Chapter 646: Wilderness Survival Catastrophe (Part 1) (Patreon)

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After Hal's heroic sacrifice, the hang glider was finally constructed. However, Arthur wasn't particularly fond of this mode of transportation. He preferred to walk, as having both feet on the ground gave him a sense of security.

But for the pilot Hal, it was a different story. Ever since the initial failures, he had developed a liking for the sensation of soaring through the sky. Unlike sitting in the cockpit of an airplane, gliding through the winds of nature, listening to the sounds of streams and ocean waves, and flying alongside countless seabirds made Hal feel intoxicated every time he took to the skies.

However, they needed to address the issue of transportation, so after a few glides, Hal took on the responsibility of transporting goods.

Their efficiency in setting up fish traps was remarkably high, and in no time, they caught several plump sea fish, perfect for making soup.

With the efforts of Hal, Bruce, and Arthur, they also established a preliminary salt-drying field.

Ultimately, they chose a flat sandy area downstream from a small creek for salt drying. This location was conveniently close to both fresh and seawater sources.

The salt obtained from drying seawater was coarse and extremely bitter, containing various chemical substances that made it unsuitable for direct consumption. However, traditional salt-making methods had long dealt with this issue.

The coarse salt obtained from drying was dissolved in fresh water to create a saturated salt solution. Bruce then used the dense fiber fabric he had used for the hang glider's wings to filter out most of the insoluble impurities.

Subsequently, they used a stone pot, normally used for cooking, to evaporate the water from the saturated salt solution. As the water evaporated, salt crystals adhered to the inner walls of the pot.

They scraped off this crystallized salt, repeated the process several times, and by this point, the salt was edible.

However, because sea salt still contained some soluble impurities that imparted a bitter taste, they needed to use burnt plant ashes to remove these impurities.

Plant ashes contained potassium carbonate and could be used as potassium fertilizer for farming. They could also be used to break down the bitter components in sea salt. Bruce gathered some relatively dry plants, burned them into ashes, and added this ash to the large pot of saltwater. They continued to heat it at high temperatures. As a result, the crystallized salt that formed was both non-toxic and purely salty.

Of course, this type of salt was commonly referred to as coarse salt in modern society and couldn't compare to the refined table salt produced in factories. However, in many regions, it was used for preserving meat, as people believed that the minerals in coarse salt were beneficial to health.

At this stage, these salts were ready for use. When stranded on a desert island, skipping the further purification steps and the use of plant ashes would still yield usable salt. But Bruce, who pursued perfection, managed to produce a white, fine salt similar to modern table salt.

After completing all these tasks, it was already dark outside. The three of them had been busy the entire afternoon, and now they were all hungry. Arthur and Hal were especially satisfied, as they hadn't expected to be able to make salt from seawater in this way.

The next step was to take the salt back and start processing the meat. However, when they returned to the cave, Schiller and Oliver were both fast asleep, and they hadn't even had dinner.

Perhaps it was due to the sparks flying between a less-than-adequate doctor and a completely disobedient patient. First of all, Schiller was not a surgeon; he had worked at a hospital in the past, so he could manage some minor injuries. What set him apart from ordinary people was his ability to remedy mistakes with Grey Mist.

Moreover, when it came to medical practices, DCSchiller had always been relatively radical. In the field of treating external injuries, he carried this radical approach, hardly paying attention to the struggles of his patients.

As for Oliver, even though he had been struggling for survival on the island for three months, he couldn't erase the fact that he had once been a pampered rich young man.

Initially, driven by the will to survive, he could forget all pain and discomfort. However, when he was well-fed and rested, drowsiness overcame him, and he reverted to his illusion of a life of luxury.

As a result, he became exceptionally sensitive to pain. Combined with Schiller's rough methods, the two of them couldn't be said to have a harmonious doctor-patient relationship; they were more like two people at odds.

If Schiller could use his special abilities, he would have easily subdued Oliver. However, that wasn't an option, so he couldn't make Grey Mist put Oliver to sleep.

Because of Grey Mist's presence, Schiller's body possessed immense physical strength. However, without employing Grey Mist's tendrils, Schiller had only two arms and two legs. When he had to use one hand to tend to a wound, he had only one hand left to restrain Oliver.

As it turned out, even with great strength, fully subduing an adult who was writhing in pain with just one hand was challenging. In the end, Schiller almost strangled Oliver before finally finishing treating his wound.

Both of them expended a considerable amount of energy, so while the other three were busy with wilderness survival tasks, they had already fallen asleep in the cave.

