Chapter 2

At the dining table that noon, Aunt Clara’s sickeningly fake smile turned my stomach.

Piles of expensive luxury tonics lined the living room corner, nothing more than a shallow pretence to win Grandma’s trust.

“Mom,” Clara piled food onto Grandma’s plate, her voice cloyingly sweet, “The mining acquisition is officially confirmed soon. This tiny old cottage of yours won’t get nearly enough payout. If I move Jason and Haley’s residency back here, we can split a fortune easily.”

Her greedy eyes locked onto Grandma, pressing relentlessly.

“Think of your grandchildren. Think of Ethan too. His parents are gone; he only has your tiny pension to rely on. How will he ever make it in the future? I’m fighting for all of us.”

Grandma was soft-hearted as always, hesitating before finally nodding her consent to let Clara move her family back and build a new villa on our ancestral land.

Clara’s face bloomed with triumph. She immediately began drafting expansion plans for a four-story luxury villa, already daydreaming of millions in compensation money.

I cleaned the dinner plates silently, a cold sneer hidden deep in my heart.

Let her dream. I would shatter every last one of her delusions.

Early the next morning, Clara left with Jason and Haley to handle residency paperwork in the city. I seized the chance, coaxing Grandma into riding into town with me for a full lung examination.

I knew Grandma’s persistent cough was already an early sign of pulmonary lesions. In my last life, it had been ignored until it turned fatal. This time, I would cure her before it was too late.

The doctor prescribed anti-inflammatory medication and confirmed it was only mild irritation, no terminal risk. I exhaled a deep breath of relief. While Grandma finished her check-up, I slipped away to the bank and took out a fifty-thousand-dollar loan.

Once the apocalypse arrived, bank debt would mean nothing. The funds were more than enough to launch my supply hoarding plan.

Walking back toward the hospital, I subconsciously tried tucking my bank card into a hidden dimension—a leftover habit from my previous life in the wasteland.

In the next second, I froze completely.

The card vanished from my palm.

I focused my mind, and a vast, silent spatial realm materialized in my consciousness. The bank card lay perfectly preserved within the chaotic void.

Shock and elasion crashed over me like a tidal wave.

My storage space had returned with my rebirth.

It was the most precious treasure I’d owned in my last life—a portable dimension where every item remained fresh indefinitely, never decaying, never expiring. My old supplies were gone, but the space itself remained intact.

With this power, surviving the apocalypse became infinitely more manageable.

Now only one problem remained: finding the perfect long-term safe haven.

A few days later, Grandma mentioned Grandpa’s death anniversary was approaching, asking me to buy incense and candles in town to visit his mountain grave.

A sudden thought flashed through my mind, and my eyes lit up.

Grandpa’s grave sat beside an abandoned ancestral cottage halfway up the Appalachian ridge. The cottage had been built decades ago, far removed from town residences, surrounded by dense woodland and overgrown thickets. Most importantly, behind the ruined house lay a massive natural karst cave system Grandpa had taken me to explore as a child.

The cave stayed warm in winter and cool in summer. A hidden side cavern overlooked the entire Hollow Creek town below. It was perfectly concealed, easy to defend and impossible to siege—a god-given fortress for doomsday survival.

August 22nd arrived, Grandpa’s memorial day. Grandma and I trekked the rugged mountain trail for hours until we reached the abandoned cottage and cave entrance.

Cool mountain air drifted out of the dark mouth, instantly chasing away the summer heat. Grandma leaned against the stone wall to rest while I ventured deeper alone to survey the terrain.

The cave widened inward into a towering central hall. Sunlight filtered through a natural skylight in the ceiling, glinting off white stalactites that scattered faint specks of light across the stone floor. Behind a cluster of giant stone pillars lay a concealed private cavern, roughly the size of a modern living room. A rotting straw mat covered the ground, crumbling at the lightest touch, with rusted farm tools leaning against the wall.

Lifting a tattered linen cloth in the deepest corner revealed a narrow hidden exit masked by wild weeds. Peering through the gap, I could clearly see the entire town entrance, the winding mountain path, and the main highway leading into Hollow Creek. Every moving vehicle and wandering figure was visible from here.

I pulled out a tape measure and mapped every corner of the cave, drafting a detailed renovation blueprint in my head.

I would cover the main cave entrance with transplanted ancient trees and climbing vines to erase all traces from outsiders. I would install reinforced steel security doors on the hidden exit, partition the inner cavern into a bedroom, living area, and kitchen, and convert a remote side grotto into a generator chamber, letting thick mountain rock muffle engine noise completely.

After confirming the cave’s perfect layout, I headed straight into town to begin bulk purchasing supplies.

I ordered full sets of furniture, household appliances, diesel generators, high-grade water purifiers, industrial heaters, electric blankets, down parkas, and thick winter quilts for the incoming extreme cold. I bought everything in massive bulk, hiding goods in isolated empty lots before teleporting them one by one into my storage space.

The apocalypse would bring catastrophic extreme weather, endless zombie hordes, and mutated feral beasts. I needed stockpiles for all seasons, enough to sustain Grandma and me for decades of isolated survival.

As I stored the last batch of goods into the space, I stared out at the dense shadowed woodland surrounding the mountain ridge. A faint, unsettling aura lingered in the air—something primal, dangerous, and hidden deep within the forest that I had never sensed in my past life.

This time, the apocalypse would be far deadlier than I remembered.