There's another problem now: I didn't expect it to rain suddenly, so I didn't prepare any dry wood.

The primeval forest, freshly rained upon, was almost entirely damp. Finding dry firewood was proving to be difficult.

My body hasn't fully recovered yet, so thinking about anything is useless. I can only wait for the sun to come out so the wood can dry again, and then I can use my fire-starting mirror to start a fire.

I got up from the ground, still a little unsteady. I came to a tree, where there was a stone slab that nicely isolated the muddy ground. Without realizing it, I leaned against the tree and fell asleep.

When I woke up again, the warm sunlight was shining on me once more. At this point, my naked body actually became an advantage, as the sunlight could quickly dry the water off me, preventing my weak body from losing its temperature.

I tried moving my body around a bit more, and this time it felt much better. At least I feel like I can walk normally without much trouble.

I squinted at the blinding sunlight. By then, the rainwater on the leaves of many plants had dried, and a few dewdrops clung to the verdant leaves, radiating vitality.

After rummaging through a pile of tangled branches, I finally found some relatively dry branches at the bottom. After collecting these branches, I gathered some dry leaves and crumpled them into a fibrous tinder.

I quickly used the tinderbox to light the ignition source again, and after adding a few dry branches, the fire was finally started.

As I mentioned before, I didn't have a knife. So the fire started right next to the sow, or more accurately, under her belly.

Even without a knife, no matter how thick the wild boar's skin is, it can't withstand the heat of the fire. In less than half an hour, its skin will become as soft as noodles, and you can tear it apart with your bare hands.

After about half an hour of roasting, the wild boar's skin made a popping sound, and then cracked open in pieces.

I moved the fire aside and easily stabbed the wild boar in the abdomen with just a small, sharp stick.

Having found a breakthrough, I then used stones and sharp wooden sticks, like a stonemason chipping away at stone, chiseling and hammering my way down until I finally opened up its chest cavity.

I pulled out the heart and liver, skewered them with the prepared sticks, and roasted them by the fire.

These internal organs are very important to me. They not only replenish many essential trace elements for the human body, but also promote fat synthesis and increase a person's resistance in the wild.

Next, I took out all the wild boar's offal. These things would be a good delicacy in civilized society, but I'm not short of food right now, and dealing with these things is both troublesome and time-consuming, so I simply threw them into the flash flood.

My father often slaughtered pigs in the village. He once said that even after removing the internal organs, a 300-pound pig could still yield 60% to 70% meat.

I estimate this wild boar, with all its internal organs removed, still weighs over 200 pounds. Before the heart and liver are fully roasted, I need to start processing this huge harvest. Otherwise, leaving so much meat on the ground after dark won't be safe.

Wild boar hides are already very thick and tough, making them very difficult to process, let alone a female wild boar.

So I didn't plan to use the pigskin, and my method of processing it was much simpler and more crude.

I couldn't move this big wild boar by myself, so I decided to become a beggar pig, something no one else would even dare to dream of.

Of course, I wouldn't spend a lot of effort digging up a bunch of yellow mud to cover it up. I'm just using its hard outer skin. Anyway, I don't need it, so it doesn't matter if it gets burnt, as long as the flesh inside doesn't burn.

Next, I closed the eviscerated pig again and started collecting dry branches to place directly on its body. After I had piled the pig full of firewood, I lit a fire from several corners, just like a charcoal burner.

Of course, this isn't how you burn charcoal; it's just an analogy. My current method is more like putting a wild boar in the center of a fire and roasting it using the high temperature there.

As the large pile of firewood ignited, the raging flames instantly engulfed the wild boar. Soon, a burnt smell filled the air, as the boar's outer layer of hair was burned away first.

I kept the fire burning, adding more firewood every now and then. Because the fire was already blazing, even smoldering or raw wood would quickly burst into flames.

After the fire had been burning for more than 20 minutes, I noticed that the four pig legs had drooped down, which proved that the tendons and bones inside had separated.

However, the pork leg meat is quite thick and difficult to cook through. So I added more firewood to the four legs to raise the temperature.

It took until around 2 or 3 pm to fully roast the pig. Luckily, I ate the pig's heart and half a liver in the middle of the process, otherwise I would have been starving and dizzy.

After I extinguished the fire, the wild boar was unrecognizable. Its limbs were strangely twisted from the heat, its body was cracked all over, and its blackened skin was charred, sizzling and dripping oil like the surface of a burnt sweet potato.

In a civilized society, it would be hard to associate this thing with gourmet food. But I don't mind that, after all, in a way, I risked my life to get this.

I easily removed the thoroughly cooked pig's leg, head, and other parts. At that moment, my knife transformed into the sharpest blade, efficiently slicing through this enormous mountain of meat.

Just as I expected, the tough outer skin preserved the meat inside perfectly. Peeling back the skin revealed the white, glistening meat, emitting an enticing aroma.

However, I was too full to eat anymore, so I found some banana leaves to spread on the ground, and tore all the meat from the pig into large strips by hand and placed them next to the still-hot ashes to roast.

I'm too lazy to take those skeletons with me. As long as I remove the bones and dry the meat, I think I can easily carry the whole pig on my back.

It's important to know that bones account for 20% of body weight, and water makes up 70% of the meat, excluding internal organs, fat, and other miscellaneous substances.

The dried meat from this wild boar, which weighs over 300 jin (150 kg), will only weigh about 30 to 40 jin (15-20 kg). With that, I estimate we won't have to worry about food for a month.

However, this sudden windfall has given me a bit of a headache. It seems that wrapping all this dried meat in leaves is definitely not going to work, but luckily those willow branches are good materials for weaving.