Lin Chen had a very comfortable sleep.
He didn’t groggily open his eyes until the first morning light filtered through the cracks in the rock, spilling onto his body.
"Ngh... It’s morning already?"
After more than ten hours of sleep and a perfect dinner, his body felt even more energetic than when he had first set out.
If there was one drawback...
He sat up in his sleeping bag and looked at the rock ceiling, only two or three fists’ worth of space above his head. A damp chill swept in from all sides.
Without the sleeping bag and the layer of spruce boughs and cottongrass on the ground, he probably would have woken up with a fever after a single night here.
’Everything else can wait. I have to solve the insulation problem today. If I keep sleeping like this, it’s bound to cause trouble.’
He erged from the shelter and did a few simple stretches.
The crisp morning forest air filled his lungs, a refreshing and invigorating sensation.
"Good morning."
He pointed the GoPro at himself, unable to imagine what kind of disastrous nest his hair had beco after two days without a wash.
Other than soap pods, he really wasn’t sure what other plants could be used for shampoo.
The problem was, even if a wild soap pod plant were right in front of him, he probably wouldn’t recognize it.
"I wonder if soap pod plants even grow in the Alaska Forest. It looks like exchanging for a complete plant encyclopedia is becoming a top priority."
Eating fish and drinking soup isn’t a big deal on Wild Survival. But a proper, clean wash for your hair or body? That would be absolutely unprecedented.
And I an truly clean, not just heating up so murky water and calling a quick soak a ’bath’.
He spent the entire morning creating a ventilation duct in the space between the shelter’s entrance and the rock face, constructing it from steel fishing line, branches, and broad leaves.
The smoke outlet vented above the shelter, while the intake below was fashioned into a rectangular, funnel-like shape resembling a range hood, making perfect use of the corner in the rock crevice.
To prevent burns, he even installed a wooden post between the stove area and the entrance to serve as a doorfra. This way, he could hold onto the wood for support when coming and going, which made it much safer.
He then spent ti chopping and hauling more wood, using it to partition the shelter’s interior into a sleeping area and a storage area. A wall of split logs served as the divider, with only a small opening left to pass through.
As for the stove, he could only gather so nearby stones and arrange them in a circle for now; he didn’t have any better ideas at the mont.
He did, however, take the ti and effort to lay down a wooden floor inside the crevice.
Between the original bedding of spruce boughs and cottongrass and this new layer of wood for insulation, he no longer had to worry about the cold when he slept. He could finally get a truly sound and peaceful night’s rest.
’Strange, why haven’t any Happiness Points popped up?’
He circled his newly upgraded shelter a couple of tis, then suddenly realized his Happiness Points were still at 9. He couldn’t help but feel a bit confused.
’Doesn’t building a house... make you happy?’
He took a mont to assess his current state. Besides overwhelming exhaustion, the only other thing he felt was a gnawing hunger.
’Right, the house isn’t finished yet, and there’s still so much work to do. Right now, I’m just a miserable laborer. How could I possibly feel happy during the grind?’
He rested for a bit. With no way to tell ti, he could only judge the hour by the sun’s position in the sky.
He strapped the GoPro to his chest, put on his jacket, gathered his weapons and gear, and headed for the river once more.
"There were a lot of mushrooms along the path I took back yesterday, and there’s a dead tree that might hold so surprises. But our main goal today is to catch two Red Salmon. For now, they’re our only source of fat."
In the wild, survival isn’t determined by how much protein you get, but by the amount of fat you can acquire.
With insufficient fat intake and strenuous physical labor, the body will start burning muscle for energy before it even touches its fat reserves.
Visually, this ans a person will lose weight rapidly, becoming listless and weak.
Reaching that stage is basically a death sentence, a sign that your life is in imminent danger.
He approached the river cautiously. Instead of recklessly showing himself, he first hid behind a tree trunk, observing for a good while. Only after confirming there were no wolf packs, Black Bears, or other predators around did he dare to step out.
After pulling two unlucky victims ashore, he once again put his skills on display. The knife danced in his hand, gutting the fish in a flash. Once they were processed, he tossed the entrails into the river.
He also filled his pot with river water to take back—it was his only available water source.
"We’re not making soup today. Ti for a change. We’ll pan-fry. We’ll use the fish oil to cook the mushrooms and fish at."
In addition to the king boletes and honey mushrooms, today he’d also picked so button mushrooms, oyster mushrooms, and, unexpectedly, two "White Onions."
The "White Onion" is a type of bolete belonging to the "blue-staining" family. So of them are poisonous, especially wild ones. If you don’t cook them thoroughly, you’ll start "seeing little people."
Without enough experience, it’s nearly impossible to tell the difference between the toxic and non-toxic varieties, and there are several other poisonous mushrooms that look strikingly similar.
If it weren’t for the Wild Mushroom Encyclopedia he’d just redeed yesterday serving as his safety net, he would never have dared to risk picking these.
If the king bolete’s texture was thick, juicy, and aty, then the "White Onion" bolete was a step beyond. Its flavor was umami-rich and crisp, with a distinctly savory aroma and a hint of sweetness.
All the knowledge in his head told him that picking these was absolutely the right call; there was a very high chance they would bring him a unique kind of happiness.
By the ti he reached the dead tree he had marked, the sun was already beginning to set.
He raised the sharpened edge of the Engineer Shovel high over his head, aid for the trunk of the dead tree, and brought it down with a powerful swing.
CRACK!
With a sharp crack, the blade sank deep into the wood.
He swung seven or eight more tis. Amidst a flurry of wood chips, the dead trunk fell with a great groan.
Lin Chen inspected the length of the trunk and quickly found a hole bored into the wood.
He split the trunk open at that spot, revealing a hollow, honeycombed structure inside, much like a lotus root.
Dozens of fat, white grubs, suddenly exposed to the air, writhed in a panic, trying to burrow back through the channels into the remaining sections of the trunk.
With quick reflexes, Lin Chen snatched one of them and held it up to the cara for a close-up.
"Big white grubs like these, the ones that live in dead wood, are an excellent source of high-quality protein. I’m not sure what species this one from Alaska is, but I’m positive it’s edible."
In front of the cara, he flicked the Engineer Shovel, neatly slicing off the grub’s black head and leaving only the fat, white body.
Lin Chen chopped away with his shovel until the entire trunk was split open, yielding a harvest of over twenty fat grubs of various sizes.
User Comments
0 comments from readers