Property prices in Yuhai Bay were nothing short of exorbitant.
Ye Shu had hounded agents for ages before finally snagging a place—ten thousand yuan a month, and that didn't even include the broker’s fee. The room drained every last cent she’d managed to con out of Zhu Tian.
It was a spartan little flat, furnished only with the barest necessities. Aside from a dangling bulb and a cramped toilet, the bedroom boasted just an ancient, hardwood bed. Unpainted walls bore the marks of neglect, making it little more than a shell.
Ye Shu didn’t mind in the least.
Compared to the disaster that was about to hit, these trifles mattered not at all.
She had barely finished unpacking her supplies when footsteps echoed faintly in the hallway—other players, most likely, come to this very building.
Though Yuhai Bay had been completed some time ago, sky-high rents ensured occupancy at a minimum. After all, the eleven grand monthly rent was a king’s ransom in a backwater city like Yuhu. Few could stomach such a cost.
Without a word, Ye Shu drew the deadbolt over the door.
She chose this place not just for Yuhai Bay’s elevation, but for its security: reinforced, double-layered steel doors on every unit—tough enough that even a saw would have difficulty making a dent in short order.
Torrential rain battered the city. On the top floor, Ye Shu gazed out over the distant horizon and could spot the lowlands in Yuhu's east, where she'd once lived in Xingfu Community. Muddy yellow floodwater pooled in the streets.
She couldn’t be sure whether this rain was the game's doing—but her instincts screamed she had to reach the city’s highest point.
[Ding! Congratulations, player Ye Shu, for unlocking the game introduction. Torrential rains draw near. The Age of Great Floods is upon you. Game note: There is no reward for unlocking this introduction.]
Ye Shu: "..."
Hearing that mechanical voice flatly declare there was no reward—well, she couldn’t say she was surprised.
Still, at least now she knew what true threat lay in wait. The Age of Great Floods… It was a bone-chilling phrase.
Before she entered this story, she’d nursed a fascination for the strange and bizarre. Tales of Blue Star’s two-million-year deluge, eons ago, had haunted her midnight reading.
She tried to ask the system how long the rain would last. Of course, the system ignored her.
She opened the chat interface, wanting to warn the other players, but every message she typed was blocked, no matter how she phrased it. She had no choice but to abandon the attempt.
[Warning! First violation!] [This survival game prohibits message sharing. Prohibited! Three violations, and it’s game over. Wipeout!]
Ye Shu quietly deleted her half-written message.
She wasn’t some martyr, but even she couldn’t stomach the thought of watching over a million players perish right before her eyes.
Two rounds had wiped out two million Blue Star accounts. Fewer than two thousand players remained. Utterly horrifying.
If it went on like this, all of Blue Star would be lost...
If overt action was impossible, then she’d resort to covert methods. Ye Shu opened Doujia and registered a new account. Her warning was blunt and grim—white letters spattered with blood on a solid black background.
[I am a regressor. Azure Blue Star is about to face its fiercest, longest rainfall in millennia. The Age of Great Floods is coming...]
[Go to higher ground!!]
[Go to higher ground!!]
[Go to higher ground!!]
The video exploded in attention. Most dismissed it outright, mocking her in the comments for peddling doomsday fantasies and chasing clout off disaster. Still, some, thinking it better safe than sorry, believed what they saw.
Within an hour, the rain intensified. Floodwater rose from knee to thigh. Rumors spread like wildfire. As expected, Ye Shu’s account was swiftly banned.
But she didn't care.
If even one person saw her warning, maybe someone would survive.
She sat by the window, doing hotpot and grilling skewers—sizzling fatty pork, crisp lettuce wraps, a dusting of cumin. The aroma alone could raise the dead.
......
On the seventh day of the game, the downpour had not let up for a second.
The basements of low-lying districts were completely submerged. Xingfu fared worst of all—water flooded the first floor, and the aging, dilapidated buildings stood no chance. By midnight, one block collapsed after hours of unending rain: twenty-nine injured, thirteen dead.
Those who'd hurled abuse at Ye Shu were wracked with remorse. Most of all, those who'd cursed her loudest sobbed crocodile tears.
If only they’d left when warned, there’d never have been such carnage.
On the fifteenth floor of Minggui Garden, in the Zeng family’s apartment—
Zeng Jianfang’s eldest clutched his phone, relief plain on his face. "Mom, thank goodness you left Xingfu. Otherwise, well—a rotten old building like that, no surprise so many died."
Hands shaking, Zeng Jianfang reached for her red apple.
Yes.
Thank heavens she’d left.
If she hadn’t, she’d be among the dead buried under rubble now.
She owed that girl so much—for telling her to leave that old block, for persuading her to act that very night. The moment she’d been advised, she’d summoned her son and daughter-in-law, packed, and moved out before dawn.
If only she could see that girl again, she’d express her gratitude a hundredfold.
Ye Shu herself was startled. She’d only had a gut feeling those old buildings were dangerous—she never expected them to collapse by the second day of rain.
Between mouthfuls of noodles, she messaged Pang Pangzi, a friend she hadn’t heard from in ages.
His reply arrived instantly.
[Haianxian888: Lady Ye, you finally remember me? I thought you’d forgotten all about me!]
[Haianxian888: The forums are blowing up! Looks like this game is seriously tied to the rain and flash flooding. And hey, did you see that streamer—username ‘Chiyudezhu’—claiming the Era of Cataclysmic Floods is here? What a joke, right?!]
Ye Shu: "..." She felt oddly called out.
[Woshinidie: ‘Chiyudezhu’ is my account. I’m the one spreading the warning.]
[Haianxian888: ...What I meant was, your intel is dead on. Anyone with a brain can see this rain is anything but normal—it hasn’t let up once.]
Pang Pangzi nearly spat out his noodles.
From anyone else, he’d never have believed it.
But if it was Ye Shu...that changed things.
The Age of Great Floods—a deluge lasting ten thousand years!
He admitted he’d underestimated her. And to think she still cared for the NPCs—Ye Shu was truly cold-faced, warm-hearted.
They traded a few more words, then ended the chat.
Pang Tong, at least a thousand kilometers from Yuhu and trapped by the relentless storm, gave up any hopes of escaping to another province. Reaching a safe haven was a pipe dream now.
Thunderclouds devoured the sky, rain pummeling the windows until even shapes a few meters away dissolved into mist. But Ye Shu was unfazed—her training in shooting, boxing, and swordplay continued as if nothing had changed.
That very day, residents received a black alert from the government.
[Flood warning for Yuhu City: Rainfall will continue for the next week. Floods, landslides, and disasters are likely. Residents are strongly advised to remain indoors.]
Ye Shu glanced at the alert, then tossed her phone onto the table.