Sunny, ideal for fishing and netting.
Location: Origin Sea
Daylight remaining: 8 hours.
Temperature: 15–25°C.
Wind: Level 1.
Yang Yi was fishing desperately. He now needed not just fresh water but also urgent medical supplies—both obtainable through fishing. A quick scan of the World Chat revealed someone had once caught common-quality medical bandages with healing and anti-inflammatory effects. Though bandages wouldn't cure his current condition, other medical items must exist.
He had to fish nonstop.
[You caught a rotting log.]
[You caught a long-legged sardine.]
[You caught a long-legged sardine.]
[You caught a tattered cloth.]
[....]
"Fuck!" Yang Yi cursed, grabbing a sardine, biting off its head, and swallowing it whole—guts, legs, and all. He remembered a survival expert saying, "Remove the head, and it's edible…" Starving, he ate each catch raw. Sanity loss was irrelevant now; he'd starve before madness killed him.
After several bites, he noticed a pattern: sanity loss diminished with repeated consumption. Eating sardines now cost only 1 Sanity point, sometimes 2. With enough exposure, he might grow immune. Meanwhile, his Spirit experience surged—likely from sanity stress.
Two hours later, his condition worsened. Wounds itched unbearably, but he resisted scratching to avoid worsening the infection. Diarrhea had drained the last of his hydration and salt, and fever blurred his vision, making him dizzy.
Status: Injured/Corpse Poison Infection (Moderate, Fever)/Food Poisoning (Mild, Diarrhea)
"Just a little longer. I'll find medicine."
Gritting his teeth, he reeled in something new:
[You caught an Eye Fruit.]
It was a fist-sized eyeball, blinking slowly.
[Name: Eye Fruit]
[Description: Though grotesque, it's a deep-sea fruit. Slightly sweet, rich in vitamins, salt, and hydration.]
Yang Yi bit down—black pulp spurted, the fruit quivering in his hand.
[Your sanity decreases by 2.]
Horrible to look at, but far tastier than sardines. The flesh was grainy, mildly sweet. He devoured it, feeling instantly better. Diarrhea subsided, but the poison lingered. Can't fishing yield antivenom? Impossible—anglers catch everything!
By nightfall, no medical items had appeared, though he'd snagged a liter of fresh water.
Haul: Eye Fruit x2, Long-Legged Sardines x8, Wood x10, Cloth x9, Cyst Puffer x1, Fresh Water 1L
He ate most of it. The water—1L, stored invisibly in the cabin—required a container to use. He'd already drunk a third of his 1.5L "Farmer's Three Fists" bottle, rationing carefully.
That night, he dared not stay on deck. Back in the captain's quarters, he placed his flintlock within reach and tried to sleep. Fever and infection tormented him—a repeat of last night's ordeal, worsened by cursed nightmares.
Unable to rest, he opened the chat. Still active, but the online count had vanished. The dead left no trace…
"Just crafted two spears! Let that skeleton come—I'll make him drop coins!"
"Bro, ever played games? Skeletons are immune to piercing! Your spear's worse than fists!"
"Buying iron—need 982 units. DM for details."
"Steel Ambition, you're still alive?"
"Damn right! I'll outlive you all!"
"Your ship's at 5 knots—how do you outrun the black fog?"
"Trade me iron, and I'll tell you!"
"Keep your secrets! I don't care!"
"..."
Behind the fleet, a steel warship raced desperately, the black fog closing in at 10 knots. Schools of fish fled the mist, mirroring the crew's panic. A portly, unshaven middle-aged man stood at the helm, chain-smoking. His bravado masked terror—one slip, and he'd die. Chatting was his only stress relief.
His ship had ample supplies, infinite ammo, and sturdy armor, but lacked speed. Starting near the fog, he relied on a giant whale harpoon—lodging it in fast, massive sea creatures to boost speed.
"Dammit, can't this shark last longer? So much for stamina!"
He retracted the harpoon, targeting another swift, colossal beast. Thanks to this tactic, he'd slept only three hours, constantly hunting new hosts. Any fish foolish enough to attack faced his cannons—a brutal lesson in "civilized firepower."
The next day, Yang Yi woke with a splitting headache. He didn't remember falling asleep, only vague, nauseating nightmares. The ship felt worse than ever. Without better rest, his efficiency would plummet. A full night had restored just 30 Stamina, and the poison had advanced.
His wounds no longer itched, now throbbing dully—a bad sign. They reeked of rotting fish, identical to the drowned corpse. Human immunity was no match for corpse poison.
Debuff: Strength, Agility, Constitution -2 each. Entering Weakened State.
But Yang Yi refused despair. He'd endured worse—five years bedridden. Stepping out, he ate two Eye Fruits and sardines for breakfast, then resumed fishing.
Beginner's luck struck:
[You caught an Eye Fruit.]
[You caught a long-legged sardine.]
[You caught a long-legged sardine.]
[You caught a rotting log.]
[You caught…]
[You caught…]
Everything went black. Yang Yi collapsed onto the deck, unconscious.