I died in the spore catastrophe that swept the world, and my flesh and blood rotted under the erosion of strange bacteria. Three months before I was reborn in the apocalypse, I laughed and sold everything, built a steel fortress, and hoarded mountains of supplies—2,000 kilograms of frozen meat, 300 boxes of antibiotics, and a top-notch air filtration system! When my neighbors mocked me for being crazy, I quietly renovated the balcony plants, and the vines quietly climbed all over the building. The end of the world has come, and hell has reappeared. The enemy who pushed me into the abyss in my previous life knelt outside the door and shed tears. I smiled and closed the door: "I'm sorry, my plants are picky eaters." The top military officials were shocked to discover that the only oasis in the world that can purify spores was actually my garden. But no one knows that the spore mother body that brings endless despair is currently staying on my windowsill, becoming a quiet (and fully controlled by me) small potted plant. In this life, I am a natural disaster!
