Others Are Trying to Survive in the Apocalypse, but I Am Making a Small Fuss in the Apocalypse.

In the fifteenth year of the Great Fog, the gray fog swallowed the world, mutant beasts were rampant, and anyone who took a bite of synthetic nutritional ointment would be killed. As soon as Lin Ye opened his eyes, he became the kitchen servant who hid half of the nest in the Black Stone Stronghold, only to be beaten half to death and thrown to feed the rats. Others would have cried, but he was happy. Others have awakened elemental powers and are so powerful? He tied up with the food space - ten square meters of black land, a spiritual spring well, and ten times the time flow rate, grew vegetables and raised chickens, and started his own business. While others are chewing tooth-grinding nutritious paste to survive, his bowl of golden egg fried rice is extremely powerful, and a cup of medicated soup can drag people who have been eroded by fog back from the gate of hell; the spicy power increases, the sour speed increases, and the medicated food detoxifies. Ordinary people who eat and drink enough can stew the second-level mutant beast alive in a formation. So the entire apocalyptic style of painting was led astray by him—— The second-level frost female captain who was in trouble took a bite of the sweet-scented osmanthus cake he made, and her face, which had been frozen for three years, cracked on the spot; The captain of the sickly team, the strong man of strength, the old carpenter, and the thief girl all conquered each one with a bowl of rice and rushed to work for him; The steward who withheld food and spent 300 lives to pave the way, he took the pot and stove and sent the other party on his way with a smile. Some people laughed at him: A cook also wants to gain a foothold in the apocalypse? Lin Ye put on his apron and weighed the frying spoon that could be used for both cooking and bleeding. There is food in hand and no panic in mind. What does it matter if the tide of fog presses down on the realm, what does it matter if the pure land that worships the gray mist will cause trouble, what does it matter if the young city lord of Iron City is aloof? You are trying to survive in the apocalypse, while I am working on a small stove in the apocalypse. As for my small cooking, sooner or later, a whole wasteland will have to queue up to eat it - the best meal in the world.