Two hours of jungle-trekking later, Yang Yi is near the center of the spindle-shaped island, about a kilometer away from the humongous, busted-up ship. The area is a complete mess, clear signs of a serious throwdown. The ground is churned up, grass trampled, and even several trees have been snapped in half! And while they were only as thick as a wrist, he knows breaking them wouldn't have been easy.He also finds a sad little collection of damaged weapons on the ground, none of them worth salvaging, including two broken swords, a shield with a hole in it, and a snapped sickle. In a nearby clearing, someone's even neatly piled up a bunch of broken arrows, clearly collected after the battle."Someone cleaned up the battlefield?" he mutters. That reeks of player behavior. And to have the time to tidy up, they must have won the fight against the werewolves.Three shallow, man-sized graves confirm his theory. Or, they would, if they weren't dug up, the bodies clearly stolen. Yang Yi inspects the claw marks. Yep, definitely the werewolves. Those furry bastards, with their noses for dead things, wouldn't pass ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) up a shallowly buried snack.The players won, buried their dead, and then… some of them probably turned into werewolves themselves. Classic."But where are the werewolf corpses?" he wonders aloud. "Surely not everyone has a corpse-collecting hobby like Suna."He scours the area again and finds a clue: a single, burly, severed finger, covered in gray bristles and tipped with a metallic-looking black claw.[Name: Gray Werewolf's Claw][Description: The severed claw of a patient who has fully transformed due to Lycanthropy.]Yang Yi stares at the text. It describes the claw, not a person. This means the werewolf it was attached to is probably still shambling around, just having a really bad day and finding it harder to pick its nose. He tucks the finger away. This whole situation is getting weirder.He looks towards the massive wreck in the distance. That's where the answers are. But he's still pretty sure the players won, or at least fought the werewolves to a standstill. He checks the time: six hours of daylight left, a solid 88 stamina, and his other stats were pretty much full. Plenty of gas in the tank to keep exploring.So, he walks toward the giant ship. From this point on, he knows he has to be on high alert, ready for anything, with his third eye, potions, and even spells at the ready.As he gets within five hundred meters, the wreck looms over the treeline. It's the front half of an ancient, moss-covered galleon, looking like it's been here for centuries. A rusted, toppled cannon lies nearby, surrendering to the weeds. His third eye can't see inside, but it doesn't need to; he knows this thing is old news.Then, his special eye spots something odd: a freshly cleared patch of forest. All the trees have been cut down with a single, clean slice from something ridiculously sharp. And the air… it stinks. That coppery, slaughterhouse smell of old blood. A massacre happened here, and not long ago. He finds no bodies, just drag marks leading away—yep, more werewolf take-out.But one set of tracks is different. A single line of small, dark brown shoe prints, soaked in blood, heading straight for the ship."Small feet… athletic shoes," he deduces, comparing them to his own. "Probably a woman."Further investigation reveals five sets of drag marks, matching the number of skeletons in the werewolf den. These crawlers are the survivors of whatever happened here, who conveniently got infected and came back to eat their friends."Unless," he thinks, "whatever killed everyone could tell who was infected and let them go on purpose?"That's a disturbing thought. He finds nothing else, except for a small, exquisite wooden box, its lid lying nearby.[Name: Holy Reliquary][Description: A blessed wooden box. Only the Holy Crusader entrusted with it knows what it contains. It is extremely sturdy and nearly impossible to open from the inside.]"No quality or type?"The white box is decorated with intricate golden patterns. The lid depicts a handsome, blindfolded man crying, a scale in one hand. His other arm, hidden under his robe, is suspiciously beefy.Probably skipping arm day on his right side, Yang Yi thinks.The inside is a perfect 25-centimeter cube. On a whim, he sticks his head in and sniffs. It smells like expensive perfume. This thing wasn't empty. All signs point to this fancy box having held some kind of living creature. His theory solidifies: the players found the box, some idiot opened Pandora's new handbag, and it proceeded to murder everyone.He tries to stuff the box into his Greedy Stomach Pouch. The pouch immediately projectile-vomits it back out. He tries again. Ptooey. And again. Blargh. On the fourth try, the pouch just puckers up and refuses to open, even for a snack."What the hell… is this thing a picky eater?"Utterly confused, he has no choice but to awkwardly hug the haunted Tupperware to his chest as he walks toward the ship. The final clues must be on board.

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