In the shabby hut, the faint, relaxed smile that had just begun to form on Liu Xiaoman’s lips was abruptly shattered by the alarm that exploded in her mind.
The sound was not a simple notification—it was a piercing, soul-tearing screech, carrying an unprecedented urgency and sense of danger. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured from the top of her head, instantly freezing the blood in her limbs.
Before her eyes, the air seemed to flicker with the bright red word: “WARNING.”
The familiar, usually calm system interface was forcibly pulled up. The pale blue data streams were violently overlaid by a brutal red warning frame, filling her entire perception with a suffocating, apocalyptic pressure.
The joy of victory vanished in an instant, leaving only an abyss-like fear of the unknown.
“System, what’s going on?” Liu Xiaoman didn’t even have time to speak aloud. She could only scream inwardly with the most urgent intent.
For the first time, the system’s cold electronic voice carried an unprecedented gravity. Every syllable felt like a heavy block of lead crashing onto her heart.
[Ding! Major changes detected in world rules. Emergency main quest issued!]
Before Liu Xiaoman could ask further, a flood of new information poured down like a waterfall:
[Main Quest Issued: Prepare for an impending three-year severe drought.]
[Background: Due to unknown celestial activity, the world’s atmospheric moisture cycle will suffer a major breakdown in one month, leading to three consecutive years of extreme drought. This is expected to trigger widespread famine, epidemics, and social instability.]
Three-year drought.
Those four words struck like a thunderbolt, exploding in Liu Xiaoman’s mind and leaving her vision dark for a moment, her heart skipping a beat.
Her blood nearly froze.
As a modern agricultural scientist and a graduate student in history, she understood better than anyone what those simple four words truly meant.
It meant thousands of miles of scorched earth, barren and lifeless.
It meant rivers drying up, wells running empty.
It meant corpses strewn across the land, and even cannibalism.
The petty conflicts of the Liu family’s old household—the scolding of Wang Jinhua, Liu Dabao’s surveillance—were insignificant beyond measure compared to this catastrophe that could overturn an entire dynasty.
She forced herself to calm down, digging her nails deep into her palm, using pain to anchor her reason. Then she immediately focused to review the detailed mission.
[Mission Name: Survival in the End Times]
[Objective: Ensure the survival of the host and immediate family members (Li Xiuxiu, Liu Congming) throughout the three-year drought, and establish a sustainable survival base.]
[Suggested Strategy: Core approach — Massive stockpiling!]
Below the suggestion was an impossibly long checklist. At the very top, written in bold crimson letters, were the essentials: food, water, medicine, seeds. Following that were tools, weapons, clothing, fuel… densely packed and covering nearly every conceivable category.
At the bottom of the mission details were the rewards that made Liu Xiaoman’s breathing tighten:
Massive system points, advanced construction blueprints (such as canal irrigation systems and ecological greenhouse designs), a full set of intermediate body enhancement serums… and even permission to upgrade the system to version 2.0.
The overwhelming sense of crisis intertwined with these immense rewards, gripping her heart like an invisible hand—creating both suffocating pressure and a trace of almost manic excitement.
This was a challenge capable of destroying everything.
But at the same time, it was also a heaven-sent opportunity to completely change her fate.
Her mind began to spin at unprecedented speed.
She had only one month.
One month to prepare.
Her eyes instinctively turned toward the assets she had painstakingly accumulated—the supplies hidden in the waterfall cave.
Those pitiful resources—dozens of jin of grain, a few bolts of cloth, several jars of coarse salt—were nothing more than a joke in the face of three long, hopeless years.
Her previous “ant-moving” accumulation plan now seemed naïve and laughable.
Small-scale procurement was no longer meaningful. What she needed was not incremental improvement—but a true Noah’s Ark, a fortress capable of withstanding an apocalyptic flood. She needed strategic-level reserves.
..
Meanwhile, the commotion in the Liu family’s old residence had not yet fully subsided.
Liu Dabao’s unexplained itch was diagnosed by a local unlicensed healer as being caused by “offending something unclean.” Old Madam Tian and Wang Jinhua burned paper offerings and prayed to the gods, causing chaos all around.
They temporarily attributed everything to the “inauspicious” hut near the mass grave, and no one dared approach the village outskirts again.
This unexpected turn of events gave Liu Xiaoman precious uninterrupted time to think.
She walked to the door of the hut and pushed it open slightly.
Cold night air rushed in, cooling her overheated mind.
She looked up at the sky. The moon was unusually bright, and a few scattered stars dotted the heavens—a rare, peaceful night.
Yet who could imagine that beneath such calm skies, a catastrophe capable of turning the world into hell was quietly brewing?
She could clearly feel time’s pulse—rapid, relentless. Every minute, every second, was incredibly precious.
Taking a deep breath of the cold, earthy air, she forced down the turbulent emotions in her chest.
Her previous plans were completely overturned. A new, bolder, more radical plan began to take shape rapidly in her mind.
The first step—and the most critical one—was to tell her family this shocking information in a way they could understand and accept.
And more importantly—make them believe it without reservation.
The next morning, just as dawn began to break.
Li Xiuxiu and Liu Congming had already woken up, preparing as usual to drink a thin rice porridge that was barely thicker than water.
But Liu Xiaoman did not head out with her basket as she normally would.
Instead, she sat unusually solemnly at the worn wooden table.
Looking at her mother, still carrying a hint of lingering fear, and her brother, whose eyes were full of dependence, she remained silent for a moment.
Then, in a tone more serious than ever before, she spoke slowly:
“Mother, Congming…”
Her voice was soft—but it landed clearly in both of their ears.
“Our small savings… I’m afraid they won’t be enough.”