Rain didn't rush to answer Smoker.
His Observation Haki spread out like an invisible sonar, sweeping across the island's terrain in an instant.
A moment later, he pointed toward a direction deep in the jungle.
"Over there, about two kilometers in, there's a waterfall. Behind the water curtain is a dry cave. We'll set up camp there."
Smoker and Rosinante followed him with varying degrees of skepticism.
When they actually pushed through a stretch of dense jungle and found a campsite matching Rain's description down to the last detail, both of them were stunned.
It was a massive natural cave hidden behind the waterfall.
Outside was deafening water, but inside it was dry and quiet. The floor was flat rock, the ceiling high enough to feel spacious, not oppressive. It was practically a ready-made fortress.
"All right, this will be home for the next two weeks," Rain declared.
While Smoker and Rosinante were still gaping at how perfect the place was, ready to go gather firewood and dry leaves like proper primitive survivors, Rain stopped them.
"Hold up."
He had no intention of revealing his storage ring, but he also had zero interest in actually living like a caveman for two weeks.
So, under their stunned gazes, he set his small backpack—the one that looked like it could barely hold a change of clothes—on the ground.
He opened it, stuck his hand inside, and pretended to rummage around with some effort.
Then he pulled out a soft sleeping pad.
Before they could react, he pulled out a second one. Then a third.
Next came three warm down sleeping bags, a bright kerosene lantern, a shiny cookware set… and even a portable tent big enough for three.
Smoker's eye twitched violently. He stared at the pile of gear on the ground, then at the now-slack backpack in Rain's hand, and finally couldn't hold back.
He snatched the bag, turned it over and inside out, then roared:
"You think we're idiots?! How the hell does that tiny bag fit all this?!"
Rain gave him a "kind" smile. "Why wouldn't it? Watch."
He took back the empty backpack and, right in front of the two of them, began "stuffing" the big tent back inside—inch by inch under their disbelieving stares.
Then the sleeping bags, the cook set… The small backpack swallowed everything like a black hole.
Of course, in reality, he was just sending everything back into his storage ring.
When the last sleeping pad "disappeared" into the bag, Smoker was completely petrified.
He couldn't get a single word out—just stared at the "magic trick" in front of him, feeling his worldview being ground into the dirt.
"Whoa, Rain!" Rosinante, on the other hand, looked at him with shining eyes. "Are you… a magician?"
"Just basic packing skills." Rain brushed imaginary dust off his hands and answered with completely unnecessary coolness.
A few minutes later, a "luxury camping" base was set up.
To give the other two something to do, Rain pointed toward the jungle. "You two can handle dinner."
Smoker, still stewing, charged into the woods and came back before long with a strange-looking wild bird.
Rosinante waded to a nearby stream and speared a few fish.
After quickly gutting and rinsing everything at the waterfall, they went with the simplest possible cooking method: stick it over a fire and hope for the best.
The result was exactly what you'd expect—charred on the outside, raw in the middle, with a thick earthy stink to top it off.
Rosinante happily handed Rain a piece.
Rain took it with a blank expression, took one small bite—and his chewing stopped.
He sat in silence for a full three seconds.
Then, calmly, he tossed the meat into the fire.
Standing up, he said only, "Wait," and then vanished into the jungle.
Less than five minutes later, accompanied by the rumble of heavy footsteps shaking the ground, Rain dragged back something that looked like a small truck-sized porcupine and dropped it effortlessly in front of them.
Then it was time for his one-man cooking show.
He drew the Good-Grade blade at his waist. The thin blade didn't reflect a single glint of light in the fire's glow.
Smoker and Rosinante could only see blurred arcs of steel. In seconds, the giant porcupine's armored hide, layers of fat, and lean meat were all separated with surgical precision, each part neatly laid out like an art piece.
The whole process was smooth and efficient, not a wasted motion—more like a master surgeon at work than someone butchering an animal.
"This guy… even his swordsmanship…" Smoker stared at the perfectly portioned cuts of meat, once again stunned by Rain's skill.
Rain ignored their shock.
He skewered the best ribs and tenderloin, set them over the fire, then casually pulled out a row of tiny glass jars from his "four-dimensional" backpack—each filled with a different seasoning.
He opened one and poured out a pinch of coarse sea salt, flicking it with his fingers so it scattered evenly across the meat. From another, he poured a few black peppercorns into his palm and crushed them; the spicy aroma filled the air. Finally, he took a pinch of dried herbs, crumbled them, and rubbed them lightly onto the surface of the meat.
Sizzle—
As the first drop of fat fell into the flames, the sound it made was almost musical.
A wave of rich, intoxicating meat aroma, fused with the layered scent of roasting spices, instantly flooded the cave.
Smoker and Rosinante's stomachs both growled loudly and in perfect sync.
When the meat was finally grilled to a perfect golden-brown crisp on the outside and juicy on the inside, Rain passed each of them a piece.
They forgot pride, image, and everything else, just grabbed the still-blazing-hot meat with their bare hands and bit down hard.
Delicious—!!
The moment their teeth broke through the crisp crust, it felt like their souls left their bodies.
Scalding, rich juices exploded across their tongues. The meat was so tender it barely needed chewing. The pure savory hit of sea salt, layered with just the right amount of spice, turned into a tidal wave of flavor that smashed through every defense in their taste buds.
Neither of them said a word. They just tore into the meat like they'd been starving for three days straight, grease running down their chins, faces glowing with pure, unfiltered happiness.
It was the first truly delicious meal they'd had since arriving at the camp.
While the two of them were on the verge of tears from how good it was, Rain just sighed, looking unsatisfied.
He sliced off a piece of the best tenderloin, tasted it, and frowned. "No good. The heat's still a little off, and the spices aren't complete."
"Most importantly… how come this dish doesn't glow?"
Smoker and Rosinante froze at the same time.
With their mouths full of roast meat, they stared blankly at Rain like he'd just spoken an alien language.
Glow? Why would food glow?