"Storage ring, collect."
With a mere thought, the 98K sniper rifle and two hundred bullets vanished, neatly stowed within the ring's vast inner space.
Another thought, and the 98K appeared once more in Meng Hao's hands.
How miraculous.
"Let's examine the game panel first."
Suppressing his excitement, Meng Hao focused his mind and silently invoked the game interface.
A translucent panel unfolded before his eyes.
[Chat] | [Trade] | [Auction] | [Crafting]
The interface was divided into four primary modules. Instinctively, Meng Hao's gaze landed on the Chat function.
The screen shifted, revealing two new buttons:
[World Channel] – Auto-translation enabled; one message per day.
[Regional Channel] – Local communication; unlimited messages.
He entered the World Channel.
"Help! I'm stranded on a deserted island. All I've got is a wooden stick and a storage ring. Someone save me!"
"Can anyone help me? It's so hot, I'm starving and dehydrated!"
"What's going on here? Is this some kind of survival reality show? I just want to go home!"
"Were we abducted by aliens?"
"Do you all only have wooden sticks too? How are we supposed to fight zombies? At least give us an axe!"
"Is this really the end of the world? I don't want to die, sob sob…"
Message after message flew past in a chaotic blur as Meng Hao scrolled, searching for answers.
He needed to confirm whether he alone had been granted the divine fortune system.
He scrolled madly, his heart growing lighter with each passing post.
After ten minutes of reading, the truth became clear—everyone had started with just a stick and a storage ring.
Which meant only he possessed the hundredfold reward system.
Ha!
Relief washed over him like a tide. Now, the real fun would begin.
While others struggled to survive with crude sticks, he already ruled the island with a high-powered sniper rifle.
Burning with anticipation, Meng Hao typed a message into the World Channel:
"I've got a gun—long, fierce, and utterly unstoppable!"
Other players quickly responded, some with jest, others with outright innuendo.
"I've got a gun too—18 cm, unbeatable at close range!"
"I wield a Ruyi Jingu Bang—it grows and shrinks at will, sweeping aside all foes!"
Meng Hao was speechless. He had been speaking literally, but clearly, there were too many seasoned jokers here.
Shaking his head, he switched to the Regional Channel.
It resembled a group chat. All avatars were real photos, usernames composed of names and a nine-digit ID.
There were 1,000 members—likely all nearby players within the same zone.
Current population: 1000/1000. Good—no one had perished yet.
"Anyone got food? I was dieting before this and barely ate. I'm starving!"
"Anyone near me? Let's form a team!"
"I'll pay a million to whoever gets me out of here."
"Make it fifty million! Just get me off this hellhole!"
"Can we really drift this island? The direction arrow looks so tempting to press…"
"Don't drift! Once you do, it'll connect to another island—there might be zombies there. One mistake and you're dead."
"We don't really have a choice. After three days, the poison mist comes. If we don't move, we die anyway."
"Three days? I'm not sure I'll even survive one without starving."
"Quick question: did Robinson Crusoe have to fight zombies too?"
After observing for a minute, Meng Hao sighed and exited.
Nothing but nonsense. No one dared initiate drifting to a new island just yet.
"My parents and younger sister must have been pulled into this game too… I wonder how they're doing, or how to contact them."
A pang of unease stirred in Meng Hao's chest as he thought of his family.
But the game had only just begun. For now, danger should still be minimal.
Worrying would do no good. Pushing the thought aside, he turned his attention to the Trade and Auction tabs.
The trading platform allowed item-for-item exchange between players.
Alternatively, transactions could be made using zombie crystal coins.
Zombie coins were the official currency of the Apocalypse Island Game—earned by slaying zombies and usable for all purchases.
Trading rules were loose—items could even be given away freely at the owner's discretion.
Auctions worked similarly, without any intermediary fees.
The owner set both the duration and the starting price.
Lastly, Meng Hao's eyes fell upon the final button: [Crafting]
"Open crafting menu."
Whoosh!
An entire page unfurled.
[Basic Wooden Stick: Wood 0/2][Basic Axe: Wood 0/2, Iron 0/2][Basic Spear: Wood 0/2, Iron 0/2][Basic Knife: Wood 0/2, Iron 0/2][Basic Bow & Arrows: Wood 0/2, Iron 0/2, Rope 0/2][Basic Light Armor: Iron 0/4, Copper 0/2, Rope 0/2][Basic Canoe: Wood 0/5][Basic Raft: Wood 0/20, Rope 0/10][Basic Ship: Wood 0/80, Rope 0/60]
Each item required specific materials for synthesis.
A quick glance told Meng Hao that all currently available weapons were of Rotten Wood quality. Not a single Black Iron weapon was present.
To craft higher-grade gear, he would need to upgrade his base island.
Island upgrades required vast amounts of wood, sand, stone, iron ore, copper, and most importantly—consuming other islands.
Ultimately, survival meant strengthening not only oneself, but one's home island.
The more materials collected, the more islands devoured, the larger and more fortified the base would become.
With sufficient upgrades, it might even evolve into a mobile oceanic battle fortress.
At that point, no matter which island lay ahead, he could steamroll through with overwhelming force.
Clearly, crafting materials were paramount. Every last resource must be scavenged.
Exiting the menu, Meng Hao turned his gaze toward the green arrow at the center of the island.
Its direction was adjustable. Once the button was pressed, the island would drift accordingly.
During the drift, it would connect to another island—one that could house zombies… or precious supplies.
The wisest strategy was to scavenge swiftly without alerting the undead, arming oneself before they struck.
The bolder path: eliminate every zombie, then gather resources at leisure.
Of course, one could also play stealthily—if someone managed to loot everything without making a sound, they'd be a true master.
However, killing zombies granted rewards. Avoiding combat meant fewer resources.
Moreover, the islands themselves were valuable assets. Unless one intended to forgo expansion, confrontation was inevitable.
After long contemplation, Meng Hao made his decision—he would initiate the island drift.
This barren islet, though safe, offered no food or water. Staying meant slow death.
The heat was also brutal, sapping his stamina with each passing hour.
Lingering would only lead to weakness.
Raising his 98K rifle, Meng Hao honed his focus, adjusted the direction of the arrow, and pressed the button.
Instantly, the green turned crimson. The island began to move—slowly yet steadily—gliding into the shrouding mist like a colossal ship sailing into the unknown.