Look at what I discovered—a wild cruise ship.
It seemed the storm had washed this vessel, previously lost at sea, right onto the shore.
This felt orchestrated. The torrential rain that had lasted for nearly five days was a grueling ordeal. As the designer of this game, it only made sense to offer the Players something at this juncture—a reward for surviving the deluge.
Applying game logic, this cruise ship had to be that reward. Otherwise, the odds of a storm washing a shipwreck perfectly ashore were infinitesimally small.
Bai Mu took a keen interest in the vessel's arrival. A modern cruise ship held a wealth of useful items. On this small island completely cut off from the industrialized world, even a simple scrap of iron was incredibly rare.
Perhaps he could find other treasures, like a magazine filled with beautiful models, or some spices that had not been thoroughly soaked by seawater.
That stranded cruise ship was undoubtedly a treasure trove just waiting to be excavated.
Bai Mu gathered his tools and approached the bow.
The ship was not particularly large. It looked as if a giant hand had picked it up and plunged it into the sea at an angle, leaving only the bow protruding above the surface.
Because the vessel was grounded, its deck sat high above the water. Bai Mu circled around, observing both sides, but failed to find any handholds to grab onto.
However, this hardly deterred him. He took the vines he had previously collected and braided them together to form a sturdy, thick rope, tying a heavy stone to one end.
Standing on the shore, he swung the rope in his hand like a cowboy preparing a lasso. Aiming for the iron railing at the edge of the deck, he calculated the angle and launched the stone with a powerful throw.
The stone sailed through the air, dragging the rope behind it. It struck the railing at a sharp angle, slipped through the gap, and wrapped around the metal bars several times.
Bai Mu gave the rope a firm tug. Once he was certain it could support his weight, he planted his feet against the hull and scaled the side, eventually stepping onto the tilted bow.
He took a sweeping glance around the deck and sniffed the air. There was no nauseating stench of decay. After a brief patrol, he confirmed there were no corpses or severed limbs scattered about the ship.
He stepped into the room situated at the front of the vessel. Judging by the layout, he deduced this was the Captain's Cabin.
Inside, he discovered a sealed liquor cabinet filled with exotic spirits he could not even begin to name. The cabinet was locked tight, and the bottles were held firmly in place by a specialized rack.
Unable to find the key, Bai Mu simply grabbed a chair and smashed the glass. His rough approach cost him two bottles, shattering them and releasing a rich, mellow aroma with a distinct hint of smokiness.
Bai Mu located a waterproof tarp elsewhere on the ship, spread it on the floor, and tossed the surviving bottles onto it.
He gathered several sharp pieces of scrap metal, along with a completely soaked pin-up magazine from the captain's drawer. Although Bai Mu could not read the foreign text, the pictures transcended language barriers.
Flipping through photos of beautiful women during his downtime would be a great way to unwind and keep his spirits up.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, Bai Mu had thoroughly searched every accessible area.
He chose not to risk diving into the flooded stern. The chances of finding anything valuable down there were slim. It was pitch black, and if he were to snag himself on a rusted piece of metal in some dark corner, the resulting infection would cost him his life. The risk simply outweighed the reward.
Leaning against the railing, Bai Mu took inventory of his haul. In addition to the items from the Captain's Cabin, he had found two unopened packs of cigarettes, a paring knife, two cans of tomatoes, a tin of luncheon meat, two spare sets of sailor uniforms, various scrap metals and iron containers, and a maintenance toolbox filled with wrenches, screwdrivers, and other essential tools.
In his hands, Bai Mu held a black radio device. It looked perfectly intact on the outside, but it refused to turn on.
[Name: Malfunctioning Marine Walkie-Talkie]
[Type: Item]
[Quality: Common]
[Remarks: A handheld walkie-talkie that has completely failed due to seawater corrosion. It is effectively scrap metal.]
Bai Mu slipped it into his pocket. He possessed some rudimentary knowledge of radio repair. During his ten years surviving in the apocalypse, he had made it a habit to broadcast at fixed times, desperately trying to contact other survivors.
Sadly, no one ever responded to his calls. By the time he had learned how to operate a radio, the channels were filled with nothing but dead static.
If he could repair this device, there was a minuscule sliver of hope that he might be able to contact human society.
