Lin Feng collapsed on the muddy riverbank, coughing violently and spitting out mouthfuls of river water.

He looked up and saw that the person who pulled him ashore was a burly bald man. Sure enough, there was a tattoo on his face—a pattern of crossed bone knives, identical to the one on the flag.

Behind the burly man stood four or five others, holding crude weapons: rusty blades and sharpened wooden spears.

Everyone stared at him with scrutinizing, wary eyes.

"Tha... thank you." Lin Feng propped himself up, trying to stand, but his legs gave way.

Scarface didn't reach out to help him, only saying coldly, "Are you a newcomer?"

"I just awakened today," Lin Feng answered honestly, while observing the group.

Their equipment was crude, but their stances and the way they held their weapons revealed a sense of experience.

"Dumped directly into the wilderness?" Scarface sneered. "Talk about bad luck. In our camp, less than half of the unlucky bastards like you survive past three days."

Lin Feng's heart sank, but he still asked, "Where is this...?"

"Black Wind Camp." Scarface pointed to the flag on the wall. "Never heard of it?"

"Makes sense. In the eyes of you 'regulars,' we're just a bunch of rats."

"I'm not a regular, just an ordinary student," Lin Feng said, slowly standing up. "Thank you for saving me just now."

"Saving you comes with a price." A tall, thin man behind Scarface suddenly spoke, his voice high-pitched and shrill. "Brother Ba, according to the rules, newcomers have to pay an 'entry fee' to join the camp."

Scarface nodded and reached out toward Lin Feng. "Do you have anything valuable on you? Weapons? Food? Special items?"

Lin Feng gave a bitter smile. "Do I look like I have anything?" He spread his hands, showing his soaked grey cloth clothes and empty pockets.

The few men exchanged glances. The tall, thin man stepped forward and unceremoniously searched Lin Feng, indeed finding nothing.

"So poor," the tall, thin man spat.

"Enough." Scarface waved his hand. "Take him to see the Boss. Whether he lives or dies is for the Boss to decide."

Lin Feng's heart tightened, but he kept a calm face. "I can work. I'm literate, good at math, and I've studied Basic Combat. I can be useful to the camp."

"Whether you're useful or not isn't for you to say." Scarface turned and walked toward the camp gate. "Follow me."

Lin Feng followed silently, observing the camp out of the corner of his eye.

The perimeter wall was made of thick logs nailed together, about three meters high, with some parts already rotting.

The gate was made of heavy wooden planks reinforced with iron hoops, currently half-open. Stepping inside, the interior looked even cruder than the exterior.

Over a dozen crooked wooden huts were scattered within the walls. Most were single-story; only the two-story building in the center was relatively intact.

The ground was packed earth, filled with puddles and trash. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, sweat, and the stench of rotting meat.

Around twenty people were gathered by the bonfire in the center of the camp, men and women, mostly in rags and looking exhausted.

They were roasting unknown chunks of meat, staring numbly at the newcomer, Lin Feng, before quickly looking away.

Lin Feng noticed that these people were divided into several small groups. Those by the bonfire were the lowest class, living in drafty wooden huts.

Those slightly better off lived in relatively intact houses, with animal skins or crude weapons hanging by their doors.

The best spots were the two-story building and the houses surrounding it. The people there were clearly better equipped, some even wearing full sets of leather armor.

The hierarchy was clear.

Scarface led Lin Feng straight to the two-story building. There were two guards at the door who nodded at Scarface and pushed the door open.

The first floor was a hall with several rough wooden tables and benches. A few weapons and animal skins hung on the walls.

At the far end was a raised platform covered with a complete bear skin, where a man sat.

He was a burly bald man with a face full of scars, wearing an eye patch over his left eye. A menacing black dragon tattoo stretched from his right shoulder down to his forearm.

He was carving a piece of wood with a dagger. Seeing Scarface enter, he asked without looking up, "Newcomer?"

"Picked him up in the wild, just awakened," Scarface said respectfully. "He's clean, carrying nothing."

Only then did the bald Boss look up, his single eye scanning Lin Feng up and down. His gaze was cold and indifferent, like he was inspecting merchandise.

"Name?"

"Lin Feng."

"Daxian?"

"Yes."

"Why did you come here?" the Boss asked slowly.

"The teleportation dropped me directly into the wilderness," he answered honestly. "I followed the stream here and ran into Rotten Wolves."

"Honest enough." The Boss put down his dagger and stood up. He was over 1.9 meters tall, with bulging muscles that made the floorboards creak as he walked. "Do you know what kind of place this is?"

"Black Wind Camp."

"Do you know the rules?"

"Not yet. Please enlighten me, Boss."

The Boss walked up to Lin Feng and looked down at him. "The rules of Black Wind Camp are simple."

"First, everyone must work; we don't support idlers."

"Second, seventy percent of all harvests must be handed over. Third, obey orders; violators will be killed."

He paused, a hint of amusement flashing in his single eye. "You're a newcomer and don't have an 'entry fee,' so you'll owe it."

"I'll give you three days to prove you're worth keeping. After three days, either produce something of equal value to settle the debt, or..."

He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear.

Lin Feng nodded. "I understand. I will work."

"Scarface." The Boss looked at Scarface. "Take him to the kitchen area. Have him help process the prey today. We'll see about tomorrow."

