The Glutton’s Apocalypse Diary

In the famine of the apocalypse, my wife Su He and I are the world's only miracle: guardians of the “Prayer Tree.” We made one ironclad rule: each person may pluck a flower bud only once in their lifetime.

We selflessly baked food for everyone and were revered as saints.

But they don't know that every bud that turns into food draws on their life force. And we are the “shepherds” chosen by this “Gluttonous Tree.”

Then the rules were broken. Someone who should have been dead plucked a second bud.

The ancient tree's true rules surfaced in my mind: [Rule Four: Shepherd, welcome to your new role as a sacrifice.]