Chang spent quite a while venting in the group chat about just how outrageous some of the private messages he’d received were.
It was obvious why: the three of them had made a business out of selling torches, and Jiang Lai was selling cabins, so the other players all assumed they were rolling in wealth.
They figured that if these rich big shots would just help them out, they’d have a much better chance of surviving.
But none of those players stopped to actually think things through.
Even in peacetime in the real world, wealthy people don’t just hand out money to random strangers on the street.
Let alone now, in a survival game—who would just hand over their supplies to people they’ve never even met online, for no reason at all?
Maybe it’s just that when people are truly desperate, they lose their grip on reason.
Ever since Jiang Lai entered the game, she’d been going to bed early every night to conserve energy.
It was only yesterday and today, working overtime to earn more supplies, that she’d stayed up late.
Outside, the wind howled relentlessly. Having grown up in a landlocked city, Jiang Lai could never have imagined that a blizzard could rage out at sea.
After upgrading her shelter to level three, Jiang Lai’s raft had grown much larger and heavier.
But even so, in this blizzard, it was still being blown along at breakneck speed in a single direction.
Luckily, the ocean was vast and empty, with no obstacles in sight—otherwise, something bad would surely have happened out here.
“Oh well, it’s not like I have a destination anyway. I’ll just let it drift.”
Out here on the open sea, there’s no starting point, no finish line—wherever the wind blows you, it’s all the same.
Jiang Lai was pretty calm about it, with a kind of go-with-the-flow attitude.
Looking at the chat channel, she saw that almost everyone whose raft hadn’t been upgraded was being tossed around by the blizzard.
Everyone was on edge, terrified their little boats would capsize.
After all, in these conditions, if you fell into the sea, there’d be no chance of survival.
Players with level-two shelters were relatively safe—their rafts were bigger and more stable.
And the houses on these rafts seemed to have some kind of built-in resistance to strong winds, showing no sign of being blown away, almost as if they came with a stability buff.
Physical danger wasn’t much of a concern, but the cold brought by the blizzard still forced every player to huddle in their cabins, shivering.
They piled on every piece of cold-weather gear they had and lit their torches for warmth.
For players with level-two shelters, this blizzard was just barely survivable.
But those who hadn’t upgraded yet were in real trouble. Even wrapped in all their cold-weather gear and clutching a torch, it was hard to imagine anyone making it through the night alone against the storm.
Of course, this didn’t include those who had bought cabins.
Inside a cabin, people were shielded from much of the wind and snow, so the cold damage was cut by more than half.
And since the space was small, if you covered it with all your insulating materials and curled up inside, you could trap a lot of heat.
In fact, it was even more comfortable than what the level-two players had.
But those who bought cabins from Li Haibo weren’t so lucky.
While his cabins could block some wind and snow, they didn’t come with any stability buff at all.
In the blizzard, these cabins felt like they were about to take off, constantly being lifted by the wind.
No matter how hard people inside tried to hold them down, gaps would open up and let the wind and snow in.
Only now did everyone realize the truth of “you get what you pay for.” They regretted not buying Jiang Lai’s cabins instead of ending up in such a miserable state.
But it was too late for regrets now.
The people who bought Li Haibo’s cabins even formed their own chat group to discuss how to keep their cabins from “taking off.”
Some suggested weighing them down, some talked about nailing them down, tying them with ropes, or gluing them in place.
Everyone was using whatever resources they had for emergency modifications.
If they could just make it through tonight’s blizzard, that would be one more day survived.
In the chat channel, many players with survival experience were sharing all sorts of life-saving tips.
For example, constantly rubbing your hands, feet, face, and chest to promote blood circulation and slow down hypothermia.
Others said this was no time to ration food—eat whatever you have to keep your energy up.
Some professionals even shared acupressure points to tap in order to raise your body temperature.
The screen was filled with a dizzying array of methods, showing just how strong everyone’s will to survive was.
Players encouraged each other, vowing to hang on no matter what.
Many were also looking for survival partners in the channel—private voice chats helped keep each other awake, so no one would fall asleep in the blizzard.
Jiang Lai scrolled through the chat logs, marveling at how adversity only seemed to make people stronger.
The tougher things got, the more determined everyone seemed to become.
That unyielding will to survive stirred something in Jiang Lai as well.
She checked her backpack—she still had four braziers left.
She kept two for herself, and quietly put the other two up on the trading platform in exchange for upgrade materials, reopening her private messages.
It was only two braziers, so she didn’t bother advertising.
But they were snapped up almost instantly—no one even tried to haggle, afraid someone else would get them first.
After all, while almost everyone had a torch by now, having a brazier meant you could eat hot food and drink hot water.
It wasn’t just about warmth—it was about restoring energy and calories.
“Well, it’s not much, but at least it’s something. Two lives are still lives.”
Jiang Lai shook her head. Two lives—compared to the thousands in this game—felt like a drop in the ocean.
The number of survivors in Zone 68 was visibly dropping by the minute.
Who knew how many would be left when the blizzard was over?
What Jiang Lai didn’t realize was that, even though she claimed not to care about others’ lives or deaths, today those two braziers might have saved two people.
The dozens of cabins she’d made—dozens more lives.
And the torch business—if Jiang Lai hadn’t brought out the firestarter, maybe Zone 68 still wouldn’t have fire, and who knows how many more would have died.
She’d certainly gained something from all this, but for those players, it was a real, tangible chance at survival.
Judge actions, not intentions.
No matter what Jiang Lai thought, or whether she cared or not, in Zone 68, she was a good person.
(End of chapter)
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