Survival of the Nation: My luck was a tiny bit worse.

Mike squatted at the door of the stone house.

He pretended to be organizing his backpack, but was actually desperately trying to memorize the layout of the campsite.

In the very center of the square was the bonfire area, next to which was a huge wooden table, presumably where they ate and held meetings.

There are three stone brick houses on the east side. Judging from the clothes hanging out to dry in front of the doors, it should be a residential area.

To the west was a larger building, its entrance piled high with various ores and metal parts, and smoke was rising from it—what was that? A blacksmith's shop?

—They even have a blacksmith shop?!

To the north was a watchtower, next to which was a small power station with power lines extending from the station to various parts of the camp.

and many more.

Power plant?

Mike's pupils contracted slightly.

How could there be a power plant in this forbidden area?

No, bro.

Even if there's a blacksmith shop, that's fine.

Power plant?

A damn power plant?

Mike could only calm his turbulent emotions by swearing wildly.

However, before he could process this information, his gaze was drawn to something to the south.

It was an ice cellar.

It wasn't one of those makeshift ice cellars made of snow.

It was actually an ice cellar built of ice, and even glowed with a pale blue light under the moonlight.

At the entrance of the ice cellar, a huge, ice-blue bird was perched, preening its feathers with its beak.

"What the f—"

He wanted to say something but then stopped himself.

What exactly is going on at this camp?

Mutant behemoths roam the land, and power plants and ice cellars are all readily available?

There's even an S-class threat species acting as a gatekeeper?!

—Although he had never even seen what that bird was.

Judging from its size and the occasion in which it appeared, there's no need to say anything more; it's definitely on the same level as the giant tortoise.

He recalled the tactical simulation Sarah had conducted before setting off.

"The enemy camp isn't large; it's probably a simple wooden and stone structure, with wooden fences as the main defensive feature. They likely have between three and five people, and the strongest fighter is most likely the male player named Ou Yun. If we split up and take them down, our chances of victory are over 70%."

A simple wood and stone structure?

Mike looked at the camp in the distance, which was built of stone bricks and had its own power station and ice cellar.

Sarah, you fucking call this a simple wood and stone structure?

It was completely dark.

But Mike's surprise wasn't over yet.

At dinner time, Ou Yun led him to the huge wooden table in the center of the square.

"Please sit down, don't be shy."

Mike looked at the table laden with food—

Honey pancakes, roasted wild boar.

Wild vegetable and egg drop soup, pickled wild fruits.

A large jug of chilled juice and a grilled fish that was a full meter long.

With so many things, it would be considered an extremely sumptuous feast anywhere.

You should know this is forbidden territory!

"You...you made all of these yourselves?"

Mike pointed to the grilled fish on the plate, his voice trembling slightly.

Ou Yun patiently explained to him, "No, this is an offering, it should have been given by that giant tortoise."

He pointed towards the foot of the mountain, "This morning it brought a fish up here and left it at the entrance of our ice cellar. We felt we couldn't waste it, so we roasted it."

Mike looked at the grilled fish that was over a meter long.

It was a gift from the giant tortoise.

Class S threat species.

Send them fish?!

Mike: Brain spinning at lightning speed.jpg

*

An hour later, Mike was really starting to hold back.

He asked to return to the stone house to rest, saying that he needed to rest due to his leg injury.

"Okay, you should get some rest."

Chen Hao's smile remained bright. "Just call me anytime if you need anything. I live next door!"

Mike lay on the wooden bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind revolving around only one thought.

Their plan has probably already failed.

We must find a way to contact Sarah and James and tell them that this camp is not an easy target, not a fat sheep, and certainly not some simple structure.

This is a fucking, all-around, three-dimensional, mobile defense system that can go anywhere, sweeping away everything in its path.

He looked down at the injury on his leg.

Then he sighed.

The worst decision I ever made in my life was to walk into this godforsaken place!

I don't know if it's psychological.

Mike felt the wound on his leg starting to throb again...

*

Night was falling.

The camp quieted down, with only the crackling of the campfire and the occasional howl of a mutated beast in the distance.

Mike tossed and turned, in great pain.

In a dense forest about three kilometers away.

Two figures were crouching on a huge ancient tree, talking in hushed tones.

Still no signal from Mike.

The speaker was a woman, her voice calm and composed.

She was wearing a dark combat suit, with a tactical knife and two spare magazines hanging at her waist, and her short blond hair swayed slightly in the night wind.

Sarah, a retired captain in the US Special Operations Forces, is currently the captain of the US National Security Team.

"It's already two hours past the agreed time."

Squatting next to her was a man who was rather thin but had very defined muscles.

A long scar running from his brow bone to his chin made his already cold and hard face look even more fierce.

James, a retired sergeant from the U.S. Marine Corps, was the team's sniper and explosives expert.

"Could something have happened?" James asked.

"Mike isn't that easy to get into trouble with."

Sarah's voice was confident, but you could tell from the way she gripped the binoculars that she was also a little nervous.

"Wait another half hour. If there's still no signal, proceed with Plan B."

"Isn't Plan B too risky?"

James frowned. "If we launch a frontal assault, we won't even know how much firepower they have—"

"That's why we need to let Mike figure it out first."

Sarah interrupted him, "Don't worry, Mike is the best infiltrator of the three of us. Once he gets into their camp, he'll definitely find a way in."

James didn't say anything more.

But he had a vague, uneasy feeling.

That premonition was indescribable, like the faint, damp feeling in the air before a storm...

Hopefully he's overthinking it!

Oh God!

however.

Half an hour later, Mike still hadn't sent a signal.

Sarah put down her binoculars and took a deep breath: "Plan B, let's do it tonight."

She looked around. "You go around to the east, find their watchtower, and take out the sentries first. I'll break through from the middle. If you encounter Mike, tell him to detonate it early—we'll meet up at their supply depot."

James smiled confidently: "I thought I was going to be a babysitter this time."

"Enough talk, let's go."

Just as the two were about to make a move, they suddenly stopped—

"Wait, Mike's signal!"

The two men looked down at their tactical watches almost simultaneously.

On the watch screen, a faint signal is flashing regularly.

It's Morse code.