Yarra's Adventure Notes-Chapter 1312 - 98: The Hard Life in the Desert

While grumbling about the harsh desert environment, he removed the white robe and headscarf wrapped around him. The moon had just risen, and the sun had already set below the horizon. The terrifying sunlight finally ceased tormenting the nearly melting earth. Now was the best time to temporarily shed the confinement of the robe and headscarf and thoroughly enjoy the few minutes of temperature suitable for normal life found only in the desert each day.

Pannis flexed his sore shoulders from sleep, lying on the sand, and fumbled in the sandpit he had just crawled out of, as if it were his own grave, and forcefully pulled out his usual backpack. Opening the backpack, he carefully took out a small package covered with layers of leather. He gently unveiled it layer by layer, revealing a cowhide water pouch at the core of the package. Shaking the water pouch, although he found it still half-full, Pannis sighed in regret, seemingly unsatisfied with the water supply, but still carefully unscrewed the cap of the water pouch.

Indeed, even with Pannis’s abilities, delving deep into the Sighing Desert, if he were to lose his drinking water, he would find himself in an extremely dangerous situation. It wasn’t utterly impossible to survive; although there were no water sources above or below the Sighing Desert, his mastery of outdoor survival skills still enabled him to obtain a small amount of water each night. However, the quantity was too little, making it very difficult to secure enough water to sustain life. Therefore, Pannis took his water storage so seriously, always conserving as much as possible. Having entered the Sighing Desert four days ago, a quarter of the two ten-liter water pouches had been consumed, which was quite a frugal outcome indeed.

Moreover, according to his calculations, he was expected to reach the front-line camp of the Allied Forces that day, where ample food and water would be available for replenishment. So even if he consumed all his water now, it wouldn’t pose any danger. However, no expert in wilderness survival would commit such a foolish act. These experts were all too aware that in the desert, anything could happen. To come out safely each time, one must prepare for the worst and use it as a guide for allocating resources. Those who couldn’t do this had no right to be called desert survival experts and did not deserve to successfully survive in the Sighing Desert.

Undoubtedly, Pannis’s desert survival skills could be ranked as expert level. Aside from the two ten-liter water pouches, there were two smaller ones, each holding only a liter or two, hidden in a secret compartment of his pack. With his current water reserves, even if he failed to find the expeditionary force’s front-line camp as planned, he had enough to safely exit the Sighing Desert, resupply, and re-enter, with even some resources left to potentially rescue one or two lost souls along the way, provided he encountered them.

With a reluctant expression, Pannis opened the water pouch but didn’t drink deeply. Instead, he poured only a few drops and held them in his mouth. The water quickly spread, moistening every centimeter of his dry mouth. Then, he slowly licked his lips with his tongue, using the remaining moisture to nourish his cracked lips, restoring their reddish luster. After doing all this, Pannis immediately capped the water pouch again, took out a large piece of hard jerky and bit into it. Apparently somewhat dissatisfied, he furrowed his brow, sprinkled a layer of salt on the remaining jerky—though it already had salt and adding more would only make it saltier—but he didn’t mind at all, swallowing the entire piece of jerky before spitting out miserably, "Damn, too much salt, so salty."

However, this was merely his way of making light of his woes. After replenishing the necessary food and salt intake, Pannis opened the water pouch again and joyously guzzled down a good amount of fresh water. The water was swiftly absorbed by his body, circulating through his bloodstream to every corner of his body.

"Phew, without a walk through the desert, one would never know how blissful it is to drink water freely—if I get another chance, I definitely want to soak in a bath for three days," Pannis muttered to himself cautiously as he wrapped the precious water bag in leather and placed his hand on the ground to slightly sense the temperature.

Now was the best time to travel in the Sighing Desert. The sun had set and the temperature was gradually dropping, but the cold had not yet taken full control of the desert; it was the coolest few hours. If it got any later, once it passed nine o’clock at night, the temperature would drop below freezing and continue falling until it reached its lowest point at eleven midnight, then it would slowly rise again. Therefore, travelers in the desert usually started their journey after six o’clock when the sun set, continuing until around ten, then they would find a place sheltered from the wind to rest and warm up by a fire for a few hours, setting off again around two in the morning and continuing until the sun rose around five. If really pressed for time and if one was physically strong enough, it was also possible to continue through without resting, simply wrapping oneself in a thick fur coat to fight the cold, though most people would not choose to do so, as the midnight temperatures were just too low.

"Alright, time to set off," Pannis said, though his body crouched down. He plunged his arm into the sand as if searching for something. After probing several times, Pannis sighed with a bitter smile, then forcefully pulled up with both hands, as sand tumultuously swirled in front of him, revealing a large object tightly wrapped in leather—a magic-powered motorbike, obviously used for transportation.

The conditions in the Sighing Desert were indeed frustrating; omnipresent winds kept the sand moving all year round. If one stayed in one spot for too long, they would be buried by layers of sand, whether it was footprints, luggage, or even a sleeping person, and of course, the magic-powered motorbike. If unlucky, it only took a day for everything to be covered and lose trace under the fine sand. Fortunately, Pannis’s skill in navigating the desert had not been forgotten, ensuring he didn’t wake up to find his means of transportation mysteriously vanished.

After folding the leather used to wrap the motorbike, installing the magic-powered motorbike to ensure it had no faults, and rearranging the items in his backpack, with the coat and thick boots placed on top for easy access, the complex and cumbersome preparation was finally completed smoothly. Compared to other environments, preparing to leave or set up camp in the desert was an annoying task, but to survive safely, one had to patiently complete each step correctly, as neglecting even a single step could mean paying with one’s life in some future moment.

"Vroom," the magic-powered motorbike roared to life again. Pannis, with a few fingers of both hands, gauged against the moon, adjusted the angle of his advance, and roared deeper into the desert.