Besides the usual experience points and three pieces of [rotten flesh], this fat ahh zombie actually dropped a potato.
This wasn't scientific, but it was very Minecraft.
David remembered that in Minecraft, zombies had a high probability of dropping rotten flesh, but also a tiny chance of dropping potatoes, Carrots, and iron ingots with a 2.5% chance.
Plague-infected zombies equaled Minecraft zombies, and soldiers equaled Minecraft villagers—there was an unseen connection at work here.
In Warhammer, some creatures similar to those in Minecraft seemed to have been granted Minecraft characteristics.
David put the potato into his backpack.
Next, as long as he could find suitable soil and a water source, he could try farming to obtain a stable food source.
But for now, he checked his buff bar; the hunger buff caused by the fat zombie still had 30 seconds left.
His hunger bar had already dropped to two units, a very dangerous level.
Scanning his inventory, David pulled out bread, then an apple, and finally swapped to rotten flesh.
Since he already had a hunger buff, two negatives made a positive—it meant eating it would have no downside.
Let's do this!
David stared at the rotten flesh in his hand. The rancid, sour stench wafting from it made even corpse starch suddenly seem appetizing.
Steeling himself, David pinched his nose and stuffed the rotten flesh directly into his mouth, chewing vigorously.
Ugh, an indescribable flavor exploded in his mouth.
Veins popped on David's forehead as he fought back the urge to gag.
One piece, two pieces, three pieces... in one go, he ate all five pieces of rotten flesh in his backpack, refilling his hunger bar.
He suppressed the churning in his stomach and waited quietly for the [Hunger] debuff to vanish.
As soon as his physical functions recovered, he set off toward the damaged merchant ship wedged into the ground.
The main hatch was severely deformed from the impact and couldn't be opened at all.
[Hatch, Composition: 80% Plasteel]
[Mining Level: Iron]
David didn't have an Iron Pick, so he had to pull out his stone pickaxe and dig away.
With a hardness between iron ore, the deformed hatch shattered and disappeared after about three seconds, revealing a pitch-black passage behind it.
Raising a torch, the light dispelled the darkness at the entrance, and air mixed with the smell of engine oil rushed out from the interior.
David took a deep breath, remembering how he used to love adding adventure mods to his modpacks, which would always generate special buildings.
And what he loved most was exploring those randomly generated structures.
"As a merchant ship, there should be some good stuff, right?" David gripped the torch and stepped into the darkness ahead.
Meanwhile, amidst the ruins.
The torch planted beside the Ensign burned, illuminating the immediate area.
An ominous hum tore through the silence, and reality let out a struggling wail.
Space rippled, torn open like silk.
Accompanied by flashes of ghostly green lightning from the rift, a mechanical hand reached out from thin air.
"So cold." The young ensign curled up, pressing close to the torch—the only thing that could provide him with warmth.
Boom! The torch David left behind flared up, its previously gentle glow becoming fierce.
A confused, strange sound came from within the rift.
Then, all anomalies were wiped away, leaving only a deathly silence, as if everything that just happened had never occurred.
The ensign lay on the cold ground, his body temperature fading along with his vitality as his thoughts prepared to sink into eternal chaos.
Before his consciousness was completely severed, faint footsteps approached from the distance.
The sound of cold machinery operating entered his ears.
"A function similar to a Blackstone Obelisk, capable of suppressing the Warp?"
"No, not quite. It's more like a rule."
"Incredible. The material composition is unremarkable, and the combustion principle is just the most common oxidation reaction. Theoretically, it should only be a temporary, one-time light source. How exactly is this done?"
"And this... length, width, height, precise to 1 meter. A cube that ignores gravity and structural mechanics..."
"I didn't expect an unexpected surprise on this trip. Worthy of collection."
The ensign jerked, forcing his heavy eyelids open. The ruins before him were still empty.
However, a corner of the life-saving stone wall David had built earlier was missing, and the torch had also disappeared.
Walking inside the merchant ship, besides the torch in David's hand, only flickering red lights remained in the darkness, emitted by malfunctioning machinery.
David stared at the minimap; the structure of this merchant ship was very simple.
In the center was a main corridor, with small rooms distributed on both sides.
David moved forward, trying his best to ignore the various severed limbs and corpses scattered in the passage.
He came to the first hatch and peered inside through a twisted gap; it looked like a dining room.
David dug it open with his stone pickaxe and stepped inside. What met his eyes was a complete mess.
The floor was covered with various bottles and cans. In the center sat a metal dining table, and further back was a row of cabinets with some white objects piled underneath.
[Antlion can]
David bent down to pick up an iron can that had rolled to his feet. He remembered a joke circulating in the Warhammer community:
How do you tell a noob from a veteran? Answer: A rookie will open a can while holding their nose, while a veteran will take a dagger and stab the can repeatedly.
The reason was simple: the ingredient of antlion cans—the antlion—was a creature with powerful vitality. Even when canned, their bodies still carried larvae called Flesh-boring Worms.
If you didn't want them disemboweling you from the inside, it was best to process them beforehand. Methods included hacking with axes or roasting with a flamer.
Unfortunately, such a delicacy was not for David to taste.
The can in his hand had already been sliced open, and its contents were gone.
Looking at the cut on the can, it didn't look like it was opened by a human, but rather by some kind of beast.
Picking up the cans on the floor one by one, they were all empty. David could only sigh with regret.
Tossing aside the empty cans, David rummaged through the trash on the floor. Finding nothing else of value, he turned toward the row of storage cabinets at the back of the dining room.
As he got closer, he saw clearly that the white objects under the storage cabinets were actually bones.
There was even shredded meat on them. As David approached, the bones floated up and were sucked into his backpack.
[Bone x18]
'Guess I can make some bonemeal.'
Looking at the storage cabinets, they were covered in claw marks. The first few had been pried open, their contents scattered.
Only the last cabinet remained tightly closed, the faint claw marks on it speaking of the intruder's helpless rage.
How strange. David's gaze shifted between the last cabinet and the others. They were all cabinets, but the last one had clearly been reinforced.
[Special Cabinet Door, Material: 15% Adamantium, 80% Plasteel]
[Mining Level: Diamond]
Adamantium was considered the strongest material used by the Imperium of Man; most ordinary weapons couldn't penetrate it.
It was often used as the material for the Eternity Gate or used alongside Ceramite to manufacture Terminator Armor.
David didn't quite understand using such a precious metal for a cabinet door.
But it was a windfall for him. David circled it and found that the material was the same on all six sides. He picked a side at random and forced a breakthrough.