Farming in the Wasteland, but the Ingredients Are Too Cosmic-Grade

I, Li Gou, am a Sichuanese who swears to God that I only want to cook hot pot in the apocalypse. As a result, a sharp-tongued system fell from the sky and forced me to participate in some kind of "Galaxy God of Cooking Competition" every day. I wonder if this is a treasure! I just want to survive, but it asked me to use alien seeds to farm the land, and to make those weird-looking mechanical monsters into spicy, pickled pepper, fish flavor and other flavors... From then on, the style of wasteland began to look wrong. Another boss is sharpening his sword and engaging in a firefight, while I am studying what kind of rice should be paired with the crab roe of the "strip-shaped urban management crab"; another survivor is building a fortification, and I am upgrading my mobile dining truck, thinking about adding a nine-grid hot pot that can scald "Cthulhu Octopus Tendons". Later, the most ferocious warlord in the world drove up tanks, not to grab territory, but to queue up at my place early in the morning, crying and begging for a bowl of pig's trotter rice. "Hurry up! If you don't come in here, there will be no chance of the alien hairy belly today!"