National destiny: Starting with a coffin, building an aircraft carrier is broadcast live globally.

Dozens of cave dwellers rushed forward as if they had been injected with chicken blood.

They were better at digging than the gray cave monsters. They dug around the arbitrarily drawn rectangular area, with two heads and two tails, and without saying a word, they started digging!

When the four got tired, they would take turns, and the scene was quite spectacular at one point.

Renyi originally thought this would be a time-consuming project, but in just two hours, a prototype of an underground space was completed, even exceeding expectations.

The entrance to the cave is a gentle slope leading underground.

Renyi and Ivan walked down the slope into the cave and found that the interior space had been thoughtfully divided into several room-like partitions.

The empty space in the middle can be used to light a campfire.

Perhaps for aesthetic reasons, there are six small, arc-shaped spaces surrounding the campfire, ensuring that everyone can enjoy the warmth of the fire. At the end of the cave, there is a narrow exit, which serves as an emergency escape "back door".

...Indeed, no intelligent civilization should be underestimated.

This time, instead of giving them sea dragon meat, Renyi filled a jar with some combustible fat and gave it to Dala Bengba.

This thing will burn if the temperature is high enough, and it burns for a long time.

Randomly scrape off a piece of wood with a stick and bring it close to the campfire in front of Dala Bengba.

"call--!"

The flames suddenly shot up, emitting a bright orange-yellow light.

Dala Bengba's eyes lit up. With this, it would be much more convenient to make torches or start fires. It took the jar and bowed to Ren Yi once before happily returning home.

[Caveman Tribe Reputation +25]

Current Reputation: Honored (725)

Watching them disappear into the cave entrance, Ren Yi finally looked away: "We also need to reinforce this cave."

Ivan had been waiting for this.

"Boss, you tell me how to do it!"

Without a word, a large pile of neatly arranged, heavy timbers appeared out of thin air on the ground.

The two had a clear division of labor: Ren was responsible for planning and precise cutting, while Ivan was responsible for transporting the materials.

They first used the thickest timber to build a sturdy support structure on the top and sides of the underground cave to prevent it from collapsing.

Then, thick wooden planks were laid on the floor inside the compartment to isolate it from the soil and moisture, leaving the central area for burning firewood.

Finally, at the entrance, a heavy, sturdy wooden door was installed, secured directly with strong fiber.

A simple yet safe place to stay was thus completed.

……

at the same time,

On a stretch of sea not far from this strange continent, the atmosphere was tense.

Three assault boats, clearly militarized, surrounded a modified ship with a retro design.

The ship wasn't large, but it was in good condition.

Several fishing nets woven from various scraps of cloth hung on the gunwale, and there was even a small wooden box at the stern filled with soil and planted with a few plants, making it seem out of place on this sea.

"Final warning."

Morrison's voice was cold and hard, seemingly devoid of any emotion. "Hand over the girl on your ship, or we'll sink the ship and retrieve her."

A man in a shirt and vest stood on the boat planted with vegetation. He looked more like a gentleman preparing to attend a banquet than a survivor.

He was very familiar with the rules of America, raising his hands and smiling.

"Colonel Morrison, I think there must be some misunderstanding... I am Ethan, contestant number 45 from Sunset Country."

Ethan's tone was sincere.

"This Miss Sita is just a child who needs help; she has nothing to lose..."

She is more valuable than you.

Morrison interrupted him, his gaze passing over Ethan and landing behind him.

She was a slender girl with wheat-colored skin, large, clear eyes, and a stubbornness that showed more defiance than fear in her gaze.

She was wearing a strange red dress and clutching a sharpened wooden stick tightly in her hand.

Morrison's words sounded like a bestowal of favor upon her: "Come here. This is an order, from your country, and from me."

Ethan sighed inwardly.

The message he received from the land of the setting sun was:

Do your best to protect all non-combat units you encounter, especially those with support or production capabilities.

Can......

Damn it, he's a non-combatant himself!

Who will protect him?!

He was just an antique dealer whose greatest hobby was tending his garden.

I'm only alive now thanks to the wilderness survival experience I gained while searching for goods in the mountains and seas.

Until he met Sita.

This little girl is a genius; she can make the most useful things from any trashy material. That fishing net was woven from torn clothes.

"Sita,"

Ethan lowered his voice and blocked Morrison's view with his back.

"Listen, we are no match for them. Your country is number 72 in line. If you... if you die, the people behind you might..."

Her country did indeed contact her, with a simple and direct message—

Unconditionally cooperate with the actions of the American athletes.

Cooperate?

Sita finally spoke, her voice hoarse.

"The 71 people ahead of me, as far as I know, either blindly chased after the Sirens and other female players from other countries, or fell into the water while trying to retrieve the phantom treasure from the sea."

"They deserved it."

Her dark eyes stared directly at Ethan as she said, word by word, "I only hope that the 28 people who succeed me after I die are all the same kind of scum."

Ethan was stunned.

Not only him, but all the live streams from the five countries watching this scene were stunned.

The atmosphere in India was deathly silent.

The person in charge's face was darker than the bottom of a pot.

Who would have thought that this lowly woman would dare to rebel in front of the whole world!

Ethan sighed again.

He is usually very good at assessing situations and situations.

But looking into the resolute eyes of this eighteen-year-old girl, he found himself unable to bring himself to use his smooth tongue.

He pretended to reach out as if to pat Sita's shoulder to calm her down, and then obediently went over to her.

"Listen to me, child, you go first..."

His right hand quietly slid towards his chest.

There was an old flintlock rifle hidden there.

Antiques retrieved from a tattered fishing net.

He spent three days carefully repairing the firing mechanism using small tools made by Sita.

There's ammunition inside...

But whether it will make a sound, he doesn't know.

All he knew was that this was his last resort, the last vestige of dignity for a businessman.

But Sita's decision seemed to be faster than his plans.

The instant Ethan's fingers touched the gun handle,

With all her might, she threw the sharpened wooden stick in her hand!

The target was Elijah, the player from the Honey Badger country who was next to Morrison.

Elijah clicked his tongue in disdain, turned to the side, and the wooden spear embedded itself in the deck behind him, trembling as if in silent mockery.

"madness."

However, this is only the beginning.

Sita pulled out a small jar and threw it out again.

The target this time is the center of the three assault boats.

"Bang!"

Udej raised his hand and swung his harpoon, accurately shattering the pottery jar in mid-air.

The yellowish-green powder inside was blown by the sea breeze and scattered all over them.

"It's poison!"

Morrison instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his arm and jumped onto the furthest boat, Udj.

Elijah also quickly retreated, trying to escape the area covered by the powder.

They are not afraid of direct combat, but they are very wary of these insidious tactics.

opportunity!

Ethan's heart pounded; he knew it was adrenaline surging.

He drew his flintlock pistol, cocked it with a "click," and aimed it at the key figure—Morrison.

"Don't move!"

Ethan never imagined in his life that he would point a gun at a colonel.

God...

Please, let them leave!

He saw Morrison's gaze shift from Situ to the flintlock pistol in his hand.

In those eyes, there was coldness, impatience, and murderous intent...

He won't let himself off the hook!

His intuition, honed over the years, made him unable to let go of this one and only opportunity.

"Bang--!!!"

As he pulled the trigger, he was still lamenting, "It should have been in the display case."

A recoil slammed into his shoulder, and choking black smoke obscured his vision.

What good luck! A shot went off.