Apocalypse: I Stockpile Supplies and Build an Empire with the System

“Splash, ”

Cold rain mixed with mud slammed hard into Chen Mo's face. He jerked his eyes open. Through his blurred vision, he saw the ceiling of a dilapidated rental room in an urban village. The plaster was peeling, and rain was still leaking through, droplets falling into a rusty metal basin with a steady patter, like the beat of a death drum.

“Wasn't I... pulling an all-nighter at the library to finish my thesis, then dying suddenly?”

Chen Mo pushed himself upright with aching arms and looked around. The room was less than ten square meters, crammed with cheap instant-noodle boxes and dirty clothes. The only window was covered with plastic sheeting, which flapped noisily in the gale. His phone screen lit up, and the date on it made his pupils contract: June 15, 2073.

“2073...” Chen Mo sucked in a breath, his heart pounding.