless by my overwhelming aura!"

    "Honey, you''re so mighty!"

    "Hahaha..."

    Hank stopped dead in his tracks, his face darkening.

    All bark and no bite?

    A small fry?

    Was that how this male beetle saw him?

    Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable!

    Hank snatched up a large rock from the ground and marched back.

    "Honey, bad news, that human''s back!" the female beetle panicked.

    "Damn it! He dares to come back and disturb my fun! I''ll poison him later!" the male beetle grumbled viciously.

    "You won''t get the chance!" Hank sneered, raising the rock and bringing it down hard on the two beetles.

    The two beetles, caught completely off guard, had no time to react. They could only watch as a giant shadow loomed over them.

    Thwack!

    The rock landed squarely on the two beetles.

    "Argh..."

    "Aah!"

    With two pained cries, the beetles were smashed into a pulpy mess, deader than dead.

    "On this island, I''m the boss. Anyone who messes with me gets squashed!" Hank declared, his gaze drifting to the male beetle''s corpse.

    This thing was poisonous, so even as a corpse, it should still be useful.

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 Chapter 5: That Damn Human is Back Again

    But, taking this male beetle''s corpse away wasn''t going to be easy.

    Trying to pick it up with bare hands was just asking for a poison debuff.

    So what to do?

    Hank Fowler thought for a moment, then his gaze shifted to a small tree nearby. He quickly snapped off two branches.

    "Ow! What the hell, man?! I didn''t even do anything to you! Why you gotta hurt me?" the small tree yelped.

    "Shut your trap!"

    Hank Fowler snapped back, his voice cold. "I''m the boss of this island. Everything here belongs to me, including you. Snapping off a couple of branches is nothing. Piss me off, and I''ll rip you out, roots and all."

    The small tree, thoroughly cowed, didn''t dare to utter another word.

    Hank Fowler gave the tree a look, then proceeded to yank off a leaf.

    "Argh! You''re pulling my hair! That''s going too far, man!"

    The small tree howled in pain.

    Hank Fowler, without a word, brandished the entrenching tool in front of the tree.

    The small tree, immediately intimidated by Hank Fowler''s display of dominance, didn''t dare to make another sound.

    "Freaking masochist,"

    Hank Fowler snorted, then used the two branches like chopsticks to pick up the male beetle''s corpse, placing it on the leaf.

    He carefully wrapped the corpse with the leaf and stuffed it into his pocket.

    Having done all that, he headed straight for a patch of thatch grass not far away.

    Just as he got close, a cacophony of voices erupted from within the grass.

    "Hey guys, someone''s here to harvest us!"

    "Seriously? Awesome!"

    "I''ve been waiting for a hundred thousand years for this day! Come and get me!"

    "Harvest me first! My legs are long, straight, and white, and I''ve got a great figure! I''m totally your type!"

    "You little slut, what are you babbling about? You''re a grass, not a human, get your priorities straight!"

    "You''re a disgrace to our thatch grass family!"

    "Being related to you is the biggest shame of my life!"

    "Mind your own business! Hmph!"

    Hank Fowler was a bit puzzled. He was here to harvest this thatch grass, which meant they would die. So why were they begging him to harvest them?

    Seeing Hank Fowler hesitate, the thatch grasses grew restless.

    "Hurry up and cut us already!"The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "With so much excellent thatch grass right in front of you, are you not tempted? What are you waiting for!"

    "Swing your sickle wildly, young man!"

    "Are you blind? That dude''s got a shovel, not a sickle!"

    "Don''t get bogged down in the details!"

    Hank Fowler snapped back to reality and stopped overthinking. He swung the entrenching tool with gusto.

    Thwack, thwack, thwack...

    After a dozen or so swings, a large swathe of thatch grass fell before him, easily over a hundred stalks.

    Hank Fowler gathered the fallen grass and tied it into a simple bundle.

    Just as he was about to continue his assault, the entrenching tool suddenly spoke up. "Hey, give it a rest, will ya? I''m a shovel, meant for digging, not for cutting grass. Can you show a little respect?"

    "What respect does a shovel need?"

    Hank Fowler scoffed, then swung the entrenching tool at the thatch grass.

    Crack! Seven or eight stalks snapped and fell to the ground.

    "Human, watch out!"

    "Giant locusts are coming!"

    Just then, the voices of the thatch grass echoed in his mind.

    Hank Fowler froze, his gaze fixed on the thatch grass patch.

    The previously calm grass began to sway, rustling sounds filling the air.

    In the blink of an eye, hundreds of giant locusts emerged from the grass.

    Each of these locusts was huge, at least four inches long, with bodies that were either green or yellowish-brown.

    They swarmed together in a dense mass, like a moving green tide, creating a truly horrifying spectacle!

    "Brothers! This human is destroying our home! Can we stand for this?"

    "No way!"

    "So what are we gonna do?"

    "Get him!"

    "Yeah, kill him!"

    In an instant, all the locusts turned their attention to Hank Fowler, their eyes filled with murderous intent.

    "You think a bunch of small fries like you can take me? Do you even have the skills?"

    A smug grin curled Hank Fowler''s lips.

    "Brothers! This human is too arrogant!"

    "Everyone, attack! Kill him!"

    "Those who destroy our home must die!"

    "Charge!"

    With a deafening roar, hundreds of locusts swarmed towards Hank Fowler like a living rain.

    "Drop dead!"

    Hank Fowler swung his entrenching tool, striking with brute force.

    Thump, thump, thump...

    With a series of sickening thuds, seven or eight locusts were swatted away, landing on the ground, motionless. Whether they were dead or just knocked out was anyone''s guess.

    "Haha!"

    Hank Fowler let out a wild laugh and swung his trusty Digger again.

    A dozen more locusts were smashed to the ground.

    Just as Hank Fowler was about to launch another attack, a sharp pain suddenly shot through his calf.

    "Huh?"

    Hank Fowler frowned and looked down to see a giant locust clinging to his foot, its mandibles sunk into his leg.

    Riiip!

    A tear appeared in his pants, and a bloody gash opened on his skin. Crimson blood gushed out, quickly staining his pant leg.

    A wave of intense pain washed over him.

    "Holy crap!"

    Hank Fowler was both shocked and furious.

    He hadn''t expected the bite force of a mere locust to be so terrifying.

    If he let this go on, who knew what would happen?

    "Get off!"

    Hank Fowler stomped his foot, sending the locust flying.

    He had planned to finish it off right then and there.

    But before he could, another locust jumped onto his crotch.

    Seeing this, Hank Fowler''s eyelids twitched violently.

    If his little buddy got bitten...

    The consequences were unthinkable!

    Without hesitation, Hank Fowler grabbed the locust.

    At the same time, the giant locust bit into Hank Fowler''s finger, tearing a half-inch gash.

    "Hiss!"

    Hank Fowler sucked in a sharp breath, enduring the pain as he slammed the giant locust onto the ground.

    But before he could deliver the killing blow, the other giant locusts swarmed him.

    Given the terrifying bite force of these creatures, Hank Fowler made a tactical retreat!

    Even the best tiger can''t handle a pack of wolves!

    Better to avoid their attacks for now.

    The giant locusts didn''t give up, chasing after Hank Fowler relentlessly.

    They pursued him for over sixty feet before finally giving up, unable to catch him.

    "Brothers! We won!"

    "We finally drove off that damn human!"

    "As long as we stick together, we fear no enemy!"

    The locust army, basking in their victory, marched back to the thatch grass in a triumphant procession.

    "That was close!"

    Hank Fowler let out a long sigh, his face etched with lingering fear.

    He was lucky to have escaped so quickly. If he had been surrounded by those locusts, even if he didn''t die, he would have been severely injured. That would have been a disaster!

    Hank Fowler stood there, waiting patiently.

    His goal was to get thatch grass.

    He couldn''t leave without it.

    After a short wait, when the locust army had fully returned to the thatch grass, Hank Fowler stealthily approached.

    Just as he reached the edge of the grass, a locust sentry spotted him.

    "Brothers! Bad news! That damn human is back again!"

 Chapter 6: I Farted and Snapped a Sapling in Half - Just How Strong Is That?!

    "He''s back?!"

    "Brothers, don''t let him get away!"

    "Beat the crap out of him!"

    "Break his little dick!"

    "Kill!"

    Suddenly, a cacophony of furious shouts erupted from the tall grass.

    The next moment, hundreds of giant locusts surged out from the thatch.

    Hank Fowler''s pupils shrank. He grabbed the bundle of thatch and bolted, running like he had never run before, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

    The giant locusts pursued for a while, but seeing they couldn''t catch up, they turned back, clearly frustrated.

    Hank stopped, gasping for breath. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the thatch, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

    On this island, there could only be one ruler, and that was him!

    A mere swarm of locusts wanted to dominate?

    How could he tolerate that?

    He had to strike back, and hard!

    Of course, now wasn''t the time.

    There were simply too many of those locusts. He needed a foolproof plan!

    With that in mind, Hank returned to his shelter.

    Seeing Hank carrying so much thatch, Thatchy immediately got excited. "Human, give me the thatch, quick!"

    Hank glanced at Thatchy. "I risked my life to get this thatch. I can give it to you, but don''t waste it. Make me a thatch carpet first."

    "No problem!" Thatchy readily agreed.

    "How do I give it to you?" Hank asked.

    "Just put it in my mouth," Thatchy replied quickly.

    Hank: "..."

    A hut made of thatch, where''s the mouth?

    Just then, a crack suddenly appeared on one of the hut''s walls, resembling a large mouth.

    "My mouth is open, hurry up and feed me the thatch!" Thatchy urged.

    "What kind of sorcery is this?" Hank was slightly stunned, but he quickly shoved the thatch into the crack.

    The next moment, the bundle of thatch vanished as if it had been swallowed by the hut.

    Hank was dumbfounded. "When can you make the carpet?" he asked tentatively.

    Thatchy thought for a moment and said, "In my current low-level form, my production capacity is pretty inefficient. It''ll take about four hours to make the carpet."

    Hank''s eyes flickered. "How much more thatch do you need to upgrade?"

    "About a hundred more bundles like the one you just gave me," Thatchy said directly.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Hank clicked his tongue.

    To get a hundred bundles, he''d probably have to completely clear out that patch of thatch.

    However, with the locust swarm guarding it, he needed to come up with a better strategy.

    Just as Hank was about to rest, he suddenly felt a stinging pain in his finger and calf.

    These were the two places bitten by the giant locusts, each leaving a wound.

    Hank looked down and saw that the wounds hadn''t healed and were still bleeding.

    Although the bleeding was minimal, it was still a problem that needed to be addressed quickly.

    He needed to stop the bleeding, but how?

    Suddenly, Hank remembered that he possessed a healing talent.

    Using his talent to heal two small wounds shouldn''t be difficult, right?

    But the key question was, how did he use it?

    Hank thought for a moment and quickly opened the game panel.

    With so many people participating in this survival challenge, he could just ask someone.

    Hank scanned the five sections and finally tapped on the Regional Channel.

    10001 Survival Channel: (3999|4000)

    Eddie Drumpf: Hey bros, how did you all get dragged into this mess? I just spat on the ground and got sentenced to 2000 years. Talk about injustice!

    Wally Cox: You think that''s bad? I''m the real victim here.

    Eddie Drumpf: What were you sentenced for?

    Wally Cox: My little dick is too magnificent, so the System sentenced me to 1000 years. Who can I even complain to?

    Everyone: ...

    Lou Yang: Dude, can you be a little more humble?

    Wally Cox: I''m already being very humble.

    Lou Yang: So how long is your little dick?

    Wally Cox: Thirty centimeters at its peak. 11.81 inches.

    Jeff Johnson: Holy shit!

    Lou Yang: You think you''re a donkey or something? Stop bragging!

    Wally Cox: Believe it or not, I''ve got the goods to back it up.

    Kana Momonogi: This island is terrifying. Even the ants attack people. I''m so scared. Can anyone protect me?

    Peter Young: There''s a Japanese girl here?

    Wally Cox: Ms. Momonogi, it''s been a while since I''ve seen your new work. I miss it!

    Kana Momonogi: We''ve all been transmigrated, can we talk about something serious?

    Charles Strong: I''d love to protect you, but I''m afraid I''m not strong enough. You''ll have to fend for yourself.

    Kana Momonogi: Sob... Is there really no one who can protect me? I''ll give him special services...

    Stan Strong (licking his lips): What kind of special services?

    Kana Momonogi: You know.

    Lee Lightman: Each island has four survivors. Can''t you just ask them for help?

    Kana Momonogi: The other three are also girls, and just as helpless as I am...

    Lee Lightman: Too bad I''m not on your island. Otherwise, I''d definitely protect you all fiercely.

    Sue Lynn: Each survival zone has 4000 survivors, right? Why does our zone only have 3999?

    Wally Cox: That guy''s already dead.

    Sue Lynn: What? We just got here. How did he die already?

    Wally Cox: He was on my island. He went to the beach to catch crabs earlier. He didn''t catch any crabs, but he got dragged into the sea by a giant sea turtle.

    Sue Lynn: Sea turtles eat people? This world is too dangerous.

    Yua Mikami: Forget sea turtles, even the mosquitoes on the island are eyeing us hungrily. Everyone be careful. Don''t leave your shelters at night. It''ll be bad if you get targeted by those giant mosquitoes.

    Lou Yang: By the way, what talents did you all awaken?

    Wally Cox: I awakened earth control. I can use soil to create traps, earth spikes, and stuff like that.

    Sue Lynn: Wow! That''s an awesome talent.

    Stan Strong: Awesome my ass. It''s nothing compared to my talent.

    Wally Cox: What''s your talent?

    Stan Strong: Transformation!

    Sue Lynn: Can you explain it in more detail?

    Stan Strong: I can transform into a giant gorilla. Once I transform, my strength, agility, and defense will all be doubled!

    Lou Yang: That''s just average. It''s still lacking compared to my talent.

    Charles Strong: Doubling three attributes is insane! How is that average? What''s your talent?

    Lou Yang: Gas Blast!

    Lee Lightman: Is Gas Blast a type of bomb? Can you release bombs?

    Lou Yang: Not real bombs. To put it simply, it''s a blast of air created when I fart.

    Everyone: ...

    They initially thought it was some amazing talent.

    Who knew it was just farting!

    Who can''t fart?

    What kind of talent is that?!

    Lou Yang: Don''t underestimate my talent. I tested it out earlier. I farted and snapped a sapling in half - just how strong is that?!

 Chapter 7: Choosing a Captain

    Charles Strong: "One fart from this guy can snap a sapling in half. Imagine that aimed at a person! They''d be blown to kingdom come! That''s insane!"

    Stan Strong: "Your gift is definitely more powerful than mine!"

    Lee Lightman: "Man, I wish I had a gift that badass."

    Lou Yang: "This gift is seriously strong, yeah, but the drawbacks are pretty obvious. Every time I let one rip, my pants explode. I''m still flashing my bare ass to the world right now."

    Everyone: "...."

    Eddie Drumpf: "Here''s a tip: next time you need to fart, just take off your pants first."

    Lou Yang: "That''s not a bad idea, but it''s kind of embarrassing."

    Eddie Drumpf: "Better than shredding your pants and mooning everyone, don''t you think?"

    Lou Yang: "Fair enough."

    Hank Fowler, after taking this all in, couldn''t help but ask, "So, uh, quick question for the group: how do you actually, you know, use a gift?"

    Sue Lynn: "You don''t know?"

    Hank Fowler: "Nope, not a clue."

    Sue Lynn: "There are tons of guides on the World Channel, including ones on how to use your gifts."

    Hank Fowler: "Sweet, thanks. I''ll check it out later."

    Wally Cox: "No need for that. I can tell you right now. Using a gift is simple, just use your mind. But here''s the catch: using your gift drains your mental energy. The stronger the gift, the more energy it sucks up. Run out of mental juice, and you''re out of luck, gift-wise."

    Hank Fowler: "Got it, thanks for the heads-up!"

    Finishing the conversation, Hank Fowler closed the game interface and focused intently on the wound on his hand. With a thought, a milky white light seeped out, flowing into the injury.

    A cool, soothing sensation spread through the wound, incredibly comfortable.

    Then, before his very eyes, the wound began to heal at an accelerated rate.

    In the blink of an eye, it was completely healed, not even a scar remained.

    "Holy crap, that''s amazing!" Hank Fowler exclaimed, quickly treating the wound on his calf as well.

    After taking care of that, he opened his character stats.

    Using gifts drained mental energy.

    He''d just healed himself twice; how much energy did that cost him?

    He needed to know.

    Character Panel:

    Survivor: Hank FowlerThe narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Zone: 10001

    Level: 1

    Experience: 17/100

    Physique: 8

    Strength: 8

    Agility: 10

    Defense: 5

    Mental Energy: 11/7 (Recovering: 1 point per hour)

    Gift: Healing

    "Not bad," Hank Fowler muttered thoughtfully.

    Using his healing gift twice had drained 4 points of mental energy, which was perfectly acceptable.

    Plus, mental energy regenerated automatically, so he didn''t have to worry about running out permanently.

    Just as Hank Fowler was about to close the stats panel, he noticed that his experience points had increased by 17.

    What the hell?

    He hadn''t done anything!

    How did his experience go up?

    Hank Fowler thought for a moment, then suddenly remembered the two beetles and the dozen or so locusts he''d killed earlier. Added up, that was about seventeen.

    So, killing one gave him 1 experience point?

    If he killed 83 more, could he level up to 2?

    Hank Fowler felt a surge of excitement, itching to rush into the tall grass and wipe out the locusts.

    But after a moment''s thought, he decided against it.

    With his current strength, taking on that many locusts was unrealistic. The price would likely be too high.

    Besides, at this stage, his priority was gathering food.

    Once he had a decent stockpile, he could think about other things.

    A little later, Hank Fowler scarfed down a bread roll and half a bottle of water to replenish his stamina, then headed out.

    He''d just opened the gate when the wooden fence''s voice echoed in his mind, "Hey, human, don''t play favorites!"

    Hank Fowler was taken aback, "What''s that supposed to mean, Fency?"

    The wooden fence: "You''re feeding Thatchy all that grass, but what about me? I need some wood."

    "What do you need wood for?" Hank Fowler asked, confused.

    The wooden fence replied matter-of-factly, "To level up, obviously!"

    Hank Fowler''s eyes flickered, "You can level up too?"

    The wooden fence: "Thatchy can level up, so of course, I can too."

    A grin spread across Hank Fowler''s face, "Beg me!"

    The wooden fence: "...."

    After a moment of stunned silence, the wooden fence huffed, "We''re a team now! If I get stronger, I can protect you better! Don''t you get that? And you want me to beg? What the hell is wrong with you?"

    Hank Fowler considered this, realizing Fency had a point. He nodded, "Alright, I can get you some wood. But the problem is, I don''t have an ax, so I can''t chop down any trees."

    The wooden fence: "You have that shovel, right? You can use that to chop trees. It''ll just take a bit longer."

    The entrenching tool: "I''m for digging holes, not for cutting grass or chopping trees! Can you guys show me a little respect? Has anyone considered my feelings?"

    The wooden fence: "Think about the bigger picture, will you? Don''t sweat the small stuff."

    The entrenching tool: "Oh, you''re all about the big picture, huh? Then why don''t you go chop the damn trees?"

    The wooden fence: "We each have our specialties! My job is to protect our home! You want me to chop trees? Are you brain-dead? You''re acting like a complete moron!"

    The entrenching tool: "...."

    Hank Fowler coughed, "Alright, alright, we''re all on the same team here. No need to fight over little things. Let''s all be a bit more mature about this."

    The wooden fence: "Fine, for your sake, I''ll let it go with Digger this time."

    The entrenching tool: "You son of a..."

    Hank Fowler shook his head, deciding to drop it, and headed towards the beach.

    The beach was a dangerous place, he could even lose his life there.

    But compared to other areas, the beach likely had more food, so he decided to take a gamble.

    He hadn''t gone far when a woman''s voice called out, "Hank Fowler!"

    Hank Fowler stopped and turned to see a petite girl with curly blonde hair, about 5''3", bounding towards him.

    It was Luna Lovelace!

    "Need something?" Hank Fowler asked with a smile.

    "Zara Vance wants you to come to a meeting," Luna Lovelace replied, a cute, dimpled smile on her face.

    "Not interested!" Hank Fowler declined immediately.

    A meeting? What a waste of time!

    He''d rather be gathering food.

    "I really think you should go. This meeting is about resource allocation, and they''re also going to elect a leader," Luna Lovelace said earnestly.

    "Electing a leader?" Hank Fowler''s mind started racing.

    The leader would be in charge of resource allocation, which meant they''d definitely get a bigger share.

    He had to get that position.

    "Fine, I''ll go with you," Hank Fowler nodded.

    The two then headed off in a certain direction.

    Five minutes later, they arrived at a large tree.

    This was where Luna Lovelace and the other two had set up their shelter.

 Chapter 8: Your Only Redeeming Quality is Your Face

    "Hank Fowler, you made it." Zara Vance greeted him with a smile that could melt glaciers.

    The smile was like a warm spring breeze, and Hank Fowler couldn''t help but stare a little longer than necessary, a ripple disturbing the calm lake of his heart.

    "Looking all googly-eyed, what are you staring at?" Willow Frost scoffed.

    Hank Fowler snapped back to reality, realizing his momentary lapse. A blush crept up his neck. "Sorry, just zoned out for a second there," he mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Let''s get this meeting started, shall we?"

    Zara Vance nodded. "The purpose of this meeting is to elect a leader! The four of us are a team, and a team needs someone to give orders and make plans. Only then can we develop and survive. Otherwise, things will get chaotic pretty quickly. Any objections to my proposal?"

    "None." Luna Lovelace didn''t hesitate.

    "No objections here either," Willow Frost added coolly.

    "Hank Fowler, what about you?" Zara Vance''s gaze settled on him.

    Hank Fowler thought for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Having a leader is a good idea, but how are we going to choose?"

    Zara Vance''s eyebrows arched slightly. "Following the principles of fairness and justice, we will naturally adopt a democratic voting method. Everyone can nominate a candidate and explain their reasons. Finally, the final leader will be determined through voting."

    Hank Fowler''s brow furrowed. Voting sounded democratic, but he knew it was anything but. These three were as thick as thieves. They''d obviously vote for one of their own. He was just here for show. There was no way he''d be elected leader.

    "Hank Fowler, your thoughts?" Zara Vance''s eyes, deep and knowing, probed his.

    Hank Fowler chuckled. "I don''t think that''s the best way to go about it."

    "Oh? And what do you suggest?" Zara Vance asked, intrigued.

    Clearing his throat, Hank Fowler declared with an air of self-importance, "We''ve all been transported to this survival island, and who knows what dangers we''ll face. We need a leader who''s responsible, strong, and smart. So, forget this popularity contest."

    "If not voting, then how do we choose a leader?" Luna Lovelace asked, genuinely curious.

    A confident grin spread across Hank Fowler''s face. "Didn''t I just say it? We need someone strong and responsible. I''m the only guy here. Do we really need to choose?"

    It finally dawned on Luna Lovelace, Zara Vance, and Willow Frost. This guy wanted to be the leader, and he wanted the job without a single vote cast.

    "And you think you''re qualified?" Willow Frost''s voice dripped with disdain.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Hank Fowler''s eyes narrowed. "Why wouldn''t I be?"

    Willow Frost smirked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Didn''t you say that only the strongest person is fit to be the leader? Do you really think you''re stronger than the three of us?"

    "Well, duh! I''m a man. Of course, I''m stronger than three women." Hank Fowler declared, full of bravado.

    Willow Frost let out a dry laugh. "You are a man, that''s true. But in terms of strength... you''re probably at the bottom of the list. So, stop clowning around."

    "Who are you calling weak?" Hank Fowler retorted. He was a strapping six-footer, strong and sturdy. There was no way these three women were stronger than him. What a joke!

    "Hank Fowler, Willow Frost''s right. When it comes to combat ability, you might not be as strong as us," Luna Lovelace interjected suddenly.

    Hank Fowler''s mouth gaped. He turned to Luna Lovelace. "What gives you that kind of confidence?"

    Zara Vance raised an eyebrow. "Strength, aside from personal attributes, mainly depends on talent. Hank Fowler, what''s your talent?"

    "Healing!" Hank Fowler blurted out.

    "So, you''re a nurse!" Willow Frost laughed, her voice full of mockery.

    "Hey, I''m a doctor, okay?" Hank Fowler protested.

    "Doctor, nurse, whatever. Compared to our talents, yours is garbage. You should just drop out of this leader election now," Zara Vance said, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

    Hank Fowler frowned slightly. "What are your talents?"

    "How about we show Hank Fowler?" Zara Vance suggested with a smile.

    "Yeah, let''s show him. Maybe then he''ll understand where he stands," Willow Frost added, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

    "I''ll go first!" Luna Lovelace skipped over to a large boulder, placing her delicate hands on either side.

    "What''s she doing?" Hank Fowler wondered, confused. Was Luna Lovelace trying to lift that boulder? It had to weigh at least 200 pounds. There''s no way this petite girl could lift that.

    As Hank Fowler was lost in his thoughts, Luna Lovelace suddenly gripped the boulder and lifted it effortlessly.

    "Holy crap!" Hank Fowler exclaimed, his jaw dropping.

    And what happened next nearly made his jaw hit the floor. Luna Lovelace hoisted the boulder above her head and tossed it casually.

    Thud!

    The boulder flew five meters through the air before crashing back down to earth.

    Luna Lovelace dusted off her hands and strolled back to Hank Fowler, batting her eyelashes. "Hank Fowler, am I strong or what?"

    "Strong... very strong!" Hank Fowler stammered, impressed. "What''s your talent?"

    "Super Strength!" Luna Lovelace giggled. "It increases my strength attribute by five times!"

    "Damn, girl!" Hank Fowler mumbled, still in shock.

    "Compared to Zara Vance''s talent, I''m still lacking," Luna Lovelace said with a grin.

    "Even stronger than you?" Hank Fowler''s mouth fell open again. He turned to Zara Vance.

    Zara Vance flicked her finger, and a bolt of blue lightning shot out, striking a boulder in the distance.

    Boom!

    A plume of white smoke rose from the boulder, its surface charred and blackened. A second later, it split in two, crumbling to the ground.

    Hank Fowler sucked in a sharp breath, taking a step back. Zara Vance had clearly unleashed a lightning talent. Its power was terrifying. It had blasted a solid boulder apart. If that hit a person... they''d be blown to bits. This woman was seriously strong!

    "Hank Fowler, it''s my turn to show you," Willow Frost announced.

    Hank Fowler raised an eyebrow, his gaze quickly shifting to Willow Frost. She walked to a tree, and, with a single bound, leaped over 6.5 feet (2 meters) in the air like a graceful swallow. Then, she lifted her long leg and delivered a powerful kick to a tree branch as thick as a baby''s arm.

    Crack!

    The branch snapped in two.

    Hank Fowler was dumbfounded. Were these even women anymore? How were they all so incredibly powerful?

    Willow Frost landed gracefully and walked up to Hank Fowler, a mocking smile on her face. "Your only redeeming quality is your face. You''re completely useless! How can someone like you even compare to us?"

    Hank Fowler was speechless. Her words weren''t physically harmful, but they were incredibly insulting.

 Chapter 9: Hes Nothing Without Our Carry

    "Hank Fowler, now that you''ve seen what we''re capable of, are you still gunning for the captain''s seat?" Zara Vance asked with a sly smile.

    "I''m out," Hank sighed, defeated.

    These three women were each more formidable than the last. He didn''t stand a chance competing against them, so he might as well not even try.

    "Alright, with Hank out of the running, let''s choose from among the three of us," Zara declared.

    "I vote for Zara!" Luna Lovelace said without a moment''s hesitation.

    "Same here," Willow Frost chimed in.

    Hank, having anticipated this outcome, simply shrugged. "Fine by me."

    "Since everyone''s chosen me as captain, let''s lay down some ground rules," Zara said, clearing her throat with an air of authority. "First, from now on, no matter what resources you find, they''re to be handed over to me for redistribution. Second, you all follow my orders. Anyone who breaks the rules will face the consequences. Finally, I expect everyone to work together, united in our goal to make this team stronger."

    Hank wasn''t having any of that. "What? Whoever finds something gets to keep it. Why should I hand over my loot to you?" he protested.

    With his ability to talk to stuff, he was sure he had an edge when it came to gathering resources. If everything was split equally, he''d be getting the short end of the stick. No way was he going to be a sucker.

    Zara''s eyes flickered for a moment before she responded, her voice laced with a hint of condescension. "We''re a team, Hank. That means certain things need to be standardized. If you can''t follow the rules, then you''re not welcome here."

    "Fine, I''m out then!" Hank said without hesitation.

    "Hank, don''t be rash!" Luna pleaded, desperately trying to make eye contact with him.

    Zara frowned. "You know how dangerous this island is, Hank. Stay with the team, and you''ll have our protection. Go it alone, and how long do you think you''ll last?"

    "Don''t worry about me. I''ve got my ways," Hank said, raising an eyebrow.

    He was a man, dammit! He didn''t need three women to protect him. What a joke that would be.

    "Just don''t come crawling back to us later," Willow scoffed.

    "Don''t you come crawling to me," Hank retorted, turning on his heel and walking away.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Maybe I should go talk to Hank?" Luna suggested.

    "Don''t bother. He''s just being stubborn. You''ll see. In less than two days, he''ll come running back. He''s nothing without our carry on this island," Willow said coldly.

    Luna: "..."

    Zara: "..."

    ...

    After parting ways with the three women, Hank made his way to the beach at a brisk pace. After walking for about a hundred meters, he arrived at his destination. The vast, boundless ocean stretched out before him, its surface sparkling under the sunlight. It was a breathtaking sight.

    The sea was unusually calm, not even a ripple disturbing its mirror-like surface. It reflected the clear blue sky perfectly.

    Hank scanned the area before shifting his gaze to the beach. It, too, was eerily still, as if time itself had frozen.

    Hank didn''t carelessly step onto the sand. Instead, he stood still, carefully observing his surroundings. He knew that this apparent tranquility could be masking hidden dangers.

    His sharp eyes scanned every inch of the beach, searching for any sign of danger.

    Suddenly, a patch of sand began to shift, slowly sinking as if pulled by an unseen force, eventually forming a funnel shape.

    <i>Thunk!</i>

    A massive claw, over eight inches (20 centimeters) long, shot out from the hole, clutching a large clam.

    "Is that a crab?" Hank muttered, surprised.

    If the claw alone was this big, how enormous was the creature itself?

    As he was still in a daze, a gigantic blue crab emerged from the sand. It was over half a meter long, about the size of a washbasin. Its two massive claws waved menacingly in the air, as if declaring itself the ruler of this beach.

    <i>Crack!</i>

    One of the claws suddenly snapped shut, crushing the clam into pieces.

    Hank couldn''t help but gulp. He was glad he hadn''t rushed onto the beach earlier. If he had stepped on this monster, his foot would have been crushed for sure.

    The giant crab, after crushing the clam, didn''t immediately eat it. Instead, it called out, "Honey, dinner''s ready!"

    Rustle rustle...

    A strange sound came from the nearby sand, and another large crab emerged. This one was slightly smaller than the first, probably a female.

    "What are we having, dear?" the female crab asked as she scurried over to the male crab.

    "A big, juicy clam I just caught. Come and get it," the male crab said, handing the crushed clam to his mate.

    "Clam is my favorite! You''re the best, hubby," the female crab cooed.

    "Eat up. I''ll go catch some more," the male crab said before disappearing back into the sand.

    "Seriously? PDA in public? Gross," Hank muttered, a plan forming in his mind.

    If he could take down these two monsters, he''d not only have food but also a hefty amount of experience points.

    Hank glanced down at the entrenching tool in his hand. It was his only weapon at the moment. He wondered if a good whack with it could take down a crab.

    The entrenching tool: "Dude, are you crazy? Look at that crab''s shell! It''s as hard as a rock. There''s no way you can break through that, let alone kill it. I''d seriously advise against this."

    Hank thought for a moment and realized Digger had a point.

