Forging the Bamboo General

While clearing the Heavenly Craft Star opportunity quest was important, survival came first, so for the past few days, I'd poured every moment into securing food and drinking water. On rainy days, I'd collect it in the liquor barrels, and when even that fell short, I'd try distilling it. To avoid spoilage, I'd gather fruits and seafood only as needed, while salting and preserving the fish I'd caught ahead of time.

My first day's haul had been a total disaster—I'd felt like one of those special forces guys from a survival documentary, muttering about protein and wondering if I should catch bugs to eat—but things had somehow worked out. Thank goodness. As the supplies piled up bit by bit, I could feel myself gaining some leeway in my movements, taking it all in.

"Huff, huff."

Once night fell and the monsters restricted my range, I'd kill time with workouts.

Of course, the main reason was that if I didn't force myself to burn energy like this, the nightmares hit harder after I fell asleep. But hey, silver lining. My body, already specialized in external arts, combined with my past life's exercise knowledge, felt even better conditioned.

The hand cannon with the handle I'd found by the gangway was too rusted for practical use, but it doubled as a grab weight with decent heft—no issues gripping it. It made for a fine workout tool, straying from its original purpose.

Life on this uninhabited island, which I'd thought would just be endless hardship, turned out more adaptable than expected.

Intellectually, I knew this was reality, but it felt like I'd become the protagonist in a survival flick. Just two gripes: the monsters that narrowed my activity radius every single night, and...

"Jeez, old man, you talk way too much."

In a natural bamboo grove on one side of the island, I grumbled complaints while hacking away diligently.

Hendrick's presence as my ally had been a huge help. The downside? He talked a blue streak. Still, silver lining again—I'd reached the point where I could tune out the fluff and pluck out the key info naturally.

Of course, Hendrick occasionally went, "Are you even listening?" which got awkward. There were times he'd sulk like a tough guy calling himself a real man, pissed that I was half-ignoring him, and I'd have to soothe his bushy-bearded ass, snapping back to reality.

As I bitched behind his back, I'd gathered the needed materials.

I roughly bundled them with vines, slung them over my shoulder, and headed back to the wreck. At first, every task wrapped up just as night fell, but now I could chop bamboo, return, and still have time for lunch. Things were getting routine.

Maybe this suits me better? Why had I clung to that shitty situation? Looking back, it was ironic.

Aside from martial arts, what was I lacking? Great physique meant stamina, decent handiness.

If I'd just ditched everything from the start and left the clan, would I be flailing like this? Hard not to think it. Was this the scenario's compulsion? If so, the forced fate felt a bit scary.

Or maybe inertia from habit—like a bird caged too long, restricted by that space even after release.

[Back already?]

Clunk. As I set the bamboo and vines on the deck, Hendrick zipped over like he'd been waiting.

Normally, he'd say the same "Back already?" line without any welcoming moves, but this morning, when I mentioned starting weapons in earnest, his eyes had sparkled. He seemed the type who loved teaching hidden knowledge.

[Heh heh, finally time to show off this body's fine skills firsthand.]

That subtly upbeat tone proved it. I'd never done this before—could I keep up? While gathering, I hadn't worried, but now, facing actual instruction, doubts crept in.

Whatever. Hendrick eyeballed the materials and launched into what we'd make.

[The Bamboo General is plenty fine as a conversation starter with those monsters.]

"What's a Bamboo General?"

I got it was a weapon name, but not specifics.

The materials screamed "bamboo cannon" vibes, but really? That workable?

[The Bamboo General is the most primitive firearm. Can't claim great performance, but easy to source, simple materials, quick to make—that's the upside.]

Gunpowder weapon, as expected. Firearms in a murim world—imaginable yet hard to picture. And barrels? Don't you think solid iron?

I couldn't hide my skeptical look.

[Student Yujin, you look confused. Questions?]

"Can bamboo really be the barrel?"

[¡Vaya pregunta! Excellent question. As you say, bamboo can't handle blast pressure well. Weak firepower, short range, poor durability—listing traits, it's trash! In short, the Bamboo General is near-disposable.]

Hendrick explained with the passion of a fresh-hired hot-blooded teacher.

... Damn, too wordy.

Key info only would suffice, but in his wheelhouse, his chattiness overwhelmed. Half breaths, half drivel mixed with expertise—he dominated my time and brain. I'd half-given up, numbly absorbing the influx.

Stuck in rote learning even here—suddenly melancholic.

Scrape, scrape. Rattle.

Under his guidance, I sectioned bamboo by nodes, finished with cloth and vines from the ship. In the hollow spot, I poured gunpowder from a wax-sealed box, topped with sharp stones and bones.

Huh, looks decent? Contrary to worries, one-on-one expert tutoring on this simple design wrapped up fast.

"Hm."

First try, felt good handiwork—even to me, it looked solid. System agreed: objectively top-notch.

[...Beginner's luck? Nicely done. The craftsman's world is profound—I'll train you harshly to curb arrogance. One more!]

* [...You said martial artist, right? Never held a hammer before? Otherwise, inexplicable.]

...Heavenly Craft Star? Oh.

That clicked—why I'd struggled so hard without martial arts. Hongsim Yeonhwa had a constellation system: chosen stars granted skill and stat bonuses. Random at character creation, it wasted tons of time on rerolls.

And Heavenly Craft Star was prime trash-tier.

Production-job star boosting crafted item stats/performance. To see effects, needed high crafting skills—which meant grinding materials galore. Lowbies couldn't source that. Its blessing scaled demands with performance, too.

Even maxed crafting, clan heir weapon (late-game) outclassed it; opportunity legendaries made swapping obsolete.

That was bearable—endgame gear was rare. But the killer demerit: no internal energy skill acquisition. Utter garbage.

Some endgame builders/farmers enjoyed it, but niche. Anyway, my production build trying combat skills? Disaster.

...Rage aside, water under the bridge.

[This bamboo? So sturdy.]

"Guess it was good quality. Bamboo ain't just bamboo, right?"

Hendrick, inspecting the Bamboo General endlessly, looked unconvinced.

Why the fuss? His picked materials—backpedaling now?

Self-praise for his eye? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sick of it, I ignored his hype and focused on quest-clear crafting.

Three, four, five.

[¡Increíble! Splendid.]

Hendrick's praise shifted from confusion to awe as conditions met and the quest updated.

Compared to game quests, this was a cakewalk.

No proof, but production quests probably easier than combat ones.

Sigh, no free lunch.

Sub-quest popped right after Chapter 1. Yeah, this was it—devs' malice denying endgame gear.

Quest log's monster count: those from before, back for round two.

"Well, unlike last time, proper weapons now... should be doable..."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Ah, fuck.

Wait. Hendrick said Bamboo General was disposable, right?

Red light flashed; frozen brain spun.

Simple math: one shot, one kill. 16 minus 5? 11.

Not an idiot—who botches subtraction? Haha.

11? Hm.

"...We're screwed."

This screamed "die." Couldn't help but sigh.