90: Chapter 89 Impossible... You're lying to me!

Tom shook his head and added a piece of firewood to the fire. He set up another pot in the gap, boiling the white-spined pufferfish he had just hunted. The fish meat rolled, and the milky white soup bubbled away.

"I'm not some expert," Tom shook his head, ladled a bowl of fish soup, and handed it over. "My Houseboat is also Rotten Wood Class, just like yours. I'm an ordinary survivor, and I haven't had any powerful Awakening."

"Then how could you have survived that beast tide so completely intact? Brother, you don't need to lie to me anymore."

Tom watched his expression turn increasingly strange, and finally, as the other man struggled to keep his composure, he said calmly, "I survived because the Fate Platform opened the magic sea compass. It seems you must be one of those survivors who quit the Fate Platform."

The white survivor's hand froze mid-motion as he reached for the bowl.

He looked up, staring fixedly at Tom, his brow slowly knitting together. His expression shifted from gratitude to something strange, and then from strange to a kind of... near-pitying mockery.

"Brother," the white survivor put down the bowl, his tone becoming earnest. "I understand you don't want to expose your strength. There are just the two of us here; I couldn't possibly harm you. There's no need to use such deceitful nonsense to put me off."

Tom paused, looking at him: "You don't believe me?"

"Believe what? Believe in that trash platform created by the Yanhuang Civilization survivors?" The white survivor raised his voice, pulling at the wound where his limb had been severed, causing him to gasp in pain. But the more he spoke, the more agitated he became, his only remaining right hand clenching into a fist and slamming against the deck.

"That so-called Cause and Effect Fate Platform is just a magic tool used by the Yanhuang Civilization survivors to enslave us! They want to monitor our every move through that platform, brainwash us, absorb our lifespans, and make us willingly act as their dogs!"

"Besides posting on a forum, what else can that trash platform do? If you encounter sea beasts, can posting on a forum curse the sea beasts away? And a magic sea compass? It's all just bragging. How could something that can monitor the Magic Sea in real-time, report information, plan survival routes, warn of sea beasts, and analyze weakness information exist? If it did, it must be something only God could bestow."

"Besides, the Yanhuang Civilization survivors are so selfish, how could they possibly give us good things to use? Even if they did, it must be a cheap knock-off, meant to trick fools like you into handing over karma points—a devil's candy used to swindle us out of our lives!"

He stared at Tom, his eyes filled with an eager "I'm doing this for your own good" look.

"Brother, take my advice and quit that platform immediately. Look at me; although I'm severely injured, at least I survived through my own ability! Relying on yourself is better than relying on anyone else! The Yanhuang Civilization survivors are no kin to you, why would they give you benefits? There's no such thing as a free lunch!"

Tom held the bowl, listening quietly until he finished.

No rebuttal.

No argument.

He simply put down the bowl, opened the Cause and Effect Fate Platform, and activated the magic sea compass.

A virtual screen unfolded before his eyes, visible only to him. He selected the scanning function of the "Personal Information Panel" and locked onto the white survivor opposite him.

Lines of information appeared on the screen.

Survivors who haven't joined the Fate Platform don't seem to have their information protected; in the eyes of the magic sea compass, they are no different from ordinary sea beasts.

Therefore, all of George's information was laid bare before Tom.

Tom read the information aloud, word for word, from the screen.

"Your name is George Smith. Twenty-four years old. Fog City Camp."

George froze, his mouth half-open.

Tom continued reading: "Talent: Muscle Enhancement. Essence: 1/15. Qi: 2/15. Spirit: 1/12..."

George's eyes widened sharply, his body instinctively shrinking back, his back hitting the cabin wall with a dull thud.

"I don't think I told you my name, how do you know my name?!" His voice trembled, his gray-blue eyes filled with shock. "And what the hell are Essence, Qi, and Spirit values? My age... Talent??!"

"Scanned by the magic sea compass." Tom closed the panel and picked up an oar. "You don't believe I survived using the compass. I'll demonstrate it for you."

Tom rowed the oar, and the Houseboat moved steadily across the sea.

The compass's scanning function was activated.

Tom glanced at the screen and adjusted his direction. After rowing less than two hundred meters, he stopped the boat, picked up a bronze harpoon, and probed it into the seawater.

He fished something up.

A piece of wreckage from an old sunken ship was speared. Looking up, the wreckage was also tangled with several plastic bottles containing water and some old rags.

George sat on the deck, his eyes fixed on the scene.

There was nothing on the surface of this sea area; how did this kid know there was a shipwreck under the water?

Tom ignored him and continued to spear, pulling up more wood and cloth, which were good for starting fires and keeping warm once dried.

Tom continued to row.

Ten minutes later, Tom stopped suddenly. He grabbed the bronze harpoon and walked to the gunwale.

The magic sea compass function indicated a small red dot representing an ordinary sea beast eight meters directly below.

Tom took a deep breath, the muscles in his arms bulging, and he threw the harpoon fiercely.

Water splashed.

A few seconds later, Tom pulled the rope. A half-meter-long white-scaled flying fish was dragged onto the deck, the harpoon having precisely pierced its gills.

George swallowed hard.

Blind stabbing? A hit on the first try? What kind of hellish luck is this?

"This isn't luck." Tom pulled out the harpoon and shook off the blood. "The compass marked its position and movement trajectory. I only needed to aim."

George opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out.

But the shock wasn't over.

The compass suddenly emitted a slight warning sound. On the screen, a red dot representing a low-tier sea beast was rapidly approaching from the nine o'clock direction.

Tom glanced at the information next to the red dot.

[Target: Striped Steel-Toothed Shark (Low-tier Sea Beast)]

[Weakness: Three inches below the dorsal fin, left eye]

"There's a sea beast coming." Tom gripped the harpoon tightly, his eyes locked on the sea to the left.

