Help! This Apocalypse Forces Me to Hoard Supplies in a Crazy Space

Bai Bai got incredibly lucky. Really incredibly lucky.

A truck slammed through a guardrail, and when she opened her eyes, she was in the apocalypse, inhabiting the body of a low-level delivery worker with the same name.

Her storage space was only one cubic meter, her mental energy was nearly depleted, and a potentially fatal lump had swollen at the back of her head.

The System compensated her with a golden finger: the ability to make two copies of anything.

Bai Bai: “I’m filing a complaint! That’s it?”

Until she discovered she could copy food, water, and even other people’s supernatural abilities.

Bai Bai: “...Okay, not bad. I can stock up.”

Then a rabid dog got into the residential compound, everyone on her friend list turned out to be dead, and Lu Lutong still owed her a life.

Bai Bai: “This lousy apocalypse is forcing me to stockpile, is it?”

Fine. She’d stockpile until no one could lay a hand on her.