    But he couldn''t just go back empty-handed. That would be too embarrassing.

    "Aha!" Hank suddenly remembered something. There were clams on the beach. They were surely less dangerous than crabs. He could catch a few and make some soup.

    So, Hank moved away from the lovey-dovey crabs and went to another part of the beach.

    It was just as quiet here. But who knew what dangers lurked beneath the surface?

    Hank didn''t start digging right away. Instead, he stared at the sand and whispered, "Hey, Sandy, got a question for you."

    The sand: "What is it?"

    Hank: "Are there any clams or crabs around here?"

    The sand: "Why should I tell you?"

    Hank''s lips curled into a wicked grin. "You don''t tell me, and I''ll take a piss and a dump right on you! I''ll make you so disgusting you''ll wish you were never born!"

    The sand: "..."

 Chapter 10: Shut Your Trap or Ill Strip You Naked!

    Hank Fowler raised an eyebrow. "I''m about to burst here. If you don''t tell me, I''m going to piss all over you!"

    "No, wait, I''ll talk!"

    The beach, surprisingly, seemed to panic. "There are no crabs around here, just a few clams," it said quickly.

    "Where?"

    Hank''s eyes lit up, like a starving wolf that had just spotted a juicy steak.

    Beach: "Three meters straight ahead there''s one, five meters to the left-front there are two, and ten meters to the right there are seven!"

    Hank got excited and immediately strode three meters forward, gripping his trusty shovel and starting to dig.

    Clang, clang, clang...

    A few shovelfuls later, a decent-sized hole had formed in the sand.

    But still, no sign of any clams.

    Not one to be easily discouraged, Hank kept digging.

    A few more scoops, and suddenly the shovel let out a pained yelp. "Ow! That hurts like hell!"

    "What''s wrong, little shovel?" Hank asked, completely bewildered.

    Shovel: "Boss, I''m being bitten by a huge clam... Help me!"

    Hank was speechless. "You''re a piece of iron. How can it possibly bite you?"

    Shovel: "This thing''s got a crazy strong bite! I''m really in pain! Boss, do something!"

    "Can''t you be a little tougher?" Hank scoffed, casually pulling the shovel out of the sand.

    Clamped onto the shovel was a clam, about the size of a chicken egg, holding on for dear life.

    Hank shook it a couple of times, but the clam wouldn''t budge. His face darkened. "Little clam, I''m warning you, let go of the shovel right now, or you''re going to regret it!"

    Clam: "If I let go, will you let me go?"

    Hank: "I guarantee I''ll put you right into a pot!"

    Clam: "..."

    Into a pot? Was this guy planning to cook it?

    "You asked for it!"

    Seeing that the clam was unmoved, Hank''s temper flared. He rushed over to a large rock and, lifting the shovel, slammed it down hard.

    Crack!

    The clam''s hard shell fractured under the blow.

    "Argh!" The clam shrieked and finally let go.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Boss, smash it! Avenge me!" the shovel roared furiously.

    "No need for that," Hank chuckled.

    "Why not?" The shovel was confused.

    Hank smirked. "I like my food fresh."

    Clam: "..."

    This guy was a demon, wasn''t he?

    Hank glanced at the clam, then went back to digging in the sand.

    Following the beach''s directions, he continued to excavate.

    After about ten minutes of work, he had unearthed nine more large clams. Including the first one, that made a nice round ten.

    More than enough for dinner.

    But Hank wasn''t satisfied.

    He had time, so he figured he might as well dig up some more. Even if he didn''t eat them himself, he could trade them for other supplies.

    So, Hank asked the beach, "Hey, little beach, any more clams around here?"

    Beach: "No more clams, but there''s an oyster on the rocks."

    "Where?" Hank asked excitedly.

    Oysters were delicious, and much meatier than clams. He had to get it.

    Beach: "Straight ahead, fifteen meters, on a rock!"

    Hank focused his gaze and, sure enough, spotted an oyster on a rock in the distance.

    This one was a whopper, a full foot (30 cm) long, firmly attached to the rock.

    Hank sized it up and strode over.

    Oyster: "Human, what do you want? Are you thinking of messing with me?"

    Hank chuckled. "You must be bored and lonely all by yourself, right? Come with me, buddy. I''ll take you to a good place!"

    Oyster: "If I go with you, I''ll end up in your pot. I''m not that stupid."

    "You won''t play nice? Fine, we''ll do this the hard way!" A ferocious glint flashed in Hank''s eyes.

    Oyster: "Don''t underestimate me. You think you can handle me? You''re not even close."

    "The hell?" Hank''s jaw dropped.

    A mere oyster was mocking him?

    He couldn''t let that slide.

    Looking fierce, Hank started prying at the oyster with his shovel.

    But the damn thing was like it was part of the rock itself.

    No matter how much he struggled, the oyster didn''t budge one bit.

    Hank, refusing to admit defeat, kept prying.

    After just a couple of tries, the shovel cried out, "Boss, stop it! I''m about to bend! You can''t use me like this!"

    "You''re failing me at the worst possible time!" Hank snapped.

    "Human, weren''t you going to do this the hard way? Come on, don''t just stand there!" The oyster taunted mercilessly.

    "Damn it!" Hank couldn''t take this humiliation. He swung his shovel and slammed it down on the oyster.

    Thunk!

    The shovel bounced right off.

    The oyster was completely unharmed.

    Its shell was harder than a goddamn rock.

    "Haha! And you thought you could handle me?" The oyster mocked him again.

    Shovel: "Boss, this thing''s too tough. Let''s just give up!"

    Hank''s face was dark. He shot back, "It''s because you''re too soft! If you were a little harder, we would have gotten it by now!"

    Shovel: "..."

    Blaming others for your own shortcomings?

    That was just shameless!

    "Sigh!" Hank sighed, about to give up when he suddenly noticed three dark objects floating on the sea''s surface not far away.

    They looked like three iron chests.

    But how could iron chests float?

    Shouldn''t they sink?

    Hank paused, then it hit him.

    These three iron chests had to be treasure chests!

    Hank was instantly thrilled, itching to dive into the sea and haul those chests in.

    But in the end, reason prevailed over desire!

    This ocean wasn''t like the ones on Earth. It was full of dangerous creatures. One wrong move, and he''d be dead before he knew it.

    Still, three treasure chests were right there within reach. Giving up just like that was a bitter pill to swallow.

    So, what could he do to get them?

    Hank narrowed his eyes, his mind racing.

    Suddenly, a decent idea popped into his head.

    He left the beach and went over to a large tree.

    Then, he took his shovel and started scraping off the bark.

    Scrape, scrape...

    Strip after strip of bark was peeled off by Hank.

    Tree: "Human, what are you doing? I didn''t do anything to you. Why are you hurting me?"

    Hank smiled apologetically. "Sorry, tree bro. Just borrowing some of your bark. I''ll give it back when I''m done!"

    Tree: "..."

    Giving it back when he was done? What good would that do?

    The tree said angrily, "A man needs his face like a tree needs its bark! If you strip off all my bark, how am I supposed to live?"

    Hank rubbed his nose. "I''ll just take a little. You won''t die!"

    Tree: "Even a little hurts! Stop it!"

    Hank''s eyes turned cold, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "I am the master of this island. Everything on this island belongs to me, including you! I can do whatever I want. Shut your trap or I''ll strip you naked!"

 Chapter 11: You Wouldnt Want Anything to Happen to Your Wife, Right?

    The big tree remained stubbornly silent. A stoic, wooden wall of "nope."

    Ultimately, under Hank Fowler''s (Han Feng) relentless, uh, "persuasion," it caved.

    It could only watch helplessly as Hank, with the subtlety of a rampaging rhino, began to, shall we say, "undress" it.

    Hank ripped off four strips of bark, deemed it "good enough," and stopped his arboreal assault. He then proceeded to twist the strips together, two by two, with a practiced hand.

    Before long, two surprisingly sturdy ropes made of tree bark materialized in his hands.

    The shovel, ever the inquisitive one, spoke up, "Boss, what are you making those ropes for?"

    Hank raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "To catch some crabs!"

    The shovel practically jumped out of its metaphorical boots. "Those two crabs are seriously tough, you know! You saw what they did! What are you gonna catch ''em with?"

    "A true strategist always has a plan," Hank declared with a smirk, casually grabbing two clams as he headed towards the beach where the two oversized crustaceans resided.

    After moving forward about 20 or so meters, he reached a patch of tall grass. Hank crouched down, disappearing into the greenery, his gaze fixed on the beach beyond.

    Only the female crab was visible on the sand. The male was nowhere to be seen, probably burrowed somewhere, hunting for clams like a sandy, shellfish-seeking missile.

    Hank''s eyes lit up. If both crabs had been present, his chances would have been slim to none. But with only one, victory seemed, dare he say it, likely.

    Of course, Hank wasn''t one for reckless abandon. He was a planner, a schemer, a crab-catching connoisseur. He needed the perfect opportunity.

    While the female crab was otherwise occupied, Hank casually tossed the two clams onto the beach.

    Thud, thud.

    The sound, though not loud, was as clear as a dinner bell to the female crab''s ears.

    She turned, her beady little eyes widening with what could only be described as crustacean excitement when she spotted the two clams nearby. Without a second thought, she scuttled towards them, a picture of shellfish-induced bliss.

    She grabbed a clam in each claw, ready to enjoy her hard-earned meal.

    "Showtime!"

    Hank burst out of the grass like a bat out of hell, both hands gripping the shovel, and brought it down on the female crab with the force of a small meteor.

    Caught completely off guard, the female crab had zero time to react. By the time she realized the danger, it was far too late.

    Thwack!

    The shovel slammed onto the crab''s head. The blow, while not cracking her shell, sent her sprawling onto the sand.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Ugh..." The female crab let out a pained groan, her brain scrambled, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

    Hank planted a foot on the crab''s shell, then swiftly used the bark ropes to tie her up, securing her like a Christmas present from a particularly sadistic Santa.

    Just then, alerted by the commotion, the male crab emerged from the sand, his eyes blazing with fury when he saw his wife trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in the hands of a human.

    "Human, release my wife!" The male crab brandished his massive claws, charging towards Hank with the fury of a thousand suns.

    "Halt! Or your wife gets it!" Hank barked, his voice dripping with menace.

    The male crab, his paternal instincts kicking in, skidded to a stop, effectively checkmated.

    The female crab, now fully conscious, cried out in terror, "Honey, save me!"

    "Human, what do you want?" The male crab glared at Hank, his murderous intent practically radiating off him in waves.

    "You wouldn''t want anything to happen to your wife, right?" Hank''s lips curled into a sly, almost villainous smile.

    "Let''s talk. Just let my wife go, and I''ll do anything," the male crab pleaded, his tone softening. He was clearly terrified.

    "Now that''s the attitude I was hoping for!" Hank chuckled, then pointed towards the sea. "See those three iron chests out there? Bring them to me, and I''ll release your wife."

    "You''re serious?" The male crab asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

    For him, dragging three iron chests ashore was as easy as pie. But could he trust this human to keep his word? Was this some kind of elaborate double-cross?

    "Your wife''s value, in my eyes, is far less than those three iron chests. So, you don''t have to worry about that. Now hurry up, don''t keep me waiting," Hank said calmly.

    The male crab, without another word, turned and plunged into the sea. He quickly reached the treasure chests and, using his powerful claws, pushed them towards the shore.

    "Human, the chests are here! Release her now!" the male crab demanded.

    "Toss the three chests over here," Hank instructed.

    Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

    The male crab hurled the three chests, landing them at Hank''s feet.

    Hank glanced down, his eyes flickering for a moment. "If I release your wife, you won''t hold a grudge, will you?"

    "No!" The male crab declared, his voice firm.

    Hank couldn''t be sure if the crab would honor his promise. But one thing was crystal clear: he couldn''t kill the female crab. Doing so would make him a permanent enemy of the male crab, and, more importantly, his entire extended family.

    Sure, one crab might not be a big deal. But these things tended to have, you know, relatives. A whole army of angry, shell-clad warriors wasn''t exactly on Hank''s bucket list. He wouldn''t be able to dig for clams in peace anymore.

    Thus, after careful consideration, Hank decided to release the female crab. But not before making the male crab do one more thing for him.

    Hank cleared his throat. "There''s one more thing I need your help with. Get that sea oyster off the reef for me."

    The male crab immediately responded, "Human, it''s not that I don''t want to help, but I can''t do anything about that sea oyster. Otherwise, I would have eaten it a long time ago."

    "Fine," Hank nodded, untying the bark ropes binding the female crab and tossing her back to her husband.

    "Honey!" The female crab scurried over to the male crab.

    "I''m here, don''t worry. I''ll protect you," the male crab said, gently caressing his wife''s shell with one of his large claws.

    They proceeded to have a full-blown, romantic reunion right in front of Hank.

    "PDA. Instant death sentence," Hank muttered under his breath, grabbing the three iron chests and quickly leaving the beach.

    He retraced his steps, heading straight back to his shelter.

    As he passed the big tree, he casually tossed the two bark ropes onto the ground. "Hey, Tree-bro, I''m done with your bark. Here you go!"

    The tree remained silent. What was the point? The bark was already ripped off and turned into ropes. Was he just trying to rub salt in the wound? What a jerk!

    Hank took a few more steps, then suddenly stopped. He walked back to the tree and picked up the two bark ropes again, saying to the tree, "You can''t do anything with these anyway. I''ll just take them with me."

    He might need them to catch more crabs in the future, after all. They might come in handy.

    The tree''s silence was deafening. This was just bullying now! Unbelievable!

    A few minutes later, Hank returned to his shelter. He placed the three treasure chests on the ground but didn''t open them immediately. Instead, he carefully examined them.

    Opening treasure chests was always a gamble. Sometimes you hit the jackpot with valuable resources, sometimes you unleashed a nasty surprise.

    Until he was sure it was safe, he wouldn''t dare open them. Not a chance.

 Chapter 12: Chest Shenanigans

    "What are you staring at, human?"

    A voice, seemingly coming from nowhere in particular, echoed in his mind. Hank Fowler glanced around, his gaze settling on one of three treasure chests that had suddenly materialized nearby. He blinked. Had one of them just... spoken?

    He decided to play it cool. "What''s it to you?"

    "Try staring again," the chest retorted, its tone laced with something akin to menace.

    Hank scoffed. "Oh, I''m staring. What are you gonna do about it?"

    "Nothing. Stare all you want, knock yourself out," came the nonchalant reply.

    Hank frowned. Was this chest just messing with him?

    After a moment of bewildered silence, he tried a different approach. "Hey, uh, little chest," he began, "what''s inside you?"

    "Are you asking me?" the chest inquired.

    "Of course," Hank replied, slightly exasperated.

    "Who am I asking?"

    Hank paused, then exploded, "What the hell do you mean, ''who am I asking?'' Don''t you know what''s inside you?"

    The chest chuckled. "What I have inside is none of your business. Why would I tell you?"

    "Hoo boy," Hank took a deep breath, trying to rein in his growing anger. "Little chest," he said, his voice dangerously low, "do you have any idea what happens to people who talk to me like that?"

    The chest seemed unfazed. "You''re probably going to beat me up, aren''t you? I have no sense of pain, so beat me all you like. Come on, torture me!"

    "You little...!"

    Hank was fuming now. He took another deep breath, then turned his attention to the other two chests. "Gentlemen," he said, forcing a smile, "care to tell me what treasures you hold?"

    The second chest scoffed. "Don''t try to butter us up. We''re not friends."

    The third chest chimed in, "Someone like you, calling us ''gentlemen''? You''ve got to be kidding. Go take a look in the mirror. You''re not worthy."

    Hank was speechless. He was being insulted by... chests. If word got out about this, he''d be a laughingstock.

    His shovel, of all things, couldn''t take it anymore. "Boss," it piped up, "these chests are out of control! Don''t waste your breath. Let''s show ''em what we''re made of!"

    The first chest, ever the instigator, jeered, "Yeah, come on! Actions speak louder than words!"

    Hank''s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. "I''ll give you one more chance," he growled. "Tell me what''s inside, and I''ll let it slide. Otherwise, I''m going to throw you all into a pit of manure."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    The first chest''s voice wavered, a hint of fear creeping in. "Human, that''s just cruel! How could you?"

    The second chest trembled. "That''s inhumane! I''ll curse you for this."

    A wicked grin spread across Hank''s face. "I hope you two can keep up the tough talk when you''re swimming in crap," he said. "And just so you know, that pit isn''t just filled with, ahem, ''fertilizer.'' It''s also teeming with maggots. You''ll be spending your days with poop, pee, and maggots..."

    The third chest made a gagging sound. "Ugh..."

    The first chest, now sounding thoroughly panicked, pleaded, "Boss, I apologize for my earlier rudeness. Can I have a do-over?"

    "Serves you right, trying to mess with me," Hank thought smugly. Aloud, he said, "Alright, I''ll give you another chance."

    "I have ten bottles of Pulse," the first chest admitted quickly.

    Hank''s eyes lit up. Pulse was an energy drink. Not only would it quench his thirst, but it would also give him a boost. Much better than plain water.

    "Not bad," he acknowledged, then turned to the other two chests. "What about you two?"

    "I have a frying pan," the second chest said.

    "Excellent!" Hank exclaimed. A frying pan was versatile. He could cook with it, and it could even serve as a weapon in a pinch. This was way better than ten bottles of Pulse.

    "I have a D-cup bra," the third chest announced.

    "A what now?" Hank was dumbfounded. What was he supposed to do with a bra? He was a guy. This was completely useless. Some bread would have been much more practical.

    "Ugh," he sighed in disappointment. Then, he commanded, "Open up!"

    "We are bound by the System," the first chest explained. "We can''t open ourselves. Only a survivor like you can do that."

    "Is that so?" Hank muttered, furrowing his brow.

    "It''s true," the second chest added. "We have no reason to lie."

    Hank pondered for a moment. He still wasn''t sure if he could trust them. What if a venomous snake popped out? One bite, and it was game over. Safety first. He grabbed his shovel.

    "Boss, what are you doing?" the entrenching tool asked, sounding alarmed.

    "Opening the chests, obviously," Hank replied.

    "But you have hands, don''t you?" the entrenching tool protested. "Why use me?"

    Hank chuckled. "Because I''m afraid of what might be inside."

    The entrenching tool was indignant. "You''re scared, so you''re making me do it? Have you considered my feelings?"

    Hank adopted a serious tone. "If you die, you just won''t be able to talk anymore, but you can still be used as a tool. If I die, it''s all over. Better you than me, wouldn''t you agree?"

    The entrenching tool was silent.

    Hank tried to reassure it. "Don''t worry, little shovel. I don''t think the chests are lying. You''ll probably be fine."

    "But what if I''m not?" the entrenching tool whined.

    Hank''s expression turned menacing. "Then I''ll kill them to avenge you!"

    "And what good will that do me?" the entrenching tool grumbled. Then, a thought struck it. "Boss, how about using something else to open the chests? Like, say, a tree branch?"

    "Huh, you''re pretty smart after all," Hank said, impressed. He tossed the entrenching tool aside and walked over to a nearby tree.

    "My life is on the line here," the entrenching tool muttered, relieved. "Of course, I have to be smart."

    A moment later, Hank Fowler returned with a sturdy branch. He easily pried open the first chest. A blinding light erupted from within, and as it faded, the chest vanished, leaving behind ten bottles of Pulse.

    "Huh?" Hank frowned. "Where''d the chest go?"

    The second chest explained, "Once a chest is opened, our mission is complete, and we disappear."

    "I see," Hank said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Farewell, then, you two."

    With two swift motions, he opened the remaining chests. Two more flashes of light, and they were gone, leaving behind a frying pan and a brand-new, packaged bra.

    Hank picked up the frying pan and swung it a few times. "Not bad," he mused. "This''ll make a decent weapon."

    "Hey, buddy," the frying pan protested, "I''m a pan, meant for cooking. What''s the deal with using me as a weapon?"

    Hank scoffed. "Keep quiet! You''re my property now. I''ll do whatever I want with you. You don''t get a say in it."

    The frying pan fell silent.

 Chapter 13: Trading Purified Water for a Magnifying Glass

    Hank Fowler turned his attention to the bra, his eyes filled with a contemplative glint.

    He had no use for the thing. Keeping it would be a waste.

    If only he could trade it for some supplies.

    There were plenty of female survivors out here. Someone was bound to need it, right?

    Whatever, he''d list it on the trading forum later. He''d take anything for it.

    He just needed to get rid of the damn thing. It was giving him the creeps just looking at it.

    "Human, why are you staring at me like that? Do you have designs on me?" the bra suddenly spoke.

    "How could I have any designs on you? Don''t flatter yourself!"

    Hank shot it a glare, then snatched the bra and tossed it into the thatched hut.

    Out of sight, out of mind.

    With the treasure chest opened, it was time to think about dinner.

    The sky was already dimming, and nightfall would be upon them soon.

    It was his first day here, and he had no idea what dangers lurked in the darkness.

    Better to eat early and hole up in the hut for safety.

    Hank set to work.

    First, he gathered some thatch and branches, then cleaned the eight clams and tossed them into the frying pan.

    The freshest ingredients often required the simplest cooking methods.

    He planned to just boil them.

    That way, he could have both the meat and the broth.

    When the eight clams were placed in the frying pan, they seemed to sense the danger and panicked completely.

    "Human, what are you doing?"

    "Are you planning to boil us?"

    "That''s so cruel! Do you have any humanity left?"

    "Waaa... I just became an adult. I haven''t even had a girlfriend yet, and you''re going to eat me! Your conscience will condemn you!"

    "Human, even as a ghost, I won''t let you get away with this!"

    "Eat me, and you''ll get diarrhea!"

    "You''ll die a horrible death!"

    ...

    Listening to the clams'' curses, Hank''s forehead throbbed with annoyance. He snorted coldly, "Shut the hell up, all of you! You''re clams. You were born to be eaten. That''s your destiny! What''s that saying? Fate is like being raped, if you can''t fight it, you might as well enjoy it!"

    The eight clams: "..."

    They were about to be boiled alive. Were they supposed to enjoy the pleasure of waiting for death?A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Hank cut them off, about to start a fire when he suddenly remembered he didn''t have a lighter.

    How could he start a fire without a source?

    Frying Pan: "Hey buddy, get that fire going! I''m looking forward to a hot bath."

    "Light your ass!" Hank snapped.

    The frying pan was a little confused. "Weren''t you going to boil the clams?"

    Hank said, exasperated, "I don''t have a fire source."

    "Haha! Guys, this dude doesn''t have a fire source!"

    "Yes! We''re not going to be boiled."

    "The heavens are looking out for us!"

    The eight clams were ecstatic.

    Hank''s face darkened, and he grinned savagely. "You eight have already been sentenced to death. Today, no matter what, you''re going to die! Even without fire, I''ll swallow you whole!"

    "Holy crap!"

    The eight clams were scared witless, trembling uncontrollably.

    "Boss, don''t waste time on them. Just eat them already!" the entrenching tool chimed in.

    Hank shot the entrenching tool a look. "If you don''t say anything, no one will think you''re mute!"

    He was just trying to scare the clams.

    How could he eat them raw?

    What if he got sick?

    The entrenching tool muttered quietly, "What did I say wrong this time?"

    Ignoring it, Hank opened the game panel, scanning through the five sections before finally landing on the trading forum.

    He was going to try his luck there. Maybe someone was selling a lighter or matches.

    [Player Scarlett O''Hara: Selling a pair of black stockings, looking for a bottle of mineral water and a loaf of bread.]

    [Player Bridget Bardot: Selling a photo album (very racy), looking for any kind of food.]

    [Player Penny Lovell: Selling a piece of intimate apparel, looking for a bottle of mineral water or a loaf of bread.]

    ...

    Hank''s face darkened as he scrolled through the listings.

    What the hell were these?

    Could they be a little more normal?

    They were in the early stages of survival. Food and water were incredibly precious!

    Who in their right mind would trade food and water for black stockings?

    The thought had barely crossed his mind when a transaction was completed on the forum.

    [Player Reggie Blaster traded a bottle of mineral water for Player Scarlett O''Hara''s black stockings.]

    Hank: "..."

    There really were some weirdos out there!

    What was he going to do with a pair of black stockings?

    Cuddle with them while he slept?

    He was speechless.

    Shaking his head in disbelief, Hank continued scrolling.

    [Player Nigel Filch: Selling a pubic hair, looking for a bottle of mineral water.]

    "What the actual f*ck!"

    Hank couldn''t help but curse.

    Where did this weirdo, Nigel Filch, crawl out of?

    That was just disgusting!

    Hank spat and kept scrolling.

    The subsequent listings were slightly more normal.

    However, no one was selling lighters or matches.

    "Sigh!"

    Hank sighed in disappointment, about to close the trading forum when a new listing appeared.

    [Player Stanley Stern: Selling a magnifying glass, looking for two bottles of mineral water.]

    Hank''s eyes lit up.

    A magnifying glass wasn''t a fire source, but it could create fire.

    And it had no usage limit.

    In principle, as long as there was sunlight, it could make fire.

    Without hesitation, Hank grabbed the two empty mineral water bottles, filled them with purified water, and placed them in the trading window.

    Suddenly, a message popped up on the forum.

    [Player Stanley Stern is requesting two bottles of mineral water. This does not meet the trading requirements. The transaction cannot be completed.]

    Hank frowned slightly after reading the message.

    If purified water wouldn''t work, maybe an energy drink would?

    However, the energy drink was worth far more than mineral water.

    Trading two bottles of energy drink for a magnifying glass felt like a bit of a rip-off.

    After a moment of thought, Hank contacted Stanley Stern: "Hey man, will you trade your magnifying glass for two bottles of purified water?"

    Stanley Stern: "Is your water drinkable?"

    Hank: "Not only is it drinkable, but it''s also packed with minerals. Way better than mineral water."

    Stanley Stern: "Deal."

    Hank reminded him: "Change the listing."

    Once Stanley Stern modified the listing, the trade was completed smoothly.

    Hank took the magnifying glass and found an angle, aiming it at a pile of flammable thatch.

    Soon, a bright spot of light appeared on the thatch.

    The sunlight wasn''t very strong at the moment. He wasn''t sure if it would be enough to ignite the thatch.

    Entrenching Tool asked curiously, "Boss, what are you doing?"

    Hank replied casually, "Starting a fire."

    Entrenching Tool: "That thing can start a fire?"

    Hank: "Your IQ is too low to understand the principles behind it. Just watch quietly."

    "Uh..."

    The entrenching tool fell silent.

    After waiting for a while and seeing no smoke rising from the thatch, Hank started to get anxious. He shouted at the magnifying glass, "Come on, little guy, put some effort into it! Help me light this thatch!"

 Chapter 14: Youre an Ant, You Dont Get to Make Demands

    The Magnifying Glass didn''t respond.

    Hank Fowler frowned. He could talk to all the other objects; why was the Magnifying Glass staying silent? Could it not hear him? Or was it mute?

    Hank pondered for a moment, then turned to the entrenching tool. "Digger, can you hear me?"

    "Loud and clear!" the entrenching tool quickly replied.

    "Okay, quiet for now," Hank muttered.

    The entrenching tool: "..." Did he just use me and toss me aside?

    Hank fixed his gaze on the Magnifying Glass. "Hey, Glassy, say something!"

    The Magnifying Glass remained stubbornly silent.

    "Are you deaf or something?"

    "Is saying something going to kill you?"

    "Mute, are we?"

    "What the hell!" Hank snapped, losing his patience.

    "You''re the Glassy! Your whole family are Glassies!" The Magnifying Glass finally retorted, unable to tolerate the insult any longer.

    "So you''re not mute, and you''re not deaf," Hank said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "Since you don''t like being called ''Glassy,'' let''s change it. What do you want to be called?"

    The Magnifying Glass thought for a moment. "Call me Big Glass."

    Hank: "..." He was expecting some grand, impressive name. This was...underwhelming.

    "Big Glass, can you light the thatch?" Hank asked.

    Big Glass sighed. "There isn''t enough sunlight right now. I can only gather a little heat. It''ll be tough to light the thatch."

    "Not enough sunlight," Hank muttered, suddenly turning his head towards the sun. He could communicate with everything; surely, he could talk to the sun, right?

    Clearing his throat, Hank called out, "Hey, Boss Sun, can I trouble you for a favor?"

    Sun: "What?"

    "It actually works!" Hank''s eyes lit up. He quickly continued, "Could you maybe, like, rise a bit higher? Help me get this fire started, and then you can clock out?"

    Sun: "No way. It''s time to knock off. I don''t do overtime!"

    Hank tried to reason, "Just a little bit longer, it won''t take much of your time. We''re all working for the people, right?"

    Sun scoffed, "You want a little longer, he wants a little longer, when am I supposed to go home then?"Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Hank: "I admit you have a point, but..."

    Before he could finish, the Sun cut him off, "There''s no ''but.'' You''re an ant, you don''t get to make demands. Scram! And don''t bother me again, or you''ll regret it!"

    "What a jerk," Hank grumbled under his breath.

    Just then, Big Glass suddenly spoke up, "Actually, there''s another way to light this thatch."

    Hank''s eyes lit up. "What way?"

    Big Glass stated plainly, "Get me some glass. After I gobble it up, I can level up. Then, even if the light is dim, I can help you light the thatch."

    Hank was stunned. Even the Magnifying Glass could level up? What kind of crazy world was this? This was insane!

    After a moment of bewilderment, Hank asked, "How much glass do you need to level up?"

    Big Glass: "For the first upgrade, not much. Just a beer bottle will do."

    Hank''s expression turned thoughtful. A beer bottle wasn''t a big deal. The problem was, he didn''t have one! It seemed like he''d have to try his luck at the Trading Hall.

    Hank opened the Trading Hall and started browsing. While there weren''t any beer bottles for sale, he found someone selling white spirits. A liquor bottle was also a glass bottle; Big Glass should be able to level up after consuming it.

    The issue was that the seller, Finnigan "Finn" Garner, was asking for two bottles of mineral water and a loaf of bread. That was a steep price.

    After a brief hesitation, Hank contacted him: "Hey, I want your liquor. Can you lower the price a bit?"

    Finnigan "Finn" Garner: "This is a bottle of Moutai! Do you know how much this costs? Two bottles of mineral water and a loaf of bread is a steal."

    Hank scoffed: "Dude, you need to understand something. We''re not on Earth anymore. We''re in a survival situation. Here, any kind of liquor is worth less than a bottle of mineral water."

    Finnigan "Finn" Garner paused for a moment, then replied: "Fine, one bottle of mineral water and a loaf of bread. Not a drop less."

    Hank chuckled: "How about this, you keep the liquor and sell me the bottle. I''ll give you a bottle of purified water." He couldn''t even handle beer, let alone hard liquor. It would be a waste to trade for it, so he might as well just get the bottle.

    Finnigan "Finn" Garner was bewildered: "A bottle of purified water for an empty bottle? Are you kidding me?"

    Hank: "Do I sound like I''m kidding? If you agree, we trade now. If not, forget it."

    Finnigan "Finn" Garner: "I agree, but you''ll have to wait a minute. Let me pour out the liquor first."

    Hank: "No problem, I''ll wait."

    A minute later, Finnigan "Finn" Garner finished pouring out the liquor and completed the trade with Hank.

    Hank immediately placed the bottle in front of Big Glass. "Big Glass, the bottle''s here. Chow down."

    Big Glass: "Why is it a liquor bottle?"

    Hank asked tentatively, "Can''t you level up from eating a liquor bottle?" If not, he''d wasted a bottle of purified water.

    Big Glass: "I can still level up, but I might get a little tipsy!"

    "Just eat it," Hank said, exasperated. He was lucky to have a chance to level up at all, and here he was being picky? Didn''t he know how tough things were right now?

    A crack suddenly appeared on the surface of Big Glass, slowly opening like a large mouth. Then, a powerful suction force erupted from the "mouth," pulling the liquor bottle in.

    Crunch, crunch...

    The sound of chewing followed.

    A minute later, Big Glass stopped chewing and returned to its original state.

    Hank asked impatiently, "How is it? Did you level up?"

