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

As the sun rose fully, Mike was about to take a casual stroll around the camp.

He wanted to see if he could find any loopholes in the defenses—damn, at least that would prove he had actually tried.

These national team athletes are no longer like the clueless, haphazard athletes they were when they first joined the team.

After all, with the constant deaths of their predecessors and various official and unofficial survival manuals compiled from all the players' live stream information, most of these national team players significantly improved their survival rate.

Of course, many athletes from some small countries will still die, and some have even been disqualified from participating in the national games.

However, even these countries that still possess some semblance of strength will eventually... if they don't make an effort...

He acted as naturally as possible, glancing around with the corner of his eye as he walked, like an ordinary wounded soldier stretching his muscles.

He had memorized several key locations—the warehouse was on the east side of the square, the watchtower was on the north side, and the ice cellar to the south was the one that still haunted him to this day.

There was a stone house on the west side with its door half-open—he had never been inside it.

He decided to go and take a look.

Mike, leaning on his trekking pole, limped along, his face strained to maintain a "I'm a good guy" expression that he'd been trying to keep up for a full day and night—and it was starting to crumble.

As they passed the square, Ou Yun, lying in a hammock, waved to him, still with a waffle in her mouth.

This guy really loves pancakes!

Mike thought to himself. Even though he knew it was coated in honey…

Good heavens, he had only ever seen this kind of food in movies and TV shows when he was a child.

Damn it, even wheat can't grow in the real world anymore—even after the nation's fortunes changed and things improved slightly, food prices are still sky-high.

That's why people from all over the world flock to the Dragon Kingdom, disregarding everything and going to great lengths!

So much so that now the threshold for entering and leaving the Dragon Kingdom is frighteningly high, almost comparable to that of the emperor!

Mike was lost in thought.

Leng Ruolan was cleaning her gun on the watchtower, not even glancing at him.

The bespectacled man named Chen Hao was squatting by the experimental field—was he counting ants?

Good heavens, how can life in the forbidden area be so leisurely!

Mike walked around the large stone house and found a narrow passage behind it.

At the end of the passage was an inconspicuous little door, which looked like some kind of storage room?

He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then quietly pushed open the door.

The door wasn't locked.

It was dark inside. He groped his way forward a few steps, when suddenly he tripped over something.

Immediately afterwards, a whooshing sound came from above.

He instinctively dodged to the side—but his leg was still bandaged, so he was a beat too slow.

then.

He saw a huge vine net descend from the sky, covering him completely, hanging from the ceiling like a fish being pulled out of the water.

It was still spinning around.

Mike: "..."

The net was woven from vines, each vine as thick as a thumb, and tied tightly.

He was hanging upside down, spinning around, completely bewildered, when he suddenly noticed a warning sign in the corner of the room:

No unauthorized personnel allowed :)

"..."

You're quite humorous!

Mike was left hanging upside down from the ceiling, swaying for about two minutes.

He tried to break free, but the vines, made of some kind of plant, only tightened around him the more he struggled.

What's even worse is that the net seemed to be coated with some kind of sticky liquid, and his clothes and skin would stick together as soon as they touched it, making it extremely uncomfortable.

Mike hesitated for a long time before finally pulling a small knife out of his pocket—but soon he heard a soft footstep coming from the doorway.

Then, a furry head poked its head in.

It's mung beans.

The lynx that usually ignored him was now tilting its head, its eyes filled with blatant disdain.

"Meow!"

Although Mike couldn't understand cat language, he could hear the blatant sarcasm in that meow.

Then it turned and left.

"..."

For some reason, he suddenly felt that the lynx had gone to call for help—

Mike felt a chill run down his spine.

But he guessed wrong.

Green Bean wasn't there to call people, Green Bean was there to call the cat—and in no time, Nanbei walked in with elegant steps.

It crouched under the vine net, looking up at Mike hanging in mid-air, its golden eyes expressionless.

Mike: "..."

That's fucking enough.

However, Nanbei ignored him, just flicked its tail, and then got up and left.

Just as Mike was about to curse, Leng Ruolan appeared at the door.

She was still holding the half-finished glass of chilled juice in her hand, and when she saw Mike hanging in mid-air, her expression was the familiar cold indifference.

Leng Ruolan smiled enigmatically. "What, did you come to the wrong door?"

Mike forced a smile: "I need to use the restroom..."

Leng Ruolan took a sip of her juice. "The toilet is on the east side. This is the storage room." She paused. "There's a sign on the door."

"..."

Mike felt he had never been so embarrassed in his life.

But Leng Ruolan did not continue to mock him.

She simply stepped forward, drew the black-fuming knife from her waist, and with a light flick—the black mist spreading from the blade instantly corroded several of the main ropes of the vine net, and Mike fell to the ground with a thud.

Leng Ruolan sheathed her knife, turned and left.

Mike lay on the ground, rubbing his sore shoulder, watching Leng Ruolan's figure disappear into the distance.

Of course, even if I trained in close combat for another ten years, I probably still wouldn't be a match for this woman.

But for some reason, Mike always had a creepy feeling.

Everything seems normal—but it is precisely because everything seems normal that it appears abnormal.

In their eyes, was he really just a wounded person temporarily staying there...?

*

At breakfast, Mike finally saw the last creature in the camp that he had never seen before.

That was a cow.

To be precise, it was an absurdly large cow.

It slowly walked out of the cowshed, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly, just like the giant tortoise.

His muscles were perfectly defined and strong, making him look like a marble sculpture.

The two bull horns were as thick as an adult's thigh, and their tips gleamed with a metallic sheen.

"..."

Is this even a cow?

This must be a bull warrior!

Mike was so shocked that he mechanically took a bite of a waffle.

He felt he was becoming numb.

This camp contains a giant tortoise, an S-level threat species; a mutated giant roc; a storm black eagle; two lynxes that can mistake mutated wild boars for Jerry; and a group of unconventional monkeys that are disorganized and undisciplined but whose intelligence is clearly different from that of ordinary monkeys.

Now, there's another cow that looks like it could overturn a tank.