Chapter 9: Fishing Boats, Population, and Straight Men

Chapter 9: Fishing Boat, Population, and the Straight Man

More than half a month had passed since the battle on the beach. The sand and the sea had returned to their original colors—any traces seemed effortlessly erased by nature’s gentle hand. The sailboat had finally been transformed into a fishing vessel. Its three masts were shortened, the main mast retained its canvas, while the others were fitted with pulleys and fishing nets.

The ship’s main propulsion now came from twenty oars, stretching out just above the waterline. What was once a pirate ship with five decks, including the captain’s cabin, was now reduced to two and a half: the lowest cargo hold had become a live fish tank, its walls coated with a waterproof mixture made from seaweed ash and rubber. The middle deck was where the fishermen rowed and hauled nets; the upper half-deck served as the captain’s command post and observation point.

The grand sailing ship, which could accommodate over a hundred crew and hold a full cargo, was now a fishing boat operated by barely a dozen people—a transformation that would surely have made the shipwrights lament the waste. Li Hongshen named this vessel the "Trial Seeker," signifying a ship gained through ordeal. It was moored at the island’s fishing port, now extended to a hundred meters in length. Several small boats beside the Trial Seeker seemed minuscule in comparison.

The conversion went smoothly, for most of the upper structure had already been destroyed, so Li Hongshen felt little regret in dismantling what remained. Two days ago, after the refit, he took the crew out for a trial run. With the white-bellied sea eagle as a natural scout soaring above, finding fish was much easier than before.

Whenever the Trial Seeker caught a favorable wind, they would raise the sail, cast the net, and let the wind propel them forward. Once the net was full, they’d lower the sail and haul in the catch using pulleys fitted to the mast. The efficiency and yield far surpassed those of the smaller fishing boats, saving much time and labor. Yet the nets, woven from twisted hemp rope, were not particularly strong. Rough handling during heavy hauls often snapped a few strands with each outing, so Li Hongshen scheduled only one sea trip per week; the rest of the time was spent maintaining the ship and repairing the nets.

Since the arrival of the Trial Seeker, the old fishing boats were repurposed as cargo transports, ferrying goods from the fishing port along the stream to Phoenix Perch Valley for processing. Now the settlement at Phoenix Perch Valley had gained over a dozen new houses. In total, twenty-eight people had been rescued and all had survived. Li Hongshen bestowed upon them the common tongue, enabling them to integrate more easily into the tribe.

According to their accounts, some were slaves, some defeated soldiers taken captive, and some merchants robbed at sea. They could not recall how long they had drifted, only that the sounds of cannon fire overhead signaled the pirates’ defeat, after which water began to flood the hold. As time passed, the supplies in the cargo hold dwindled until the pirates consumed everything.

Then came cannibalism—first the slaves locked below, then others from the upper decks, until Li Hongshen arrived to rescue them. He showed no reaction to their story; it was within his expectations. He neither cared nor trusted their narratives or past identities, nor did he grant them special treatment. Trust must be earned through time, for both sides.

None expressed any desire to leave the territory. On this large, remote island, being accepted by a tribe that was not cannibalistic was a rare blessing. Once their health was restored, they settled on the island and declared their allegiance to Li Hongshen.

What irked Li Hongshen was that the twenty-eight newcomers were evenly split between men and women. Despite having lived past forty in both his previous and current lives, he still hadn’t parted with that old certificate—a fact that stung him deeply.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with striking eyebrows and a prominent nose. Years of training had granted him a six-pack, and he had dominated the school’s most handsome rankings for years, yet not a single girl had ever confessed to him.

Now his territory was full of couples, and he alone guarded a spacious chieftain’s house. Each evening, he listened to the symphony of the village, wondering how he could ever boast to his friends back home.

It was true—he never considered his actions in the main world. When escorting a girl home, she’d invite him in to watch TV and have a drink. He would go up, actually watch TV, and drink from her fridge, unfazed even when she changed into scanty attire.

Or a girl would invite him for a night run in the park. She struggled to keep up until closing time, but he would simply put her in a cab and send her home, turning down her invitation to stay, claiming it was too late and he needed to rest.

With the tribe’s population increase, Li Hongshen could arrange more reasonable work shifts. Only one trial remained in the series, easing much of his burden.

Before this disaster struck, his stress only climbed with time—like a Damocles’ sword hanging overhead, or the endless vigilance against thieves.

He had already prepared for losses, even considered the outcomes of failure, pondering which world’s passage to buy, which otherworldly vocational academy to enroll in, and eventually seeking refuge in the arms of a beautiful lady lord—then, well, you know.

But when the thieves arrived, he realized he had greatly overestimated them. Their defeat was swift and decisive, leaving Li Hongshen somewhat unsettled.

Upon reflection, he discovered that among his hundred subjects, only twenty were true warriors. Without the sea eagle patrolling overhead, once the pirate ship landed and recovered, the sixty-odd ferocious pirates would have posed a dire threat to his small tribe.

With the pressure now greatly reduced, he could begin to prepare for the final trial—the Heavenly Challenge, the hardest yet simplest of all.

It was hardest because it demanded facing nature itself. It was simplest because, against such a challenge, one had no choice but to endure and adapt.

Unlike the Beast Challenge, where one could use time and wit to clear or tame the wilds, and unlike the Human Challenge, where the environment allowed for prediction and preparation, and one could rehearse various strategies for battle.

The Heavenly Challenge simply awaited—whatever it warned of at the outset was what came. Survive it, and the world opens up, the lord’s path spreads before you.

Fail, and you exit the trial. Better to plan your future early, switch careers if necessary, enroll in an otherworldly academy without delay.

For now, there was no trick to the Heavenly Challenge—only targeted disaster preparedness.

(End of chapter)