"Yes, Boss."

Scarface led Lin Feng out of the building. Once the door closed, Scarface uncharacteristically added, "You're not the unluckiest kid. The Boss is in a good mood today and didn't throw you out to feed the wolves."

"Thank you, Brother Ba," Lin Feng said sincerely.

"Don't thank me." Scarface waved him off. "If you're worthless, you'll still be fed to the wolves in three days. Come with me."

They went around to the back of the building, where there was a crude shed serving as a kitchen.

On the ground lay several freshly hunted animal carcasses: creatures that looked like deer but had fangs, wild boars with rotting fur, and several birds Lin Feng didn't recognize.

A hunchbacked old man was skinning them with a blunt knife. Seeing Scarface, he looked up, revealing missing yellow teeth. "Another one?"

"A newcomer. He's yours for today," Scarface said and left.

The old man looked Lin Feng over and tossed him a blood-stained knife. "Know how to skin?"

"No, but I can learn." Lin Feng caught the knife.

"Then start with the organs." The old man pointed to a deer-like carcass. "Cut open the belly, pull out the organs, and sort them."

"Put the edible hearts and livers here, clean the intestines, and throw the rest in that bucket."

Lin Feng squatted down and began to work. The blade was very blunt, and it took a lot of effort just to slice through the fur.

A thick smell of blood hit him, mixed with the distinct gamey stench of animal organs, making him feel nauseous.

But he forced himself to focus. His movements gradually went from clumsy to practiced—opening the chest cavity, pulling out the heart, liver, and lungs, separating the intestines...

While processing another carcass, the old man observed him out of the corner of his eye, occasionally offering guidance: "Turn the intestines inside out to wash them, use wood ash to get rid of the smell." "Be careful not to puncture that bile duct; the bile is extremely bitter."

The sky turned completely dark, and the bonfire in the center of the camp became the only light source.

By the time Lin Feng finished the third carcass, his hands were covered in blood, his back and limbs ached, and his stomach was growling.

"That's enough." The old man finally spoke. "Go wash your hands by the river and come back to eat."

Lin Feng felt a wave of relief. He dragged his exhausted body to a water vat in the corner of the camp. A crude filtration system made the river water slightly clearer, but it still had a strange smell.

He carefully washed the blood off his hands and wiped his face with a rag.

Returning to the kitchen shed, the old man had already served two bowls of mushy food. The ingredients were unrecognizable—black and gooey, with some diced meat and vegetable leaves, smelling slightly burnt.

Lin Feng took the bowl, thanked him, and began to eat in large gulps. It tasted terrible—salty to the point of bitterness—but at least it was hot and could fill his stomach.

He suddenly felt a twinge of regret for not eating more of his mother's fried eggs before leaving this morning. Thinking about it now, those ordinary fried eggs seemed like a heavenly delicacy.

Halfway through the meal, the old man suddenly spoke. "Kid, how did you end up in this hellhole?"

Lin Feng swallowed his food. "There was a problem with the teleportation; I dropped directly into the wilderness."

"Hmph, there are always a few unlucky bastards every year." The old man gnawed on a bone. "Do you know what kind of place this is?"

"A Bandit Camp."

"You knew and still came in?" The old man squinted at him. "The people here are either those whose territories were destroyed with nowhere else to go, those exiled by the regulars, or fugitives from the law. Not a single one of them is a good person."

"I didn't have a choice," Lin Feng said honestly. "There are Rotten Wolf packs outside, and it's dark."

The old man was silent for a while, then whispered, "You have three days to find a way to show your value. Don't just do menial work; there's no shortage of people for that here."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know carpentry? Can you do blacksmithing?" the old man listed. "As long as you have one skill worth showing, you can survive."

"If you only have physical labor to offer..." He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Lin Feng understood. "I've studied Basic Combat."

"Combat is useless." The old man sneered. "Anyone you pull out of here has a higher level than you."

"Thank you for the advice," Lin Feng said seriously.

The old man waved his hand. "Don't thank me. I just don't want to have to process another corpse." He paused. "You'll sleep in the corner of the kitchen shed tonight; there's a straw mat there."

"Remember, don't wander around in the middle of the night. If the night patrol kills you as a spy, no one will collect your body."

After eating, Lin Feng spread the straw mat in the corner the old man had pointed out. The mat was damp and moldy, but it was better than sleeping on the mud.

He wrapped a tattered blanket around himself and curled up to lie down.

His body was exhausted to the limit, but his mind was exceptionally clear.

On the first day, he had survived.

But over the next three days, he had to prove his value, or he would be kicked out of the camp—which was no different from death.

Lin Feng closed his eyes and began to recall all the knowledge about the Nightmare World he had learned in class.

Resource classification, monster encyclopedias, territory construction basics... every bit could become the capital for his survival.

And then there was the Eye of Probability—the once-a-month chance for a designated drop.

He needed to find a safe moment as soon as possible to obtain something that could truly improve his survival capabilities. But before that, he had /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ to establish a foothold in this cruel Bandit Camp.

The shouts of the night watch came from afar, the bonfire crackled, and suppressed sobbing drifted from one of the wooden huts.

Lin Feng rolled over on the straw mat, looking out through the cracks in the shed at the dark red sky.

The first night in the Nightmare World had only just begun.