Chapter 102: The Unlucky One in the Survival World (Part 3)

It took over ten minutes for the piece of meat to be fully cooked—mainly because the game-issued iron shovel was too thick, and each chunk of venison was nearly half a pound.

Honestly, Zheng Haoyun couldn't help but complain about how stingy this game was. The elk had clearly weighed over a hundred pounds, yet all she got was two measly half-pound chunks of meat. She wondered if everyone else was getting the same short end of the stick.

(Other survivors: "We did slightly better—got maybe one or two more pieces of meat.")

After finally finishing the roast, Zheng Haoyun waited for a reward notification to pop up on the system panel—but nothing came.

Well, apparently not every first-time action was eligible for rewards. Or maybe… she just wasn't the first person to cook food.

Forget it. No use obsessing—eating was more important right now.

She remembered that the original owner had only drunk a bit of warm water that morning, hoping for smooth sailing during the college entrance exam. She hadn't dared eat anything for fear of food poisoning like last time, which could've cost her the test.

But she never even made it into the exam hall—now she was in a survival game world, facing challenges far more terrifying than any exam.

Honestly, the unseasoned venison tasted bland and chewy, but for someone who was starving, just having something to fill the belly was good enough.

At least the meat wasn't gamey—probably thanks to the elk living in this icy, high-altitude environment.

After finishing her meal, Zheng Haoyun decided to hurry out again and try to kill more animals. Her strategy was to collect as many treasure chests as possible—quantity over quality.

Most importantly, she wanted to unlock the trading panel. She had realized by now that with her abysmal luck stat, she had almost no chance of getting what she needed just by relying on monster drops.

Despite the bone-chilling cold, Zheng Haoyun headed out, after emptying her backpack in preparation.

She also packed one of her burning wooden planks, which would save her from bothering Bi'er again for a fire later.

Wrapped in the now-dried elk hide, gripping her rusty shovel, she stepped boldly out of her temporary wind shelter.

Over the course of two hours, Zheng Haoyun managed to kill three snow hares and one snow leopard, earning herself four wooden treasure chests.

But when she sensed the rapidly plummeting temperature, she knew she couldn't afford to linger. She shoved all her loot into her backpack and sprinted back toward her snow shelter.

To her surprise, fat flakes of snow had started falling from the sky, and by the time she entered her igloo, the elk hide she wore was soaked through, and her body was freezing.

She quickly took out the burning plank from her bag, set it up, hung the wet hide to dry, and huddled by the fire, shivering.

Thankfully, she had prepared in advance. If she'd had to restart the fire now, it would've been a disaster.

Meanwhile, in the regional chat and world channel, players were in an uproar over the sudden snowfall.

Most complaints came from lazy people whining things like:

"Why wasn't there a weather warning?"

"Didn't they say we'd have a 3-day adaptation period?"Some even outright begged for supplies, tagging Zheng Haoyun and telling her to share her resources…

In short, the chat was flooded with brainless posts.

What they didn't realize was that the falling temperature outside was also causing a slow temperature drop inside their shelters. A silent war of survival was already beginning.

Once Zheng Haoyun had warmed up, she began opening the four treasure chests she had just earned.

Here's what she got:

3 chunks of rabbit meat

2 chunks of leopard meat

3 small rabbit hides

1 leopard hide

30 copper coins

2 bottles of mineral water

1 pair of flip-flops

Fortunately, aside from the useless flip-flops, the rest were practical items. At this point, Zheng Haoyun didn't dare expect anything fancy anymore—she was just glad her loot wasn't total garbage.

Now with the 10 coins from earlier, she had 40 copper coins total, finally enough to unlock the trading panel.

She spent 15 coins to unlock it immediately and found that players could set nicknames or use their real names.

She quickly chose the name: "LuckWillTurnAround"—thankfully, it wasn't taken yet. For her avatar, she just snapped a photo of her empty snow shelter wall.

She had no intention of exposing any personal information. She didn't trust this system one bit—especially since the game had mentioned PvP combat (arena duels) in the rules.

So, who would be fighting whom? The answer was pretty obvious.

She casually browsed the trading board, which was filled with player-listed goods—mostly bartering, with no standard pricing.

She spotted one user named "GoldenCheats" selling a winter coat, but the price was 10 pounds of food.

Sorry. She was not worthy of such luxury. Even if she offered everything she had, it still wouldn't be enough.

But after scrolling through all the listings, she noticed—no one was selling cooked food.

That… was her opening.

Zheng Haoyun immediately grabbed another chunk of venison, roasted it like before, and listed it on the trading panel.

She set the asking price at one cotton jacket or a pair of cotton pants.

Forget the winter coat—aiming for something modest was more realistic. This was a test listing, after all.

After posting it, she roasted one rabbit chunk for herself as dinner.

While waiting, she multitasked—monitoring the chat with her psychic sense.

Plenty of people were interested in her roast meat, but most were only offering two wooden planks or a few ice bricks in exchange.

She quickly lost interest in the chat and just stared blankly at the dancing fire before her.

Suddenly, a great idea struck her: If I can't sell the roast meat, maybe I can sell the burning wooden planks.

She could stockpile basic materials that way—after all, there must be plenty of survivors without any heat sources.

Of course, this would be a one-time deal. She'd have to wait until the temperature dropped even lower before posting—timing was key.