Hank Fowler quickly sent a private message: "Dude, where'd you get all these empty bottles?"

He definitely planned to trade for these one hundred water bottles. But first, he needed to figure out their origin.

Timmy Little: "Opened them from a treasure chest."

Hank Fowler: "You can get stuff like this from treasure chests?"

Timmy Little: "Where else would I get so many empty bottles?"

Hank Fowler: "Aren't treasure chests in the sea? It's dangerous out there! How'd you get them?"

Timmy Little: "Who said treasure chests are only in the sea? They can also appear on the island. I found this one on the island."

Hank raised an eyebrow. Treasure chests could appear on the island too? He'd have to thoroughly search the island tomorrow. Maybe, with a bit of luck, he could find one or two himself.

Timmy Little: "Dude, you've asked a lot of questions. Are we trading or not?"

Hank Fowler: "Of course, we're trading."

Timmy Little: "Then hurry up, I'm starving."

Hank didn't waste any more time and placed a loaf of bread into the trading system.

The bread quickly vanished, and one hundred empty plastic bottles materialized before him. Hank's eyes scanned them, and he grabbed eight bottles to fill with water. He'd already filled two earlier, so eight was the limit for now.

With that done, Hank checked the trading system again.

[Orion is selling a ten-kilogram piece of iron ore for one bottle of mineral water.]

"Iron ore?" Hank muttered, his mind racing. The Hut, the wooden fence, and the Magnifying Glass could be upgraded by consuming items of the same type. Could the Frying Pan and the entrenching tool do the same?

Turning to the entrenching tool, he asked, "Hey, Digger, I've got a question."

"What is it?" The entrenching tool, Digger, perked up.

Hank Fowler: "If you consume iron ore, can you level up?"

Digger became excited. "Not just iron ore! I can level up by consuming any kind of metal. Boss, do you have iron ore?"

Hank chuckled. "I don't, but I can trade for some."

"Boss, hurry up and trade for it!" Digger urged, practically vibrating with anticipation.

Hank immediately contacted the seller. "Dude, I don't have mineral water, but I have a bottle of purified water. Can I trade that for your iron ore?"

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Orion: "No problem."

Hank Fowler: "Alright, let's trade then."

The transaction was completed swiftly. Hank successfully traded a bottle of purified water for a ten-kilogram chunk of iron ore.

Orion: "Dude, do you need more iron ore?"

Hank Fowler: "You have more?" This stuff could help Digger level up, so naturally, the more, the better.

Orion: "Not today, but I'll have more tomorrow."

Hank was taken aback. "Where'd you get the iron ore? Mining or from a treasure chest?"

Orion: "Neither. I make it by eating dirt."

Hank was dumbfounded. "What the hell?"

Orion: "My awakened talent is eating dirt. After I eat it, I can produce a ten-kilogram chunk of iron ore. But there's a limit. I can only use it once a day."

Hank Fowler: "..."

The world truly was full of wonders! What a bizarre talent. Well, that was a new one.

Hank Fowler: "Let's trade again tomorrow."

Orion: "OK."

Closing the trading system, Hank tossed the iron ore to Digger. A crack appeared on Digger's surface, like a gaping maw, and it devoured the iron ore in one gulp.

"Digger, did you level up?" Hank asked expectantly.

"This little bit of iron ore? Not even close! It's going to take a lot more than that," Digger scoffed.

Hank frowned. "Then what changed after eating the iron ore?"

"I'm a bit sturdier now. Next time I dig for clams, I won't even feel it if they bite me," Digger explained.

Hank Fowler: "..."

How was that useful?

Suddenly, the Frying Pan chimed in, "Boss, I'm your underling too! You can't play favorites! I want to eat iron ore too!"

Digger immediately protested, "You're a frying pan! Know your place! Just do your job and stop dreaming about eating iron ore!"

The Frying Pan huffed, "What's a little shovel like you doing, acting all superior? If you can eat it, why can't I?"

"I can dig holes, cut grass, chop wood, and dig for clams! I have tons of functions! How dare you compare yourself to me?" Digger retorted, full of itself.

"Who are you looking down on? I have plenty of uses too! Besides cooking, I can be used as a weapon!" the Frying Pan shot back, indignant.

Digger was confused. "How can a frying pan be a weapon?"

"Boss said I could be a weapon! You got a problem with that?" the Frying Pan declared proudly.

"Alright, that's enough! Both of you shut up! One more peep, and I'm throwing you out!" Hank snapped.

It was late at night, and a frying pan was arguing with a shovel. Could they be any more annoying? Couldn't he have a moment of peace?

Seeing Hank's anger, the Frying Pan and Digger instantly fell silent. The Hut became quiet once more.

Hank cleared his throat and said calmly, "I'm a fair person. Since you're both my underlings, I'll treat you equally. From now on, any iron ore we get will be split between the two of you!"

"Boss, you're the greatest!" the Frying Pan gushed with flattery.

"Sigh," Digger sighed. Although unhappy, it had to obey since Hank had spoken.

Just as Hank was about to lie down and rest, he noticed something in the corner. After a moment, he remembered—it was that bra. It was useless to him, so he might as well sell it.

"Human, why are you looking at me with such ill intent? Are you planning something?" the bra suddenly spoke up.

A sly grin crept onto Hank's face. He opened the trading system and listed the bra for sale.

Not long after, someone sent him a message.

Lynn Young: "Hi, is the bra you're selling new?"

Hank Fowler: "Brand new, still in its packaging."

Lynn Young: "What size is it?"

Hank Fowler: "D-cup."

Lynn Young: "Too big for me. I can't use it."

Hank Fowler: "No problem."

There had to be plenty of busty women among the survivors. He refused to believe he couldn't sell it.

Hank waited patiently. Every so often, someone would contact him. But upon learning the bra's size, they all declined.

Hank was bewildered. Was Luna Lovelace really the only large-breasted survivor here? Where were all the other busty women? It didn't make sense!

"I don't believe this," Hank muttered, continuing to wait.

But after that, no one else contacted him.

Hank was thoroughly depressed. He glared at the bra and grumbled, "Why the hell are you so big? Couldn't you be a little smaller?"

The bra: "..."

As if it had any control over its size! How was this its fault? Was he being reasonable at all?