George was startled, his only remaining right hand gripping the gunwale tightly, his body shrinking toward the cabin. He looked around in terror, but the sea was calm, with no sign of any sea beast at all.

"You're lying! Where is—

Before he could finish, the seawater eight meters to the left suddenly broke open.

A three-meter-long Striped Steel-Toothed Shark leaped out of the water, its dark gray back gleaming coldly in the sunlight. Its blood-red maw, filled with barbed teeth, opened to an exaggerated angle and lunged straight at the Houseboat.

George let out a high-pitched scream, instinctively trying to block it with his left hand—only to remember that his left hand was gone. He could only close his eyes and curl into a ball.

Tom didn't retreat but advanced.

He stared intently at the shark in mid-air, the maw reflected in his pupils. At the moment it reached its peak and was about to descend, Tom turned sideways, using his waist and abdomen to generate force, and swung his arm around.

The bronze harpoon turned into a blur, whistling with a piercing sound.

Pfft!

The harpoon pierced precisely into the spot three inches below the shark's dorsal fin—the weakness marked by the compass.

The shark let out a shrill hiss, its massive body losing balance in mid-air and slamming heavily onto the deck. It rolled violently, its tail fin flapping wildly against the wooden planks, making a thumping sound, causing Tom's Houseboat to sway from side to side.

Tom pulled out the dagger at his waist, and when the shark rolled a second time to expose its belly, he lunged forward, slashing the dagger along the wound made by the harpoon, from the dorsal fin all the way to the lower jaw.

Fresh blood gushed out.

The shark twitched a few times and stopped moving completely.

[Successfully killed the Striped Steel-Toothed Shark, gained 45 points of faction merit.]

Tom panted heavily, the dagger slipping from his hand and sticking into the deck. His arms were trembling slightly—not from fear, but a normal reaction after the adrenaline faded.

He wiped the blood off his hands and turned to look at George, who was curled up in the corner.

"That's how I survived the first wave of sea beast attacks last night, and since then, I've dodged countless sea beast ambushes, counter-killed countless sea beasts I couldn't avoid, planned low-risk routes while desperately trying to escape, and fought sea beasts while on the run, all the way to surviving until now."

George listened, opening his eyes.

He stared blankly at the dead shark, at the impossibly precise wound on the shark's body, and at Tom's blood-splattered but unharmed face.

Then he looked down at his own empty left arm and right leg.

The scene just now replayed in his mind over and over.

Tom precisely fished out supplies from underwater, blindly speared the deep-water flying fish, predicted the sea beast attack in advance, and killed it in one strike.

This wasn't hiding his strength, nor was it some bullshit luck.

This was an all-encompassing, unreasonable dimensional strike.

This was an absolute dominance that controlled all the information on the battlefield.

A Divine-Grade assist from the Yanhuang Civilization that George had never imagined.

George's body began to tremble violently.

He remembered his fear last night, fumbling in the dark like a blind man.

He remembered his despair as he rowed desperately to avoid sea beasts, only to bump into another sea beast's mouth because he couldn't see the situation underwater.

He remembered the excruciating pain when his left hand was bitten and torn by that row of sharp teeth.

He remembered the collapse when his right leg was ripped off entirely from the knee, and blood gushed out like a fountain.

He remembered the helplessness of soaking in the cold seawater waiting for death, thinking he would never see the dawn again.

And this young man from Fog City, who had ordinary strength, no talents, and felt like a survivor even worse than himself, had relied on that magic sea compass—which he had cursed and scoffed at—

Not only had he survived unscathed, but he could even easily hunt sea beasts, eat hot fish soup, and live a life ten thousand times better than his own.

"Impossible... This is impossible..."

George held his head with both hands—no, only his right hand remained. His right hand clawed at his hair, his nails digging into his scalp, and his body shook uncontrollably like a sieve.

"How could the Yanhuang Civilization people make such a thing... How could they give us such a Divine Artifact to use..."

He muttered incoherently, his voice getting louder and louder, laced with a crying tone.

Tom didn't rush to speak.

He squatted down, used his dagger to cut off the shark's fins, and threw them into the pot. Then he walked over to George, squatted in front of him, and looked into those gray-blue eyes that had lost focus.

"George." Tom's voice was very calm. "Do you know what you missed?"

George looked up, his face covered in tears and snot.

"What did you say?"

"I mean—" Tom pointed to George's severed left hand and right leg, "If you had stayed on the Fate Platform, your hand and leg might have been saved."

George froze.

"You... what do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said." Tom stood up, took a wooden cup from the cabin, poured himself some water, leaned against the gunwale, and spoke in a tone as if stating the most ordinary fact.

"I watched the live broadcast of the Yanhuang Camp on the Fate Platform. Not the edited videos, but the real-time live streams. Do you know what I saw?"

George stared at him blankly.

Tom took a sip of water.

"I saw a Yanhuang Civilization survivor whose chest was completely pierced by a sea beast's claw. His heart was pierced through. Guess what? The next second, his body recovered instantly. I heard it's a new function of the Fate Platform called the Dataization Panel. As long as the head isn't bitten off, all other physical injuries can be fully recovered. Then, after drinking a little of the Divine Water issued by that Little Life Society organization, they stood up like nothing happened and could continue fighting."

George's pupils shrank sharply.

"Impossible... You're lying to me..."

"Why would I lie to you?" Tom smiled, but there was no mockery in that smile, only a kind of near-pious awe for a miracle. "I saw it with my own eyes in the live stream. It wasn't just him. Those Yanhuang Survivors, those with severed hands and feet, or even those whose bodies were broken in two, couldn't die. As long as they were willing to spend a few karma points and use their various Divine Waters, they could recover instantly."