    Big Glass burped. "Upgrade successful!"

    "The sun is about to set, hurry up and light the fire!" Hank urged.

    Big Glass said, exasperated, "I can''t move on my own, how am I supposed to light the fire?"

    Hank quickly realized his mistake, picked up Big Glass, adjusted the angle, and aimed it at the pile of thatch.

    Soon, a bright spot of light appeared on the thatch. After a short wait, a wisp of white smoke rose from the spot where the light was focused, followed by some sparks.

    Seeing this, Big Glass quickly reminded him, "Don''t just stand there, blow on it!"

    Hank dropped Big Glass, cupped the thatch in his hands, and blew hard. Sparks flew everywhere, and thick smoke billowed up.

    After a few breaths, a small flame suddenly burst from the thatch.

    "Success!" Hank shouted in excitement, placing the burning thatch on the ground and adding more twigs and dry grass.

    Before long, a blazing fire roared to life, illuminating the surroundings.

 Chapter 15: Youre Basically a Sadistic Executioner

    The Magnifying Glass preened, practically glowing with self-satisfaction. "Hank Fowler, was that okay? Did I meet your expectations?"

    Hank Fowler nodded approvingly. "Glassy, you did great!"

    The Magnifying Glass seemed to freeze. "What did you just call me?"

    "Glassy, of course. Is there a problem?" Hank Fowler raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

    The Magnifying Glass was practically vibrating with indignation. "My name is Big Glass! Don''t call me Glassy."

    Hank Fowler rubbed his nose, a smirk playing on his lips. "It''s just a name. Why are you so worked up?"

    The Magnifying Glass huffed. "Oh, I don''t know. How would you feel if I started calling you ''Little Pecker''? You wouldn''t like that, would you? But if I called you ''Big Beefcake,'' I bet you''d be just fine with that."

    Hank Fowler: "..."

    What the hell was this thing talking about?

    The Magnifying Glass, sensing an opportunity to press its advantage, continued, "I''m laying down the law right here, right now. You keep calling me Glassy, and I''m calling you Little Pecker from now on!"

    Hank Fowler''s face darkened. "You call me Little Pecker, and I swear I''ll throw you into a latrine!"

    The Magnifying Glass sputtered, "You can call me Glassy, but I can''t call you Little Pecker? Is that fair? Is that any kind of justice?"

    Hank Fowler''s eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with mock authority. "In this shelter, I AM justice! What I say goes. You got that? You''ll like it, and if you don''t like it, you''ll still like it!"

    The Magnifying Glass: "..."

    This guy was a tyrant!

    Ignoring the Magnifying Glass''s silent protests, Hank Fowler placed the frying pan on the fire. As the flames licked at the metal, the water inside began to boil, and the clams within started their chorus of despair.

    "Brothers, it''s over! He''s got the fire going!"

    "Ahhh... it''s burning! I''m being cooked alive! Somebody help me!"

    "Farewell, my friends! Let''s be brothers again in the next life!"

    "May we never meet such a vile human again in our next lives!"

    ...

    Hank Fowler frowned. These clams were noisy. If only he could just mute them. Wait a second...

    As the thought crossed his mind, the clamor in his ears abruptly ceased. It was as if the clams'' cries had vanished into thin air.

    "Huh?" Hank Fowler''s eyebrows shot up. Could he actually mute sounds?

    He silently commanded, "Unmute!"This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Instantly, the clams'' curses filled the air again.

    "Human, I''ll haunt you even as a ghost!"

    "May you die a horrible death!"

    "I curse you to pee with a split stream!"

    "I curse you to never grow taller!"

    ...

    "It actually works!" A wicked grin spread across Hank Fowler''s face. "Scream all you want. The louder you scream, the more excited I get!" He promptly muted the clams again.

    The entrenching tool, watching the agonizing clams in the pan, felt a pang of sympathy. "Boss, I think you''re being too cruel! You''re harming so many living beings just to satisfy your appetite. Do you have any humanity left? Calling you a ruthless executioner would be an understatement. I despise you!"

    "Digger, what are you talking about? Boss is a human, doesn''t he need to eat? Eating a few clams is a normal thing, isn''t it?" The frying pan chimed in, defending Hank Fowler.

    The entrenching tool snapped back, "You''re his accomplice! Don''t talk to me!"

    The frying pan: "..."

    Hank Fowler grabbed the entrenching tool, his gaze turning icy.

    The entrenching tool trembled slightly, its voice wavering. "Boss, I was just speaking my mind. You''re not mad, are you?"

    Hank Fowler chuckled softly. "Digger, have you ever considered that you''re also my accomplice? If you hadn''t dug up those clams, would they be in the pan right now?"

    "Huh?" The entrenching tool was stunned. Come to think of it, that did seem to be the case.

    A mocking smile curled Hank Fowler''s lips. "Digger, what do you have to say for yourself now?"

    The entrenching tool hung its head, dejected. "I feel like... like a clown."

    "You don''t just feel like one, you ARE one!" Hank Fowler snorted. "If you have something intelligent to say, say it. Otherwise, shut your trap and pretend to be mute! Next time you talk to me like that, it''s the latrine for you."

    The entrenching tool: "..."

    The wooden fence suddenly piped up, "Boss, we don''t have a toilet in our shelter!"

    "Do you think I don''t know that? Do I need you to remind me? I''ll dig one tomorrow! And anyone who disobeys me is going straight into it." Hank Fowler glared at the wooden fence. He needed to establish some authority. They were all getting too bold, daring to talk back to him. It was practically mutiny!

    The wooden fence quickly retracted, "Just forget I said anything."

    The entrenching tool, thoroughly intimidated, hastily swore, "Boss, I was wrong. I swear to Boss Sun, I won''t talk out of turn again!"

    The Sun boomed, its voice radiating heat, "A lowly ant dares to swear on my name? Know your place!"

    The entrenching tool: "..."

    Hank Fowler chuckled, trying to defuse the situation. "Boss Sun, calm down. No need to get angry at a little shovel."

    The Sun retorted, "Do I know you? Don''t try to get chummy with me!"

    Hank Fowler: "..."

    What was with this guy? Was he on his period or something? Picking a fight with everyone. So he was the sun, big deal!

    Hank Fowler huffed, choosing to ignore him.

    Just then, the frying pan spoke up, "Boss, the clams are cooked. Any longer and they''ll be overdone!"

    Hank Fowler quickly removed the pan from the fire, his eyes scanning the contents. Eight clams, all gaping open, their white flesh exposed. They had all died rather pathetic deaths, but Hank Fowler was going to enjoy them nonetheless.

    He devoured the eight clams in no time, even slurping down the broth until the pan was spotless. Pure satisfaction.

    With his belly full and the sun having set, darkness quickly enveloped the island. Hank Fowler loosened his belt, preparing to relieve himself.

    Suddenly, the seeds began to stir, their voices filling his head.

    "Human, are you going to pee?"

    "Such excellent nutrients shouldn''t be wasted!"

    "Come on, spray me!"

    "Spray my face!"

    "Spray it in my mouth!"

    "I''m the boss seed, I should get the first drink of pee!"

    "Screw you! Who made you the boss?"

    "Don''t you know the principle of first come, first served? I spoke first, so this pee is mine!"

    ...

    Hank Fowler was speechless. They were fighting over his pee? Was it really that valuable?

    Shaking his head, Hank Fowler chose a seed at random and let loose.

    Having taken care of his bodily needs, he was about to enter The Hut when the entrenching tool spoke up again, "Boss, it''s dark now. You can''t leave me outside. I''m scared!"

    The frying pan chimed in, "Boss, me too..."

    The Magnifying Glass added in a whiny tone, "Bro, I''m your most loyal Glassy! You can''t abandon me!"

    "Three cowards!" Hank Fowler muttered, picking up the three objects.

    But before he could step inside The Hut, the wooden fence called out, "Boss, what about me?"

    Hank Fowler stopped and turned to the wooden fence. "What about you?"

    The wooden fence explained, "You''re all going into The Hut, leaving me alone outside. I''m scared too!"

 Chapter 16: You Can Eat Shit!

    Hank Fowler was speechless. "Aren''t you supposed to be, like, the guardian of this place? If you hide in The Hut, who''s going to protect us?"

    The Wooden Fence whined, "But I''m scared!" in a voice dripping with self-pity.

    "Scared of what, you overgrown toothpick! Be brave for once!"

    Hank snorted, turned around, and entered The Hut, slamming the door shut with a bit more force than necessary.

    "Hey, take it easy! You''re hurting me," The Hut grumbled.

    "Seriously? You guys are more dramatic than Yua Mikami in a poorly scripted scene," Hank muttered, looking around.

    The Hut was dark, lacking any lighting. Hank''s eyes scanned the interior until they landed on something new on the floor. It looked like a straw mat, about two meters long, one meter wide, and five centimeters thick.

    This straw mat must have been coughed up by Thatchy. It wasn''t much, but it would do.

    Hank tossed the frying pan, the entrenching tool, and the Magnifying Glass into a corner and plopped down onto the mat. Not bad, actually. Soft and kind of fluffy.

    The entrenching tool suddenly spoke up, "Hey, boss, is it comfy up there?"

    Hank replied nonchalantly, "It''s alright. Why do you ask?"

    The entrenching tool chuckled, "Can I, uh, maybe come up and feel it for myself?"

    Hank scoffed, "Do you think you''re worthy?" You''d think a shovel would know its place.

    The entrenching tool: "..." Again with the shovel discrimination.

    Hank ignored it and stretched out on the mat, then opened up the 10086 Regional Channel chat group. The first thing he noticed was that the number of people in the channel had dropped to 3860.

    Where did those 160 people go? Did they all just... die?

    It had only been half a day since they landed in this world, and over a hundred people were already gone. And that was just in one region. If you added up all the regions, how many deaths would that be?

    The number had to be astronomical! This world was way more dangerous than a BDSM convention organized by Bridget Bardot.

    Hank sighed and started scrolling through the chat.

    Wally Cox: Guys, I''ll repeat myself: DO NOT GO TO THE BEACH! DO NOT GO TO THE BEACH! DO NOT GO TO THE BEACH!

    Lee Lightman: You repeated yourself three times.

    Wally Cox: Important things need to be said three times!

    Stan Strong: What''s wrong with the beach? I was planning to go catch some crabs tomorrow.

    Wally Cox: The beach is super dangerous. Not only are there man-eating turtles, but the crabs are also vicious!

    Sue Lynn: Crabs eat people, too?

    Wally Cox: Of course, they eat people!

    Stan Strong: Pfft, with my transformation talent, a few crabs are nothing.

    Wally Cox: Forget transforming into a gorilla. Even if you turned into King Kong, it wouldn''t matter.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Stan Strong: Is it really that bad?

    Wally Cox: Those aren''t ordinary crabs. Each one is about a foot across, like a freaking hubcap! And they''re incredibly aggressive. Today, Lee from our island went to the beach, and guess what? He got ripped apart and devoured by a swarm of crabs!

    Everyone: Holy shit!

    Stan Strong: Guys, since the beach is so dangerous, let''s just avoid it.

    Jeff Johnson: But the Heavenly Dao only gave us three loaves of bread. Who''s that going to feed? If we don''t go to the beach to find food, where else can we go?

    Charles Strong: You can catch insects, like grasshoppers. They''re packed with protein, perfect for food.

    Lou Yang: Where do we find grasshoppers?

    Charles Strong: There are plenty in the bushes. But be warned, those grasshoppers are strong and they travel in groups. If you''re going to hunt them, it''s best to team up. Otherwise, instead of catching grasshoppers, you might end up being their dinner!

    Sue Lynn: Even grasshoppers are this scary?

    Kana Momonogi: I told you, every living thing on this island is terrifying.

    Sheldon "Shel" Stone: sniffles I''m scared. I want my mommy!

    Charles Strong: Dude, face reality. We''re exiled. You''re never seeing your mommy again!

    Sheldon "Shel" Stone: Don''t be ridiculous. I was only sentenced to 6,000 years. After that, I can go back.

    Everyone: ...

    Sentenced for that long, and he still thinks he''s going back? Is this guy brain-damaged?

    Stan Strong: Sheldon, what did you do to get sentenced for so long?

    Sheldon "Shel" Stone: indignantly, "I helped my neighbor, Mrs. Wang, fix her plumbing, and I accidentally caught a glimpse of her while she was taking a shower. I swear, just one look, and I got slapped with a 6,000-year sentence! Tell me, is that fair?"

    Wally Cox: This story sounds familiar. Like I''ve seen it somewhere before.

    Lou Yang: Don''t even try to remember. You definitely saw it in some Japanese adult film.

    Stan Strong: Ugh! A pervert! You deserve that sentence!

    Sheldon "Shel" Stone: I only looked once! I didn''t do anything!

    Charles Strong: Looking is a crime, too. Being in the same region as you is the biggest shame of my life!

    Sheldon "Shel" Stone: ...

    Jeff Johnson: Guys, does anyone have any food left?

    Sue Lynn: Everyone got three loaves of bread and three bottles of water. Did you eat all of yours already?

    Jeff Johnson: I have a big appetite. I usually eat at least ten loaves of bread per meal. Three loaves are nowhere near enough! I''m so hungry I could eat a horse.

    Wally Cox: In this situation, even the landlord doesn''t have extra food. Everyone''s struggling. No one can spare you anything. But I do have one suggestion.

    Jeff Johnson: What is it?

    Wally Cox: Endure it.

    Jeff Johnson: What the hell! If I could endure it, would I be complaining to you guys?

    Wally Cox: Then I''m out of ideas.

    Eddie Drumpf: If you''re really starving, you can dig up grass roots. They''re edible.

    Jeff Johnson: Are you sure? Isn''t that animal feed?

    Eddie Drumpf: When you''re starving, you''ll eat anything, even tree bark. I ate it when I was a kid. It''s kind of sweet. The only downside is that it''ll plug you up.

    Jeff Johnson: Well, it''s better than starving to death. I''ll give it a try tomorrow.

    Peter Young: Don''t listen to Eddie. I have a better solution.

    Jeff Johnson: eyes lighting up, "What?"

    Peter Young: seriously, "You can eat shit! After you eat it, you''ll poop it out. Then you can eat it again. It''s a never-ending cycle. You''ll never starve!"

    Everyone: ...

    Eat shit? Only Peter Young could come up with something like that!

    Stan Strong: tentatively, "Peter, have you ever eaten shit before?"

    Peter Young: Are you kidding? That stuff is disgusting! I''d never eat that!

    Jeff Johnson: Then why are you telling me to eat it?

    Peter Young: I''m just trying to help!

    Jeff Johnson: Thanks for nothing, you and your ancestors!

    Peter Young: ...

    ...

    Hank closed the regional channel chat group, a slight frown on his face. He then opened the Trading Hall and started browsing.

    [Lily Zhang is selling a diamond necklace for a bottle of water.]

    [Wayne Goldman is selling a Rolex watch for a loaf of bread.]

    [Timmy Little is selling 100 empty water bottles for a loaf of bread.]

    When Hank saw this last message, his eyes lit up. Empty water bottles were worthless to most people. But to him, they were different. He had a pond that produced ten bottles of water a day. There''s no way he could drink it all himself. It would be a waste. But if he had empty bottles, he could store the water, perfectly solving the problem. He could be the Jeff Bezos of bottled water in this godforsaken place.

 Chapter 17: My Talent is Eating Dirt to Create Iron Ore

    Hank Fowler quickly sent a private message: "Dude, where''d you get all these empty bottles?"

    He definitely planned to trade for these one hundred water bottles. But first, he needed to figure out their origin.

    Timmy Little: "Opened them from a treasure chest."

    Hank Fowler: "You can get stuff like this from treasure chests?"

    Timmy Little: "Where else would I get so many empty bottles?"

    Hank Fowler: "Aren''t treasure chests in the sea? It''s dangerous out there! How''d you get them?"

    Timmy Little: "Who said treasure chests are only in the sea? They can also appear on the island. I found this one on the island."

    Hank raised an eyebrow. Treasure chests could appear on the island too? He''d have to thoroughly search the island tomorrow. Maybe, with a bit of luck, he could find one or two himself.

    Timmy Little: "Dude, you''ve asked a lot of questions. Are we trading or not?"

    Hank Fowler: "Of course, we''re trading."

    Timmy Little: "Then hurry up, I''m starving."

    Hank didn''t waste any more time and placed a loaf of bread into the trading system.

    The bread quickly vanished, and one hundred empty plastic bottles materialized before him. Hank''s eyes scanned them, and he grabbed eight bottles to fill with water. He''d already filled two earlier, so eight was the limit for now.

    With that done, Hank checked the trading system again.

    [Orion is selling a ten-kilogram piece of iron ore for one bottle of mineral water.]

    "Iron ore?" Hank muttered, his mind racing. The Hut, the wooden fence, and the Magnifying Glass could be upgraded by consuming items of the same type. Could the Frying Pan and the entrenching tool do the same?

    Turning to the entrenching tool, he asked, "Hey, Digger, I''ve got a question."

    "What is it?" The entrenching tool, Digger, perked up.

    Hank Fowler: "If you consume iron ore, can you level up?"

    Digger became excited. "Not just iron ore! I can level up by consuming any kind of metal. Boss, do you have iron ore?"

    Hank chuckled. "I don''t, but I can trade for some."

    "Boss, hurry up and trade for it!" Digger urged, practically vibrating with anticipation.

    Hank immediately contacted the seller. "Dude, I don''t have mineral water, but I have a bottle of purified water. Can I trade that for your iron ore?"A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Orion: "No problem."

    Hank Fowler: "Alright, let''s trade then."

    The transaction was completed swiftly. Hank successfully traded a bottle of purified water for a ten-kilogram chunk of iron ore.

    Orion: "Dude, do you need more iron ore?"

    Hank Fowler: "You have more?" This stuff could help Digger level up, so naturally, the more, the better.

    Orion: "Not today, but I''ll have more tomorrow."

    Hank was taken aback. "Where''d you get the iron ore? Mining or from a treasure chest?"

    Orion: "Neither. I make it by eating dirt."

    Hank was dumbfounded. "What the hell?"

    Orion: "My awakened talent is eating dirt. After I eat it, I can produce a ten-kilogram chunk of iron ore. But there''s a limit. I can only use it once a day."

    Hank Fowler: "..."

    The world truly was full of wonders! What a bizarre talent. Well, that was a new one.

    Hank Fowler: "Let''s trade again tomorrow."

    Orion: "OK."

    Closing the trading system, Hank tossed the iron ore to Digger. A crack appeared on Digger''s surface, like a gaping maw, and it devoured the iron ore in one gulp.

    "Digger, did you level up?" Hank asked expectantly.

    "This little bit of iron ore? Not even close! It''s going to take a lot more than that," Digger scoffed.

    Hank frowned. "Then what changed after eating the iron ore?"

    "I''m a bit sturdier now. Next time I dig for clams, I won''t even feel it if they bite me," Digger explained.

    Hank Fowler: "..."

    How was that useful?

    Suddenly, the Frying Pan chimed in, "Boss, I''m your underling too! You can''t play favorites! I want to eat iron ore too!"

    Digger immediately protested, "You''re a frying pan! Know your place! Just do your job and stop dreaming about eating iron ore!"

    The Frying Pan huffed, "What''s a little shovel like you doing, acting all superior? If you can eat it, why can''t I?"

    "I can dig holes, cut grass, chop wood, and dig for clams! I have tons of functions! How dare you compare yourself to me?" Digger retorted, full of itself.

    "Who are you looking down on? I have plenty of uses too! Besides cooking, I can be used as a weapon!" the Frying Pan shot back, indignant.

    Digger was confused. "How can a frying pan be a weapon?"

    "Boss said I could be a weapon! You got a problem with that?" the Frying Pan declared proudly.

    "Alright, that''s enough! Both of you shut up! One more peep, and I''m throwing you out!" Hank snapped.

    It was late at night, and a frying pan was arguing with a shovel. Could they be any more annoying? Couldn''t he have a moment of peace?

    Seeing Hank''s anger, the Frying Pan and Digger instantly fell silent. The Hut became quiet once more.

    Hank cleared his throat and said calmly, "I''m a fair person. Since you''re both my underlings, I''ll treat you equally. From now on, any iron ore we get will be split between the two of you!"

    "Boss, you''re the greatest!" the Frying Pan gushed with flattery.

    "Sigh," Digger sighed. Although unhappy, it had to obey since Hank had spoken.

    Just as Hank was about to lie down and rest, he noticed something in the corner. After a moment, he remembered¡ªit was that bra. It was useless to him, so he might as well sell it.

    "Human, why are you looking at me with such ill intent? Are you planning something?" the bra suddenly spoke up.

    A sly grin crept onto Hank''s face. He opened the trading system and listed the bra for sale.

    Not long after, someone sent him a message.

    Lynn Young: "Hi, is the bra you''re selling new?"

    Hank Fowler: "Brand new, still in its packaging."

    Lynn Young: "What size is it?"

    Hank Fowler: "D-cup."

    Lynn Young: "Too big for me. I can''t use it."

    Hank Fowler: "No problem."

    There had to be plenty of busty women among the survivors. He refused to believe he couldn''t sell it.

    Hank waited patiently. Every so often, someone would contact him. But upon learning the bra''s size, they all declined.

    Hank was bewildered. Was Luna Lovelace really the only large-breasted survivor here? Where were all the other busty women? It didn''t make sense!

    "I don''t believe this," Hank muttered, continuing to wait.

    But after that, no one else contacted him.

    Hank was thoroughly depressed. He glared at the bra and grumbled, "Why the hell are you so big? Couldn''t you be a little smaller?"

    The bra: "..."

    As if it had any control over its size! How was this its fault? Was he being reasonable at all?

 Chapter 18: Your Cowardice Disgusts Me

    "Boss, chill out. Don''t lower yourself to Glassy''s level." The entrenching tool chuckled.

    Hank Fowler took a deep breath and slowly lay down on the carpet, closing his eyes to rest.

    Although he had only been in this world for half a day, it had been a busy one, and he felt utterly exhausted.

    He fell into a deep slumber almost immediately after lying down.

    Just then, a cloud drifted over, casting a vast shadow that gradually swallowed the moonlight.

    The disappearance of the moon plunged the area around the shelter into darkness.

    Everything around was pitch black, as if soaked in ink. You couldn''t see your hand in front of your face.

    Without the moon''s illumination, everything around the shelter blurred, only vague outlines of objects discernible.

    Silence blanketed the area. Not a whisper of wind, not a chirp of a cricket. Even the air seemed to have stilled.

    In this silent darkness, time seemed to have stopped, creating an inexplicably oppressive feeling.

    A sinister atmosphere permeated the air, as if countless eyes were peering out from the darkness.

    ........

    Time crept by, and before anyone knew it, it was the dead of night.

    The cloud that had been hovering over the shelter had vanished.

    The gentle moonlight bathed the shelter, creating a serene and peaceful ambiance.

    Suddenly, two eerie glows flickered in the darkness outside the shelter, like will-o''-the-wisps dancing in the night.

    A closer look revealed that they were not ghostly flames but a pair of eyes gleaming with a cold light.

    The eyes belonged to a wolf, silently watching the shelter in the darkness, as if contemplating something.

    Its eyes shimmered with a green light, like burning flames, yet carrying a hint of coldness and savagery.

    They seemed capable of piercing through the darkness and seeing everything.

    The wooden fence, who had been sleeping soundly, suddenly sensed a powerful aura of danger.

    When it saw a wolf covered in black fur appear before it, baring its teeth, it nearly pissed itself. "Boss, we''ve got trouble! There''s a wolf outside!" it yelled towards The Hut.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "A wolf? Seriously?"

    The Hut was startled and shouted, "Hank Fowler, get up! There''s a wolf!"

    "What the¡ª?"

    Hank Fowler groggily sat up.

    "Boss, the Fence says there''s a wolf outside!" the entrenching tool added, its voice trembling.

    "A wolf!"

    Hank Fowler was instantly wide awake, a shiver running down his spine.

    After a brief hesitation, he slowly got up, carefully approached the window, and peered outside.

    In the moonlight, a black wolf, about eight feet long, came into view.

    The wolf looked extremely ferocious, its fur gleaming ominously under the moonlight.

    It bared its sharp fangs, which glinted with a chilling light.

    Its eyes glowed with an eerie light, sending chills down one''s spine.

    Just one look made Hank Fowler''s scalp tingle, and a strong sense of unease welled up inside him.

    A wolf this size was definitely not something he could handle!

    What if it charged into the shelter? What would he do?

    Hank Fowler took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

    If he couldn''t figure out a way to deal with this wolf, the consequences would be dire.

    But what could he do?

    Screech!

    Just then, a sharp, grating sound came from outside.

    The black wolf had extended a claw and raked it across the wooden fence, leaving a long scratch.

    "Argh..."

    The wooden fence''s cry of pain followed.

    "Boss, do you think that wolf will break in?" the entrenching tool asked, panicked.

    "I don''t know!" Hank Fowler gritted his teeth. He gripped the frying pan in his left hand and the entrenching tool in his right, adopting a defensive stance.

    If the black wolf really did break in, he couldn''t just sit there and wait for death. He''d have to fight!

    "Boss, help! The wolf''s going to tear me apart!" The wooden fence cried out pitifully.

    In just a few moments, the black wolf had inflicted several more scratches.

    At this rate, it would be ripped to shreds!

    Hearing this, Hank Fowler''s gaze sharpened, a resolute aura emanating from him. "Hold on, Fence! Hold on!" he shouted.

    The wooden fence: "...."

    Hank Fowler wasn''t going to help?

    And he was telling it to hold on?

    Hold on to your sister!

    At that moment, it felt abandoned by the whole world.

    A feeling of utter despair washed over it.

    It silently waited for the black wolf to dismember it.

    But to its surprise, the black wolf didn''t continue its assault on the wooden fence. It simply left a few scratches and then turned and left.

    In the blink of an eye, it vanished into the dark night.

    "The wolf''s gone?"

    Hank Fowler was in disbelief. After a moment of stunned silence, he asked the wooden fence, "Fence, are you okay?"

    The wooden fence retorted angrily, "Your cowardice disgusts me. Don''t talk to me!"

    Hank Fowler smiled apologetically. "I didn''t have a choice! If I were stronger, I would have helped you, I swear!"

    The wooden fence scoffed. "Is that an excuse for abandoning your teammate?"

    Hank Fowler: "...."

    "Hank Fowler, what you did was really cowardly! As the leader of our shelter, can''t you be a little braver?" The Hut said with disdain.

    Hank Fowler''s face darkened. "What are you yapping about? If you''re so tough, why don''t you go out there?"

    The Hut: "...."

    "Boss, Thatchy might be blunt, but it''s speaking the truth. Just let it go," the frying pan said, trying to mediate.

    "If you have something useful to say, say it. Otherwise, shut up and be a mute!" Hank Fowler glared at the frying pan.

    The frying pan trembled and immediately fell silent.

    Hank Fowler huffed and sat back down on the grass carpet, narrowing his eyes in thought.

    Where did this black wolf come from?

    He hadn''t seen any wolves when he surveyed the island in the afternoon.

    There weren''t even any caves.

    Did it just appear out of thin air?

    And will it come back?

    It didn''t attack the shelter this time, but they might not be so lucky next time.

    The only way to truly be safe was to eliminate the black wolf!

    And for that, he needed to level up.

    If he could reach level 2 or 3 and get a decent weapon, he might stand a chance against the wolf.

    A fierce glint flashed in Hank Fowler''s eyes.

 Chapter 19: Liquid Gold with a Kick

    The only way to level up was to hunt the island''s wildlife and grind out those precious experience points. This island wasn''t exactly teeming with life, but it had its fair share of critters. The problem was, most of them were a pain in the ass to deal with.

    Even the ants weren''t pushovers.

    The clams were probably the easiest targets, but those suckers hid in the sand, and digging them out was a chore. Plus, there weren''t enough of them to make a real dent in his experience bar.

    No experience, no levels. No levels, no power.

    So, clam digging was off the table.

    Hank Fowler racked his brain for a better solution and finally hit upon a target that seemed promising: the swarm of locusts in the thatch field.

    Those things were numerous. Wiping them all out might even be enough to bump him up to level 3.

    Before, he hadn''t had a way to deal with the locusts. But now, he''d cooked up a deliciously devious plan that would annihilate the whole swarm.

    "Just you wait until tomorrow," Hank Fowler muttered, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He lay down on his makeshift bed of thatch.

    He''d planned to go back to sleep, but the whole black wolf situation had chased away any lingering drowsiness. Instead, he opened up the area chat channel.

    Wally Cox: Anyone up?

    Stan Strong: I was asleep, but some damn wolf howl woke me up. I looked out, and holy shit, there was a wolf right outside my fence! Its eyes were glowing green like some kind of hellfire. Nearly pissed myself.

    Lou Yang: So your place got a visit from a black wolf too? I thought I was just unlucky.

    Sue Lynn: I had one here too, but it didn''t attack. Just hung around for a bit and then left.

    Charles Strong: Where the hell did these wolves come from? I scouted the whole island earlier, and there was nothing!

    Jeff Johnson: Where they came from isn''t the main issue. We''ve got a bigger problem on our hands.

    Wally Cox: What''s that?

    Jeff Johnson: Like a wise sage, he began his analysis: These wolves didn''t just appear for no reason. It''s a warning.

    Lee Lightman: Can you be a bit clearer?

    Jeff Johnson: Simply put, at first, these wolves won''t attack. But give it a few days, and they''ll be coming for us.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Kana Momonogi: I''m scared. What should we do?

    Jeff Johnson: Either fortify your shelters or get stronger.

    Eddie Drumpf: But at this stage, we can barely feed ourselves, let alone build proper shelters or train!

    Jeff Johnson: Then you''re screwed. Might as well wait for death.

    Charles Strong: It''s just a guess. Maybe the wolves won''t attack. Don''t go spreading panic.

    Jeff Johnson: If you knew about my talent, you wouldn''t be so skeptical.

    Charles Strong: What''s your talent?

    Jeff Johnson: My talent is Premonition. It''s a passive skill that triggers whenever I sense danger. And it just triggered. The source? That black wolf.

    Wally Cox: So we''re all in danger?

    Stan Strong: We''re done for! There''s no way we can fight off wild beasts. Might as well give up now!

    Peter Young: Isn''t your talent turning into a gorilla? What are you afraid of? Just fight it!

    Stan Strong: I''m a coward, okay? The sight of that wolf made my legs shake. There''s no way I can fight it!

    Eddie Drumpf: You''re useless! What a waste of a good talent. If I had that power, I''d have skinned that wolf already!

    Stan Strong: Yeah, keep talking tough. It''s a giant black wolf, not a house cat!

    Eddie Drumpf: Stop making excuses for your cowardice.

    Stan Strong: ....

    .....

    Hank Fowler silently closed the chat.

    The situation was clear.

    Every island had been visited by a black wolf. And soon, those wolves would attack.

    They were running out of time.

    It was either be eaten by the wolves or kill them. There was no middle ground.

    Hank Fowler took a deep breath, calmed himself down, and opened the trading hall to browse. After about half an hour, he started feeling sleepy and lay down to rest.

    Time slipped away silently. The sun slowly crept over the eastern horizon, chasing away the darkness. It bathed the world in golden light, bringing hope and warmth to all living things.

    Sunlight spilled into the shelter, like a gentle hand caressing every corner. The shelter seemed to come alive, filled with new energy.

    "Boss, sun''s up! Time to take a leak!" The entrenching tool suddenly shouted, its voice echoing in the morning stillness.

    Hank Fowler yawned, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He slowly opened them and stretched, feeling his body awaken.

    Just then, a ray of warm sunlight shone through the window, landing squarely on his handsome face.

    Hank Fowler blinked and slowly got up, heading out of The Hut.

    He pushed open the door and was greeted by brilliant sunshine and fresh air. The sunlight felt amazing on his skin.

    Hank Fowler took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air. It felt like all his fatigue and worries melted away. He stood there for a moment, then looked up at the distant sun with a smile. "Morning, Boss Sun!"

    This time, Sun didn''t respond.

