Surviving on an Uninhabited Island (2)
The control room contained hundreds of massive displays. Every screen showed views of a beautiful tropical island. After loading the cadets onto the transport planes, the faculty had immediately moved to the control center near the uninhabited island. Equipped with its own runway, the facility could evacuate all students in an emergency while simultaneously monitoring every corner of the island. Transport planes patrolled the skies around the clock in rotating shifts, and thousands of small drones had been scattered throughout the interior. Yet every time this event rolled around, the instructors couldn’t help but feel their nerves stretch razor-tight. A tropical uninhabited island could spawn any number of unpredictable variables.
“It’s beginning again this year,” Professor Cheongha said, her expression stiff.
“The cadets this year are exceptionally talented, so we can expect good things,” replied Go Seungbin, the Jangbaek Sword Lord, who sat in the control room as the officer in charge in place of the president.
“Drop commencing!” announced the staff member who had been exchanging rapid communications with the transport plane.
For this single moment every professor held their breath and stared at the screens. Although several instructors had been sent to the site, preparing for every contingency was impossible.
“One, two… All successful!”
Sighs of relief broke out across the room. The devices on the cadets’ wrists were designed to transmit alerts the instant their lives were endangered. Fortunately, everyone had landed safely near the shoreline without any major incidents.
“That’s a relief,” Professor Cheongha murmured, eyes fixed on one corner of a display.
A man was skillfully shrugging off his parachute before striding straight into the jungle. The real trial was only now beginning. Twenty-one days. A stretch of time that would feel just as endless to the professors as it did to the students.
I landed exactly on the safety zone the academy had marked beforehand. The muggy air already made breathing feel heavy.
The clear emerald sea sparkled as it ceaselessly crashed against the white sand beach. If you looked only at the scenery, it was the picture-perfect tropical island from every movie you’d ever seen. Yet none of that beauty really registered.
Three minutes without air, three hours without temperature regulation, three days without water, three weeks without food. Those were the fundamental rules of survival.
Even if Murim practitioners could endure several times longer than ordinary people, the single most important factor here wasn’t water—it was ‘shelter.’ Though better than a freezing environment, sprawling on bare ground was still not recommended even in a tropical rainforest.
I pulled the compass from the survival kit backpack, confirmed my bearings, and immediately stepped into the jungle.
Normally contact between cadets was impossible, but our status window cheat system made it possible. That was also why I could breathe a little easier. We shared coordinates and checked them against a rough map. The fact that this relatively ‘advanced’ compass gave real-time positioning made navigation far simpler. Without it, the situation would have grown considerably more complicated.
The dense vegetation layers of a tropical rainforest not only hindered aerial detection but also caused anyone entering the forest to lose their sense of direction.
Fortunately, I wasn’t nearly as far from Han Yeoreum as I’d feared. If she walked carefully, she could reach me in about a day. I’d even planned for the worst-case scenario of us landing on opposite sides of the island, but this distance was manageable.
The map we’d been given beforehand only showed the island’s rough outline and latitude, but with the compass it was more than enough to orient ourselves.
While descending I had already noted the location of a stream. I hacked my way through the thick undergrowth with the machete, advancing deeper. Sure enough, a small brook appeared shortly afterward.
The immediate vicinity of the water wasn’t ideal for camping. I moved a short distance away and found a flat spot. After walking a little further I discovered a location that offered shade, lay close to the stream, and had relatively few insects.
I cleared grass and branches to create a foundation for the shelter.
Bamboo.
I hadn’t counted on this, but a broader look around revealed bamboo growing in several places.
“I’m in luck.”
The words slipped out naturally. Tropical bamboo couldn’t be judged by Korean standards. Year-round heat provided perfect conditions for plant growth, and these stalks were massive—large enough to serve as pillars or flooring.
Whew.
I’d barely exerted myself, yet my whole body was already drenched in sweat. I stripped off my top and draped it over the survival kit. Then I raised the machete and struck.
With a loud crack, the enormous bamboo toppled in a single blow. I hadn’t even used much force, yet watching the thick stalk snap like a dry twig felt incredibly satisfying. The muscle training had definitely been worth it.
I felled several more bamboo stalks, split them into usable lengths, shouldered the bundle, and returned to the building site. There was easily enough material to construct a fairly large shelter.
I dug shallow holes with a small shovel, then drove each pillar deep into the ground by channeling the energy of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. After repeating the process to set all the supports, I calculated the roof frame and raised it. Once the skeleton was complete, I lashed the bamboo together with the tough rope from the survival kit. Using nearby vines would have worked, but the provided cord made everything simpler and more secure.
The presence or absence of even minor materials truly made all the difference.
