At this moment, Zheng Haoyun had already finished building her fireplace just in time—and she had to admit, the in-game equipment was pretty useful.
The energy cards used in the materials could effectively maintain a constant temperature output and even came with an auto-wood-feeding mechanism.
With this, her hands were finally freed. Plus, the heat generated by the fireplace was far superior to that of a regular bonfire. Even while wearing a coat inside her icehouse, Zheng Haoyun now felt a little too warm.
Meanwhile, in the homes of other survivors without fireplaces, the Arctic Snowstorm had begun to take its toll. The temperature inside their icehouses was plummeting rapidly, forcing them to constantly feed their bonfires with wood.
This triggered widespread panic. Survivors rushed to the trade panel, desperately trying to purchase wood. The problem was—the system's store didn't even offer it for sale.
No one knew what the developers were thinking, but basic resources like wood and ice bricks were simply not searchable, let alone purchasable, in the store.
In truth, observant survivors like Zheng Haoyun had already noticed this oddity and began preparing in advance.
Having endured the trials of several survival worlds, Zheng Haoyun had long since developed a strong resource-hoarding instinct. Ever since arriving here, she'd been thinking of every way possible to stockpile materials. Only then could she feel secure.
But average players, lacking that foresight, had only focused on their day-to-day needs—eating, staying warm—never imagining things could get worse.
Now, many of them were scraping by on whatever they still had in their backpacks, stretching every resource, surviving one day at a time.
The next morning, Zheng Haoyun noticed even more people in the trading panel were offering high prices for wood and ice bricks.
The demand for wood made sense—it was getting colder by the minute, and everyone needed more fuel.
But the rush to buy ice bricks was more puzzling. Curious and wanting to get firsthand info, Zheng Haoyun opened the regional chat to take a look.
She was immediately hit with a wave of new messages. Clicking on one at random:
I'm Just a Little Useless:"Has anyone noticed that the defense value of their icehouse is gradually decreasing? If we don't keep patching it with ice bricks, it might not even last half the storm!"
Drama Queen Extraordinaire:"Ah, you must still be using the Level 1 icehouse. Mine's Level 2 now—it only loses 1 point per night. I'm not worried at all."
Life's a Little Sweet:"I wanted to dig up some snow to make more ice bricks, but the moment I went out, I got hit with a frost debuff! Everyone, don't go outside! I think the snow is contaminated or something!"
Reading this, Zheng Haoyun finally understood why ice bricks were suddenly in such high demand. She silently thanked her own sense of foresight—she had already upgraded her icehouse and hoarded a large supply of wood.
Looking at the bigger picture, it was hard not to suspect that the game was deliberately designed this way.
Knowing that demand for wood and ice bricks would skyrocket during the snowstorm, the game had deliberately made them unavailable in the store.
So cruel. So calculated. This kind of manipulative game design would doom most ordinary players within days.
And then came another surprise—a group of survivors in the regional chat had begun calling for people to join a so-called "Mutual Aid Group." They claimed it was to pool resources and help everyone get through the storm together.
To Zheng Haoyun—and many others—this was obviously a scam.
But then a few users popped up claiming they had personally benefited from the group.
A user called "I'm Just a Little Pitiful" posted:
"I just joined the Mutual Aid Group, and the members immediately gave me 10 pieces of wood and 5 ice bricks! This group is like a savior to me. Hurry and join—spots are limited!"
He even posted screenshots of his chat with the group, as well as pictures of the aid supplies he received.
And he wasn't the only one—soon, several other users followed suit with similar testimonials.
By the time Zheng Haoyun saw all this, she had already figured it out. It was a classic "pig-butchering scam."
First, accomplices would "share their experience" to build trust, lure in gullible players, and bait them with a few freebies—then slowly, step by step, strip them of everything they had.
Naturally, a few sharp-eyed players saw through it and issued warnings in the chat:
"Don't fall for it—there's no such thing as a selfless organization here. This has scam written all over it!"
Unfortunately, that person's message was quickly drowned out by a flood of glowing testimonials from the scam group's shills.
Some naive and desperate survivors caved to the pressure and joined the so-called "Mutual Aid Group."
At first, they did receive some supplies. But over time, the gifts became fewer… until eventually, they stopped altogether.
Only then did people realize they'd been played—and they began cursing the scammers in the regional chat.
But by that point, the scammers were already holed up in their well-stocked icehouses, feasting without a care in the world.
It turned out this was a well-organized scam run by none other than that bandit leader Zhou, who had previously terrorized the region.
They'd used the stolen goods from their past raids as bait, and those "testimonials" were just their accomplices in disguise.
They did have a real organization, by the way—it was called the Heaven-Destroying Squad, and it specialized in criminal operations.
Now, even though people raged against them day and night in the chat, none of the scammers responded. Those who had been duped could only wallow in regret—after all, this survival world had no rules against evil.
Zheng Haoyun watched the entire situation unfold and wasn't surprised at all. She'd known from the beginning it was a scam.
Honestly—given the state the world's in, what are the odds a group of selfless do-gooders suddenly shows up out of nowhere?
On the seventh day of the Arctic Snowstorm, the situation escalated once more.
"Ding! Emergency Announcement: Every survivor's icehouse is about to be attacked by a pack of starving frost beasts. From now on, a new wave of beast attacks will occur every two days. Only by fending them off can you stay alive."
After reading the announcement, survivors collectively exploded in rage—this was getting ridiculous!
If they didn't deal with each wave of beasts in time, they'd eventually be facing an entire horde of frost monsters.
And by then, even the strongest defenses probably wouldn't hold.
Zheng Haoyun and the others could already hear the howls of beasts approaching in the distance.
What made it worse was that the game, shameless as ever, still didn't stop the blizzard. It was clear they wanted players to get hit with negative statuses.
Trying to prepare, Zheng Haoyun took out the raincoat she had received as a reward earlier—hopefully, it would help reduce the impact. If not… she was out of options.
Stepping outside, she was greeted by the sight of fifty frost beasts, all drooling and staring at her with bloodshot eyes.
If not for the sturdy fence around her icehouse, she had no doubt these monsters would've already pounced on her.
This wasn't looking good.
Not only were the beasts numerous, but they also had strong combat instincts. Worst of all, half of them were highly agile, making it nearly impossible to hit them with arrows.
All across the game, survivors had entered a new phase of life-or-death crisis.