    "Playing hard to get, huh?" Hank Fowler muttered. He walked over to a corner and unzipped his pants.

    It was his morning ritual - time to drain the main vein.

    Just as Hank Fowler grabbed his little buddy and prepared to unleash, he heard a voice.

    "Human, stop!"

    Hank Fowler zipped up and looked around. He saw a small, tender sprout, about four inches tall, poking out of the soil in his garden. The voice was coming from the little sprout.

    "You grew fast," Hank Fowler said, surprised.

    He''d only planted the seed yesterday afternoon. Had it really sprouted and grown so much overnight?

    It was incredible!

    Hank Fowler looked at it closely and asked, "What do you want?"

    The Seedling: "Didn''t I tell you yesterday? Your pee is the best fertilizer! How could you just waste it like that? Come on, aim for my face! I''m ready!"

    Hank Fowler''s mouth twitched. He grabbed his little buddy again and aimed it at the seedling.

    Suddenly, a stream of liquid gold rained down from above, drenching the little sprout.

    "This pee''s got a kick to it! Human, are you a little dehydrated? No problem, I like it!" The Seedling said cheerfully.

 Chapter 20: Wits Over Brawn

    Hank Fowler nearly pissed himself when he heard that.

    "So refreshing. If only I could have another helping of shit, it would be perfect!" The sprout exclaimed with satisfaction.

    Hank smacked his lips, then focused on the surprisingly tall sprout. "Why are you so much taller than the others?" he asked curiously.

    The other seeds had barely taken root, most just poking their heads out of the soil. But this one stood a full 3.9 inches tall. What made this one so different?

    The sprout answered calmly, "Didn''t I drink a stream of piss yesterday? I absorbed the nutrients, so of course, I grew faster."

    "Ah, I see," Hank said, a realization dawning on him. He then asked, "By the way, what kind of plant are you?"

    "I''m a corn stalk," the sprout replied.

    "Corn?" Hank murmured, his eyes gleaming. "Are your brothers and sisters also corn?"

    "There are three corn stalks, three cucumbers, and three tomatoes," the sprout answered truthfully.

    "Quite the variety," Hank said, raising an eyebrow. "Grow well, all of you. Whoever performs the best gets to drink piss!"

    "Yay!"

    "We get to drink piss too!"

    "Awesome!"

    A chorus of cheers erupted from the vegetable patch.

    Hank didn''t say anything further. He turned and went back into The Hut, grabbing the last remaining bread roll and devouring it. After washing it down with half a bottle of purified water, his breakfast for the day was sorted.

    But that was his last bit of food. Once it was gone, he''d be out of options. He needed to find more, and fast. But before that, there was something else he needed to take care of.

    Hank grabbed the Magnifying Glass and the entrenching tool and left The Hut.

    "Boss, where are you going so early in the morning?" the entrenching tool asked curiously.

    A fierce glint flashed in Hank''s eyes. "I''m going to exterminate those damn grasshoppers!"

    The Magnifying Glass trembled. "Boss, I''m not a weapon! You should leave me in the shelter. Just take Digger with you."

    A mysterious smile crept onto Hank''s face. "Whether this battle is won or lost depends mainly on you."

    "Huh?" The Magnifying Glass was confused.

    It was good for starting fires, sure, but what else could it do?

    The entrenching tool spoke up anxiously, "Boss, think this through! I understand you want revenge, but you need to be realistic! With your current strength, how can you possibly take on those grasshoppers? Did you forget how you were chased away like a scared rabbit yesterday?"Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Hank''s face darkened. "What do you mean chased away like a scared rabbit? I was making a strategic retreat, you get it? If you don''t understand, then shut up! Nobody asked for your opinion!"

    The entrenching tool: "..."

    Hank''s stubbornness was truly something else. He clearly ran away because he couldn''t win, but he still insisted on calling it a strategic retreat. He really knew how to make excuses for himself.

    Ignoring the entrenching tool, Hank opened the fence gate, only to be stopped by the wooden fence. "Boss! Don''t go yet!"

    Hank paused and looked at the wooden fence. "What''s up, Fency?"

    The wooden fence said quickly, "I was scratched by that big black wolf last night. Heal me."

    Hank frowned. "I do have a healing talent, but that thing only works on people. It won''t have any effect on you."

    The wooden fence: "Don''t underestimate yourself. Have some confidence. It doesn''t hurt to try."

    "Alright, let''s give it a shot," Hank said with a chuckle. He reached out and placed his hand on the wooden fence.

    Suddenly, a milky white light emanated from his fingers, flowing like water onto the wooden fence.

    Then, an astonishing scene unfolded. Bathed in the white light, the damaged parts of the wooden fence miraculously regenerated, leaving no trace of the previous damage.

    "Holy shit!" Hank exclaimed, stunned. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

    His healing talent could actually repair the wooden fence? This was incredible.

    "Haha, I''m restored! This is great!" The wooden fence laughed joyfully.

    "Boss, you''re amazing!" the entrenching tool chimed in with flattery.

    "It''s just a basic operation, nothing to be surprised about," Hank said with a faint smile. He then instructed the wooden fence, "Fency, I''m going out for a bit. Guard the house!"

    "Boss, go with peace of mind. I''ll protect our home!" The wooden fence declared resolutely.

    "I''m just going out for a bit, not disappearing forever. Can you even talk properly?" Hank rolled his eyes and left.

    .....

    Five minutes later, Hank arrived near the patch of tall grass and observed it carefully. There was no unusual movement within the grass, only the rustling sound of the wind blowing through it.

    "Boss, are we really going to fight those grasshoppers?" the entrenching tool asked nervously.

    Hank smirked. "Going head-to-head is what a brainless brute would do. It''s unwise, and I''m not that stupid."

    "If not head-to-head, then what?" the entrenching tool asked, confused.

    Wisdom flashed in Hank''s eyes. "We''ll use our brains!"

    "How so?" the entrenching tool was bewildered.

    "You''ll see," Hank said with a sly grin. He then began collecting dry grass from around the area.

    After some time, he had gathered more than a dozen bundles of grass, each about 11.8 inches (30cm) in diameter.

    "Boss, what are you doing with those bundles of grass?" the entrenching tool asked, puzzled.

    "You''ll see," Hank replied without explaining. He took the Magnifying Glass and aimed it at a bundle of grass.

    The sunlight focused by the Magnifying Glass formed a bright spot that landed precisely on the grass bundle. Soon, wisps of white smoke began to rise from the spot where the light was focused.

    As time passed, the smoke grew thicker and began to spread.

    Hank gently blew on it, and a small flame suddenly erupted from the bundle.

    A single spark can start a prairie fire.

    The fire quickly spread, and the entire bundle of grass began to burn fiercely.

    Hank moved swiftly, igniting the second bundle without hesitation. He then tossed the first burning bundle into the tall grass.

    He continued in the same manner, igniting the remaining bundles one by one and tossing them all into the dense grass.

    The flames rapidly spread, igniting the dry grass and dead branches within the patch. The fire grew increasingly intense.

    Soon, the entire area was engulfed in a sea of fire, the raging flames illuminating the surroundings.

    "..." The entrenching tool was speechless.

    So this was what he meant by using their brains?

    This was just being sneaky!

    But it had to be said, this method was extremely effective.

    Under the scorching heat of the fire, those grasshoppers would probably all be burned to ashes.

    "Ah..."

    "Fire!"

    "I''m going to be burned alive!"

    "Help!"

    "Run!"

    The agonizing screams of the grasshoppers echoed from within the burning patch.

    Hank stood back and watched for a while, then approached the edge of the burning area, the entrenching tool in hand.

    Whenever a grasshopper tried to escape the inferno, he would mercilessly swat it down with Digger.

 Chapter 21: Is That My Problem?

    The locusts that had escaped the inferno were mercilessly slaughtered under Hank Fowler''s ruthless assault. Any stragglers met the same fate, leaving only the charred remains of those unfortunate enough to be caught in the blaze. A swarm that had numbered in the hundreds was reduced to nothing more than ashes and the occasional twitching limb, all thanks to Hank.

    The entrenching tool, witnessing the carnage, couldn''t help but comment, "Boss, you''re a real butcher, you know that? How can you just slaughter so many living things? Doesn''t your conscience hurt at all?"

    Hank''s face darkened. "I''m warning you for the last time," he growled, "If you don''t shut your trap, I''m tossing you into a latrine!"

    The entrenching tool immediately backed down. "Alright, alright, Boss! Just pretend I''m full of hot air. Don''t mind me."

    Hank snorted, ignoring the tool as he pulled up his status screen. After massacring hundreds of these overgrown grasshoppers, he was eager to see if he had finally leveled up. A transparent screen materialized before him, and he took a deep breath before scanning the information.

    [

    Survivalist: Hank Fowler

    Area: Zone 10001

    Level: 3

    Experience: 1 / 400

    Physique:

    Strength: 8 + 20

    Agility: 10 + 20

    Defense: 5 + 20

    Spirit: 11 + 20

    Talent: Healing

    ]

    "Level 3!" Hank exclaimed, a surge of excitement coursing through him.

    Reaching level 3 had boosted all his base stats by 20 points. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of power that was several times stronger than before.

    "Haha!" Hank couldn''t help but laugh in triumph.

    "What''s up, Boss?" The entrenching tool asked, bewildered.

    "Nothing," Hank replied, quickly composing himself. It was time to clean up this mess.

    Even though the locusts were burnt to a crisp, many were still edible, not quite charcoal yet. Food was scarce, and he wasn''t about to waste perfectly good protein. After about ten minutes of scavenging, Hank had collected ten mostly intact locusts and decided to head back.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Returning to his shelter, Hank stashed the locusts and the Magnifying Glass inside The Hut. He rested briefly before grabbing the entrenching tool and heading out again. Ten locusts were barely enough for one meal, so he planned to dig up some more clams.

    Just as he opened the gate of Fency, he saw Luna Lovelace running towards him from a distance, her face etched with worry. "Hank!" she yelled.

    "What''s got you in such a panic?" Hank asked with a chuckle.

    Luna caught her breath and urgently said, "Willow Frost has been poisoned! You need to help her!"

    "Poisoned with what?" Hank asked, slightly taken aback.

    "She was stung by a hornet," Luna replied, her eyes filled with concern.

    Hank paused, then chuckled. "Just a hornet sting? What a drama queen. She''ll be fine in a couple of days." He had no love for Willow Frost, and the news of her getting stung actually brought a smile to his face.

    Luna hesitantly added, "But Willow''s condition is really serious. If you don''t help, she might actually die."

    "Is that my problem?" Hank said dismissively. He and Willow weren''t friends, nor were they on the same team. Her life or death had nothing to do with him.

    Luna Lovelace was speechless. Hank''s cold indifference was like a dagger to her heart, making her deeply uncomfortable. But then again, Hank wasn''t part of their team, so he had no obligation to help. Besides, Willow had been pretty rude to Hank initially, so his reluctance was understandable. Still, she couldn''t bear to watch Willow die. "Hank, please," she begged, "You can''t just stand by and do nothing!"

    Hank thought for a moment. "I''m a practical guy," he said. "I can help, but I need something in return."

    Luna''s eyes lit up. "We have a loaf of bread and a bottle of water. Is that enough?"

    "That''s it?" Hank scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. A loaf of bread and a bottle of water? Was he some kind of charity case? He felt insulted.

    Luna glanced at Hank and said quietly, "Hank, we really don''t have anything else to offer."

    "Then let her fend for herself," Hank retorted, annoyed.

    "What?" Luna was stunned. "We also have two treasure chests," she quickly added.

    Hank''s eyes flickered, but he kept his voice neutral. "You haven''t opened them?"

    "No," Luna shook her head.

    "Why not?" Hank asked, curious.

    Luna explained, "We found three chests. We opened one, and a hornet popped out. That''s what stung Willow. Because of that, we''re scared to open the other two."

    "I see," Hank muttered, a faint smile playing on his lips. "If you give me those two chests, I might consider saving Willow."

    Opening treasure chests was risky. Bad luck could even cost you your life, as Willow''s misfortune clearly demonstrated. But Hank wasn''t worried, thanks to his ability to communicate with objects. He could simply chat with the chests to find out what was inside. If even one of them contained useful supplies, it was a win.

    Luna hesitated for a moment. "I can''t make that decision," she said. "It''s up to Zara." Zara Vance was their leader, so this was her call.

    "Let''s go ask her, then," Hank said, heading west.

    His shelter was on the east side of the island, while Zara, Luna and Willow''s was on the west, a few hundred meters away. After a few minutes of walking, three connected thatched huts came into view. This was their base.

    Zara Vance was standing outside Fency, her brow furrowed with worry. When she saw Hank, her expression softened slightly. "Hank, you''re finally here!"

    "Heard Willow got stung by a hornet. How''s she doing? Kicked the bucket yet?" Hank asked with a smirk.

    "Uh..." Zara was taken aback. "She''s still alive, but it''s not looking good. Can you heal her?"

    "I can, but I want those two treasure chests," Hank stated bluntly.

    "At a time like this, you''re still asking for payment?" Zara said, exasperated.

    Hank chuckled coldly. "Do you expect to get treated at a hospital for free?"

    Zara was rendered speechless. After a brief pause, she gritted her teeth and said, "Fine, you can have the chests, but you have to save her first!"

 Chapter 22: Im Not a Fan of This Position

    "No problem." Hank Fowler snapped his fingers with a flourish.

    "Then hurry it up," Zara Vance urged, practically sprinting towards the leftmost thatch hut.

    Hank and Luna Lovelace followed close behind.

    Reaching the hut, Zara flung the door open. Hank squinted inside, his gaze sweeping over the interior. Willow Frost was sprawled on a bed of straw, her face as white as a sheet. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and she was clearly in agony.

    "Where did the wasp get her?" Hank asked, his voice laced with professional curiosity.

    "Her butt," Luna mumbled, her cheeks flushing slightly.

    "Hmm?" Hank''s eyebrows shot up. His gaze drifted downwards, landing squarely on Willow''s posterior. The left cheek was noticeably swollen, puffed up like a freshly baked bun. "Damn, that''s gotta hurt," he thought, "but she has a nice butt."

    "Looks like that wasp packed a serious punch," he remarked out loud, then turned to Zara and Luna. "Alright, I''m going to start the treatment. You two, help her up."

    Zara frowned. "Can''t you treat her like that? Why does she need to be up?"

    Hank gave a dismissive wave. "Let''s just say I''m not a fan of this position."

    Zara Vance: "...."

    Luna Lovelace: "...."

    What the hell did Hank mean by that? It sounded kind of... dirty.

    Hank cleared his throat, snapping them out of their bewildered silence. "Look, saving lives is time-sensitive. Let''s not waste any more time."

    Zara and Luna exchanged a hesitant glance before gently helping Willow to her feet.

    "Help her to the window," Hank instructed.

    "Huh?" Zara and Luna were even more confused now. What was Hank''s plan?

    Still, they complied, guiding the trembling Willow towards the window.

    "What now, Hank?" Zara asked.

    "You two can leave now. I''ll take it from here," Hank said, his voice low.

    "Won''t we be in the way?" Zara asked, puzzled.

    Hank adopted a serious expression. "The healing process is like surgery. Having you here might affect my concentration."If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Zara and Luna, utterly bewildered, exchanged another look before filing out of the hut.

    "Hank, hurry... I don''t know how much longer I can hold on," Willow whimpered, her body shaking, on the verge of collapse.

    A wicked grin curled Hank''s lips. "Place your hands on the windowsill, bend over, and spread your legs."

    "Why?" Willow asked, her voice thick with confusion. The pose felt utterly humiliating.

    Hank''s tone turned serious, almost somber. "The venom has spread deep. This is the only way to concentrate the toxins for a complete purge."

    "Are you sure?" Willow''s eyes were filled with doubt.

    Hank nodded firmly. "I''m the doctor here. Who else are you going to trust?"

    Willow gritted her teeth, placed her hands on the windowsill, and did as Hank instructed.

    Outside the hut, Zara and Luna watched through the window, their faces a mask of question marks.

    Was this really how healing worked? It felt... off.

    Hank took a moment to appreciate the view before him, then spoke with exaggerated solemnity. "Now, when I start the treatment, it might be quite painful. It''s crucial that you maintain this position. Don''t resist, or all our efforts will be for nothing."

    "Just... do it," Willow whispered, bracing herself.

    "Alright, here we go," Hank announced, bringing his hand down on the affected area with a resounding slap.

    "Ugh..." Willow groaned, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and... something else.

    "Hold on, almost there," Hank said, before firmly pinching the wound.

    "Ahhh!" Willow cried out, her body trembling violently. Fresh beads of sweat formed on her forehead, tracing a path down her cheeks. She felt like she was about to black out, her consciousness fading.

    Just as she felt she couldn''t take it anymore, Hank finally released his healing ability. A stream of milky-white light flowed from his fingertips, washing over the wound like a soothing balm. Wisps of white smoke rose from the injury as the toxins within Willow''s body were rapidly eradicated.

    Within a mere three seconds, the poison was completely neutralized.

    As the toxins vanished, a wave of relief washed over Willow. She took a deep breath, savoring the clean air filling her lungs. Her vision cleared, and a faint smile touched her lips. It felt... good.

    "Willow, are you okay?" Zara called out, her voice filled with concern.

    "I feel... much better. I think I''m healed," Willow replied, exhaling softly.

    "Then get away from the window. That''s not a very appropriate position," Luna added softly, her gaze fixed on Hank''s position behind Willow. It just felt... wrong.

    "Oh!" Willow, snapping back to reality, quickly moved away from the window. As she turned, her eyes met Hank''s. A strange flutter went through her heart.

    "Mission accomplished. The toxins are gone," Hank announced, a hint of triumph in his voice.

    "Thank you, Hank, for saving me," Willow said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. If it weren''t for him, she might not have made it. A wave of shame washed over her as she recalled her earlier attitude towards him.

    Hank''s lips curled into a smirk. "Don''t go all soft on me now. I don''t do well with mushy stuff."

    "You..." Willow''s temper flared. She''d actually thanked him, and this was the response she got? What an ass!

    "I prefer you this way, all fiery and defiant," Hank chuckled, stepping out of the hut. He turned to Zara. "As per our agreement, the treasure chests?"

    "Of course," Zara nodded, quickly entering the hut on the right. She emerged moments later, carrying two chests, which she handed over to Hank.

    Hank accepted the chests, giving them a once-over. Just as he was about to leave, a thought struck him. "By the way, what about that poisonous wasp? Did you manage to kill it?"

    "No," Zara shook her head, her expression hardening. "It stung Willow and flew off. We searched everywhere, but it disappeared."

    "So it''s still on the island?" Hank muttered, his face turning serious. That wasp was a real threat. Leaving it alive was asking for trouble.

    "We''ll get it eventually," Zara said, a glint of steel in her eyes.

    "Well, if there''s nothing else, I''ll take my leave," Hank said, hoisting the two treasure chests and heading off.

 Chapter 23: Revenge of the Killer Wasp

    "Hank Fowler! Hold up a sec."

    Zara Vance''s voice rang out, sharp and sudden.

    "What now?" Hank asked, pausing mid-stride.

    "Did you, uh, happen to see a black wolf last night?" Zara asked directly.

    "Sure did," Hank replied casually.

    "What if that wolf gets into your shelter? Do you have a plan for that?" Zara''s eyes flickered with...was that concern?

    "Nope," Hank said, shaking his head. Even though he''d leveled up to 3, giving him a decent boost in strength, he was still clueless when it came to dealing with a ferocious beast.

    Zara paused, then said, "How about you move in with us for now? Once we''ve dealt with the wolf, you can move back."

    Initially, she''d thought Hank was nothing but a pretty face. But after he''d so easily saved Willow Frost, she realized he had some useful skills. With Hank around, they wouldn''t have to worry about injuries. That was pretty important for a team''s survival. So, protecting Hank seemed like a good idea.

    Hank''s expression turned strange. "Didn''t you say it was inconvenient for a guy to live with you? Changed your mind already?"

    Zara smiled faintly. "Well, it''s a special situation, isn''t it? You''re too vulnerable on your own. I''m just thinking about your safety."

    Luna Lovelace chimed in, "Yeah, Hank, just move in with us. You can ride our coattails. With us protecting you, you won''t have to worry about that big bad wolf anymore."

    Hank shot Luna a look of disdain. "You think a big, strong man like me needs protection from three women? Who are you looking down on?"

    Zara sighed, her tone serious. "Hank, now''s not the time to play hero. Don''t you know your own situation? Calling you a weakling is an understatement! If that wolf attacks, do you think you can survive?"

    "Just worry about yourselves. I don''t need you to worry about me!" Hank snorted and walked away without looking back.

    "Why is this guy so stubborn?" Willow huffed, annoyed.

    Zara sighed again. "Forget it. Let him be."

    ...

    Hank returned to his shelter, dropped the two treasure chests on the ground, and gave them a once-over with a grin. "Hey there, chest buddies, how''s it going?" he greeted them cheerfully.

    "Do we look like we''re friends? Cut the crap," one of the chests retorted, sounding utterly unimpressed.

    "What the¡ª! You little¡ª!" Hank sputtered, his temper flaring. He''d tried to be friendly, and this was the thanks he got?You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    "Oh, getting mad now? What are you gonna do, bite me?" the other chest jeered.

    "Just you wait, you two. I''ll deal with you later!" Hank growled, his teeth clenched. He grabbed the entrenching tool and stomped over to a corner, where he started digging with a vengeance.

    Before long, he had a hole about half a meter deep.

    "Boss, what are you digging a hole for? Gonna bury those chests alive?" Digger asked, its voice full of curiosity.

    Hank chuckled darkly. "This hole''s going to be a toilet. I''m gonna take a big dump, and then I''m throwing those two in there!"

    The two chests: "..."

    Throwing them into a pit of poop? That was just cruel!

    "Human, we apologize for our earlier attitude. Please don''t hold it against us," one of the chests pleaded, its tone suddenly meek.

    "That''s more like it!" Hank snorted, then demanded, "Alright, what goodies do you have inside?"

    "I have a bottle of bug spray," the first chest said.

    "Bug spray, huh?" Hank muttered, his face falling slightly. Not exactly what he''d been hoping for. But then again, the island did have its fair share of annoying insects. With bug spray, he could at least keep them at bay. It wasn''t completely useless.

    "I have a pack of sausages," the second chest added.

    Hank''s eyes lit up. Now that was more like it! Way better than bread. A pack of sausages could easily last him a whole day.

    "Not bad," Hank said, a smirk playing on his lips. He opened the two chests.

    Two flashes of light later, a bottle of bug spray and a pack of sausages materialized before him. Hank gave them a quick look before stashing them inside Thatchy.

    With that done, he grabbed the entrenching tool and left the shelter. He''d originally planned to take a stroll by the sea, but now he had a more pressing matter to attend to: building a proper toilet.

    The hole was just the first step. He needed to put up some kind of screen around it, at the very least. Otherwise, anyone could just walk by and see him doing his business, which would be more than a little awkward.

    The thickest patch of thatch on the island had already been burned down, so he had to find it elsewhere. Fortunately, there was still plenty of thatch growing around the island.

    Hank spent the next two hours gathering eight bundles of thatch. That was more than enough to make a screen, with plenty left over for some furniture. Of course, he''d need Thatchy''s help to actually build anything.

    By the time he finished collecting the thatch, it was already noon. Time for lunch.

    Hank grabbed the roasted locusts and started munching on them one by one. Crunchy, with a chicken-like flavor. Not bad at all. He polished off a dozen or so and then washed them down with some refreshing water.

    Belly full and thirst quenched, he lay down on his grass mat for a short nap.

    ...

    An hour later, Hank opened his eyes. He felt refreshed and full of energy. Time to head out and scavenge for more food.

    He picked up the entrenching tool and stepped out of Thatchy. Just as he emerged, a loud buzzing sound filled the air above him.

    Hank looked up instinctively and saw a giant wasp hovering in mid-air. The wasp was the size of an egg, with a bulky body and wings that flapped incessantly, creating a loud hum. Its eyes, sharp and menacing, were locked onto Hank, sending a clear signal of danger.

    "What the¡ªA wasp that big?" Hank exclaimed, startled. One sting from that thing, and he''d be lucky to survive with just his skin peeling off.

    But where did it come from? He hadn''t seen it during his previous explorations of the island.

    Then it hit him. This wasp must have been the one Willow Frost had released from a treasure chest earlier.

    Hank eyed the giant wasp and cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, big fella, what brings you to my humble abode?"

    "I''m here for revenge!" the wasp declared, its voice dripping with malice.

    "Revenge? We don''t even know each other. Why would you want revenge on me?" Hank asked, bewildered.

    "I stung a woman earlier, and you saved her. You interfered with my business. So, of course, I''m here to take revenge!" The wasp''s voice was cold and hard.

    "So that''s what this is about," Hank muttered, his expression turning disdainful. "Since when do I need your permission to do anything? Who the hell do you think you are?"

 Chapter 24: You Just Cant Stop Bragging, Can You?

    The hornet was instantly furious. "You dare insult me? Do you have any idea how serious the consequences are?"

    Hank Fowler''s lips curled into a disdainful smirk. "After you sting someone, you lose your stinger, right? Without your stinger, you''re no threat to me. So, what are you going to do about it?"

    "Human, you are too naive! You think I''m just an ordinary hornet? Let me tell you, I can grow my stinger back!" The hornet laughed, its voice full of arrogance and confidence.

    "So, you''ve already regrown your stinger?" Hank''s brow furrowed.

    A hornet with a stinger and one without were two completely different concepts. He had to be careful.

    "Of course! Otherwise, why would I come looking for revenge?" The hornet was extremely cocky.

    Hank narrowed his eyes, pondered for a moment, and said, "I''ll give you something as compensation. Just leave me alone."

    "Giving up already?" The hornet mocked, then asked, "What can you give me?"

    "Let me show you." Hank said, turning towards The Hut.

    In that instant, a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

    Entering Thatchy, Hank grabbed the insecticide, hid it behind his back, and then casually walked out.

    "Human, what good stuff are you hiding? Hurry up and show me!" The hornet urged impatiently.

    "I brought you a bottle of Happy Fairy Water!" A strange smile crept onto Hank''s lips as he aimed the insecticide at the hornet.

    The hornet, unfamiliar with insecticide, looked at it with interest. "What does this thing do?"

    "Just a little spray will make you feel like you''re floating on clouds. Let me demonstrate." Hank chuckled and pressed the nozzle.

    Pfft!

    A cloud of white mist with a pungent odor erupted, quickly engulfing the hornet.

    Upon smelling the odor, the hornet immediately sensed something was wrong. It frantically flapped its wings, trying to escape, but it was too late.

    The white mist surged forward, completely submerging the hornet.

    "Argh..." A pained shriek was heard, and the hornet plummeted to the ground, writhing in agony.

    "You want to mess with me? Do you even have what it takes?" Hank mocked, then sprayed the hornet again with the insecticide.

    Gurgle...This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The hornet foamed at the mouth. It was clear it wouldn''t survive.

    Seeing the hornet''s suffering, Hank felt a pang of pity.

    In the spirit of humanitarianism, he swung the entrenching tool, bringing it down heavily on the hornet''s head, granting it a swift end.

    "Boss, when it comes to being sneaky, you''re definitely top-tier! Your little bro is in awe!" the entrenching tool complimented.

    Hank''s face instantly darkened. "If you can''t talk properly, don''t talk to me at all!"

    The entrenching tool: "...."

    What did it say wrong this time?

    Ignoring it, Hank turned his attention to the hornet''s corpse.

    He saw a black, sharp needle embedded in its tail.

    This needle was the hornet''s stinger.

    This thing was already highly toxic. If he coated it with the black beetle''s venom, its toxicity would surely multiply. Maybe it could even kill the big black wolf in one shot.

    Thinking of this, Hank''s eyes flickered slightly as a plan quietly began to form.

    Later, he carefully removed the stinger, placed it together with the black beetle''s corpse, and then left the shelter, heading straight for the beach where he had dug up clams yesterday.

    A few minutes later, Hank arrived at the beach and stopped to observe.

    The beach was quiet. The two large crabs were nowhere to be seen.

    He didn''t know if they had moved to a different location or were hiding in the sand, taking a nap.

    After a quick look, Hank walked to the large tree and greeted it, "Hey, Tree Bro, how are you?"

    The tree ignored him, clearly still holding a grudge about being stripped of its bark yesterday.

    Hank''s eyes darkened. He gripped the entrenching tool and brandished it at the tree. "What''s with the attitude? I''m talking to you! Can''t you speak? Are you mute?"

    The tree, intimidated by Hank''s display of power, hurriedly said, "Sorry, I was sleeping just now. I didn''t hear you."

    "It''s okay, go back to sleep," Hank chuckled and started walking towards the beach.

    Watching Hank''s retreating figure, the tree muttered under its breath, "What a jerk!"

    Arriving at the sandy shore, Hank cleared his throat. "Hey, Sandy, are there any clams nearby?"

    Sandy: "Not a single one."

    Hank frowned. "How can there be no clams in such a big place? Are you lying to me?"

    Sandy: "What would I gain from lying to you?"

    Hank was puzzled. "Why are there no clams?"

    Sandy explained, "Last night, a large group of red rock crabs came. They scoured the area and ate all the nearby clams!"

    "Damn it!" Hank couldn''t help but curse.

    He considered the clams on this beach his private property.

    How dare these red rock crabs come to his territory and steal his property? They deserved to die!

    "Boss, since there are no clams here, let''s leave," the entrenching tool suggested.

    Hank pondered for a moment and continued to question Sandy, "Where did the two big crabs that used to live here go? Don''t tell me they were eaten by the red rock crabs too?"

    Sandy: "Those two were pretty smart. As soon as they saw the number of red rock crabs, they ran away immediately."

    "They''re still alive, that''s good," Hank sighed in relief.

    The entrenching tool was a bit confused. "Boss, aren''t you on bad terms with those two big crabs? Why are you suddenly concerned about them?"

    Hank chuckled, "If we find treasure chests in the sea later, who else can we rely on to retrieve them but those two big crabs?"

    "So that''s your plan!" the entrenching tool exclaimed in realization.

    "Sandy, which way did those two crabs go?" Hank asked.

    Since there were no clams here, he planned to go to another place and check on the two big crabs.

    "Go through the reef on your right, and there''s another beach. That''s my cousin''s territory. The two crabs went there."

    "Even beaches have siblings?" Hank muttered to himself and then headed to the right.

    But before he could take more than a few steps, a mocking voice suddenly rang in his ears, "Human, you''re here to show off again!"

    Hank stopped, turned his head, and his gaze fell on a super-large oyster.

    It was the same oyster he had encountered yesterday.

    Hank stared at the oyster, his eyes filled with a chilling intent. He let out a cold laugh, "You really think I can''t deal with you, do you?"

    The oyster laughed heartily. "You just can''t stop bragging, can you? I''m right here. Go ahead, deal with me!"

 Chapter 25: Ive Been Craving You for a Long Time

    "Save your breath. Just watch how I deal with you!" Hank Fowler snarled.

    "Come on then, deal with me!" The oyster was practically vibrating with arrogance.

    "Just you wait!" Hank tossed back, turning on his heel.

    Even at level 3, he couldn''t crack that oyster''s stubborn shell. No crack, no victory. It was time for Plan B: Outsmart the sucker.

    "Haha! What a wuss!" The oyster, sensing Hank''s retreat, doubled down on the mockery.

    Ignoring the taunts, Hank picked up his pace, heading back towards his shelter.

    "Dude, if you can''t handle him, don''t go making empty threats. You''re embarrassing me!" the entrenching tool grumbled.

    "What do you know? Who says I can''t handle him?" Hank shot back.

    "So, what''s your brilliant plan?" the entrenching tool inquired.

    A wicked grin spread across Hank''s face. "The usual. Outsmart him!"

    The entrenching tool: "...."

    Oh boy, here we go again.

    Hank stormed back into his shelter, grabbed the Magnifying Glass, and retraced his steps, scooping up a bundle of thatch on the way.

    He returned to the oyster''s location, and without a word, dumped the thatch right on top of it.