“Haa…”
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, carried over more bamboo, and laid down the flooring. Thanks to my overwhelming strength and internal energy, work that should have required ten people was finished in moments.
I carved another path with the machete and returned toward the shoreline. I had spotted something earlier.
Coconuts.
Unless the academy wanted to wipe out the entire student body, they must have chosen this island with care. I had naturally expected coconut trees—the ultimate survival resource—and I was proven right. Plenty of them grew near the pre-marked safe landing zone.
“Hot. So damn hot.”
Normally it would be smarter to work at dawn or dusk when the temperature dropped, but a martial artist couldn’t afford to be defeated by mere weather. I harvested several coconuts, stripped the leaves, and fastened the plastic canteen I’d brought to the cut stem. After confirming the sap was dripping into the container, I climbed down.
Before bagging the coconuts, I sliced the top off one with a knifehand strike and drank deeply.
“Krr…”
I’d once suffered through a brand called ZIOO that tasted vile, so I’d been worried. This, however, was genuinely good. The package had claimed 99% coconut water too, yet the flavor gap made me wonder what horrors they’d mixed into that final one percent. Drinking it again confirmed the difference. It carried a pleasant natural sweetness. The old saying that local is best apparently still held true.
There was no need to harvest too many. Overripe coconuts could cause diarrhea, and I had zero interest in experimenting on my own body to find my limit.
I still needed additional clean water sources beyond the coconut sap. Carrying the bag of coconuts and an armful of leaves, I returned to the shelter site.
I spread the leaves wide across the roof frame and secured them, then mixed leaves with mud to form walls. Finally I covered the floor with more leaves and laid the silver emergency blanket on top.
I worked without pause, and before I realized it the sky had begun to glow with sunset hues.
I realized anew that the coconut was the ultimate cheat item. It provided drinking water, roofing material, rope from its fibers, and kindling from its dried shells. A single coconut palm could trivialize survival—if you knew how to use it.
All the survival training I’d crammed into my head beforehand was finally paying dividends.
After finishing the day’s labor I’d emptied the coconut water, so I headed back to the shore. I retrieved the plastic canteen I’d hung earlier, sat on a nearby rock, and took a sip.
“Ugh, bugs.”
I fished out the insect that had flown inside and drank again.
“Krr…!”
The sweetness drew an involuntary sound of appreciation. The flavor was incomparably richer than the sap of Korean gorosoe trees—almost like a concentrated version of sikhye. No wonder people turned it into sugar and syrup.
Having built a place to rest and now watching the emerald sea beneath a setting sun, a strange sense of accomplishment washed over me. I felt good.
As I stared blankly at the disappearing sun, a rustling sound came from somewhere nearby.
I, Han Yeoreum, am not an idiot.
This time I would prove it.
The moment she descended with that firm resolve, Han Yeoreum’s mind went completely blank. She had definitely memorized the navigation techniques, yet none of it would surface. After sitting for a long while and groaning in frustration, she finally experienced a flash of enlightenment.
After countless trials and errors she succeeded in pinpointing both her own location and Kim Mugong’s on the map. From that point forward she advanced like a bulldozer, slicing a perfectly straight line through the jungle.
Rough branches, tough vines, streams, insects—nothing could obstruct her path.
Only one thought ruled her mind: I must join him.
She drank the coconuts she had gathered as if blowing a war horn, never resting, stubbornly pressing forward, ever forward.
And at last, after breaking through the endless jungle, she saw the parachute wreckage.
Beside it stood Kim Mugong, shirtless, striking every cool pose imaginable while holding a plastic canteen and gazing at the sea.
“What are you doing?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Was he seriously trying to look cool right now?
“You’re here,” he said, still facing the ocean.
The way the sunset glow traced his solid muscles was…
Maybe a little nice to look at?
Han Yeoreum shook her head vigorously, banishing the thought. In contrast to him, her entire body was a disaster. Unknown plants clung to her everywhere, her clothes were torn in multiple places, and the hair she had tied back was completely soaked with sweat.
She trudged over and sat down beside him.
“Want a drink?” He offered the precious coconut sap that had only a single sip remaining.
“Th-this is…!” Even though it was only one mouthful, her eyes flew wide. The flavor blew her fatigue away in an instant.
“Is there more?”
“Nope. That’s the end of it.”
“Why?”
“Because there isn’t any more, that’s why.”
Han Yeoreum pouted.
“You can have more tomorrow, so wait. This takes time to collect.”
Unfortunately coconut sap had to be gathered drop by drop from the stem, and its quick fermentation meant it couldn’t be stored for long.
“You worked hard getting here.” Kim Mugong placed his hand on her disheveled head.
“Yeah.” She lightly bumped her forehead against his back.
And the sight of the two of them was being watched by a pair of green eyes from a short distance away.