That was, of course, assuming he wasn't trapped inside some sort of "closed box" generated by the game. Regardless of whether he was isolated from reality or not, he had to try.
For one thing, he truly craved a conversation with a normal human being. For another, he wanted to push the boundaries of this "survival game." He needed to know exactly how much agency he possessed on this Deserted Island.
Wrapping his newfound loot tightly, he strapped the bundle to his back and descended the rope, hauling the massive pile of supplies back to his tent.
Food, water, and shelter. Within the first three days, he had already secured a massive surplus of all three basic necessities.
Freed from the immediate pressure of survival, he decided to dedicate his ample free time to repairing the broken radio.
Sitting in a dry, sunlit clearing, he used a screwdriver and a small metal scrap to carefully pry open the radio's casing.
The internal damage was far worse than he had anticipated. The circuit board was caked in white mineral deposits and patches of green rust. Having soaked in corrosive seawater for over ten days, the device looked completely beyond salvation.
Yet, he refused to give up. He was well-fed, hydrated, and had absolutely nothing else to do. He might as well find a way to kill time.
Setting the circuit board aside in a dry, shaded spot, he built a fire in front of his tent.
He popped open a can of tomatoes, poured the contents over some smoked fish he had prepared earlier, and quickly polished off his simple lunch.
After rinsing out the palm-sized tin can with fresh water from his plastic bottles, he began contemplating how to purify his own alcohol.
Professional technicians typically used 99% isopropyl alcohol to clean circuit boards, as it effectively displaced moisture and dried rapidly. Procuring such a specific chemical on a deserted island was impossible, leaving him with only one option: distilling his own alcohol.
Before beginning the distillation process, he wrapped a water-soaked shirt around his mouth and nose.
Ethanol vapor is highly explosive. Furthermore, fermented spirits also contain methanol and fusel alcohols, which have an even lower boiling point than ethanol.
Inhaling or ingesting concentrated methanol could lead to catastrophic consequences, ranging from permanent blindness to severe organ failure, and even death.
Industrial distilleries employed rigorous techniques to safely remove these toxic "heads." Given his primitive setup, Bai Mu obviously could not replicate such an advanced procedure. Wrapping his face was a crude but necessary precaution against poisoning.
Using a few loose rocks, he constructed a small platform and steadily balanced the empty tin can on top of it.
The torn-off lid of the tin can served as the perfect makeshift condensation cover.
After ensuring his distillation apparatus was fully prepared, he used a pair of makeshift tongs to pluck glowing coals from the main fire, using them to start a secondary, gentler heat source.
He poured the exotic spirits into the can and carefully managed the temperature, ensuring the liquid never reached a rolling boil. Heat control was the most critical aspect of the process. If it boiled violently, excess water vapor would rise and ruin the alcohol's purity.
At the same time, he had to constantly drip cold water over the metal lid to keep it cool, forcing the rising alcohol vapor to condense back into a liquid state.
Before long, clear droplets began to form on the underside of the lid. Bai Mu carefully tilted the metal, guiding the precious liquid into an empty glass.
After maintaining this intense, meticulous focus for a considerable amount of time, he finally managed to gather a small glass of highly purified alcohol.
Taking advantage of the remaining daylight, Bai Mu fashioned a tiny brush by tying soft coconut fibers to the end of a discarded chicken bone.
Sitting cross-legged under his tent, he delicately dipped the brush into the alcohol and began scrubbing away the corrosion on the circuit board. He paid special attention to critical components like the battery compartment and the button contacts.
As the ethanol rapidly evaporated, it stripped away most of the residual moisture and corrosive salt. Under normal circumstances, if the corrosion wasn't too severe and the device was salvaged in time, letting it completely dry would be enough to bring the radio back to life.
However, it was painfully obvious that this specific radio was nowhere near a usable state just yet.
Bai Mu kept a close eye on the circuit board as it dried. Right before dusk, he safely stored the components inside his tent.
The next day quickly arrived, and Bai Mu once again stood on the deck, fully prepared to pull out all the stops in a desperate, last-ditch effort.
If he failed, he lost nothing. If he succeeded, he gained a massive advantage. He had absolutely nothing to lose.