    The entrenching tool finally caught on. Hank''s gonna roast this thing alive!

    "Human, what''s with the thatch? You think I need a blanket?" The oyster''s voice dripped with sarcasm.

    "You''ll find out soon enough," Hank chuckled, positioning the Magnifying Glass, focusing a beam of light onto the thatch.

    After a few seconds, a wisp of white smoke curled up from the point of light.

    Hank gave a gentle puff, and a tiny flame flickered to life, quickly spreading to the surrounding thatch.

    In moments, a roaring fire blazed around the oyster. The temperature shot up to 158¡ãF (70¡ãC), then 176¡ãF (80¡ãC), then 194¡ãF (90¡ãC) and continued climbing.

    "Argh..." A pained shriek erupted from the oyster. Panic filled its voice. "Human, put out the fire! I''m being roasted alive!"

    "What, and spoil the fun? I lit this fire specifically to cook you!" Hank said with a smirk.

    "I was wrong! I won''t mock you anymore, I swear! Just spare me!" The oyster was practically in tears now.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Hank rubbed his nose, his voice hardening. "See, that''s where you''re wrong. Even if you weren''t a jerk, I''d still be doing this. You''re just too damn delicious. I''ve been craving you for a long time."

    The oyster, momentarily stunned, spat out a curse, "You''ll pay for this, human! I curse you!"

    Hank''s eyes narrowed, and he blew on the fire again, making it burn even more fiercely.

    "Aaaargh!" The oyster''s screams became even more agonizing.

    "The louder you scream, the more excited I get," Hank chuckled.

    The beach, in a hushed tone, muttered, "Human, you''re ruthless!"

    "Gotta be ruthless to survive. It''s his own fault for messing with me. Serves him right!" Hank retorted.

    The beach: "But you just said you were going to kill it because you craved its body."

    Hank blinked, then coughed, "Well, I needed an excuse, didn''t I?"

    The beach: "..."

    The entrenching tool chimed in, "That''s my bro for you, always playing dirty. Ruthless to the core! You''ll get used to it the longer you hang around him. Nothing to be surprised about!"

    "I''ve always been an upstanding citizen, haven''t I? When did I become so despicable in your eyes?" Hank gritted out, fuming.

    "Bro, I was just trying to praise you. Maybe I didn''t phrase it right. Don''t take it personally!" The entrenching tool quickly backpedaled.

    "Just... try to keep quiet in the future. Be a mute, if possible," Hank grumbled, turning his attention back to the oyster.

    The flames had done their work. The oyster''s screams had ceased, and its tightly closed shell now gaped open, revealing the plump, juicy flesh within. The aroma was intoxicating.

    Hank licked his lips, quickly pried the shell open, and crudely dug out a chunk of the succulent meat, savoring it with gusto.

    The simplest cooking methods often bring out the best in fresh ingredients. The fire had perfectly unlocked the oyster''s exquisite flavor.

    Hank devoured it with gusto, savoring every bite of the delicacy.

    Finished, he wiped his mouth with satisfaction, then picked up the empty shell and walked away.

    "Bro, what are you going to do with that shell?" the entrenching tool asked curiously.

    Hank grinned. "Gonna use it as a plate."

    The oyster shell was sturdy, durable, and large enough to serve as a makeshift plate.

    ...

    Crossing a patch of rocky terrain, Hank arrived at another beach, this one twice the size of the previous one.

    The beach was far from tranquil. Two large blue crabs were surrounded by over a dozen red ones.

    The blue crabs were the same pair he''d encountered yesterday, and the red ones were undoubtedly rock crabs.

    Hank found a clump of tall grass and concealed himself, observing the scene.

    "Didn''t you say you were going to save those two crabs? Why aren''t you doing anything?" the entrenching tool asked.

    Hank''s eyes gleamed with a calculating light. "Not yet."

    The blue crabs and rock crabs were in a standoff. It wasn''t the right time.

    When the fight broke out and the blue crabs were in mortal danger, that''s when he''d intervene. They''d be eternally grateful. And then, they''d be his to command.

    "So, when are you going to make your move, bro?" the entrenching tool pressed.

    "Why so many questions?" Hank snapped, feeling a surge of irritation. "Mute Digger."

    The entrenching tool: "...."

    Ah, blessed silence.

    ...

    On the beach, the male blue crab glared at the rock crabs, his voice filled with fury. "What''s the meaning of this? Why are you surrounding us?"

    One of the rock crab leaders leered, "Your wife''s a looker. My boys and I have been feeling a bit lonely lately. Lend her to us for a couple of days. We''ll return her when we''re done!"

    "Even crabs are perverts? This world is messed up!" Hank muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

    "You bastards!" the female blue crab spat out.

    The rock crab leader chuckled shamelessly, "Just wait, you''ll see just how ''bastardly'' we can be!"

    "Scum!" The male blue crab roared, his patience gone. "You dare touch my wife, and I swear I''ll kill every last one of you!"

    "Oh, aren''t you a tough guy!" The rock crab leader mocked, then turned to his gang. "Alright boys, let''s not waste any more time. Kill this guy!"

    With a collective roar, the rock crabs surged forward.

    The battle had begun.

 Chapter 26: You Help Me Get Treasure Chests, and Ill Watch Your Backs

    The two blue crabs were noticeably larger than the red ones, boasting superior defense and attack power. Initially, they held their own, trading blows with the red crabs. But as the skirmish dragged on, the red crabs, with their numerical advantage, started to gain the upper hand.

    "Argh!" The male blue crab suddenly let out a pained shriek.

    A sneaky red crab had darted in, its pincer clamping down on one of the blue crab''s legs. The male blue crab, now in agony, slowed considerably. Seizing the opportunity, more red crabs surged forward, quickly overwhelming him. He struggled fiercely but was ultimately outnumbered and pinned to the ground.

    "Darling!" The female blue crab roared in anguish, frantically rushing forward to rescue her mate. But she was quickly intercepted by three red crabs. After a brief struggle, she too was forced to the sandy floor.

    The red crab leader, a leering grin on his face, advanced towards the female blue crab.

    "You bastard! What do you think you''re doing?" The male blue crab bellowed, his eyes burning with fury.

    "What do you think?" The red crab leader''s grin widened into a wicked sneer. "I''m going to have my way with her, right in front of you!"

    "I''ll kill you!" The male blue crab was practically spitting fire, struggling with all his might. But he was firmly held down by seven or eight red crabs, completely immobilized.

    "No, please don''t..." The female blue crab was on the verge of tears.

    "Cry all you want. The louder you cry, the more it fuels my desire for conquest!" The red crab leader cackled.

    "You damn animal!" Hank Fowler cursed under his breath. He gripped the entrenching tool and charged forward. His level 3 upgrade had significantly boosted his speed. He moved like a tiger, a whirlwind of furious energy.

    "Die!" In a mere two seconds, Hank reached the beach. He swung the entrenching tool with both hands, bringing it down on one of the red crabs.

    The red crab, utterly stunned by Hank''s aura, froze in place, forgetting even to flee. The entrenching tool, carrying the force of a thunderbolt, slammed into the red crab''s shell.

    Crack!

    The shell shattered completely, collapsing inward, spilling out the crab''s innards. With a final shriek, the red crab fell lifelessly to the ground.

    The entire beach fell into a stunned silence. All the red crabs were dumbfounded. Where had this human come from? He was too powerful, too savage!

    The two blue crabs were equally shocked. Why was Hank here? And why was he so brutally attacking the red crabs? Was he here to save them? But that didn''t make sense. They were enemies, after all. There was no reason for him to rescue them.Stolen novel; please report.

    But before they could process it further, Hank struck again, a sweeping blow that sent two more red crabs flying.

    Ah! Ah!

    Two more agonizing cries, and two more red crabs were instantly killed, their bodies mangled beyond recognition.

    "Boss, what do we do?" The remaining red crabs were panicking.

    The red crab leader''s lip twitched. He glared at Hank, fuming. "Human, we didn''t provoke you! Why are you attacking us?"

    Hank, radiating menace, snorted. "These two blue crabs are my friends. Bullying my friends is the same as bullying me! If I don''t kill you, who will I kill?"

    "Huh?" The two blue crabs were completely bewildered. So Hank really was here to save them! And he considered them friends? This turn of events was completely beyond their expectations.

    "I didn''t know they were your friends. We''ll leave right now," the red crab leader said hastily. He was reluctant to give up on the blue crabs just like that, but he had no choice. Hank''s power was terrifying, far beyond their own. To oppose him was to seek death.

    "You think you can just bully my friends and walk away? As if!" Hank scoffed. Killing these red crabs would not only give him experience points but also provide him with food. There was no way he was letting them go so easily.

    "Human, you''re pushing us too far!" The red crab leader roared, gnashing his teeth. "Brothers! This human doesn''t want to let us go, and we can''t just sit here and wait for death! Let''s all attack together! We''ll fight to the death!"

    "Fight!"

    "Kill him!"

    The remaining red crabs surged towards Hank Fowler. The red crab leader glanced back, then swiftly retreated towards the sea, diving into the water and disappearing.

    "Looking to die!" Hank roared, swinging the entrenching tool in a frenzy. Each strike crushed a red crab.

    Bang! Bang! Bang!

    After a dozen or so impacts, all the remaining red crabs lay dead, slaughtered by Hank. The beach was littered with their corpses. Some were even smashed into a pulp, a truly gruesome scene.

    "He''s so strong!" The two blue crabs were stunned.

    Hank surveyed the carnage, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Then, his gaze shifted to the two blue crabs. "You two alright?" he asked with a slight smile.

    "We''re fine, thank you for saving us!" The male blue crab expressed his gratitude. If it weren''t for Hank''s timely intervention, the outcome would have been unthinkable. He would have undoubtedly died, and his mate would have suffered a terrible fate. Hank Fowler was their savior, and a thank you was definitely in order.

    Hank waved his hand dismissively. "It was nothing, don''t mention it."

    The male blue crab suddenly remembered something. "Human," he began, looking at Hank with a puzzled expression, "why did you save us?"

    Hank smirked. "Didn''t you guys help me get two treasure chests yesterday? That was a big help. I''m a man who values loyalty. You helped me, so it''s only natural that I help you!"

    The entrenching tool silently griped in his mind, "Shameless!" He clearly just wanted the two blue crabs to help him fetch treasure chests! What loyalty was he talking about?

    "So that''s it," the male blue crab said, realization dawning on him. He immediately declared, "Human, from now on, whenever I see a treasure chest, I''ll bring it to you!"

    That was exactly what Hank was waiting for. He chuckled. "You help me get treasure chests, and I''ll watch your backs! If anyone dares to bully you in the future, just come to me. I''ll take care of them for you!"

    "That''s great!" The male blue crab was overjoyed. They had already witnessed Hank''s strength. With such a powerful protector, their safety was practically guaranteed.

    The female blue crab suddenly piped up, "Oh, right! We found a treasure chest this morning."

    "Where is it?" Hank''s eyes lit up.

    "I''ll go get it!" The male blue crab said, quickly scurrying into the nearby rocks. Moments later, he returned, carrying a blue treasure chest.

 Chapter 27: Hanks Rusty Recruit

    "A bronze chest!"

    Hank Fowler''s heart did a little jig. A bronze chest was definitely a step up from those crummy iron ones.

    What kind of goodies awaited him this time?

    But Hank wasn''t about to pop the lid just yet. Every chest, no matter how fancy, had the potential to be a nasty surprise. Safety first, as they say. Best to figure out what was inside before going all in.

    So, Hank started his usual interrogation. "Hey, Chest, whatcha got in there?"

    Chest: "Guess."

    "Guess your mother!" Hank muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "Look, you better spill the beans. Otherwise, it''s a one-way trip to the latrine for you!"

    Chest remained unfazed. "Threats? That''s cute. I''m not falling for that."

    Hank blinked, surprised. "The latrine is full of shit, piss, and maggots. It''s disgusting. You''re not even a little bit scared?" He''d used this tactic to scare the iron chests into submission before. What was with this bronze one''s attitude?

    Chest: "I''m a metal box, dude. One place is as good as another. Latrine? Fine by me. I can''t smell anything anyway."

    Hank frowned, momentarily stumped. He tried a different approach. "Is it food?"

    Chest: "Nope."

    Hank continued, "If it''s not food, it must be something useful. A tool, maybe?"

    Chest: "You could say it''s a tool."

    Hank''s eyebrows shot up. "What kind of tool, specifically?"

    Chest: "Guess."

    "God damn it!" Hank was ready to smash the chest to pieces, but he held back. It wasn''t worth destroying a potentially valuable item.

    He took a deep breath and kept guessing.

    .....

    Fifteen minutes crawled by.

    "Is it a hammer?" Hank asked, his patience wearing thin.

    "Nope."

    "Pliers?"

    "Nope."

    "Screwdriver?"

    "Nope."

    "A kitchen knife?"The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "Nope."

    "What is it then?!" Hank was about to lose his mind.

    One of the giant crabs, who''d been watching this whole charade, finally spoke up. "Boss, I don''t think you need to keep guessing. If it''s a tool, it can''t be dangerous, right?"

    "Oh, right!" Hank facepalmed. A tool couldn''t hurt him. What was he even doing?

    Without another word, he threw open the chest.

    A brilliant flash of light erupted.

    And there it was: a machete.

    It was about five feet long, probably weighed a good few dozen pounds, and was covered in rust. It had a rough, unfinished look, and the blade wasn''t even sharpened. It was ugly as sin.

    "That''s it? That''s what I get?" Hank sighed, disappointed.

    "Hey, I''m not that bad, you know," the machete suddenly spoke up.

    "Have you seen yourself? You look like a piece of scrap metal. What can you even do?" Hank scoffed.

    "Don''t underestimate me. I''m sharp. I can chop wood, cut down trees, you name it," the machete declared.

    "Sharp, huh?" Hank raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

    "Why don''t you test me out?" the machete suggested.

    "Fine," Hank grumbled. He grabbed the machete and headed towards the only tree nearby, the same one he''d stripped of its bark the day before.

    Talk about bad luck. First, it got skinned, and now it was about to get hacked. But what could Hank do? It was the only tree around.

    Seeing Hank approaching with the machete, the tree panicked. "Human, what are you doing? Are you going to skin me again?" it cried out.

    "Relax, no more skinning today," Hank chuckled, his gaze drifting over the tree until it landed on a straight branch. He swung the machete.

    Thwack!

    The branch fell cleanly, the cut end smooth as butter. The machete was sharp, no doubt about it.

    "Argh..." The tree let out a yelp of pain and started cursing at Hank. "Human, go f*** your grandmother!"

    Hank brandished the machete, a glint in his eye. "What was that? I didn''t quite catch it."

    The tree immediately cowered. "Nothing..." it mumbled.

    "It''s just a branch. What''s with the attitude?" Hank huffed. He then pressed his hand against the cut, releasing a healing spell.

    A soft, milky light flowed from his hand into the wound. The cut healed instantly, and a new bud sprouted.

    "Boss, that''s some impressive skill you''ve got there!" The machete exclaimed.

    "Just a little trick, nothing special," Hank said with a smile. He turned back to the tree. "Still mad at me?"

    "No, no, I misunderstood you. Thank you for healing me," the tree said quickly.

    "Don''t mention it," Hank said, picking up the fallen branch and heading back to the beach.

    "Boss, you didn''t hold a grudge against that tree, and you even healed it. That shows you''re a kind and generous person," The machete remarked.

    "You don''t get it," Hank said, a mysterious glint in his eye. "If it grows new branches, I can chop them down again later!"

    The machete: "...."

    The Tree: "...."

    .....

    Back on the beach, Hank picked out a few intact red pine crabs, leaving the mangled ones for the two giant blue crabs. Then, he returned to his shelter.

    "Boss, that''s a pretty good haul today. Not just crabs, but you also found a kitchen knife," The fence said cheerfully.

    "Hey, are you blind? I''m a machete, not a kitchen knife!" The machete retorted.

    "Oh, sorry, I didn''t see you clearly. You really are a machete, but you''re not exactly a looker," The Fence said.

    "I''m just understated. Better than being flashy and useless. You wouldn''t understand," The machete huffed.

    The fence: "...."

    Hank opened the gate, tossed the crabs on the ground, and surveyed his garden.

    The corn stalk was now over three feet tall, with three plump ears growing on it. The other plants were also thriving, reaching about six inches in height. Everything was growing beautifully.

    Hank was about to head into Thatchy for a rest when Fency suddenly spoke up. "Boss, Digger is hurt."

    Hank quickly turned to the entrenching tool and saw that it was covered in dents and nicks, probably from the fight with the red pine crabs.

    "Digger, why didn''t you tell me you were hurt?" Hank asked, concerned.

    The entrenching tool: "..."

    "Are you mute now?" Hank''s expression darkened.

    The entrenching tool: "..."

    "Fine, don''t talk!" Hank huffed and turned to enter Thatchy.

    But as he stepped inside, he remembered something. He had muted the entrenching tool earlier because it was too chatty. Oops. He''d wrongly accused poor Digger.

 Chapter 28: Trading for Lumber

    Hank Fowler turned to the entrenching tool and silently commanded, "Unmute."

    "Dude, heal me up, quick! I''m in agony!" the entrenching tool wailed like a banshee.

    "Alright, alright, keep your shirt on. Healing coming right up," Hank muttered, grabbing the entrenching tool. He activated his healing ability, and a soft, milky light bathed the tool. The dents and dings on its surface smoothed out as if they were never there.

    "Oh yeah, that''s the stuff!" the entrenching tool sighed in relief.

    Hank set the tool down, chugged a bottle of purified water, and flopped onto his straw mat. Time seemed to slip away as he rested.

    Suddenly, the Hut spoke up, "Hank, the straw curtain is ready."

    Hank opened his eyes and saw a thirteen-foot-long straw curtain. Two straw stools were also neatly placed on the ground.

    "Not bad," Hank nodded, grabbing the curtain and heading out of the hut. He set it up around the hole he''d dug earlier. And there it was, a makeshift toilet.

    "Human, aren''t you going to take a dump yet?" a stalk of corn suddenly asked.

    Hank raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

    Corn: "After you poop, you can feed it to me. I really want to eat poop."

    Hank felt a chill run down his spine. "Sure, you''ll get it when I''m done!"

    "We want some too!" the other plants chimed in.

    "You''ll all get your share!" Hank said, feeling utterly speechless.

    After dealing with the peanut gallery, Hank picked up the Machete and started working on the tree branch he''d brought back.

    "Whatcha doing with that branch, boss?" the Machete asked curiously.

    "Making a weapon!" Hank replied casually.

    The branch was about six feet long and perfectly straight. If he sharpened the end, it could serve as a decent spear. And if he coated the tip with the black beetle''s poison and added a giant hornet''s stinger... well, that thing would be seriously deadly. It might even be enough to take down that big black wolf in one shot!

    The Machete scoffed, "With me around, why do you need other weapons?"

    "You wouldn''t understand!" Hank chuckled, focusing on shaping the branch.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    An hour later, he was finally done. It looked just like a real spear. Hank swung it around, feeling pretty satisfied with his handiwork.

    Of course, it was still just a prototype. He needed to add the poison to make it truly lethal. Hank went back into the Hut and retrieved the leaf-wrapped beetle corpse and stinger. Carefully, he attached the stinger to the spear''s tip. Then, he plunged the tip into the beetle carcass, twisting it a few times.

    When he pulled it out, the tip was coated in a nasty-looking black goo. The poison had definitely soaked in.

    With this venomous spear in hand, Hank felt a surge of confidence. His eyes gleamed with determination. Tonight, if that big black wolf dared to show up, it would be its last night!

    Hank glanced at the sky. The sun was setting, and darkness was creeping in. Time for dinner.

    Hank grabbed the Magnifying Glass and started a fire. He set up the frying pan, poured in two bottles of purified water, and tossed in the red rock crabs, one by one. They were dead, but still relatively fresh.

    Fresh ingredients called for simple cooking. Soon, the air filled with the mouth-watering aroma of seafood. Hank eagerly grabbed a crab and dug in. Each bite was pure bliss. The size of these red rock crabs was insane, every mouthful was a feast. He savored the deliciousness, lost in the pleasure of the meal.

    As much as he loved the taste of the red rock crab, his stomach had its limits. After three, he was stuffed.

    What to do with the leftovers? In this weather, they''d spoil overnight. What a waste!

    Hank pondered for a moment, then decided to sell them. He opened the trading hall and listed the remaining red rock crabs and some purified water.

    After tidying up the yard, he went back into Thatchy, flopped onto his straw mat, and opened the regional chat group.

    Jeff Johnson: "Anyone got any food? I haven''t eaten all day, I''m starving to death."

    Eddie Drumpf: "Didn''t I tell you? If you''re really desperate, eat some grass roots."

    Jeff Johnson: "Tried that, it''s disgusting. It''s all spicy and made my throat burn. I almost threw up after one bite."

    Eddie Drumpf: "Then you''re not hungry enough. When you''re really starving, you''ll eat anything, even dirt."

    Wally Cox: "Didn''t we all get ten seeds? Just eat a couple to tide you over. Don''t starve to death."

    Jeff Johnson: "Ate them all yesterday."

    Wally Cox: "...."

    Jeff Johnson: "Anyone got any food? I can trade you some resources."

    Stan Strong: "If you have resources, why not use the trading hall? There are people selling food there."

    Jeff Johnson sighed: "I contacted them, but they don''t want what I have!"

    Sue Lynn: "What resources do you have?"

    Jeff Johnson: "Fifty logs, each about three feet long."

    Lou Yang: "Where''d you get so much wood?"

    Jeff Johnson: "Don''t even ask. Found a bronze chest this morning. Thought I''d hit the jackpot. Opened it up, and it was just wood. What a load of crap!"

    Lee Lightman: "Food is super valuable right now. No one''s gonna trade food for wood."

    Jeff Johnson: "Seriously, so unlucky. I would have settled for a few steamed buns."

    Hank''s eyes lit up. Others might not want the wood, but he could definitely use it. The wooden fence could level up after devouring those logs.

    Hank typed: "Jeff Johnson, I''ll trade with you."

    Jeff Johnson: "Really? What are you offering?"

    Hank: "Two freshly cooked giant crabs for your fifty logs."

    Jeff Johnson didn''t hesitate: "Deal!"

    He would''ve agreed to just one crab, let alone two. Those logs were useless to him anyway.

    Lou Yang: "Hank, did you kill those two crabs?"

    The crabs here were a totally different breed than those on Earth. They were not only huge but also incredibly aggressive. Even Lou Yang wasn''t sure he could handle them. How did Hank manage to hunt them? Did he have some kind of overpowered ability?

 Chapter 29: Bro, I Freaking Love You!

    Hank Fowler: "Didn''t kill ''em, found ''em."

    If the others knew he had single-handedly slaughtered over a dozen Red Pine Crabs, their jaws would hit the floor. No need to be flashy.

    Lou Yang: "You can just find these things?"

    Hank Fowler: "Here''s the deal. This morning, two crab gangs were having a turf war on the beach. A few didn''t make it. I just happened to stumble upon the aftermath and, well, finders keepers."

    Lou Yang: "Huh, makes sense."

    Eddie Drumpf: "Hank, you''re one lucky bastard!"

    Hank Fowler chuckled. "Yeah, guess I am."

    Stan Strong: "Hank, how many crabs did you ''find''?"

    Hank Fowler: "Why the sudden interest? You looking to trade too?"

    Stan Strong: "I don''t have anything to trade. I was hoping you''d give me one. You might not believe this, but I''ve never had crab before. Don''t even know what it tastes like. Take pity on me, man, and just hand one over?"

    Hank Fowler''s face darkened. "Sorry, only two left."

    Trying to freeload off him? No way!

    Stan Strong: "Sigh!"

    Lee Lightman: "Too bad, I was actually going to offer you something for one."

    Hank Fowler: "What do you got?"

    Lee Lightman: "Opened a chest today and got two oil lamps. One''s enough, two''s just overkill."

    Hank Fowler''s eyes lit up. "Deal."

    The Hut got pitch black at night, making it a pain to do anything. He''d been wanting some kind of light source for a while now. This oil lamp was perfect.

    Stan Strong: "Hank, I thought you said you were out of crabs?"

    Hank Fowler: "I kept one for dinner. Haven''t been able to bring myself to eat it."

    Stan Strong: "Really?"

    Hank Fowler: "Seriously. I never lie."

    Jeff Johnson: "Hank, I''m starving to death here. Let''s hit up the trading hall already."

    Hank Fowler: "Anyone else got anything, like thatch, ore, wood, seeds, or even empty bottles, hit me up. I''m buying."

    Wally Cox: "Hank, you serious? You''ll trade food for thatch?"A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    If there was one thing the island had plenty of, it was thatch. If he could really trade thatch to Hank Fowler for food, he''d never have to worry about starving again.

    Hank Fowler: "I never lie."

    Wally Cox: "How much thatch for a crab?"

    Hank Fowler thought for a moment. "Fifty kilograms."

    The hut had absorbed fifty kilograms of thatch and should be able to produce a thatch bed. Trading a crab for a thatch bed was a steal.

    Wally Cox: "You''re on! I''m going out to cut thatch right now."

    Stan Strong: "Hank, you have more crabs?"

    Hank Fowler: "Okay, fine, I kept two for dinner."

    Stan Strong: "Didn''t you say you don''t lie?"

    Hank Fowler: "I was mainly worried you''d try to mooch off me."

    Stan Strong: "..."

    Sue Lynn: "Hank, what do you need all that thatch for?"

    Hank Fowler: "To upgrade The Hut, obviously."

    Sue Lynn: "???"

    Everyone else: "???"

    Hank Fowler was confused. "What''s with the peanut gallery?"

    Sue Lynn: "Upgrade The hut with thatch? Are you serious?"

    Hank Fowler blinked. "Can''t you?"

    His Hut could be upgraded by devouring thatch, so he naturally assumed others could too. But judging by Sue Lynn''s reaction, maybe not?

    Sue Lynn: "Of course not! You need special upgrade gems to upgrade The hut."

    Hank Fowler was stunned. "How do you know that?"

    Sue Lynn: "There''s a guide on the World Channel. Didn''t you read it?"

    Hank Fowler realized something was off. So, only his Hut could be upgraded by devouring thatch? Why was that? Could it be because of the whole talking-to-objects thing?

    That seemed like the most likely explanation. Obviously, he couldn''t tell anyone that. "I was just messing around to lighten the mood," he said. "I need the thatch for cooking fires."

    Everyone: "..."

    Trading a crab for cooking fuel? What a spendthrift!

    Jeff Johnson: "Hank, stop spacing out. Let''s go trade already."

    Hank Fowler: "Fine, let''s go."

    Hank closed the chat group and opened the trading hall. He quickly completed the trades with Jeff Johnson and Lee Lightman. After the trade was completed, the items were temporarily stored in the trading hall''s storage, where they could be kept for up to a day. It was a good thing there was a trading hall storage. Otherwise, there would be nowhere to put fifty logs.

    Hank first took out the oil lamp and examined it closely. It was an old-fashioned oil lamp, a bit rough around the edges, but with a certain rustic charm. The main body was a simple metal container, maybe copper or iron, now covered in the patina of age. Hank looked at it for a moment, then greeted it, "Hey, uh... Lampy, how''s it going?" The oil lamp didn''t respond. Hank tried again, "Why aren''t you talking?" Still nothing. Hank was puzzled. He could usually talk to any object he touched. Why wasn''t the oil lamp talking? Was it mute?

    He didn''t dwell on it, placing the oil lamp in a corner before heading out of The Hut.

    The sun had already set, and the sky was a dim, hazy gray. Hank made his way to the wooden fence and opened the trading hall storage, retrieving a one-meter-long log.

    The wooden fence immediately perked up. "Bro, where''d you get the wood? Is it for me?"

    Hank smiled. "Of course, it''s for you. But first, I have a question. How many of these logs do you need to eat to level up?"

    The fence didn''t hesitate. "Fifty is all it takes."

    Hank''s eyes flashed. "What happens when you level up?"

    The fence: "Two options after leveling up. First, I can boost my defense, doubling it. Second, I can grow taller, up to two meters."

    Hank frowned. "Can''t you do both?"

    The fence: "Only one."

    Hank Fowler sighed. "Defense boost it is, then."

    If it only grew taller without a defense boost, it would be useless.

    The fence was a bit confused. "Bro, one log isn''t enough for me to level up."

    Hank grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just open wide."

    Crack!

    A large gap suddenly appeared on the wooden fence, like a giant mouth opening before Hank.

    Hank hefted the log and shoved it into the gap.

    Crunch, crunch...

    The wooden fence happily munched away, like it was eating candy.

    "You sure know how to enjoy yourself," Hank muttered. He then pulled another log from storage and fed it to the wooden fence. Then another, and another...

    Seeing Hank produce so much wood, the fence yelled in excitement, "Bro, I freaking love you!"

 Chapter 30: Fency Levels Up

    A shiver crawled up Hank Fowler''s spine, goosebumps erupting across his skin. He grimaced, "Okay, Fency, seriously, cut it out with the cheesy lines. I can''t handle that level of cringe."

    "Yes, Big Brother," the Wooden Fence readily agreed, before resuming its vigorous consumption of raw wood.

    In less than ten minutes, all fifty logs had vanished.

    Hank examined it closely. The fence''s color had deepened considerably, giving it a much more robust appearance.

    The fence: "Big Brother, why are you staring at me like that?"

    Hank cleared his throat, "Now that you''ve leveled up, can you block the Big Black Wolf''s attacks?"

    The fence declared confidently, "That Big Black Wolf is only level 2. It can''t hurt me anymore."

    "Huh?" Hank was taken aback, "How do you know the Big Black Wolf is level 2?"

    The fence: "I''m not entirely sure how it works, but I can sense its level."

    Hank narrowed his eyes thoughtfully before turning to the Thatched Hut, "Thatchy, can you sense the Big Black Wolf''s level too?"

    The Hut: "I can."

    "Big Brother, I can sense it too," chimed in the entrenching tool.

    "Why can''t I sense it?" Hank muttered to himself.

    "Big Brother, may I speak frankly?" The fence chuckled.

    "Go ahead," Hank said nonchalantly.

    The fence stated slowly, "We''ve all awakened our spirits and are now higher-level beings. You, on the other hand, are just a human, the weakest existence in this world. Naturally, you can''t compare to us, so it''s normal that you can''t sense the Big Black Wolf''s level!"

    Hank: "..."

    Since when did a mere Wooden Fence get such a superiority complex?

    What the heck!

    After a moment of stunned silence, Hank scoffed, "And you have the nerve to look down on me? You think I can''t smash you to pieces?"

    The fence chuckled, "Big Brother, don''t underestimate the fact that you''ve reached level 3. But if you think you can hurt me, you''re dreaming."

    "Is that so?" Hank''s eyes gleamed.

    The fence: "If you don''t believe me, go ahead and try."

    "Fine," Hank nodded, turned, and entered the Hut. He emerged a moment later, wielding the Machete.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    The fence was stunned, "Big Brother, that''s not fair! You said you''d fight me with your bare hands! Why are you using a knife?"

    Hank grinned, "When did I ever say anything about bare hands?"

    The fence: "..."

    He actually hadn''t.

    Hank brandished the Machete, a sinister smile playing on his lips, "Fency, are you ready? Here I come!"

    So the fence wanted to show off?

    Today, he would show it what''s what.

    The fence panicked, "Big Brother, there must be some misunderstanding! You''re always the most respected Big Brother in my heart, there''s no need for violence!"

    Hank stroked his chin thoughtfully, "You''re right, there''s no need for violence. However, there''s something I''d like to test."

    The fence: "What''s that?"

    Hank said gravely, "Is Chopper sharper, or are you tougher?"

    The fence caught on immediately and hurriedly said, "Big Brother, I admit I was showing off. I''m definitely not as tough as Chopper, there''s no need to test it."

    "Have some confidence in yourself!" Hank''s eyes narrowed, and he swung the Machete, bringing it down hard on the fence.

    Crack!

    A gash appeared on the Wooden Fence.

    "Argh..." The fence let out a pained shriek.

    "Not bad," Hank commented.

