Munch... munch...

  Chu Yuan slowly chewed, savoring each bite as the soft, warm potato flesh melted across his tongue, its earthy aroma coating his senses.

  “I have to finish this potato. This isn't Earth; I can’t afford to skip meals. A full stomach is the only foundation for survival!”

  He had initially planned to save half, given how dire his food situation was, but he reconsidered. Being thrifty was wise, but if he lacked the strength to defend himself in this treacherous environment, he’d be a dead man.

  The potato in Chu Yuan’s hands gradually vanished until only a small pile of charred, blackened skin remained.

  “Carbs really make you thirsty,” he muttered.

  Chu Yuan stepped out of his crude straw hut and crouched down, touching the back of his hand to the pot's lid. A gentle warmth radiated through.

  “Perfect.”

  Satisfied with the timing, he grabbed the handle and retreated back into the shelter. He carefully wiped the condensation from the lid before prying it open.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  A faint mist drifted upward—not as violent as a rolling boil, but still steaming with life-giving heat.

  With a steady hand, Chu Yuan tilted the pot, meticulously trickling water into the inverted lid. Not a single drop was wasted. Since the lid was slightly concave around the handle, it served as a makeshift chalice.

  “Exquisite.”

  He took a deep breath, relieved he hadn't spilled a drop. In this place, losing his water would be a heartbreak he couldn't afford.

  As he lifted the "cup," the warmth of the aluminum seeped into his palms. It was a sensual contrast to the Frozen Mist and the bone-chilling winds that occasionally whipped through the cracks of his hut.

  Slurp... slurp...

  The tepid liquid flowed from his mouth, down his parched throat, and into his stomach. The sensation was intoxicating, soothing his weary body and easing the persistent ache in his muscles.

  “Ah~, 10 out of 10.”

  Chu Yuan felt a surge of vigor. His mind sharpened, and his thoughts began to flow with a newfound fluidity. For the first time in forever, he felt truly attuned to his own body—feeling every fiber of his muscles and every beat of his heart.

  Only in the face of death does one realize how magnificent the vessel of life truly is.

  ... ...

  “Yawwwwn~”

  The burst of adrenaline was fleeting. Exhaustion soon reclaimed him. Before transmigrating, he had been a night owl, often staying up until 3 AM. The physical labor of hauling and chopping wood had drained his reserves.

  He began organizing his space with obsessive precision, stacking the firewood into an aesthetically pleasing barrier beside his straw mat. He positioned his old wooden chest to the right, creating a windbreak against the freezing drafts.

  Donning his black jacket—now dry and warm from the fire’s heat—Chu Yuan lowered himself onto the mat. He pulled the collar up to cushion his head, avoiding the prickly discomfort of the raw straw.

  He placed his rusted iron axe near his right hip—the most intuitive position to strike from should any predator dare to approach in the dark. The blade pointed outward, cold and ready.

  ‘Open System Interface,’ he commanded mentally.

  A translucent, pale blue screen shimmered into existence.

  9:48 PM.

  “Just a quick nap. Hope I don’t oversleep. The next phase of the plan is too important to miss (π_π)!”

  Chu Yuan sighed, his eyelids growing heavy. He adjusted his posture until his breathing became rhythmic and shallow.

  “Good night...”