Oliver had truly fallen asleep, while Schiller was using sleep to calm the anger he felt at wanting to strangle the future Green Arrow right here.

Seeing that the two were asleep, the other three decided not to cook an elaborate meal. They simply set up a fish grill outside the cave, prepared the freshly caught sea fish, skewered them, and began grilling.

At noon, with Hal's homemade seafood sauce still available, two fish were brushed with sauce, one was seasoned with salt, and another was deboned and simmered in coconut milk to make fish soup.

The platform outside the cave emitted the fragrance of grilled fish, and the night breeze on the island carried a slight chill. The line where the sky met the coastline was a deep blue, with stars twinkling.

"Do you guys know? This time, when I went back home, my parents apologized to me," Hal said as he took a bite of fish, only to be scalded. He blew on it, and his eyes seemed somewhat teary, perhaps because the food was too hot and the night air too cold.

"They no longer oppose my dream of becoming a pilot, and they no longer insist that I stay in Coastal City," he continued. "They even spoke to me in a more accommodating tone, saying that it would be great if I could visit home once a month."

"If they had said this to me a few years ago, I would have been ecstatic, almost jumping for joy, thinking that they had finally become reasonable," Hal said as he brought over the fish soup and took a sip, discreetly wiping away any tears that might have welled up.

"But now, I feel like they've aged. I thought I had been away from home for decades, and they've really aged a lot."

"Parents are like that," Arthur chimed in, taking a bite of grilled fish, removing the bones, and then continuing. "When you've been away for a long time, you come back, and you realize they've aged significantly. I followed deep-sea fishing for just over three months, and when I returned, my father seemed like he had aged 30 years."

"Do you know, in Brooklyn, there's a legend," Arthur said, sneezing from the scalding fish soup. He sniffed and continued, "If children go out to sea to fish on a big ship, and their parents go to church to pray to God, then when the children face a life-threatening sea disaster, God will take away some of their parents' lifespan and ensure the children return safely."

"Nonsense," Bruce commented.

"The point of this story is that in Brooklyn, every young sailor going out to sea, every pair of parents, will pray for them, even though they know it might cost them some of their own life span. They still do it, including my father."

Bruce fell silent, and Hal glanced at him. Without drawing attention to Bruce's introspection, he changed the subject. "Brooklyn and Coastal City are quite similar. Coastal City should have had a better development path."

"I've read about Coastal City's history in a fishing magazine," Arthur said after swallowing the last bite of grilled fish. "You guys were lucky, encountering the Gold Rush and growing the city. But honestly, I don't envy you. Brooklyn is peaceful, and if people were to come searching for gold there, those newcomers from other places would surely cause a mess. I'd rather not have that."

Hal nodded and said, "Indeed, big cities have their advantages, but small towns and villages can be good in their own way. Everyone loves their hometown, whether it's a city or a village."

This statement led Bruce into deep contemplation. He realized that among the several reasons he had for becoming Batman to fight criminals, "because he loved Gotham" wasn't one of them—at least, that's how he had felt before.

This damned city of sin, there was nothing worth cherishing in it. It had only left him with the deepest scars.

Yet, when he saw the potential for Gotham to improve, he still felt a flicker of excitement and anticipation.

It wasn't until he had traveled thousands of miles away that he came to understand that he had an eternal connection to his hometown, just like everyone else.

When he mentioned the words "hometown" and "homeland," the first place that came to his mind was still that dark city.

All the residents of this city felt that it wasn't good enough, but they would rather acknowledge their own rottenness and revel in the bizarre and dark abyss, and Batman was no exception.

The surge of emotions made Bruce feel nervous and anxious. He was completely unaccustomed to this level of sentimentality, so he wanted to find something to do to distract himself from these emotions.

He discarded the fish skewer, stood up, clapped his hands, and said, "I think you guys must have rested enough by now. There's still a lot of work to do, and we need to dedicate more time and effort to survival on this deserted island."

Hal and Arthur, who were already full and sleepy, exchanged glances and sighed in resignation.

The next morning, Schiller, who had awakened, opened his eyes. The sunlight outside the cave was unusually glaring. He shielded his eyes with his hand and walked slowly toward the entrance, wanting to breathe some fresh air.

Then, he slowly widened his eyes, looking at the dense pulley assembly and the network of zip lines spread throughout the rainforest outside the cave, like a spider's web.

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 647: Wilderness Survival Epic Fail (Part 2)