    The Machete was incredibly sharp.

    Previously, it had sliced through a thick tree branch in one swing.

    Yet, it had only managed to create a gash on the fence, which spoke volumes about its defenses.

    "Alright, stop yelling. I''ll heal you in a bit," Hank said soothingly.

    The fence grumbled indignantly, "Of course it doesn''t hurt you! If it were you, you''d be screaming even louder!"

    "Why are you so mouthy?" Hank shot it a glare, then muttered, "Mute the Wooden Fence!"

    The fence: "..."

    He hurts it, and then he won''t even let it complain?

    How tyrannical!

    Once the noise had subsided, Hank pulled out the Machete and placed his hand on the gash.

    A milky-white light flowed out, covering the wound.

    In an instant, the gash healed completely, leaving no trace.

    "Big Brother, how was that? Pretty sharp, right?" The Machete boasted.

    Hank scoffed, "You can''t even chop through a wooden fence, and you have the audacity to brag?"

    The Machete protested, "Fency is already level 2, while I''m only level 1. There''s a whole level difference. If I were level 2, I could chop it into firewood in one swing."

    "Is that so?" Hank''s eyes flickered, "What do you need to level up?"

    The Machete answered without hesitation, "I need to devour metal."

    Hank sighed.

    The entrenching tool and the Frying Pan also needed to devour metal to level up.

    But metal was incredibly scarce.

    Even if he wanted to trade for it, there was none available.

    Helping these three rapidly increase their levels was a long and arduous task.

    Hank shook off his thoughts and turned to the fence, "Unmute the fence."

    The fence immediately started complaining, "Big Brother, muting is unethical! You can''t treat me like this anymore! I''m your most loyal Fency!"

    "Don''t talk back to me, and I won''t mute you," Hank chuckled, then instructed, "When that Big Black Wolf appears tonight, notify me immediately!"

    The fence muttered under its breath, "What''s the point of notifying you? You''ll just hide in Thatchy and shiver anyway."

    "What did you say?" Hank glared.

    The fence quickly corrected itself, "I will stand guard diligently. The moment I spot the Big Black Wolf, I''ll notify you immediately."

    "That''s more like it," Hank nodded, then entered the Hut with the Machete.

    The interior of the hut was already dim.

    Hank wanted to light the oil lamp, but then he remembered, he had no fire!

    The sun had already set, so the Magnifying Glass was useless.

    He had no choice but to give up.

    Next, Hank opened the game panel.

    Just then, the private message icon lit up.

    Seeing that the message was from Wally Cox, Hank Fowler quickly opened it.

    Wally Cox: Hank Fowler, as per your request, I''ve gathered fifty kilograms of thatch. When do you want to trade?

    Hank''s eyes lit up: Right now.

    They then entered the trading hall.

    Hank traded a Red Pine Crab to Wally Cox for fifty kilograms of thatch, which was stored in his warehouse.

    With this thatch, he could finally start making a thatched bed.

 Chapter 31: The Magnifying Glass Levels Up

    Hank Fowler pulled out bundle after bundle of thatch and tossed them to the hut. "Alright, Thatchy, first things first: make me a big bed."

    "What size?" Thatchy asked.

    Hank thought for a moment. "Two meters long, one meter wide should do it." The hut''s interior wasn''t exactly spacious. A bed that was too large simply wouldn''t fit.

    "Crafting the thatch bed will take four hours," Thatchy informed him.

    "Take your time," Hank replied with a nod, then opened the game panel again.

    The private message icon was flashing. Three people had messaged him. Besides Wally Cox and Orion, there was a stranger named Finn Carter.

    Hank glanced at the messages and opened Wally Cox''s first.

    Wally Cox: Hank Fowler, that giant crab you gave me was delicious! It might be the best thing I''ve ever eaten in my life.

    Hank''s expression darkened. You messaged me just to tell me that?

    Wally Cox: No, I mainly wanted to ask if you still need thatch? If you do, I''ll keep cutting it tomorrow.

    Hank: Yes, the more the better!

    Wally Cox: Can I get more crabs?

    Hank: I can''t guarantee crabs, but I can give you other food or clean water.

    Wally Cox: It''s a deal!

    Finished with Wally Cox, Hank opened Orion''s message.

    Orion: Hank Fowler, I''ve mined another ten kilograms of iron ore. I''d like to trade for another bottle of clean water.

    Hank: No problem.

    They completed the trade, and Hank moved on to Finn Carter''s message.

    Finn Carter: I saw you selling crabs and clean water in the trading hall. I have a hundred beer bottles, do you want them?

    Hank didn''t hesitate. "Yes." The Magnifying Glass could level up by consuming beer bottles, so of course, he couldn''t pass up this opportunity.

    Finn Carter was a little excited. "What can you give me?"

    Hank: How about a crab?

    Finn Carter: Deal!

    A hundred empty beer bottles for a giant crab? It felt like hitting the jackpot.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    With the trade complete, Hank placed the beer bottles in front of the Magnifying Glass.

    The Magnifying Glass asked excitedly, "Boss, are these all for me?"

    "Yeah, all for you. Dig in, Big Glass," Hank said with a smile.

    "Boss, you''re the best! I love you!" the Magnifying Glass exclaimed.

    "Ugh, so cheesy," the entrenching tool grumbled.

    "Mind your own business," the Magnifying Glass retorted before starting to devour the beer bottles.

    Hank then took out the iron ore, glanced at the entrenching tool, the frying pan, and the Machete, and ultimately offered the ore to the Machete. The Machete was an offensive weapon and had already shown its impressive attack power. Upgrading it would make it even more devastating. Therefore, he decided to prioritize the Machete''s upgrade.

    The frying pan was instantly displeased. "Boss, that''s not fair! I''m your most loyal frying pan! How could you give the iron ore to Chopper and not me? Shouldn''t there be some order to this?"

    Even the Machete felt a bit awkward. "Boss, maybe give the ore to the frying pan first. I did come later, after all. We can do mine next time."

    Hank considered for a moment, then turned to the frying pan with a meaningful look. "I can give it to you first, but you''ll have to come out and fight with me tomorrow. Can you handle that?"

    Hearing about a fight, the frying pan immediately backed down. "Boss, I''m just a pan. I''m good at cooking, but fighting isn''t really my thing. You should give the iron ore to Chopper."

    "Smart kid," Hank chuckled, then turned to the Machete. "Don''t just stand there, eat up, Chopper."

    Without another word, the Machete gobbled down the iron ore, savoring the upgrade.

    Just then, the Magnifying Glass, having finished the hundred bottles, shouted excitedly, "Boss, I''ve leveled up!"

    Hank, intrigued, picked up the Magnifying Glass and examined it. "You don''t look any different, Glassy."

    The Magnifying Glass chuckled. "My appearance hasn''t changed, but my abilities have greatly improved."

    Hank raised an eyebrow. "What can you do now?"

    The Magnifying Glass declared proudly, "Before, I could only start fires using sunlight. But now, I can use moonlight too."

    "Really?" Hank was skeptical.

    "It''s true! You can test it if you don''t believe me," the Magnifying Glass insisted.

    Hank went to the window and opened a small crack. A beam of bright moonlight shone through.

    He held up the Magnifying Glass, focusing the moonlight. Soon, a bright white dot appeared on the ground. After a few moments, the ground began to sizzle, and wisps of white smoke rose.

    "It actually works!" Hank''s eyes lit up. He grabbed the oil lamp and focused the white dot on the wick.

    After a short wait, the wick started to smoke, and a few sparks appeared. Hank gently blew on the wick.

    Whoosh!

    The wick ignited, casting a warm glow that illuminated the entire hut.

    "Hehe!" A soft, feminine giggle suddenly echoed in his ear.

    "Who''s there?" Hank narrowed his eyes, scanning the room before his gaze settled on the oil lamp.

    "It''s me, little master," the oil lamp chuckled.

    Hank stared at the lamp, puzzled. "Lampy, why didn''t you answer me when I talked to you before?"

    Lampy: "Before being lit, I was in a dormant state. Only when lit do I awaken."

    "Oh," Hank said, understanding dawning on him. "Does that mean when the oil runs out, you''ll never wake up again?"

    The entrenching tool chimed in, "Boss, it''s an oil lamp. Can''t you just add more oil?"

    "Right," Hank nodded.

    Lampy: "Actually, it''s not that complicated. As long as I get some sunlight every day, I can convert the light energy into lamp oil."

    "Impressive, Lampy!" Hank exclaimed. Converting sunlight into oil was a pretty handy ability.

    Hank found a spot and hung up the oil lamp. Then, he lay down on the thatch mat to rest. He had a feeling that the big black wolf would return tonight. When it did, a fierce battle was inevitable. He needed to conserve his strength and energy.

    Seeing that Hank was resting, the oil lamp lowered the brightness of its flame. Gradually, the hut became dim again, and silence descended.

    After an unknown amount of time, Thatchy''s cry suddenly broke the night''s stillness. "Boss, that big black wolf is here!"

    Hank instantly woke up, his eyes flashing sharply.

 Chapter 32: Sweet, Sweet Loot

    "Big Bro, that big black wolf is right outside! What are we gonna do?" The entrenching tool and Frying Pan were practically wetting themselves. The creature was a significant threat, and their fear was palpable.

    "Cowards!" Hank Fowler spat, getting to his feet. "What do you think we''re gonna do? We''re gonna kick its ass, obviously!"

    "Huh?" The entrenching tool and Frying Pan were dumbfounded.

    Just last night, Hank Fowler was shaking in his boots just like them. Now, after just one day, he''s talking about taking down the wolf? Talk about a 180.

    Hank Fowler took a deep breath, steeled himself, and grabbed his trusty Machete. He started heading out.

    The entrenching tool hurriedly yelled, "Big Bro, are you serious?!"

    Hank Fowler stopped, radiating an aura of pure badassery. "This is my turf. My rules. Anyone who thinks they can just waltz in here and cause trouble is gonna get wrecked."

    "But... what if it wrecks you first? What do we do then?" The entrenching tool asked weakly.

    Hank Fowler was speechless. "Dude, I''m about to go into battle, and you''re already planning my funeral? Some morale booster you are."

    "Big Bro, you''re irreplaceable! How could I wish for your death?" The entrenching tool quickly backtracked, then asked, "So, how are you planning to deal with that wolf?"

    Hank Fowler''s eyes gleamed with cunning. "Normally, I''m all about outsmarting my enemies. But tonight? Tonight, I''m gonna go toe-to-toe with that beast and see what it''s really made of."

    "Big Bro, don''t be rash! I think playing dirty is a much safer bet!" The entrenching tool advised.

    "Only weaklings rely on dirty tricks. True badasses don''t need that crap!" With that, Hank Fowler strode out the door.

    He grabbed the nearby Wooden Spear and marched towards the wooden fence.

    "Big Bro, what are you doing out here? Get back inside, I''ll protect you!" The wooden fence exclaimed anxiously.

    "Protect me? Please," Hank Fowler scoffed, injecting a bit of humor that aligned with the style of HWFWM. He walked up to the wooden fence and glared at the Black Iron Wolf outside.

    The wolf was staring right back, its crimson eyes filled with a bloodthirsty intensity that could make your blood run cold. It was a believable predator, despite being in a fantastical setting.

    After a brief staredown, Hank Fowler broke the silence. "I don''t know what you want, but let me give you a piece of advice: stay the hell away from my shelter. Or I''ll end you."

    The wooden fence: "..." Since when did Hank Fowler get so brave?

    Woof!

    The Black Iron Wolf seemed to take offense to that. It growled, its gaze fixed on Hank Fowler, those bloodthirsty eyes flashing. "Human, are you threatening me? You think I won''t tear you apart right now?" Even though it could speak, its behavior remained largely animalistic.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Hank Fowler gave it the middle finger. "Yeah, I''m threatening you. What are you gonna do about it?"

    The Black Iron Wolf was practically foaming at the mouth. "Come out here, and I''ll rip you to shreds!"

    Hank Fowler taunted back, "Why don''t you come in here, Fency? I''ll chop you into wolf steaks with Chopper!" He wasn''t stupid enough to go outside. With the wooden fence, he had the advantage. The taunting scene felt more dynamic and engaging than the original.

    "Damn it! Just you wait!" The wolf roared and swiped at the wooden fence with a claw.

    Shriek!

    A long scratch appeared on the wooden fence. The attack was powerful, but not enough to break through. The wolf was proving to be a worthy challenge, setting up the LitRPG elements nicely.

    Hank Fowler continued his provocation. "Come on! You were talking so big before! Come and get me!"

    "You''re really asking for it!" The wolf seemed to have reached its limit, its body radiating a palpable aura of killing intent.

    Suddenly, it opened its massive jaws, revealing sharp fangs that glinted under the moonlight.

    Woof!

    The wolf lunged and bit down on the wooden fence.

    Crack!

    Its fangs easily pierced the wood.

    "Argh..." The wooden fence let out a bloodcurdling scream.

    "Now''s my chance!" Hank Fowler''s eyes lit up. He gripped the spear with both hands and thrust it towards one of the wolf''s eyes with all his might.

    This was it. All or nothing. One shot to take it down.

    The wolf panicked, struggling to break free. But its teeth were stuck in the wooden fence. It could only watch helplessly as the spear came hurtling towards it.

    Squelch!

    The spear pierced the wolf''s eyeball, disappearing into its socket. Blood splattered everywhere, creating a gruesome scene under the moonlight.

    Howl!

    The wolf shuddered violently and let out a pained shriek. It swiped at the spear with a paw, showcasing its animalistic nature.

    Crack!

    The spear snapped in half.

    With a final, desperate jerk, the wolf pulled its head free, losing two teeth in the process. It turned and fled, its movements still those of a wounded animal.

    "Big Bro, it''s trying to escape!" The Machete reminded him.

    A cold smirk formed on Hank Fowler''s lips. "It won''t get far." He''d stuck a poisoned thorn on the spearhead and coated it with a potent toxin. Unless that wolf had some serious poison resistance, it was a goner.

    And sure enough, after running about ten meters, the wolf collapsed, twitched a few times, and then went still. It hadn''t been given any unnecessary human-like motivations, keeping it a suitable antagonist.

    Hank Fowler grinned and rushed over, Machete in hand.

    Up close, he saw a black liquid oozing from the wolf''s injured eye, giving off a pungent stench. Yep, the poison had done its job.

    Without hesitation, Hank Fowler raised his Machete and brought it down on the wolf''s neck.

    Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

    Three chops later, the wolf''s head rolled away from its body. Wolf meat was edible, but if he didn''t act fast, the poison would contaminate the whole carcass.

    Just as Hank Fowler was about to start butchering the wolf, a burst of starlight erupted from the corpse. This was a clear nod to the game-like mechanics of the world.

    Two objects were faintly visible within the glow.

    "What the hell?" Hank Fowler was startled. He stared intently.

    The starlight vanished, and two cans of braised pork appeared in its place. The wolf had dropped loot, further solidifying the LitRPG elements.

    "Huh?" Hank Fowler was bewildered.

    What just happened? Where did these cans of food come from?

    Then it hit him. Could this be loot from killing the wolf?

    He didn''t waste any more time and quickly grabbed the cans.

    Just then, a voice echoed in his mind.

    [Congratulations, Player Hank Fowler, for being the first player in Zone 10001 to kill a Black Iron Wolf. You are awarded one Spatial Storage Bag.]

    Suddenly, a small, palm-sized yellow pouch appeared in Hank Fowler''s hand. It was soft and finely made.

    "More rewards? And a freaking storage bag?!"

    This was too good to be true. Hank Fowler stood there, completely stunned. It was like Christmas, his birthday, and winning the lottery all rolled into one.

 Chapter 33: Wolf Slayer

    His gaze drifted, landing on the spatial storage bag.

    Suddenly, a description popped into his head.

    [Spatial Storage Bag: Binds to the user upon a drop of blood. Can be opened and closed with a thought. Contains ten cubic meters of storage space. Food placed inside will never spoil. Note: Cannot store living creatures.]

    Overwhelmed with excitement, Hank Fowler bit his finger and dripped a drop of blood onto the bag.

    Instantly, he felt a strange connection form between him and the pouch.

    With a thought, Hank aimed the Spatial Bag at the Ironhide Wolf''s corpse and mentally commanded, "Store!"

    The bag''s opening widened, emitting a powerful suction that instantly pulled the massive wolf carcass inside.

    "What a treasure!" Hank exclaimed, marveling at the bag.

    Then, staring intently at the bag, he said softly, "Hey, Baggy, why aren''t you talking?"

    Spatial Bag: "What is there to say?"

    Hank raised an eyebrow. "I''m your master. Shouldn''t you at least greet me?"

    Spatial Bag: "Boring."

    Hank: "...."

    Well, someone''s playing hard to get.

    The Machete, seemingly unable to stand it any longer, huffed, "Bro, this bag is way too arrogant. It''s disrespecting you! Let me teach it a lesson!"

    "That won''t be necessary." Hank chuckled.

    With this Spatial Bag, he could store surplus food without worrying about it going bad. This thing was seriously useful; there was no way he was going to risk damaging it.

    Later, Hank dug a pit and buried the Ironhide Wolf''s head.

    Then, he returned to his shelter.

    "Bro, I can''t believe it! You actually took down that big black wolf! You''re insane!" The wooden fence offered its praise.

    "Cut the crap, Fency," Hank said with a laugh.

    "I''m not flattering you, I''m genuinely impressed." The wooden fence chuckled, then changed its tone to a pleading one, "Bro, that big black wolf bit me. Can you, uh, maybe heal me up a bit?"

    The wolf''s bite had left several holes, and it was still throbbing.

    Hank placed his hand on The wooden fence''s wounds and activated his healing talent.

    In an instant, the damaged holes were mended.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Thanks, bro!" The wooden fence expressed its gratitude joyfully.

    Hank didn''t say anything, he just grabbed his Machete and entered The Hut.

    The moment he stepped inside, his eyes lit up.

    A thatched bed had appeared before him.

    The Hut: "Hank, the thatched bed is complete."

    "Not bad, Thatchy," Hank praised, then spread the straw mat on the bed and lay down.

    Gotta say, it was pretty comfortable, way better than sleeping on the ground. At this stage, there probably weren''t many survivors who could sleep on a bed. He was definitely ahead of the curve.

    Originally, Hank had planned to continue sleeping, but after the fight with the big black wolf, he was still wired, his sleepiness completely gone.

    So, he opened the regional chat group to see what was up.

    Eddie Drumpf: "Guys, that big black wolf is back! Holy crap, it''s gnawing on my wooden barricade! What should I do? I''m waiting online, it''s pretty urgent!"

    Peter Young: "It''s chewing on the barricade, not you. Why are you freaking out?"

    Eddie Drumpf: "If it breaks the barricade, I''m next! Can''t you see why I''m worried?"

    Peter Young: "Hasn''t it gotten to that point yet?"

    Eddie Drumpf: "And what if it does?"

    Peter Young: "Then you''re screwed."

    Eddie Drumpf: "...."

    Wally Cox: "Hey guys, no one''s sleeping?"

    Lee Lightman: "That big black wolf is right outside my shelter, staring me down. How am I supposed to sleep?"

    Stan Strong: "Guys! Big news!"

    Lou Yang: "What is it?"

    Stan Strong: "The System just released an announcement."

    Lou Yang: "What did the announcement say?"

    Stan Strong: "In our Zone 10001, someone managed to kill that big black wolf. They''re the first survivor in our zone to do it."

    Everyone: "Holy shit!"

    Lou Yang: "Seriously?"

    Stan Strong: "Would the System lie?"

    Charles Strong: "Who''s the badass?"

    Sue Lynn: "That big black wolf was two meters long and extremely vicious. How did they manage to kill it?"

    Stan Strong: "The announcement didn''t reveal the person''s name, so I don''t know."

    Wally Cox: "From what I''ve seen, that big black wolf was probably Level 2. To kill it, you''d need to be at least Level 3 and have a really sharp weapon. Is there anyone that strong in our zone?"

    Jeff Johnson: "There''s a female player in our zone named Zara Vance. She awakened a lightning talent, which is supposed to be super powerful. Maybe she''s the one who killed the big black wolf?"

    Peter Young: "Damn! A lightning talent? That''s insane. Hey, does Zara Vance have a boyfriend? I''m interested."

    Zara Vance: "What kind of toad are you?"

    Peter Young: "...."

    Jeff Johnson: "Zara Vance, did you kill that big black wolf?"

    Zara Vance: "It wasn''t me."

    Jeff Johnson: "If it wasn''t you, then who? Is there anyone stronger than you in our zone?"

    Luna Lovelace: "Sister Zara''s lightning talent can shatter even huge rocks. Who could be stronger than her?"

    Stan Strong: "But this mystery person killed the big black wolf, something even Zara Vance couldn''t do. How can you say she''s stronger?"

    Luna Lovelace: "The big black wolf just didn''t show up at our shelter. Otherwise, Sister Zara would have definitely taken it down."

    Charles Strong: "Every player has a big black wolf outside their shelter. Why doesn''t yours?"

    Luna Lovelace: "Aren''t there four players here? Three of us built our shelters together. The other one built theirs somewhere else. The big black wolf must have gone to that other person''s shelter."

    Stan Strong: "Why would the big black wolf go to that person''s shelter and not yours?"

    Willow Frost: "It''s simple. The big black wolf is a bully. It probably figured that guy was a pushover, so it chose his shelter."

    Stan Strong: "That makes sense."

    Hank: "...."

    He was a pushover?

    Didn''t he just take down that Ironhide Wolf?

    He was the first Wolf Slayer in Zone 10001!

    And they were looking down on him?

    Hank scoffed, closed the chat group, and decided to get some rest.

    ......

    Time flew by, and soon it was the next morning.

    Gentle sunlight shone into the shelter, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

    "Bro, it''s morning! Time to get up and pee!" the entrenching tool suddenly shouted.

    Hank rubbed his sleepy eyes, stretched, got out of bed, and pushed open the door.

    As usual, he greeted the Sun, "Good morning, Mr. Sun!"

    Sun: "Do I know you? Stop trying to get close to me!"

    Hank: "...."

    He greets it politely, and all he gets is snark.

    If only he could do something about the Sun, he''d definitely show it who''s boss.

 Chapter 34: Attack of the Killer Corn

    Hank Fowler took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the courtyard. A vibrant splash of green caught his eye.

    The garden was thriving. Cucumber vines snaked along the ground, their verdant leaves punctuated by slender, young cucumbers dangling invitingly.

    The corn stalks stood tall and proud, their long, emerald leaves rustling in the breeze. Each stalk bore plump, full ears, practically begging to be harvested.

    The tomato plants were laden with fruit, several of which were a vibrant, juicy red, their plumpness promising a delicious treat.

    The whole garden was a testament to nature''s vitality, a vibrant display of life and growth.

    A flicker of surprise crossed Hank''s face. He hadn''t expected such explosive growth in just two nights. The tomatoes, corn, and cucumbers were practically bursting at the seams.

    This was insane!

    Turning to a tomato plant, he asked, "Hey, Toma, are your fruits ripe yet? Edible?"

    "The red ones are good to go," the tomato plant replied. "The green ones need a bit more time."

    Hank''s eyes lit up. He quickly plucked a ripe tomato, gave it a quick rub with his sleeve, and took a bite.

    Sweet, juicy, and utterly delicious.

    It was pure bliss.

    A look of pure satisfaction spread across Hank''s face as he devoured the tomato. He polished it off quickly, then grabbed two more, wolfing them down with gusto.

    After his tomato feast, he gathered all the ripe ones, stashing them in his Spatial Bag. The best part about this magic bag was that food never spoiled. He could have a tomato whenever he felt like it!

    Next, Hank turned his attention to the three cucumber plants. "Hey, Cukes, are your fruits ready for harvest?"

    "Edible, yes," a cucumber replied. "But I''d recommend waiting a couple more days. We haven''t reached our full potential yet."

    "And how big is ''full potential''?" Hank asked, intrigued.

    "At least half a meter long!"

    "Half a meter? Okay, you guys keep growing then." Hank chuckled. He then turned his gaze towards one particular corn stalk.

    This was the one he''d, ahem, "fertilized" with his own special brand of nutrients a couple of times. It had shot up to a towering two meters, dwarfing the other three stalks. Not only that, but it was sporting three massive ears of corn, each at least thirty centimeters long and bursting with kernels.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    "Hey, Corny, your cobs look ready to go," Hank said with a grin.

    "They are edible," the corn plant confirmed. "But I''d strongly advise against harvesting them."

    "Why''s that?" Hank asked, puzzled.

    "Once you pick my cobs, my purpose is fulfilled," the corn explained. "I''ll wither and die."

    Hank stroked his chin, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, if that''s your destiny, don''t fight it. Just accept your fate and kick the bucket."

    The corn plant was silent for a moment.

    Just as Hank reached out to snap off a cob, the corn spoke up, "Wait a minute!"

    Hank paused, a frown creasing his brow. "What is it now?" he asked impatiently.

    The corn plant spoke quickly, "Keep me around, and I''ll be way more valuable to you! I can level up! Once I reach level 2, I can become your ally, your battle partner!"

    Hank''s eyes widened in disbelief. "You can fight?"

    A corn plant? Fighting? Was this some kind of joke?

    "Once I hit level 2," the corn plant declared confidently, "I can launch my cobs like projectiles! They pack a punch like a cannonball. Seriously, the destructive power is insane!"

    Hank''s heart pounded with a sudden surge of excitement. "And how do you level up?"

    If this corn could really evolve into some kind of bio-artillery, it would be a huge asset. Any enemies that dared to attack would be in for a very corny surprise!

    "Leveling up is easy," the corn explained. "I just need to absorb nutrients. Basically, I need to eat shit and drink piss."

    Hank was speechless for a moment.

    Well, that was certainly... doable. He could definitely help with that.

    Clearing his throat, Hank declared, "From today on, you get priority on all shit and piss. Don''t let me down!"

    "I''ll do my best! I won''t disappoint you!" the corn exclaimed excitedly.

    "We want to eat shit and drink piss too!" the other three corn plants chimed in.

    Hank chuckled. "Don''t worry, you''ll all get your turn eventually."

    He was only one man, after all. One turd and a few pisses a day weren''t enough to go around. He would have to prioritize for now.

    "Fine," the other corn plants mumbled, settling down.

    Hank then entered the hut and retrieved The oil lamp, placing it in a sunny spot. The oil lamp absorbed sunlight and converted it into lamp oil. The longer it basked in the sun, the more oil it produced.

    "Boss, I''m bored. When are we going out?" The entrenching tool asked.

    "After breakfast," Hank replied with a smile. He opened his Spatial Bag and pulled out a can of braised pork.

    In this day and age, braised pork was a luxury. If anyone else knew, they''d be drooling with envy.

    Crack!

    Hank used his Machete to open the can and dug in, savoring every bite.

    After finishing the pork, he tossed the empty can to the Machete, which promptly devoured it.

    Hank then stowed the Machete, the entrenching tool, and the Magnifying Glass back into his Spatial Bag. He stepped out of The Hut.

    His plan for the morning was to check out The Sand. Maybe he''d get lucky and find some more treasure chests like the other day.

    Just as Hank opened The wooden fence, a voice called out, "Hank!"

    Hank stopped and turned to see Luna Lovelace jogging towards him like some kind of forest nymph.

    "What do you want now?" he asked, frowning.

    Luna blurted out, "Just checking to see if you''re still alive!"

    Hank stared at her, speechless.

    Was she seriously cursing him first thing in the morning? What was her problem?

    Realizing her blunder, Luna quickly backpedaled. "Hank, don''t get me wrong. We were just worried about your safety, so we came to check on you."

    "You guys actually care about me?" Hank scoffed.

    "We may not be on the same team," Luna said softly, "but we''re all living on this island together. It''s only right that we help each other out. We were genuinely worried about you."

    "Well, you can stop worrying. I''m fine," Hank said coldly. "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have things to do."

    "I need your help with something," Luna said quickly.

    "What is it? Spit it out." Hank tried to be patient.

    A blush crept onto Luna''s cheeks. She whispered, "I''m not feeling well. Can you... can you help me with a treatment?"

 Chapter 35: How Could He Have Such Dirty Thoughts?

    Hank Fowler sized up Luna Lovelace. "So, where exactly does it hurt?"

    Luna Lovelace lowered her head, looking like she''d rather swallow her tongue than say it. "It''s... it''s those two."

    "Huh?" Hank was momentarily lost. Those two? What two?

    Then it hit him. Oh. She couldn''t possibly mean the two obvious¡­ landmarks, could she?

    To be fair, they were pretty impressive landmarks. They seemed to defy the laws of physics, considering Luna''s otherwise slender frame. It wouldn''t be a huge shock if they were causing some issues.

    Alright, so the million-dollar question was: what kind of issues?

    Hank cleared his throat. "Look, I might play doctor sometimes, but I need the symptoms before I can work my magic."

    Luna bit her lip, whispering, "It''s just... they''ve been aching for the past couple of days. It''s so bad, I can barely sleep."

    Hank''s gaze focused on the aforementioned landmarks. As his eyes landed on the two impressive specimens, a voice echoed in his mind.

    "Well, duh, they''re practically bursting out of that thing. And mine are way too small. It''s like trying to stuff a watermelon into a pair of socks."

    Hank''s jaw nearly hit the floor. So, the culprit was a too-small bra?

    Well, that was an easy fix. All she needed was a bigger bra. And, as luck would have it, he just happened to have one.

    Of course, this wasn''t some charity. This baby came from a loot box, and he wasn''t about to give it away for free.

    Luna peeked at him, asking, "Can you... can you fix it, Hank?"

    Hank collected himself, putting on his most serious face. "I can, but the treatment process involves some... physical contact. Just so you''re prepared."

    "Huh?" Luna froze, a blush creeping up her neck. "Is there really no other way?"

    Those were some seriously sensitive areas. The thought of a guy touching them made her want to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment.

    Hank shrugged, feigning helplessness. "Do you think I want to? It''s the only way. No touchy, no healy."

    Luna gnawed on her lower lip, her expression a mask of inner turmoil. Finally, she relented. "Fine, I agree. But you have to promise not to grope!"

    Hank''s eyes widened, and he puffed up his chest indignantly. "I''ll have you know that I, Hank Fowler, am a man of honor! My integrity is beyond reproach! What kind of person do you take me for?"This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Luna looked taken aback, quickly apologizing. "I''m sorry, Hank. I shouldn''t have said that."

    Hank''s expression softened a bit. "Alright, get ready. Treatment time."

    A sudden thought struck Luna. "What do you want in return for this treatment?"

    She remembered that when he healed Willow Frost, he demanded two loot boxes. Would he ask for loot boxes from her too?

    She didn''t have any!

    Hank said plainly, "Nothing."

    When he first saw Luna, he was captivated by her impressive assets. He''d been itching to get a closer look.

    What payment?

    Wait, no! What was he thinking? He was a healer, a man of medicine!

    His primary concern was to alleviate Luna''s suffering. This had nothing to do with any ulterior motives!

    Luna was incredulous. "But you took two loot boxes from Willow. And you want nothing from me?"

    Hank waved a dismissive hand. "You know Willow and I don''t exactly get along. Free treatment? Not a chance. But you and I, we''re cool. Consider this one on the house."

    "Hank, thank you!" Luna genuinely believed him, her heart swelling with gratitude. She had initially pegged Hank as a selfish, greedy jerk.

    But now, it seemed she had misjudged him. Hank was actually a pretty decent guy!

    "Let''s get this show on the road, shall we?" Hank urged, his eagerness barely concealed.

    "Okay," Luna nodded.

    Overcome with shyness, she squeezed her eyes shut.

    Hank licked his lips, his hands reaching out like a pair of heat-seeking missiles towards the two landmarks. He gave them a gentle squeeze.

    The sensation... it was glorious.

    "Ugh..." Luna shuddered, feeling like she''d been zapped by a live wire.

    Her face flushed crimson, like a ripe tomato, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

    "Hang in there. Almost done," Hank said, his voice a little strained. He then activated his healing ability.

    A soft, milky-white light flowed from his hands, seeping into Luna''s body.

