Wasteland Survivalist: A Scientific Guide to Post-Apocalyptic Survival

The tower is about 20 meters high and has been eroded by wind and rain.

Reddish-brown rust covered every support.

The strong mountain wind swept across the mountaintop without any obstruction, causing the tower to creak and groan, making one's teeth ache.

Gu Lang inspected the tower base and the bottom load-bearing structure.

Although severely rusted, the main frame still appears to be quite sturdy.

He began to climb the narrow, steep, open steel ladder.

Some of the mesh pedals underfoot were deformed, and they felt soft and spongy with an ominous elasticity.

As darkness fell, the wind grew stronger and fiercer.

She grabbed his clothes, as if trying to pull him off.

With each step upwards, one could feel the entire tower swaying noticeably in the wind.

He climbed the last step of the ladder, pushed open the top cover, and entered the tower.

The tower was a tin-roofed shack, only 6 square meters in size, with an extremely rudimentary interior.

It contained only a bed, a table, two telescopes, a set of batteries, a radio, and a portable power source.

On the table was a work manual with the words "Forest Ranger's Lookout Log" written on the cover.

With glass windows on all four sides, it offers a wide view.

There is another corridor outside, with several solar panels installed on the railing.

He pushed open the iron gate and went outside to observe the surrounding environment.

There is a man-made firebreak road at the foot of the tower, leading to a distant forest farm, from which one can return to the highway.

He also discovered that there was a fork in the path he had just come from, and he didn't know where it led.

Having found his direction again, Gu Lang finally felt relieved.

Back in the tower, he checked the radio in the room.

I only know some basic radio knowledge and have never actually operated one.

Looking at the knobs and buttons on the radio, Gu Lang was momentarily at a loss as to how to use it.

"Let's take it apart first, and then we can study it slowly when we have time."

He decided not to waste any more time and started disassembling it.

I carefully disconnected the cable between the radio and the battery, removed the antenna, and stuffed it into my backpack.

As darkness fell, Gu Lang pondered for a few seconds before decisively abandoning his plan to spend the night on the watchtower.

The tower gives the impression that it could collapse at any moment, and its safety is difficult to guarantee.

He hadn't been there long when he started to feel a little dizzy from the shaking.

The corrugated iron roof rattled loudly in the wind.

The tower's windows also leak air and have very poor insulation.

Even going to the toilet at night can be a hassle.

As soon as the lights are turned on, it's easy to give away your presence.

Carrying the heavy radio on his back, he carefully climbed down the tower the way he came.

Compared to the sense of danger of falling from a height at any moment.

The sense of security that comes from being grounded feels so real.

The forest farm was too far away, so Gu Lang decided to try his luck at the fork in the path.

Soon a secluded cabin in the woods came into view.

The cabin was built with logs, and for some reason, it was covered with a layer of camouflage netting.

It is almost impossible to find unless you are looking for it intentionally.

Gu Lang immediately slowed his pace and arrived at the door.

The wooden door wasn't locked; it opened with a gentle push.

The interior was simply furnished and covered in dust, appearing to have been uninhabited for a long time.

Compared to the dilapidated tower, this cozy little cabin is clearly more suitable for spending the night.

There was no food in the cabin, but it had all the necessary living facilities.

He also found the radio's packaging box, which contained the instruction manual and a car mount.

There is a water storage tank inside the house, which is connected to the rainwater collection pipe on the roof.

Gu Lang lit the fireplace and threw in a few pieces of wood.

After dinner, I read the radio instruction manual for a while, then lay down to rest.

Because there was no infrared alarm, he dared not sleep too soundly.

Around 2 a.m., I was half-asleep when I was woken up by a series of "thumping" sounds.

Gu Lang realized that this was because of the large temperature difference between indoors and outdoors, causing the wood to rub against each other as it expanded and contracted.

Now that he was awake, he went out to use the restroom.

The cold wind made me wide awake, so I just stared blankly at the fireplace.

By the firelight, he noticed that the ground seemed somewhat out of place.

There were obvious friction marks on the edge of the floor in front of the fireplace.

So he got up, picked up the dagger, squatted down, and started prying.

Lifting a large wooden board revealed a new space underneath.

A mixture of musty smells, dust, and some indescribable stench of decay hit me.

Gu Lang was startled and quickly dressed and put on his headlamp.

Pick up your weapon and carefully descend the steep wooden ladder.

The cellar was deeper and much larger than I had imagined.

As the light swept across, the scene before him made even someone as accustomed to death feel a churning in his stomach.

This is clearly not a place for storing vegetables and grains.

Rusty chains and handcuffs hung on the wall, and dirty blankets and ropes were piled up in the corner.

In the middle was a dirty iron bed, with belts fastened to it.

The floor and walls were covered with dark brown stains that could not be completely cleaned off.

Most chillingly, a dozen or so photos were neatly nailed to the wall in front of a dilapidated wooden table.

The photos show young women, some with terrified expressions and others with vacant eyes, against the backdrop of this cellar.

Next to the photo were several thick notebooks.

Gu Lang suppressed his discomfort and picked up the top book to open it.

Inside, the date, weather, and "harvest" are recorded in detail using neat and even slightly elegant handwriting.

"September 15th, light rain."

I met her by the national highway; she was carrying a hiking backpack and looked like a college student.

She was easily fooled; as soon as I told her I'd take her to an undeveloped tourist spot, she obediently got into the car…

"March 20th, sunny. The lambs are a bit disobedient and need some 'education'. Their cries are quite pleasant."

"April 2nd, cloudy. Played a new game today, but unfortunately she didn't last long..."

As you turn the pages, you'll find a record of how a deranged serial killer lured, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, tortured, and ultimately murdered these women.

This even includes the victim's reactions and pleas for mercy before they die.

The owner of the notebook refers to himself as a "collector," and his writing reveals an extreme sense of ruthlessness and smug satisfaction.

At the end of the last notebook, time had entered the "catastrophic period".

The handwriting also became agitated and frantic.

"September 22th, heavy rain."

They've gone mad! Everyone's gone mad since the nuclear war!

They were tearing each other apart in the street, it was so beautiful!

This is the real world! Survival of the fittest, without any pretense!

My time has come! No more police, no more laws!

I can finally enjoy my 'collection' to my heart's content!

What are those idiots outside who only know how to gnaw and bite?

I am the true 'hunter'!

I can taste the fear deep in their souls, which is a thousand times more wonderful than physical pain!

March 2th, cloudy.

I brought back one of those crazy people.

It's meaningless; she's lost her soul.

He is unconscious and has no pain.

What I'm looking for are those vibrant souls who are still conscious, who can still feel fear, who can still cry.