A hundred years after the nuclear war, in the wasteland, others were fighting for a piece of moldy bread. I was 15 years old, and I was eating braised pork hot pot in my portable space with my 3-year-old sister.
Radiation was everywhere, they drank sewage, and my sister and I took a bath in the spiritual spring.
Mutated beasts are running rampant, and they are fighting for their lives. I used the inexhaustible spiritual fruits in the space to feed an army of beast kings!
Don't ask me where the supplies come from, just ask - I have a world as a warehouse, and I can grow the entire future!
It's okay to kill time