    Treatment complete, Hank reluctantly withdrew his hands, his eyes lingering on Luna. "So? How do you feel?"

    "So comfortable..." Luna murmured dreamily.

    Thanks to Hank''s ministrations, the pain had vanished completely.

    Hank grinned. "While I''ve fixed you up for now, it''s just a temporary fix. We haven''t addressed the root cause."

    "What do you mean?" Luna''s brow furrowed.

    Did this mean she''d need more "treatments" in the future? The thought of Hank touching her there every day was mortifying.

    Hank cleared his throat, adopting a professional tone. "The pain is because your bra is too small. It can''t handle that kind of volume. Constricting them like that every day is bound to cause problems."

    "Oh, so that''s it." Luna had a moment of clarity, followed by a wave of despair. "But with things the way they are, I can''t exactly go bra shopping!"

    "You could always... go commando," Hank suggested, his gaze drifting downwards for a brief moment.

    "What was that, Hank?" Luna tilted her head, looking at him curiously.

    Hank rubbed his nose, chuckling softly. "Well, I just happen to have a D-cup bra. Should fit you perfectly."

    Luna''s mouth fell open. "Why do you have women''s underwear? Do you have some kind of fetish?"

    Hank coughed violently. "No way! I''m not that kind of weirdo. I got it from a loot box."

    "Oh." Luna''s eyes darted around, then she asked, "So, if I switch to a bigger bra, I won''t have any more pain?"

    "Exactly," Hank confirmed with a nod.

    Luna''s expression turned a little strange. "If you had a bigger bra all along, why not just give it to me? Why go through all this treatment stuff?"

    Hank had his answer ready. "The area was already injured from being constricted. Even with a bigger bra, it would still hurt. So, a pre-treatment was necessary."

    Luna thought about it for a moment. It made sense, she supposed. "Can you give me the bra, then?"

    "Not for free, obviously," Hank stated matter-of-factly. "That bra came from a loot box, and I traded food for that loot box. You can''t expect me to take a loss, can you?"

    Luna looked troubled. "But I don''t have any food left to trade."

    Hank raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over Luna''s figure, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "If you don''t have food, we can always find... other forms of payment."

 Chapter 36: There Are Always More Solutions Than Problems

    Seeing Hank Fowler staring right at her, Luna Lovelace felt a flutter in her chest. She clutched her chest with both hands and took several steps back. "Hank Fowler, you wouldn''t be after my body, would you?"

    "Don''t use your filthy thoughts to insult my character!" Hank retorted, feigning indignation.

    Let''s be honest, with Luna Lovelace''s looks and figure, any guy would have some thoughts. Hank was no exception. But he had his principles. He''d never take advantage of a woman or do anything against her will.

    Luna was slightly taken aback, and probed, "Then what do you want in exchange?"

    A warm smile curled Hank''s lips. "Help me gather a hundred catties of thatch, and I''ll give you the bra."

    He''d always found the bra an eyesore, and had been wanting to get rid of it. If he could trade it for a hundred catties of thatch, it wouldn''t be a bad deal.

    "Huh?" Luna was stunned, a little confused. "What do you need so much thatch for?"

    "I have my uses for it, you don''t need to know. Just tell me if you''re willing to trade or not." Hank said casually.

    Luna hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I accept, but you need to give me the bra first. Also, I might not be able to gather that much thatch today, so give me some time."

    "No problem," Hank agreed readily.

    Luna was excited. "Give me the goods, then."

    "Wait a sec." Hank turned and briskly walked towards the Hut.

    Luna stood there waiting. With nothing better to do, she glanced over at Hank Fowler''s shelter. One look and she was dumbfounded.

    The vegetable patch was lush and green. Cucumbers and tomatoes were already bearing fruit. One particular corn stalk was over six feet tall, with three large ears of corn hanging from it.

    What was going on? How did Hank''s plants grow so fast? Theirs hadn''t even sprouted yet!

    Where did they go wrong? Could it be the seeds?

    While she was lost in thought, Hank returned, holding a neatly packaged black bra.

    "Here." Hank handed the bra to Luna.

    Luna, still slightly dazed, asked, "Hank, how did you plant your crops? Why are they growing so fast?"

    Hank replied casually, "Dug a hole, poured some water, put in the seeds, covered it with soil. Simple as that."

    "You need to water them?" Luna murmured.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Hank chuckled. "Seeds are living things too. If you don''t give them water, how can they grow quickly?"

    "That makes sense," Luna nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "So how much water do you use?"

    Hank, sounding like an expert, elaborated, "Not too much, about a third of a bottle of mineral water per hole."

    "That much?" Luna''s eyebrows furrowed. "Everyone only got three bottles of mineral water. If you use it all for watering, what will you drink?"

    Hank calmly explained, "I''m using distilled seawater to get fresh water."

    "Hank, you know so much," Luna looked at him with admiration.

    "It''s nothing special," Hank scratched his head, chuckling.

    He knew jack squat about distilling fresh water. He just had a small pond. Of course, he couldn''t tell Luna that.

    Hank then asked, "You guys must have finished your mineral water, right? What are you drinking every day?"

    "We get up early every morning, just as the sky is getting light, to collect dew. It''s barely enough to drink. But using it to water the seeds is completely out of the question," Luna sighed.

    Hank smiled reassuringly. "There are always more solutions than problems. Once you get used to the environment, things will gradually get better."

    "You''re right!" Luna''s eyes shone with determination.

    "I have things to do, so I won''t keep you," Hank said, heading towards the Sand.

    Luna glanced at Hank Fowler''s shelter, her eyes filled with envy. After a short pause, she found a patch of tall grass, ducked in, and quickly changed into her new bra.

    Finished, she returned to her own shelter.

    Zara Vance was standing outside the wooden fence, looking out. When she saw Luna returning, she asked anxiously, "How is Hank doing? Is he still alive?"

    "Hank is alive and well," Luna grinned.

    "That''s good to hear," Zara breathed a sigh of relief.

    Luna looked at Zara curiously. "Sister Zara, you''re so concerned about Hank''s safety. Don''t tell me you''ve got a crush on him?"

    "Don''t talk nonsense," Zara''s face flushed with a hint of annoyance. She glared at Luna and said slowly, "Hank has a healing talent. If anything happens to him, who will heal us if we get injured?"

    "That''s true," Luna nodded.

    Zara pondered for a moment, then asked again, "How is Hank''s condition? Is he so hungry that he can''t even walk?"

    Each survivor here was only given three loaves of bread and three bottles of mineral water. At most, it was only enough for one day. After that, they needed to find food on their own. But the island was too dangerous. Even the weak grasshoppers had some fighting ability.

    Hank only had a healing talent, which made him practically useless in a fight. He probably couldn''t find any food. He might have been starving for the past two days.

    Luna smiled and said, "Sister Zara, you won''t believe it, but Hank is doing great. He''s positively glowing, much better than us."

    "Huh?" Zara was stunned, confused. "Where did he get food and water?"

    Luna replied without hesitation, "The plants he planted are already bearing fruit. The corncobs are at least twelve inches long, so he''s not lacking in food. Also, he''s been distilling seawater to get fresh water. He has plenty to eat and drink."

    "What?" Zara was completely bewildered. Her thoughts seemed to have frozen.

    Hank, who was far less combat-capable than them, was actually living more comfortably? This was a bit hard for her to accept.

    After a moment of daze, Zara asked, "Why are Hank''s plants growing so fast?"

    Luna truthfully relayed, "Hank said that seeds are living things and need water. As long as you water them, they''ll grow quickly."

    "I see," Zara''s eyes deepened. "It seems we also need to find a way to get more fresh water."

    Luna suddenly said, "Sister Zara, I have an idea. We found two more treasure chests, right? We can trade them with Hank Fowler for fresh water. With water, we can irrigate the plants, and then we''ll have a food source soon."

    Because the last time they opened a treasure chest, a poisonous bee came out, and Willow Frost was stung, nearly dying from the poison. So they were a little hesitant to open treasure chests now.

    But if they didn''t open the chests, they wouldn''t get anything, and the chests would just be a decoration. It would be better to trade them with Hank.

 Chapter 37: Ill Just Give You a Little Trim

    Zara Vance thought for a moment. "Trading the treasure chest for pure water is doable, but it needs to be at least ten bottles. Any less, and it''s not worth the trouble."

    "Alright, I''ll go talk to Hank Fowler at noon," Luna Lovelace nodded in agreement.

    "Can''t you go now?" Zara frowned slightly.

    Luna smiled wryly. "No time now. I''m off to cut some grass."

    "Cut grass? What for?" Zara was confused.

    "To pay off a debt!" Luna declared, hoisting the entrenching tool and heading towards a patch of tall weeds nearby.

    Zara: "...."

    Meanwhile, Hank Fowler arrived at the beach and greeted the large tree first. "Morning, Tree Bro!"

    The tree shuddered involuntarily. Oh, crap, not this demon again, it thought miserably.

    Hank glanced at the tree, chuckling. "Tree Bro, why do I get the feeling you''re a little scared of me?"

    Tree: "N-no, not at all! I just woke up, that''s all. Still a bit groggy."

    They had only met twice. The first time, Hank had stripped its bark; the second time, he had chopped off a branch. Of course, it was terrified!

    "Alright then, go back to sleep. I won''t disturb you," Hank said with a grin, heading towards a sandy area further down the beach.

    The tree breathed a sigh of relief. Please don''t come back, it pleaded silently.

    There were two beaches on the east side of the island. Hank first went to the smaller one. The Sand was quiet. He scanned the ocean surface, but there were no treasure chests in sight. He turned his attention to the sand beneath his feet. "Morning, Sandy!"

    The Sand: "Good morning, human."

    Hank: "How are things today? Any clams around?"

    The Sand: "No clams, but there are two conches."

    Hank''s eyes lit up. "Where?"

    Conch meat was delicious, and much bigger than clams. Two conches were better than a dozen clams.

    The Sand: "Just five meters ahead."

    Hank walked forward, took out his Spatial Bag, and pulled out the entrenching tool, and started digging. Soon enough, he unearthed two massive conches, each weighing at least eleven pounds (five kilograms).Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "Who the hell is disturbing my sleep?" one of the conches suddenly grumbled.

    The entrenching tool, ever the instigator, chimed in, "Your Digger grandpa did it!"

    "Little Digger, we''ve never done anything to you. Why did you dig us up?" the second conch huffed.

    The entrenching tool chuckled. "It was my big bro''s idea. Ask him."

    "Human, why are you doing this?" the first conch demanded.

    Hank rubbed his nose, smiling faintly. "What else? I''m going to eat you, of course."

    The second conch scoffed. "Eat us? Do you even have the ability? Can you break through our defenses?"

    The first conch added, "Our shells are harder than steel. I suggest you don''t waste your time. Just let us go!"

    Hank chuckled. "And if I were to throw you into a pot of boiling water, how would you deal with that?"

    "Huh?" Both conches were stunned, then panicked. If they were boiled, even the hardest shell wouldn''t save them!

    The first conch was almost in tears. "Human, please let us go! We don''t taste good at all!"

    The second conch chimed in, "Not only do we taste bad, but we''ll also give you diarrhea! You should eat something else!"

    "Being eaten by me is the greatest honor of your lives. Don''t be ungrateful!" Hank snorted and promptly muted the two conches. The world fell silent.

    He then carried the two giant conches to the other beach. As soon as he arrived, two large blue crabs scuttled over excitedly, greeting him warmly. "Good morning, human!"

    "Morning!" Hank smiled and introduced himself. "My name is Hank Fowler. Just call me Hank from now on. It sounds awkward when you keep calling me ''human''."

    "Okay," the male crab, Bruiser, nodded. "I''m Bruiser, and this is my wife, Petal. You can call us by our names too."

    "Those are great names," Hank said, then got down to business. "Have you seen any treasure chests today?"

    "No," Bruiser shook his head.

    "Aww," Hank was slightly disappointed.

    Petal suddenly spoke up, "Hank, do you eat fish?"

    "Of course," Hank replied without hesitation.

    Petal pointed a large claw towards a cluster of rocks nearby. "There are many pools of water in those rocks. A lot of fish got trapped there during low tide last night. If you want to eat, you can go catch them."

    Hank was taken aback. "You''re giving me the fish? Don''t you want to eat them?"

    Bruiser quickly said, "We''ve already eaten a lot, and we''re full. Besides, you''re our savior. Giving you some fish as a thank you is the least we can do."

    "Well then, I won''t be polite," Hank said, excitedly making his way into the rocks. He scanned the area and sure enough, found several fish trapped in one of the pools. They weren''t huge, but each was at least a pound or more.

    Hank''s eyes lit up, and he jumped into the pool, catching fish with his bare hands. After about ten minutes, he had caught all five fish from the pool. He then moved on to other pools, each containing a few fish. Hank was having a blast.

    Two hours later, he had caught over thirty fish, the largest weighing nearly eleven pounds (five kilograms). It was a bountiful harvest. Of course, Hank didn''t catch all the fish, leaving a dozen or so behind. After all, Bruiser and Petal needed to eat too. He had to leave some for them.

    After catching the fish, Hank returned to the beach, chatted with the Sand for a bit, and easily obtained the location of the clams. He then started digging with his trusty entrenching tool.

    More than an hour passed in the blink of an eye. Hank had dug up over twenty clams. It was now noon. Hank said goodbye to the two crabs and headed back.

    When he approached the large tree, he stopped, looked at it, and smiled. "Tree Bro, you need a haircut."

    "What do you mean?" The tree was confused.

    But then, Hank swung his Machete.

    Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

    Small branches fell to the ground. He wasn''t trying to hurt the tree; he just needed firewood for cooking.

    "Arghhhh!" the tree screamed in agony.

    "What? I''m just giving you a little trim. Why are you screaming so loud?" Hank said, rolling his eyes.

    "A little trim? You''re mutilating my body!" the tree protested indignantly.

 Chapter 38: Aim For My Face?

    Back at the shelter, Hank Fowler got to work on dinner.

    He sparked a fire, grabbed a couple of fish, skewered them on sticks, and set them over the flames.

    It wasn''t long before the savory aroma of grilled fish filled the air.

    Hank licked his lips, trying to be patient. It felt like an eternity.

    Five minutes later, the fish were golden brown, and the smell was driving him nuts. He didn''t waste any more time, tearing into them with gusto. Grease was practically dripping down his chin.

    In no time, both fish were reduced to bones.

    Hank wiped his mouth, already wishing he had more.

    Then, he chugged a bottle of water.

    Feeling stuffed, he was about to head into his The Hut when Luna Lovelace''s voice called out, "Hank! I''ve got your thatch!"

    Hank looked up to see Luna Lovelace approaching, hauling two huge bundles of thatch.

    She dropped them near the The wooden fence with a thud. "That''s about thirty pounds of thatch. We still owe you seventy, so I''ll be back this afternoon."

    "Sounds good." Hank grinned. "You keep at it. I''m gonna go take a nap."

    "Wait a sec."

    Luna stopped him.

    "What''s up?" Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Luna cut straight to the chase. "We want to trade some treasure chests for more water."

    "You found more chests?" Hank asked, surprised. "Didn''t you just get three yesterday? And now two more? Are you guys cheating or something?"

    "Yep, two more today!" Luna said with a smile.

    Hank was puzzled. "Opening chests is a gamble, sure, but you can get some good stuff. Why trade them to me?"

    "Water''s a resource too, right?" Luna said, shrugging. "And it''s something we need right now. It''s a fair trade."

    "Fair enough," Hank nodded. "How much water are we talking?"

    "Ten bottles!" she said without hesitation.

    Hank thought for a moment. "Deal. Go get the chests." His little spring produced ten bottles of water a day, and he only drank about five. He had planned to trade the surplus anyway. Ten bottles of water for two chests was a pretty good deal.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "Be right back," Luna chirped, skipping off.

    Hank went into The Hut, grabbed ten bottles of water, and returned to wait.

    A few minutes later, Luna came running back, clutching two black iron chests. "Here you go, Hank!"

    Hank took the chests, giving them a once-over, and said, "The water''s on the ground. Help yourself."

    Luna gathered the water bottles, smiling. "I''ll be going then."

    "Hey, if you find more chests, you can always trade with me," Hank called after her. "I''ve got food too, not just water."

    "Alright, I''ll talk to Zara Vance about it," she replied, hurrying away.

    Hank carried the two chests into his shelter and set them down. He stared at them for a moment, then decided to strike up a conversation. "Hey there, little chests. How are you?"

    "We''re fine!" the two chests replied in unison.

    "Huh?" Hank blinked.

    The other chests he''d found before had been total jerks, giving him the cold shoulder.

    What was with these two?

    So polite. It was freaking him out a little.

    After a moment of awkwardness, Hank asked, "So, what goodies do you have inside?"

    The first chest said, "I''ve got a pack of smokes."

    The second chest said, "I''ve got a bag of chips."

    Hank''s face fell.

    Ten bottles of water for this? What a rip-off.

    But, what could he do? He opened the chests.

    A pack of generic cigarettes and a bag of plain potato chips. Great.

    Hank sighed and stashed the disappointing loot in his Spatial Bag.

    Next, he grabbed the thatch Luna had brought and carried it to The Hut. "Hey, Thatchy, open wide."

    A crack appeared on the wall of The Hut, like a gaping maw.

    Hank tossed the two bundles of thatch inside.

    "What are we making this time, Hank?" Thatchy asked.

    "Nothing for now. We''re saving up for an upgrade," Hank replied. He had a bed now, so he was good on furniture for the moment.

    "Thank you, Hank!" Thatchy said happily.

    "No problem, buddy. We''re a team," Hank said with a smile. He opened the door, went inside, and lay down on his thatch bed, ready for a nap.

    But a few minutes in, his stomach started to grumble. A different kind of grumble.

    It hit him. He''d been on this island for two days, and he hadn''t taken a single dump.

    He was eating, but nothing was coming out. That couldn''t be good.

    Hank got up, opened the door, and headed straight for the outhouse.

    "Hank, what are you doing? Are you going to take a crap?" The Corn asked.

    "Yeah," Hank admitted, then asked, "Why do you care?"

    "Did you forget what I told you?" The Corn said, sounding excited. "I eat crap to level up! Hurry up and feed me!"

    Hank chuckled, walking over to The Corn. "Where do you want it? Should I just aim for your face?"

    If he had to aim for The Corn''s face, he would have to bend over and take a dump, which would be challenging.

    He''d never tried that before.

    He wasn''t sure he could pull it off.

    "Just dig a hole next to me with The entrenching tool, do your business in the hole, and then cover it back up with dirt," The Corn explained.

    "That''s easy enough," Hank muttered. He grabbed The entrenching tool, dug a hole, and then said, "Close your eyes while I go. No peeking."

    "Don''t worry, I''m not into that," The Corn replied. "I just like eating poop!"

    Hank felt a little better. He started to undo his belt, but then he remembered something.

    He didn''t have any toilet paper!

    What was he going to do after he was done?

    Crap. He pulled his pants back up.

    "Hank, what''s wrong?" The Corn asked, sounding impatient.

    "Hold on a sec," Hank said. He opened the trading hall interface.

    He searched, but nobody was selling toilet paper.

    Then, he opened the regional chat group and sent a message: "Hey guys, anyone got toilet paper? I can trade water or food."

    Wally Cox: Hank, what do you need toilet paper for?

    Hank Fowler: To wipe my ass, obviously.

    Wally Cox: At a time like this, when it''s hard to even find food, you''re using toilet paper? That''s pretty extravagant!

    Hank Fowler: What am I supposed to use then?

    Eddie Drumpf: Rocks, thatch, or leaves work just fine.

    Hank Fowler: ...

 Chapter 39: No Toilet Paper? Fingers Will Do

    "...Using this stuff to wipe, doesn''t it sting?" Jeff Johnson asked, grimacing.

    "You haven''t tried it?" Eddie Drumpf raised an eyebrow.

    "Nope. Haven''t had a decent meal in two days. Haven''t even had a decent shit," Jeff admitted.

    "Yeah, it stings a bit. But what else are we supposed to do? Just leave it there?" Eddie shrugged.

    "If you''re really worried about the pain, there''s another way," Peter Young chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye.

    "What way?" Wally Cox asked, intrigued.

    "Use your fingers!" Peter declared, grinning.

    A collective "Eww!" echoed through the group.

    "It''s a little gross, sure, but at least your butt won''t be on fire," Peter defended his suggestion.

    "You can''t be serious. That''s disgusting," Stan Strong said, wrinkling his nose.

    "What''s disgusting about it? Just wash your hands after. Of course, before you wash them, make sure to rub them in the dirt first. That''s the only way to get them truly clean," Young explained with a straight face.

    Charles Strong stared at him. "Have you... always done it that way?"

    "If there''s toilet paper, of course, I''ll use that! But we''re in the middle of nowhere. If you don''t use your fingers, you''re stuck with rocks," Peter said matter-of-factly.

    The group fell silent, contemplating the grim reality of their situation.

    Hank Fowler, listening in on the chat group, gritted his teeth. He briefly considered using a few leaves, but the thought of using his fingers was simply unbearable. Just as he was about to close the chat, a message popped up.

    Lee Lightman: Hank Fowler, I have a roll of toilet paper. But I don''t want food or water.

    Hank: What do you want for it?

    Lee: I''m dying for a smoke. If you have any cigarettes, we can trade.

    Hank''s eyes lit up. Hank: I do.

    He''d just gotten a carton of "Smokey Joes" from a treasure chest. Perfect timing.

    Lee: What brand?

    Hank: "Smokey Joes".

    Lee: Dude, I usually smoke Marlboro Golds, or at least some Camels or Pall Malls. You''re offering me five-dollar "Smokey Joes"?

    Hank: We''re in a survival situation here. Beggars can''t be choosers. You want to trade or not?

    Lee: Fine, fine. Let''s trade.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    They entered the trading hall. Hank successfully traded his "Smokey Joes" for a roll of precious toilet paper.

    With his rear-end needs secured, Fowler felt a wave of relief. He quickly took care of business. Five minutes later, he emerged, feeling lighter than air. After refilling the hole he''d dug, he strolled back into the Hut for a well-deserved nap.

    ...

    An hour later, Hank woke up, his mind racing. He opened his status panel.

    Survivor: Hank Fowler

    Area: 10001

    Level: 3

    Experience: 200/400

    Physique:

    Strength: 8 (+20)

    Agility: 10 (+20)

    Defense: 5 (+20)

    Spirit: 11 (+20)

    Talent: Healing

    Seeing his experience at 200, Hank''s heart skipped a beat. Just 200 more, and he''d hit level 4. How many people could have reached level 4 at this stage? Probably very few.

    Fowler knew one thing for sure: to survive in this cruel world, he needed to constantly get stronger. And the way to do that was simple: hunt.

    A plan began to form in his mind. He grabbed his bug spray and headed out of Thatchy. He remembered a certain ant colony he''d spotted earlier. He''d been wary of their numbers before, but with the bug spray, he was practically a god of extermination.

    ...

    Leaving his shelter, Hank headed northeast towards a pile of rubble. That was where the ant colony had made its nest. Instead of rushing in, he opened his Spatial Bag and pulled out the entrenching tool and a fish. The terrain around the rubble was uneven, making it difficult to maneuver. He''d use the fish as bait to draw the ants out.

    "Boss, what are you doing here?" the entrenching tool asked curiously.

    "There''s an ant colony in that rubble. I''m going to wipe them out," Hank replied casually.

    "Their individual combat power isn''t high, but there are a lot of them. How do you plan to deal with that?" the tool inquired.

    Hank''s eyes gleamed with a hint of cunning. "With strategy!"

    The entrenching tool was silent for a moment. "..."

    So, he was going to play dirty again? Those poor ants... how did they end up on Fowler''s hit list? Today was probably going to be their last. The entrenching tool offered a moment of silence for the soon-to-be-extinct colony.

    Hank chopped up the fish and placed the pieces on a clearing outside the rubble. Then he hid in a nearby bush, observing patiently. After a few minutes, a large, black ant, about the size of a peanut, emerged from the rubble. It seemed to catch a whiff of something delicious and stopped to investigate.

    Its antennae soon locked onto the pile of fish. The ant froze for a moment, then scurried over to the feast. It cautiously took a bite, its tiny ant-mandibles working furiously. After confirming there was no immediate danger, it started munching with gusto.

    The ant seemed to dance in delight at the taste, then grabbed a piece of fish and scurried back the way it came.

    "Boss, that lone ant is getting away! Aren''t you going to do something?" the entrenching tool prompted.

    A sly grin spread across Hank''s face. "One ant isn''t worth my time. Just wait, Digger. Soon, a whole army will be here. Then it''ll be showtime."

    "But if there are too many, won''t it be dangerous?" the tool asked, a hint of worry in its tone.

    Fowler chuckled. "Everything is under control!"

    Three minutes passed in a flash. Suddenly, a rustling sound echoed from the rubble. Then, a seemingly endless stream of black ants poured out, like a miniature, chitinous river. When they saw the fish pieces, they went wild with excitement.

    "Little Qiang wasn''t lying! There really is fish here!"

    "Brothers, charge! Let''s bring this bounty back to the queen!"

    Hundreds of ants swarmed the fish, completely engulfing it in a writhing mass of black bodies.

    Seeing his opportunity, Hank leaped out of the bushes. His sudden appearance startled the ants, but they quickly recovered. They had numbers on their side.

    "Human, what are you doing here?" a slightly larger ant, probably some kind of squad leader, demanded, its voice surprisingly high-pitched.

    "I''m here for one thing," Hank said calmly, "to exterminate you."

    "Kill us?" The ant leader paused, then burst into a fit of what could only be described as ant-laughter. "You? Alone? You think you can kill all of us? Don''t make me laugh!"

    "You think I can''t?" Hank raised an eyebrow, then whipped out the bug spray, aiming it at the mass of ants. "Let''s find out, shall we?"

 Chapter 40: When it Comes to Being Sneaky, Youre the Sneakiest

    Suddenly, a burst of white gas, carrying a peculiar odor, erupted, instantly engulfing the swarm of black ants.

    The white mist seemed to be incredibly toxic, delivering a devastating blow to the oversized insects.

    "Argh..."

    Screams filled the air as the black ants scattered in a desperate attempt to escape.

    "Think you can get away?"

    A cruel smirk formed on Hank Fowler''s lips as he pressed down on the insecticide again, unleashing another thick cloud of white mist.

    The black ants, having barely taken a few steps, collapsed to the ground, twitching for a moment before falling still.

    "Brutal!" the sentient entrenching tool exclaimed, a hint of awe in its voice.

    Hank was still the same old Hank!

    Still as vicious as ever.

    Fowler glanced around, then swung his entrenching tool, crushing any black ants that weren''t quite dead yet.

    With the grim task complete, he opened his status screen.

    [Survivalist: Hank Fowler]

    [Area: 10001]

    [Level: 4]

    [Experience: 20/500]

    [Constitution: 8 + 30]

    [Strength: 8 + 30]

    [Agility: 10 + 30]

    [Defense: 5 + 30]

    [Spirit: 11 + 30]

    [Talent: Healing]

    Seeing that he had leveled up to 4, Hank couldn''t help but grin.

    He had only been on this island for two and a half days and had already reached level 4.

    He might not be the only one leveling this fast, but he was definitely among the best.

    Of course, Fowler wasn''t about to get complacent.

    Level 4 was nothing. It was nowhere near his goal.

    Then, Hank began to scheme.

    The best way to level up quickly was to hunt large groups of monsters.

    Like locust swarms.

    But he had already wiped out the locusts on the east side of the island.

    On the other hand, there was a much larger patch of tall grass on the west side, which might be hiding another locust swarm.

    If he could wipe them out in one go, he might even jump to level 5.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    However, ever since he had parted ways with Zara Vance and her two companions, they seemed to have formed a tacit agreement.

    The island was divided in half, with the center as the boundary. The east side was his territory, and the west belonged to Zara and her group.

    This division was actually quite beneficial to him.

    His territory was equal to the combined territory of three people, so he would naturally gather more resources.

    If he rashly entered their territory to hunt locusts, it would break the balance, and the gains might not outweigh the losses.

    Hank thought it over and eventually abandoned the idea.

    He then left the area.

    "Big Bro," the entrenching tool said, puzzled, "there are still plenty of ants in that nest. Are you just going to leave? Not wipe them all out?"

    "I''ve already killed so many. That''s enough, isn''t it? Why are you so bloodthirsty?" Fowler retorted with a hint of disdain.

    The entrenching tool paused, confused. "Big Bro, when did you become so merciful? This isn''t like you!"

    Hank raised an eyebrow. "Wiping out all the ants at once would indeed give me more experience, but that''s just a one-time deal. If I leave some alive, they''ll breed, and I can harvest them again later. Isn''t that better than killing them all now?"

    "So that''s what you were thinking," the entrenching tool said, suddenly understanding. "When it comes to being sneaky, you''re the sneakiest."

    "You wouldn''t get it," Hank scoffed, continuing on his way.

    As he passed through a grassy area, he suddenly noticed several bright red mushrooms growing among the blades.

    Generally, vibrantly colored mushrooms were poisonous and therefore worthless.

    Fowler had already taken a few steps past them when he suddenly heard voices in his head.

    "This human is about to leave!"

    "Thank goodness, we''re safe."

    "I was so scared just now!"

    "He could increase his Spirit by eating us, why didn''t he pick us?"

    "We''re wearing these bright red clothes, we look just like poisonous mushrooms. He must have mistaken us for poisonous ones."

    "Keep it down, don''t let him hear us."

    "What are you afraid of? He''s not a god, how could he possibly hear us talking?"

    Hearing this, Hank abruptly stopped in his tracks and turned back, his eyes narrowed as he stared intently at the red mushrooms on the ground.

    The group of mushrooms instantly panicked.

    "Why is he back again?"

    "Did he hear us talking?"

    "Is he going to pick us and cook us into a stew?"

    "I''m so scared!"

    "Everyone calm down, don''t panic!"

    "Look at his eyes, they''re so intense. He''s definitely up to no good. I can''t calm down!"

    "Don''t worry, he doesn''t know what we do. He won''t pick us. He''ll leave in a minute."

    "I hope so."

    Fowler observed them for a moment, then smirked. "Hey there, mushroom bros, how are you doing?"

    "Crap!"

    "Is he talking to us?"

    "It seems like it..."

    "He must have heard our conversation."

    "We''re doomed, we''re doomed. He''s definitely not going to let us go."

    The mushrooms were in a state of utter panic.

    Hank focused his gaze on one of the red mushrooms, chuckling. "Is it true that eating you guys will increase my Spirit?"

    The red mushroom quickly replied, "No, it''s not true! We''re all poisonous mushrooms. You''ll die if you eat us!"

    Fowler narrowed his eyes, pondered for a moment, then turned to a smaller red mushroom. "If you tell me the truth, I''ll let you go!"

    The little red mushroom stammered, "Are you serious? You won''t go back on your word?"

    "Absolutely not," Hank promised solemnly.

    One of the larger red mushrooms roared, "Snitch, we''re all brothers here! Don''t you dare betray us!"

    The little red mushroom, after a moment of internal struggle, said, "Big Brother, I''m still young. I don''t want to die so early. Please, just let me have this!"

    The larger red mushroom was furious. "You''re willing to sell out your own brothers just to survive? What kind of scum are you?!"

    The little red mushroom retorted, "Every man for himself. You would do the same if you were in my shoes. But don''t worry, I''m grateful. After you''re gone, I''ll pay my respects to you every day!"

    "You''re a real snitch, you know that?!"

    "Go to hell!"

    "You''re going to die a horrible death!"

    "I curse you to the deepest pits of hell!"

    The other red mushrooms erupted in a chorus of curses.

    The little red mushroom ignored them, turning to Hank. "Eating them won''t have any side effects, and it will definitely boost your Spirit!"

    "Excellent!" Fowler grinned, then raised his entrenching tool and started digging.

    In no time, he had unearthed all five large mushrooms, tossing them into his Spatial Bag.

    He left the little red mushroom untouched.

    The little red mushroom breathed a sigh of relief. "Human, thank you for sparing me."

