Chapter 325 - 141: Natives Landing on the Island (Part 2)
In the north, where the average height is relatively high, Chen Zhou’s stature is already considered above average.
As he became more robust, his physique increasingly resembled the saying "tiger back, bear waist."
Especially when wearing vine armor, Chen Zhou couldn’t help but think of Meng Huo, who was captured seven times by Zhuge Liang, whenever he looked in the mirror.
Thankfully, after shaving his beard and trimming his hair, he still looked fairer than the Meng Huo in the Three Kingdoms card.
...
The additional physical exertion caused Chen Zhou’s appetite to increase repeatedly.
Besides rice and flour, he craved more meat, more oil, salt, and sugar intake.
Fortunately, now in the second year of being on the island, the food he grew was enough to consume, and there were also the ten bags of refined flour rewarded in July, each bag weighing 25kg, of which only one had been opened.
For meat, there’s a large supply of seafood, and if he got tired of it, he could head straight down the mountain and into the woods east of Pigeon Cave, where it wouldn’t take long to catch a wild goat — home to another herd.
...
As his muscles tore and healed, time flew by.
By the end of November, Chen Zhou’s archery skills had improved to the point where he could hit one out of five shots from a hundred meters, and his use of the spear was coming along, with stabbing accuracy reaching a satisfactory level.
With December approaching, he paused his physical training to allow his tense body to rest.
However, he didn’t skip the bow and arrow practice, nor the spear practice that required a feel; he still managed to train three to four hours every day.
...
By this time, the dry season had begun, and Chen Zhou started frequently ascending to the mountain top to observe the sea.
The obstacles and traps previously set on the hillside were partially damaged by the rainy season, requiring him to spend some time on repairs.
As the days passed, entering December, although Chen Zhou’s body was no longer tormented, his mind remained as tense as a tightly drawn bowstring.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would suddenly wake up from a dream, then, clutching a telescope and an oil lamp, dash frantically from the cave to the mountain top, staring dazedly at the dark beach.
As a modern person living in a peaceful country, words like murder and warfare seemed far too distant to him.
Prior to this, he had made countless preparations, contemplating various cruel and ruthless means to kill that group of Cannibal Tribes.
He believed he was cold-blooded enough, rational enough, and believed he had a sufficiently strong mental resilience.
But the closer the natives came to landing on the island, the more he realized he wasn’t as brave as he imagined, nor as ruthless as he thought.
Slaughtering animals and killing people impact one in utterly different ways.
In his dreams, sometimes he rehearsed scenarios of slaughtering the natives, sometimes he faced moral condemnation.
All sorts of psychological pressure accumulated in his chest, slowly filling his brain.
These things that usually would incite fear and even retreat made Chen Zhou inexplicably more irritable, as though there was a chemical reaction with his solitary life on the island, pushing him towards becoming an explosive bomb ready to ignite.
He gradually forgot the ethics and morals of modern society, forgot the pangs of conscience, and even the purpose of attacking the natives.
He simply didn’t want nearly a year’s effort to go to waste. He wanted to fight, to vent the pent-up negative emotions inside him...
...
The grooves on the new wooden calendar became noticeably deeper, and those sharp scars seemed to precipitate the violent anger burning in Chen Zhou’s chest.
Starting December 5th, he would sit quietly for over six hours a day atop the mountain.
Most of the clothes from the ship no longer fit his current physique, and he was accustomed to wearing a loose sailor’s duty uniform.
The uniform was dark blue with stubborn stains that wouldn’t wash out, and climbing mountains while wearing it often left him covered in sand and dirt, turning him a shade of yellow-black.
Looking up from the foot of the mountain, anyone spotting Chen Zhou climbing with Lai Fu might think it was a big bear with a cub.
...
During the dry season, the wind on the mountain top was always strong, often making it hard for one to open their eyes.
The beach below was always empty, and even when observing the distant sea through a telescope, apart from a few seabirds and fish occasionally surfacing, nothing could be found, only the gentle undulation of the sea being stirred by the wind.
This situation persisted until December 18th.
Chen Zhou initially thought the natives would, like in 1659, land on December 20th, but he was proven wrong.
These natives only had a specific month for their cannibal feast but no exact time — they might not have developed a complete calendar system.
...
On the morning of the 18th, after breakfast, Chen Zhou spent an hour holding a spear in a horse stance in the yard, then put on his earth-stained sailor’s duty uniform, tucked a telescope into his pocket, and headed straight for the mountain top.
During this time, he said nothing.
Lai Fu, without command, seeing his master about to leave, perked up and followed behind Chen Zhou.
Man and dog quickly reached the mountain top, almost at a jog.
As usual, Chen Zhou sat against a rock on the mountain, his face stiff like a dormant volcano, showing no signs of expression.
The headwind made him squint his eyes, and as he sat on the mountain top, he thought he would spend yet another dull, meaningless day.
Unexpectedly, before noon, two small black dots appeared on the distant sea.
The bright sun reflected off the water, shimmering in the distance, and those two black dots flickered for a moment, then suddenly disappeared.