On the island, he had to work and learn training. Faced with critical events, he had to shoulder the responsibility with his frail shoulders. Sometimes Chen Zhou even thought he was being too harsh on Sunday.

But who could blame the indigenous people for being born in the 17th century? In this backward and barbaric era, most people did not have the power to choose.

Compared to those children who died from hunger, disease, or conflict, perhaps Sunday was already fortunate.

...

The three-person team did not know what their Leader had in mind.

At this moment, they were controlling the sails, breaking through the waves, and moving forward on the deep blue sea.

As the eyes of the team, Kosu’s attention was most focused. He unloaded his backpack, placed it in the cabin, and constantly looked at the sky and then at the compass in his hand.

The indigenous people generally relied on the sun, moon, and stars to determine direction, and Kosu was no exception.

However, the learning during this period taught him how to use constellations to confirm the direction, and then based on the directional information he knew, he could estimate the island’s location.

These knowledge integrated with the compass could prevent them from getting lost at sea.

When learning on the island, Kosu felt he had memorized the usage of the compass firmly in his mind.

Unexpectedly, when it came to practical application, his brain was in chaos, fiddling with the compass, only seeing the red needle spinning, while he lost his sense of direction.

...

The small boat with the sail raised had been sailing for a while.

Sunday sat at the bow, leaning against the side of the boat to rest with his eyes closed.

The sound of the wind stirring the sails, the sound of the sea surging was incessant, the boat swayed like a cradle, and this sound was like a lullaby, causing drowsiness to surge.

However, Sunday focused on details of the action, not feeling sleepy at all.

He waited for a long time, but Kosu didn’t correct the direction, causing confusion in his heart—

"Could it be that the forward direction is always correct?"

He immediately dismissed his guess.

"No way it could be so coincidental. What on earth is Kosu doing?"

...

Suddenly opened his eyes and stood up on the boat.

Sunday’s steps were unaffected by the rocking of the boat, and he walked over to Kosu.

"Is our forward direction correct? Why aren’t you adjusting the sails?"

Kosu was still fiddling with the compass with his head down. Hearing this, he raised his head and asked with a troubled face.

"Where is north?"

"Damn it!"

Seeing this look on Kosu, Sunday’s anger shot straight to his head, wishing he could cut Kosu in half and throw him into the sea to feed the fish.

The usual training went smoothly, in real combat, he unexpectedly stumbled.

If he knew Kosu to be like this, he might as well persuade the "Celestial God," letting the zebra join their actions.

...

He snatched the compass from Kosu’s hand and waited for the needle to stabilize, pointing out the direction for Kosu.

Later, he dared not rest, glaring while asking Kosu questions and helping him adjust the forward direction.

Before starting the action, he had imagined numerous possibilities of failure, never thinking he would fail due to being lost.

As the team leader, Sunday could not allow such a basic mistake to happen. He would rather die in battle with the same tribe than accept such a failure.

...

The leader had at least a basic understanding of all aspects of the action.

Before action, Kosu had talked to Chen Zhou and Sunday about the specific location of the island. Saturday and Chen Zhou even drew a rough map of the island based on his description.

Being on the sea, Kosu was just temporarily flustered due to action tension, quickly regaining his condition with Sunday’s assistance.

Once he calmed down, the sun had completely set.

The night sky was starry, with no clouds in sight.

The sea was pitch black, with only faint light flickering on the cresting waves.

The boat was extremely dim, hardly able to see the compass, Kosu looked up at the night sky, preparing to continue navigating by the stars, when he saw Sunday take out a stick from his backpack.

He gently pressed the stick, and it immediately emitted a bright yellow light.

This light was somewhat hazy, far from bright like the second-floor factory lights, but sufficient to illuminate the compass and provide a view for the three.

Looking at the peculiar lamp in Sunday’s hand, Kosu said nothing more but just focused on the compass, silently adjusting the sails.

Of course, when adjusting the sails, he thought—

The Leader is really good to this kid, even giving him this glowing Divine Artifact.

What he didn’t know was, the "lamp" in Sunday’s hand could not only glow but also sound—

It was a Divine Light Stick sent along with the Ultraman suit, and lighting was just its basic function. If another button were pressed and the Divine Light Stick "sang," like sunlight piercing the darkness, it would be an interesting scene.

...

The indigenous people never experienced traveling at night, mostly departing when the sky was just dawning, avoiding the scorching morning sun.

To Kosu, this return to native land and the surprise attack on the tribe was considered refreshing.

He made the best use of his knowledge learned in the tribe and the so-called "science" acquired from the Leader, continuously correcting direction, adjusting sails, and occasionally paddling.

And the third person among them—Kulu.

Throughout the process, he remained silent, just sitting in the cabin, watching Sunday and Kosu’s every move.

If it weren’t for Sunday occasionally passing by him while moving around the boat, one might have thought this guy hadn’t boarded at all.