Chapter 4: Slaying the Wild Boar

The wild boar, head down and devouring its meal with single-minded focus, hadn’t yet sensed the danger creeping up behind it.

Chen Zhuo, gripping his iron sword with quiet precision, had inched forward like a shadow until he was within striking distance. In one swift motion, he lunged—only to find the boar already reacting before the blade even left his hand.

Let’s just say: this pig wasn’t your average farmyard animal. Its instincts were razor-sharp.

With a sudden burst of power, all four legs kicked out, twisting sideways just in time to dodge the strike. The sword sliced through empty air where the boar had been a split second before.

Now facing Chen Zhuo, the beast snorted, eyes blazing with fury. It had never seen anything like him—this strange, upright creature with a weapon—but whatever had just happened had lit a fire in its gut.

Armed with thick hide and wicked tusks, it charged straight at him, thundering across the grassland like a living tank.

Chen Zhuo blinked. He’d been so careful, so deliberate—yet still, the boar had evaded him. Now, with the massive creature barreling toward him, panic flickered through his chest.

For a heartbeat, he froze—then instinct took over. He thrust the sword forward, eyes shut tight, bracing for impact…

A guttural scream tore through the air as the iron blade plunged deep into flesh. A jolt surged up his arm, followed by a violent shove that sent him stumbling backward six meters, landing hard on his butt in the grass.

The boar, too, was stunned. How could such a frail-looking thing have pierced its legendary hide so easily? And worse—no blood, no wound… nothing. Just the cold steel buried in its body.

Chen Zhuo opened his eyes.

There, lying dead before him, was the boar—eyes wide open, frozen in disbelief. The sword was nearly fully embedded, and the tip of its tusk hovered just ten centimeters from Chen Zhuo’s face.

He exhaled sharply, heart still racing. *Thank god I didn’t get a dagger or short sword,* he thought. *If I had, I’d be bleeding out right now.*

In this world, even a simple fever could kill you. A serious injury? That was a death sentence.

He stowed the boar into his backpack—and nearly dropped it. The damn thing weighed 190 pounds.

“Hah!” Chen Zhuo grinned. “Even if I do nothing else for the next few days, I’ve got enough meat to survive the first wave of the apocalypse.”

He closed the backpack. Then paused. Time to gather more wood and stones. But before he could take a step, a glowing green crate appeared at his feet.

“Did I just… loot a rare chest?” His breath hitched.

【Congratulations, Host. You’ve defeated the Wild Black Boar. A Rare-tier Chest has dropped. Open it?】

“Duh,” Chen Zhuo muttered, rolling his eyes at the system’s lack of subtlety. “Of course I’m opening it.”

The crate cracked open. The green light faded, revealing its contents:

- Kung Shuai Fu Instant Noodles ×2 (Green)
- Bottled Water ×2 (White)
- Regional Map ×1 (Upon use, displays terrain within a 10-kilometer radius centered on your shelter)

“A map?” Chen Zhuo’s voice rose with excitement. “Only ten kilometers? Still, in the early stages of the apocalypse, this is gold!”

Now, almost everything he needed to survive the first wave was covered—food, shelter, tools. Only one thing remained: water.

He pulled up the map.

Instantly, the difference became clear. No more wandering blindly. No more guessing where to dig or search. With the map, he could see exactly what was around him.

He’d spent two days scouring the area, always watching for signs of water. The hillside near his shelter was lush with vegetation—so why no stream?

Turns out, the answer was simpler than he thought.

Just behind the hill, hidden in the trees, lay a quiet little stream.

“Water problem solved!” Chen Zhuo laughed aloud.

He packed up everything—the boar, the supplies, the map—and retraced his steps back to the shelter.

Inside, he tossed the half-eaten bread from lunch to the wild chicken. At first, the bird flinched, wary of him. But then it caught sight of the bread. Without hesitation, it lowered its head and started pecking furiously, glancing up every few seconds, ears twitching, but never stopping.

Next, Chen Zhuo opened the Survival Platform’s crafting interface. With two stones and two wooden planks, he crafted a basic campfire.

Then, using the flint he’d bought with 10 happiness points, he relit the fire inside the house. From the crafting menu, he shaped a stone bowl.

All set.

He placed his long-awaited instant noodles into the bowl, poured in half a bottle of water, and turned the heat low.

While the noodles simmered, he didn’t waste time. First, he spent 50 stones to upgrade his wooden cabin into a stone house.

Then, he upgraded every other piece of furniture—bed, table, chair—all into stone versions.

Sure, the stone furniture didn’t feel any more comfortable than the wooden ones. But the happiness boost was undeniable.

【Stone Cottage: Happiness +40】
【Stone Single Bed: Happiness +20】
【Stone Table: Happiness +12】
【Stone Chair: Happiness +8】

“Is happiness doubling with each upgrade?” Chen Zhuo mused. “If so, I’ll hit 100 points in no time.”

Suddenly, the thought of gene serum felt tantalizingly close.

“Oh right—my noodles.”

He lifted the steaming bowl onto the table, then pressed four fingers—still burning from the hot bowl—against his earlobes to cool them down.

Grabbing the freshly made chopsticks, he scooped up a mouthful of noodles, blew gently, then popped it into his mouth. A sip of warm broth followed—savory, salty, rich. The chewy texture, the warmth spreading through his chest—it was pure bliss.

In a world where even eating scraps felt like a luxury, this simple bowl of instant noodles tasted like heaven.

Three quick bites later, the bowl was empty. Not a drop left.

Chen Zhuo let out a satisfied belch.

【Happiness +2】

He chuckled at himself. *Seriously? I’m getting this excited over a pack of ramen?*

Even with a system, he felt a little ridiculous. But hey—what did it matter? He had time. And with the system’s help, he’d adapt. Build something real. Live the post-apocalyptic life he’d been promised.

He set the bowl aside and glanced out the window.

Night had fallen.

The idea of going out to chop wood or mine rocks vanished. Yesterday, he’d been reckless—trying to save time. But today, after the boar incident, he knew better.

“Daylight’s fine,” he said aloud. “I can see, I can identify monster tiers with the system.”

“But at night? Total darkness. If a blue—or worse, purple—monster shows up, even if my sword hurts it, I won’t survive the counterattack.”

So tonight, he’d either repair the shelter or check the Trading Market for useful trades.

First, he opened the regional chat.

As expected, most messages were cries for help, despair, rage.

Some people had started sharing their locations—just vague descriptions of their surroundings. They were clustered in a small zone, but without maps, they were blind. No way to coordinate. No trust.

Chen Zhuo sighed. This kind of cooperation? Unlikely.

Unless they were friends, family, or had official affiliations, there was no point wasting time hunting for others. In this survival race, hunger came first.

Besides, according to the *Post-Apocalypse Survival Guide* in his backpack, every survivor was dropped at least 15 kilometers apart.

Even if you were in peak condition, running nonstop, 15 km would take over two hours. And you wouldn’t know where the other person was—just some vague description like “a rocky hill with pine trees.” Finding someone under those conditions? Nearly impossible.

And even if you *did* team up? Chances were, you’d just be feeding another mouth. Plus, revealing your location meant risking being ambushed—someone might decide you’re easier prey than a fight.

Nope. Better to stay silent. Stay safe.

For now, survival wasn’t about strength. It was about patience.

And Chen Zhuo? He was learning fast.