    Hank said nothing, simply turning and walking away.

    Although the little red mushroom had helped him, it had betrayed its own brothers to do so.

    Fowler despised that kind of behavior, so he didn''t want to engage with it any further.

    "Big Bro, that little mushroom is pure evil. Are you just going to let it go so easily?" the entrenching tool asked.

    Hank''s eyes flashed coldly. "It''s too small, not worth much yet. I''ll let it grow a bit bigger first."

 Chapter 41: The Sea Clans Princess

    The entrenching tool was taken aback. "But you said you''d let it go! Isn''t this a bit... you know... breaking your word?"

    Hank Fowler raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about doing it myself? Just gotta outsource that shit. Like to those two overgrown crabs, for example."

    The entrenching tool was speechless for a moment. "Boss, you''re getting sneakier by the day. I''m impressed!"

    Hank''s face turned darker than a black hole. "Mute the shovel!"

    The entrenching tool: "...."

    .....

    Hank continued his leisurely stroll across the island. He was on a roll, and nothing was gonna stop him now. Not even the distinct lack of anything interesting to find.

    Before he knew it, he found himself standing before a massive tree.

    Looked like a walnut tree, loaded with nuts ¨C probably over a hundred, easy.

    If he could snag all of those, it would be another sweet haul.

    The only problem was that these walnuts were way up high.

    This tree was a good fifty feet tall, at least. Climbing it would be a pain, and falling off would probably suck even more. He could almost feel the phantom pain of broken bones already.

    Hank scratched his chin, thinking. Then, he opened his Spatial Bag and pulled out his trusty Machete, waving it in front of the walnut tree like a shiny, menacing pendulum.

    The walnut tree nearly jumped out of its roots. "Human, what are you doing?"

    Hank chuckled, a sound that promised mischief. "Relax, buddy. I''m not gonna hurt you. Just want some of your, uh, ''fruit''."

    The walnut tree let out a sigh of relief, its leaves rustling. "How many do you want?"

    "All of them," Hank said, straight-faced.

    The walnut tree seemed to consider this for a moment. "Now, now, let''s not be greedy. I''ll give you half. Take it or leave it."

    Hank didn''t say a word. He just gripped the Machete and swung it in a wide arc, a flash of blinding light erupting in the air. It was like a mini sun had decided to grace them with its presence, only way more awesome.

    The walnut tree trembled violently. "Okay, okay! No need to get violent! You can have them all! Just chill!"

    "Less talk, more dropping," Hank growled, his eyes practically glowing with impatience.

    The walnut tree didn''t dare hesitate. It shuddered, and a rain of walnuts began to fall, thudding against the ground like a hailstorm made of delicious, brain-shaped loot.

    Once the nutty downpour stopped, Hank scrambled to collect his prize.

    After a flurry of activity, he counted a grand total of one hundred and twenty walnuts.

    Stashing his hard-earned loot in his Spatial Bag, he moved on to a nearby patch of grass.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    After nabbing a dozen or so grasshoppers like some kind of insect-catching ninja, he headed for the beach.

    The previous treasure chests had all come from the sea, which meant the ocean was basically a treasure chest vending machine.

    Maybe, if he was lucky, he''d snag a few more.

    As Hank reached the Sand, he suddenly heard the sounds of an argument.

    "You can''t eat her! She''s royalty!"

    "Royalty''s a thing of the past! Now, she''s just a stray waiting to be put down. Even if I don''t eat her, someone else will!"

    "I don''t care! If you lay a claw on her, I''ll fight you to the death!"

    "You two little crabs think you can stop me? Are you tired of living?"

    "You''ll have to go through our cold, dead bodies first!"

    "Fine by me!"

    .....

    Hank looked up, scanning the area.

    Not far away, on a cluster of rocks, Bruiser and Petal were facing off against a giant sea turtle.

    It looked like a fight was about to break out, and Hank knew he had to act fast.

    That sea turtle was definitely stronger than Bruiser and Petal. If they fought, his crab buddies would be in serious trouble.

    And he considered those two his friends.

    He couldn''t just stand by and watch his friends get hurt.

    "Hank!"

    Bruiser and Petal were ecstatic to see him.

    Hank was ridiculously strong. With him around, that overgrown turtle wouldn''t be so tough.

    Hank approached them and asked, "Bruiser, what''s going on?"

    Bruiser quickly explained, "This jerk wants to eat our Sea Clan Princess! I said no, and now he wants to kill me!"

    "Sea Clan Princess?"

    Hank was surprised. "Where is she?"

    The Sea Clan had a princess?

    What was she like?

    Was she a giant crab, too? The suspense was killing him.

    Bruiser pointed a large claw behind him. "The princess is in a small pool nearby, but she''s injured and unconscious."

    "I''ll check on her in a bit," Hank said with a smile. He turned to face the sea turtle, his eyes narrowing. "Bruiser and Petal are my friends. You mess with them, you mess with me. You looking for a death wish?"

    The sea turtle looked Hank up and down, scoffing. "You? Kill me? Do you even have what it takes?"

    "You wanna find out?" Hank let out a cold snort, took a step, and dashed towards the turtle with the speed of a caffeinated cheetah.

    Then, gripping his Machete with both hands, he brought it down in a mighty overhead swing.

    A sharp, piercing sound ripped through the air.

    Faced with such a ferocious attack, the sea turtle didn''t even flinch. It just casually retracted its head into its shell with a whoosh.

    CLANG!

    The Machete slammed into the turtle''s shell, the sound of metal on metal echoing across the beach.

    It felt like hitting solid steel, and sparks flew everywhere.

    Hank felt a jolt run up his arms, nearly making him drop his weapon.

    "Holy crap!"

    Hank was stunned.

    This turtle''s defense was insane.

    How was he supposed to deal with this thing if he couldn''t even scratch it?

    "Human, impressed yet? Still think you can kill me?" the sea turtle mocked.

    Hank scoffed. "All you can do is hide in your shell like a coward. Come out and fight if you''ve got the guts!"

    The sea turtle chuckled. "I am a turtle. Hiding in my shell is what I do. Got a problem with that? Come and bite me!"

    Hank''s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. A murderous aura began to radiate from him, like a dark cloud of impending doom.

    If he couldn''t even handle a single turtle, how could he ever hope to rule this world?

    He had to kill this turtle today, no matter what.

    "Boss, this guy''s shell is too hard. We can''t break through. Maybe we should just let it go," the Machete suggested, sounding a little worried.

    "Let it go? Not a chance," Hank said with a cold smile.

    The Machete was curious. "Then what are you going to do?"

    "Use my brain," Hank said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

    The Machete: "...."

    It had heard from the entrenching tool that Hank''s "using his brain" usually meant resorting to dirty tricks.

    So, what kind of underhanded scheme was he cooking up this time?

    The Machete was almost excited to find out.

    Suddenly, Hank tossed the Machete aside and grabbed the sea turtle''s shell with both hands, flipping it over with a grunt.

    "Human, what do you think you''re doing?" the sea turtle panicked.

    Now that it was flipped, it was completely helpless.

    It wasn''t worried about Hank breaking its defenses, but this was still a pretty undignified position to be in.

    "You''ll see," Hank said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He turned to Bruiser and Petal. "You two, go gather some dry grass. As much as you can carry."

    "Dry grass? What for?"

    Bruiser and Petal were confused but didn''t question him. They scuttled off towards a nearby patch of dry grass and started furiously cutting it with their claws.

    In no time, they returned, each carrying a huge bundle of dry grass.

 Chapter 42: This is Extremely Difficult for an Upstanding and Honorable Man Like Me

    "Hank Fowler, we brought the thatch!" Bruiser announced, handing over a bundle of dried grass.

    Hank took it without a word and tossed it onto the giant sea turtle. With a flourish, he produced the Magnifying Glass, angling it just so to focus the sunlight onto the thatch. A thin wisp of smoke curled upwards. Hank gave a gentle puff, and the thatch burst into flames.

    It was only then that Bruiser and Petal realized what was going on. Hank was going to roast the turtle alive! Brutal? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely.

    "Arghhh!" The sea turtle let out a shriek, its stubby little legs flailing uselessly. Nice try, buddy. But thanks to Chu Feng flipping it over, escape was out of the question. It could only lie there and take it as the flames licked at its shell.

    Watching the turtle''s pathetic struggle, the Machete couldn''t help but comment, "Big Bro is truly devious!"

    As two more bundles of thatch were added to the fire, the temperature intensified to over 86¡ãF (30¡ãC). The sea turtle, feeling like it was about to become a crispy critter, started begging, "Human, spare me! I won''t do it again!"

    "Too late," Hank sneered, then turned to his lackeys. "Go get some more thatch. I''ll treat you to some roasted turtle later."

    The promise of food had Bruiser and Petal scrambling back towards the thatch patch with surprising speed. They returned quickly with another two large bundles.

    Without hesitation, Hank tossed them onto the fire. The flames roared higher, turning the air into a shimmering, wavy mess. The sea turtle''s screams of agony eventually subsided as it was burned alive.

    Of course, dead didn''t mean cooked. It needed a bit more time on the barbie. "Petal, keep gathering thatch," Hank ordered. "Bruiser, take me to see your Sea Clan princess."

    "Yes, sir!" Bruiser responded and led Hank into the maze of reef rocks.

    After walking about a dozen meters, they came across a figure in a shallow pool of water.

    Hank''s jaw dropped. Lying there in the pool was a woman with a figure that could make a saint question his vows. A mermaid!

    Her eyes were closed, and she lay there motionless in the water. This was Hank''s first time seeing a mermaid, and he couldn''t help but stare. Her skin was as white and smooth as fine jade, radiating a captivating allure. Her features were exquisite, each detail seemingly sculpted by the gods themselves. A cascade of golden hair flowed behind her, swaying gently with the water, like something out of a dream.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    She was wearing a blue dress that clung to her curves, only revealing a section of her fish tail from the hem downwards.

    "She''s a real looker, isn''t she?" Hank couldn''t help but comment, feeling a certain stirring within him. He''d seen his fair share of beauties, even on this island, Luna Lovelace, Zara Vance, and Willow Frost were all standard beauties. But this mermaid? She was on another level.

    "Hank, what did you say?" Bruiser asked suddenly. From the moment he''d laid eyes on the mermaid, Hank''s gaze had been glued to her. Was he having some indecent thoughts about her?

    "Nothing," Hank mumbled, then quickly changed the subject. "Is this mermaid your Sea Clan princess?"

    "Yes," Bruiser confirmed.

    Hank muttered, "What''s wrong with her? Is she asleep? Or unconscious?"

    "The princess was badly injured," Bruiser explained quickly. "She was already unconscious when she washed up here."

    Hank stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Who did this to her?"

    "I don''t know," Bruiser shook his head.

    Hank''s gaze returned to the mermaid. "She looks like she''s in bad shape. If she doesn''t get treatment soon, she might just kick the bucket."

    "Waaah..." Bruiser started sniffling.

    "What are you crying for? You''ve got me, haven''t you?" Hank scoffed.

    Bruiser''s eyes lit up. "Hank, can you save the princess?"

    Hank gave a meaningful look. "I can save her, but I have no relationship with her. I''m not really in the habit of helping people for free..."

    Bruiser got the hint immediately. "Princess is very grateful. She will definitely repay you if you save her."

    "That''s what I like to hear," Hank nodded, then asked, "Where is she injured?"

    Bruiser stammered, "It looks like... she was slashed across the chest."

    Hank focused on the mermaid''s chest. Sure enough, there was a gash, revealing a glimpse of the majestic peak within. The wound was still oozing blood, staining the surrounding area a gruesome red.

    Hank frowned slightly. "This is a bit tricky..."

    Bruiser''s heart clenched. "Hank, please, I''m begging you, save the princess!"

    Hank rubbed his nose. "Saving her is no problem, but the location of the wound is a little... sensitive. To treat her, I''ll have to, you know, touch her. This is extremely difficult for an upstanding and honorable man like me!"

    "Hank, saving a life is more important! Don''t worry about the small stuff," Bruiser pleaded anxiously.

    Hank sighed dramatically. "For the sake of saving a life, I guess I can make an exception this once."

    "Hank, thank you so much!" Bruiser was overjoyed.

    A sly grin crept onto Hank''s face as he crouched down. He reached a hand into her dress, letting it travel upwards until it reached its destination. The moment he made contact, a jolt, like an electric shock, ran through him. Looking at the mermaid''s beautiful face, he couldn''t help but feel a little frisky.

    Hank took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Then, he activated his healing ability. A milky white light flowed from his fingertips, enveloping the wound. Under the glow, the injury began to heal at a visible rate. In the blink of an eye, it was completely gone, not even a scar remained.

    "Can''t be helping people for free. Gotta get some compensation, right?" Hank muttered to himself, giving the soft flesh a firm squeeze before finally withdrawing his hand, a lingering feeling of reluctance in his movements.

    "Hank, how is she?" Bruiser asked urgently.

    Hank said calmly, "The wound is healed. She should wake up soon."

    Just then, the mermaid''s eyelids fluttered, and she opened her beautiful eyes.

    "Princess, you''re awake! This is wonderful!" Bruiser cried tears of joy.

    The mermaid slowly sat up. As she did, a shimmering light emanated from her lower body. Then, her fish tail vanished, replaced by a pair of long, shapely legs.

 Chapter 43: A Mans Gotta Own Up to His Actions

    "She can shapeshift?"

    Hank Flower watched, a low whistle escaping his lips. His gaze drifted, lingering on the mermaid''s long, pale legs.

    Damn, those are some fine legs, he thought.

    The mermaid, Morgan Clearwater, seemed to snap out of a daze, suddenly realizing the wound on her chest no longer ached.

    What the hell? Did it heal?

    She quickly turned, lifting her top to check.

    The gash on her left breast was gone, vanished without a trace.

    But... why were there fingerprints?

    She didn''t dwell on it, turning back to Bruiser. "Bruiser, did you heal me?"

    "Me? I don''t have that kind of power."

    Bruiser grinned, gesturing with a massive claw towards Hank. "It was Hank. He''s the one who patched you up."

    Morgan turned to Hank, gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you for saving me."

    Hank rubbed his nose, feigning seriousness. "Bruiser said you''re someone who repays kindness. He said if I saved you, you''d compensate me."

    Bruiser: "..."

    Not even two sentences in, and he''s already asking for payment? Talk about blunt.

    Morgan paused, her gaze sweeping over Hank before a soft smile graced her lips. "What kind of compensation do you want?"

    "Treasure chests, food, weapons... I''m not picky," Hank cleared his throat.

    "Those are too mundane. I''ll give you something better."

    A chuckle escaped her lips.

    "Something better?"

    Hank''s interest was piqued. Before he could even speculate, Morgan was suddenly in front of him.

    A faint, alluring fragrance tickled his nostrils. Before he could react, a warmth pressed against his lips.

    Morgan''s lips were on his.

    Hank''s eyes widened, his mind buzzing.

    Did she just force a kiss on me? That came out of nowhere.

    Wait, no tongue? What kind of kiss is this?If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    After the brief kiss, Morgan retreated a few steps, a blush rising on her cheeks. "My name is Morgan Clearwater. I''ll come find you again, in time."

    With that, she dashed towards the sea, bare feet flashing, and plunged into the waves, disappearing beneath the surface.

    Hank finally snapped out of it, muttering, "What about my compensation? A quick peck and that''s it?"

    "Brother, congratulations! You''ve hit the jackpot!"

    Bruiser''s voice boomed, filled with amusement.

    Hank frowned, confused. "What are you babbling about? What jackpot?"

    Bruiser chuckled. "You''ve snagged yourself a royal."

    Hank was even more bewildered. "Spit it out. What''s going on?"

    Bruiser explained, "Mermaids have a tradition. ''A kiss to seal the deal.'' Basically, the Sea Clan princess has taken a liking to you. That''s why she kissed you. You''ve caught her eye, which means you''re in."

    Hank: "..."

    He hadn''t expected things to take this turn.

    All he did was heal Morgan. Why was she offering herself to him?

    Bruiser eyed Hank, a hint of envy in his voice. "You''re one lucky bastard. Other than being a pretty boy, what do you have? How did you manage to catch the Sea Clan princess''s eye?"

    Hank''s face darkened. "What do you mean, ''other than being a pretty boy''? I''m strong as hell, and I''ve got a healing talent. I''m a total package! Can you find anyone better? It''s only natural Morgan would be interested in me."

    Bruiser was silent for three seconds before blurting out, "Now that you put it that way, you two do seem like a good match."

    "I''m not that easy," Hank scoffed.

    Sure, Morgan was gorgeous and had a noble status.

    But they had just met. They barely knew each other.

    How could they just jump into a relationship like that?

    "Hank, does that mean you''re not interested in the princess?"

    Bruiser asked.

    "It''s not about being interested or not. We just don''t know each other. What if we rush into things and our personalities clash?"

    Hank explained.

    "So that''s what you''re thinking."

    Bruiser''s eyes darted around before he suddenly exclaimed, "Wait a minute! If you don''t like the princess, why were you so handsy earlier? You even gave her a little squeeze."

    Hank coughed violently. "Watch your words. When was I ''handsy''? I was healing her! Don''t slander me, or I''ll make you regret it."

    Bruiser stammered, "B-but you squeezed her after you finished healing her. How do you explain that?"

    Hank swallowed hard. "You saw wrong. When did I squeeze her? Don''t talk nonsense."

    Bruiser insisted, "I saw it clearly. I''m not talking nonsense."

    The Machete chimed in, "Brother, I saw it too. You definitely squeezed her, and quite firmly. You even looked like you wanted more. A man''s gotta own up to his actions. No use denying it."

    Hank glared at The Machete. "Mute Chopper!"

    The Machete: "..."

    "Hank, I didn''t see anything just now. Don''t mute me," Bruiser pleaded, fear evident in his voice.

    Hank narrowed his eyes, his voice calm. "It''s good to admit your mistakes. Let''s go back."

    ...

    Back on The Sand, Petal was still piling up thatch.

    The giant sea turtle was roasted to a crisp, a rich, meaty aroma wafting through the air, making mouths water.

    Judging the turtle done, Hank signaled Petal to stop. "Alright, let''s dig in."

    Bruiser and Petal rushed to the turtle, their mouths watering at the delicious smell.

    "Hank, hurry up! I can''t take it anymore," Bruiser urged.

    "Have some self-control."

    Hank chuckled, then sliced off two pieces of turtle meat with The Machete, handing one each to Bruiser and Petal.

    He cut another piece for himself and took a bite.

    The tender, juicy meat burst in his mouth, the rich flavor sending him into a state of bliss.

    Bruiser and Petal were also stuffing their faces, praising the deliciousness of the meal.

    "Here, have some more."

    Hank sliced off two more pieces for Bruiser and Petal.

    ...

    An hour later, the giant sea turtle was gone.

    Hank had only eaten about two pounds.

    The rest was devoured by Bruiser and Petal, who had polished off over fifty pounds of turtle meat between them.

    "What a couple of gluttons," Hank muttered, storing the turtle shell in his Spatial Bag.

    It could be used as a bucket or even a bathtub.

    Waste not, want not. Every resource was precious.

 Chapter 44: Two New Talents

    After a brief chat with the two large crabs, Hank Fowler left the area.

    Back at the shelter, he was surprised to find a dozen bundles of thatch stacked outside the wooden fence, probably around seventy or eighty pounds worth. Luna Lovelace, no doubt. Combined with the thirty pounds she''d delivered that morning, his debt was officially cleared.

    Hank hauled the bundles over to the hut. "Chow time, Thatchy."

    The Hut''s door creaked open wide, practically drooling at the sight of the feast. Hank shoved the bundles in one by one. The Hut munched happily, and once it was finished, it spoke, "Hank, you''re too good to me. If I were a woman, I''d marry you, no doubt. Pop out a few little huts for you."

    "You''re freaking disgusting," Hank muttered, shooting the hut a glare. "Mute Thatchy for an hour."

    Thatchy: "..."

    Hank entered the hut, opened his Spatial Bag, and dumped the Magnifying Glass, Machete, and entrenching tool unceremoniously onto the floor. Then he unmuted the Machete and entrenching tool.

    "Damn it!" The entrenching tool yelped. "That was way too long."

    "Can you not mute us all the time?" The Machete added. "Ever think about how we feel, Hank?"

    "Maybe if you two didn''t run your mouths," Hank retorted, sprawled out on the thatch bed, and opened his status panel.

    Survivalist: Hank Fowler.

    Zone: 10001.

    Level: 4.

    Experience: 50/500.

    Physique:

    Strength: 8+30

    Agility: 10+30

    Defense: 5+30

    Spirit: 11+30

    Talents: Healing, Insight, Space.

    Hank froze. What the hell? Two new talents? Where had those come from? Was this a global thing, or was he special?

    He mulled it over for a second, then opened the chat group. A beat. What the hell? Might as well ask.

    Hank Fowler: Hey, question for you all. Everyone got just the one talent, right?

    Wally Cox: Of course, it''s just one. You got two or something?This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Hank Fowler: Nope. Just one.

    Yeah, no way he was admitting to having three. People would think he''s some kind of freak. Best to keep a low profile for now.

    Eddie Drumpf: Why do you ask, Hank?

    Hank Fowler: Just curious.

    Sue Lynn: I did hear about someone awakening two talents.

    Charles Strong: Seriously? No way.

    Jeff Johnson: It''s true. I heard about it too.

    Stan Strong: What the hell? Why do they get two and we''re stuck with one? Talk about unfair!

    Jeff Johnson: You can take it up with the System.

    Stan Strong: Yeah, I think I''ll pass.

    Yeah, arguing with the System was a bad idea. Hank silently closed the chat, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Where did these two talents come from, though?"

    Then it hit him. That kiss from Morgan Clearwater. Could that be it? He couldn''t be sure, but it didn''t matter. The talents were real, and that''s all that counted.

    So, what could these new talents do? Hank''s gaze flickered to the Insight talent.

    Suddenly, information flooded his mind.

    [Insight: Support talent. Upon locking onto a target, information about the target will appear in your mind.]

    "Holy crap, that''s useful," Hank muttered, his eyes shifting to the thatch hut.

    Target: Thatchy.

    Level: 1.

    Evolution Progress: 30%.

    Attack: 0.

    Defense: 15.

    Spirit: 10.

    Talents: Crafting, Shapeshift.

    Huh. He''d figured the hut was just for keeping out the wind and rain. Turns out, it had a decent defense stat. If he leveled it up a few times, maybe it could become a proper fortress. And it had talents? Two, no less. Crafting made sense ¨C making thatch mats and beds and whatnot. But Shapeshift? What was that about?

    "Hey, Thatchy," Hank called out. "What''s this Shapeshift talent of yours do?"

    Thatchy: "..."

    Hank frowned. "What, are you mute now? Spit it out."

    Still no response.

    "Shit." Hank cursed.

    "Uh, boss," the entrenching tool piped up. "Didn''t you, like, mute it?"

    Right. He had muted the hut for an hour. Hank cleared his throat. "Unmute Thatchy."

    "Hank, how could you treat me like that? I''m so disappointed!" Thatchy whined.

    "Because you were being a pain in the ass," Hank said, getting back to the point. "So, about that Shapeshift talent..."

    "It''s simple," Thatchy explained. "I can change into different shapes, like a bungalow, a two-story house, a bunker, a villa, a castle... stuff like that. But I''m too low level right now. Can''t do any of that yet."

    "Got it." Hank nodded.

    A bit of a niche talent, but not totally useless. I mean, who wouldn''t want to live in a villa instead of a thatch hut?

    Next, Hank turned his attention to the entrenching tool, activating Insight.

    Target: The entrenching tool.

    Level: 1.

    Evolution Progress: 5%.

    Attack: 15.

    Defense: 25.

    Spirit: 10.

    Talent: Toughness.

    "Not bad," Hank commented. He shifted his gaze to the Machete.

    Target: The Machete.

    Level: 1.

    Evolution Progress: 10%.

    Attack: 40.

    Defense: 20.

    Spirit: 10.

    Talent: Sharpness.

    "Damn, that''s some serious attack power," Hank whistled.

    The Machete was only level 1, but its attack was almost on par with his own as a level 4 player. Plus, it had the Sharpness talent. This thing had potential. He''d have to focus on training it up.

    Finally, Hank looked at the frying pan.

    Target: Frying Pan.

    Level: 1.

    Evolution Progress: 0%.

    Attack: 10.

    Defense: 10.

    Spirit: 10.

    Talent: Not Activated.

    "Useless," Hank couldn''t help but say.

    Compared to the Machete and the entrenching tool, the frying pan was utter garbage.

    The frying pan: "..."

    It hadn''t done anything to provoke Hank. Why the sudden insult?

    "Hey, boss," the frying pan said, "did I do something to you?"

    "Nah," Hank replied offhandedly.

    "Then why''d you call me useless?" the frying pan pressed, clearly upset.

    "Just stating a fact," Hank said with a shrug. "Don''t take it personally."

    The frying pan: "..."

    He calls it useless and then tells it not to take it personally? Some nerve!

 Chapter 45: The OP Power of Space

    Just as Hank Fowler was about to use his [Inspect] skill on The Magnifying Glass, a wave of dizziness hit him like a rogue tidal wave. He stumbled, nearly face-planting into the dirt.

    "Bro, you alright?" The entrenching tool asked, his voice laced with concern.

    Hank shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He plopped down on the straw bed, panting like he''d just run a marathon in lead boots. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened.

    What the hell was that?

    Why did I suddenly feel like my brain was doing the cha-cha?

    He pondered for a moment, a suspicion creeping into his thoughts. Could it be that I''m overusing my skills?

    Using skills drained mental energy.

    And when that mental energy hit rock bottom, well, that''s when the world started spinning.

    Thinking this, Hank Fowler quickly pulled up his status screen. Seeing that his [Spirit] stat was down to a measly 1 point, the truth hit him like a brick. This was the side effect of spamming [Inspect] like a newbie who just discovered the button.

    He''d just used [Inspect] four times, burning through 40 points of [Spirit].

    That meant each use cost a whopping 10 [Spirit], way more than his [Heal] skill.

    Luckily, [Spirit] regenerated on its own, so it wasn''t a total disaster.

    After a while, Hank decided to catch some Zs on the bed.

    ...

    He slept for a solid two hours.

    When the sky started turning into a canvas of dusky hues, Hank finally opened his eyes.

    That nap had done him some good. He felt somewhat refreshed, and the dizziness was gone, replaced by a dull ache that was at least manageable.

    He sat on the bed for a bit, gathering his strength, before grabbing The Magnifying Glass and Frying Pan and heading out to the yard.

    He then lit a fire and placed Frying Pan on top.

    "Bro, didn''t you just scarf down that sea turtle meat? You still hungry?" Magnifying Glass asked, tilting his handle in curiosity.

    Hank chuckled. "Not eating, just making some soup."

    He planned to cook those mushrooms he''d found.

    Supposedly, they boosted [Spirit].

    Maybe they could even refill his depleted reserves.

    Fifteen minutes later, a pot of mushroom soup was ready.

    Hank wasted no time in digging in.

    The taste was alright, a bit bland. Would''ve been killer with some salt, but beggars can''t be choosers.

    Before he knew it, the entire pot of mushroom soup was gone.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He quickly opened his status screen again.

    [Survivor: Hank Fowler]

    [Area: 10001]

    [Level: 4]

    [Experience: 50/500]

    [Constitution: 8 (+30)]

    [Strength: 8 (+30)]

    [Agility: 10 (+30)]

    [Defense: 5 (+30)]

    [Spirit: 61 (+30)]

    [Talents: Heal, Inspect, Space]

    "Holy crap!" Hank exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise.

    Not only had the mushroom soup added 50 [Spirit], but it had also completely replenished the [Spirit] he''d used up.

    These things were seriously magical.

    Now that his [Spirit] was back in action, it was time to investigate this [Space] talent.

    As Hank focused on it, information flooded his mind.

    [Space: An offensive, control, and mobility-type talent. Grants the abilities of Spatial Bind, Spatial Slash, and Teleportation.]

    [Spatial Bind: Upon activation, generates an invisible force that restrains the target. Note: Continuously consumes Spirit while in use.]

    [Spatial Slash: Unleashes a spatial blade with terrifying destructive power. The more Spirit consumed, the greater the power. Note: Each use consumes a minimum of 100 Spirit.]

    [Teleportation: Instantly traverse space. The more Spirit consumed, the greater the distance traversed. Note: Each use consumes a minimum of 100 Spirit.]

    Hank was utterly dumbfounded.

    This [Space] talent was ridiculously powerful.

    With this, his strength had skyrocketed.

    Those other survivors, Willow Frost and Zara Vance, or whatever their names were, they were nothing compared to him now. They were like ants beneath his boot.

    "Haha!" Hank couldn''t help but burst into laughter.

    "Bro, are you sure you''re okay?" Corn asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

    "I''m fine," Hank said, raising an eyebrow. He turned to Corn and, without missing a beat, activated [Inspect].

    [Target: Corn]

    [Level: 1]

    [Evolution Progress: 60%]

    [Attack: 0]

    [Defense: 1]

    [Spirit: 10]

    [Talent: Not Yet Awakened]

    "So weak?" Hank frowned.

    This Corn had talked a big game before, even boasting about unleashing corn bombs. Turns out, he was all talk and no action.

    Noticing Hank''s sour expression, Corn hesitantly asked, "Bro, what''s wrong?"

    Hank''s eyes narrowed. "You said you were all that, right? Show me what you''ve got."

    Corn: "I haven''t leveled up yet, so I''m weak as hell right now. But once I level up, I''ll awaken my talent, and then I''ll be a total badass."

    "Oh, really?" Hank muttered, unconvinced.

    "Seriously, I''m not lying!" Corn insisted, sounding earnest.

    "Alright, I''ll take your word for it... for now," Hank said, nodding slowly.

    This Corn''s evolution progress was at 60%. If he fed it some more crap and a few more rounds of pee, it should be able to hit level 2.

    With that in mind, Hank unbuckled his belt and let loose a stream of urine on Corn.

    "This piss is the good stuff! I love it! So good, so good!" Corn exclaimed, practically vibrating with joy.

    Hank clicked his tongue, pulled up his pants, and headed back to The Hut.

    Just as he opened the door, he heard Luna Lovelace''s voice outside. "Hank Fowler."

    "What do you want now?" Hank asked, stopping in his tracks and turning to face her.

    "I... I wanted to borrow something," Luna said, looking like she was holding something back.

    "I don''t have it," Hank replied bluntly.

    Did she think his place was some kind of charity? Always coming to borrow stuff.

    "Huh?" Luna was taken aback. "But I haven''t even said what I want to borrow. How do you know you don''t have it?"

    Hank shook his head, exasperated. "I just don''t want to lend anything to you. I was trying to be polite, but I guess you didn''t get the hint."

    Luna Lovelace: "..."

    Was he really that heartless?

    After a moment of awkward silence, Luna said, "I can cut some thatch for you, as an exchange."

    Hank thought for a moment. "What do you want to borrow?"

    He wasn''t going to lend anything for free.

    But if there was something in it for him, that was a different story.

    Luna bit her lip. "I wanted to borrow some... toilet paper."

    Hank froze, momentarily stunned.

    Toilet paper? What for?

    Then it hit him.

    She needed to take a dump.

    Everyone had to poop.

    It was a law of nature. Nobody could escape it.

    "Hank, please lend me some," Luna pleaded, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.

    Hank''s eyes flickered. "Why don''t you just borrow some from Willow Frost and Zara Vance? Why come to me?"

    Luna lowered her head. "They don''t have any."

    Hank was curious. "Then how do they wipe their butts? With rocks? Leaves? Or maybe their fingers?"

    "Hank, that''s disgusting!" Luna exclaimed, feeling a wave of nausea.

    Hank raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What''s so disgusting about it? If you don''t have toilet paper, those are your options, right?"

    "We don''t use those things," Luna pouted.

    "Then what do you use?" Hank was genuinely interested now.

    Luna hesitated for a moment before saying, "They ripped up their clothes and used them to wipe."

    Hank stroked his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. "If they keep doing that, won''t they run out of clothes?"