Disaster Apocalypse: Farming, Family, and My Hidden Secret Space

Within the valley, there was an image of prosperity and aspiration, and Shanggu Town also thrived because of that batch of grain. Especially upon knowing the yield of sweet potatoes and potatoes, subtle smiles appeared on the faces of the townsfolk, renewing their expectations for life. They tirelessly planted seeds in the ground, meticulously tending to them, eagerly awaiting the harvest in a few months.

Yet, in Panshi Town, several dozen miles southeast of Shanggu Town, and even in county towns a hundred miles away, the residents still lived in extreme fear, oppression, and despair. Violence was rampant everywhere. Many people had gone mad in the scramble for food resources and territories.

There was hope initially when the flood receded, but what came was greater despair—no relief grain, no seeds. People could only stave off hunger with wild vegetables, and their eyes were cast in darkness without hope in sight.

In their frantic hunger, watching the wealthy and powerful eat their fill, dressed in clean clothes, and arrogantly enslaving servants, this imbalance reached an extreme, on the verge of a complete eruption at any moment.

Imperial Mausoleum Palace.

"Your Majesty, here are the memorials sent from various states and cities. Please make a decision."

The current ruler, dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe with a crown on his head, sat at a high position, with one hand tightly clutching his forehead. His brows were deeply furrowed, his expression dark, clearly showing his emotions had reached an extreme.

Every day was about making decisions, decisions, decisions. He was just an Emperor, not a god. How could he conjure grain or seeds out of nowhere? Isn't this something the courtiers should find a way for?

"Your Majesty..."

Amidst the loud cries from the officials, the one seated high above finally reached his breaking point and erupted.

"Decide, always asking me to decide. Can I create grain or seeds? Isn't this something you courtiers are supposed to find solutions to?"

"Your ministers are incompetent. Please calm down, Your Majesty." Terrified, the major courtiers knelt down en masse at the Emperor's anger.

"Incompetent! Can't you make yourselves capable? What use are you ministers?"

"Minister of Revenue!"

"The old minister is here..." A trembling figure emerged and crouched down.

"Minister Zhao, do you have any good measures?" The bright yellow figure above intently stared at the Minister of Revenue.

Minister Zhao broke out in cold sweat. Although he managed the Ministry of Revenue, he was not prescient and could not foresee the disaster's arrival. Who could have known the flood would come so fiercely, submerging the entire Ancient Yan Country in just a few days?

Most importantly, the tax grain and silver from various places were still on the way. Additionally, last year was not a good year, and the national treasury's reserve of grain and silver was indeed limited. Coupled with over a year of expenditures with no income, even an abundance of grain couldn't withstand such consumption.

This flood submerged everything underwater. Gold and silver could be excavated from the mud, but the food and supplies were irretrievable.

After the flood receded, the entire land was devastated, and the rescue memorials from various regions fell like snowflakes. Even though he tried every means, even using the Emperor's authority to compel and induce noble households and wealthy families to provide grain, it was a drop in the bucket for Ancient Yan. The remaining grain could only sustain the surviving citizens in the capital with one porridge meal per day.

Even the Saint had only two meals a day, including one meat dish.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. The old minister is incompetent." Zhao Ji'an lay his entire body on the floor, trembling as if he were a sieve.

These days, his hair had turned urgently white, yet he still couldn't think of any solutions. The court really couldn't produce any grain beyond self-rescue by the people.

After all, it wasn't just one state or city—it was the entire nation. Even killing him wouldn't produce grain.

"Useless, all useless... I don't want to hear such nonsense. I want you to come up with a plan. Minister Zhao, I'm giving you one last chance..." The bright yellow figure glared at the old minister lying on the floor, with eyes as sharp as knives and filled with intense anger.

The wrath of the Emperor can leave a million corpses and spill blood for thousands of miles.

The hall was silent at this moment—all the courtiers shrank their necks in fear that they might be the next target of the Emperor's fury.

Minister Zhao trembled again, laying down, "Your Majesty, the old minister... the old minister..." Then, with resolute determination, he closed his eyes and said, "The old minister will definitely try every means to squeeze out some seeds so that farmers can plant as quickly as possible. But regarding grain, the old minister truly has no solution. The current approach is for the people to self-rescue everywhere. Luckily, it's now the time when everything recovers and plants grow rapidly. Living off the mountain and water can sustain for some time. After this period, yield from grain harvest will certainly improve the situation."

After finishing, Minister Zhao lay on the floor with a bitter face.

Even though he promised to squeeze out some seeds, finding these lifesaving materials was not easy. At times like this, everyone would protect their seeds tightly. Just one flood took a year and a half, who could guarantee what disaster might follow?

The noble families were deeply rooted, but they're all century-old, even millennium-old, great families, each shrewd and calculating, looking one step ahead while seeing ten steps. Trying to get grain or seeds from them was no less than climbing to heaven.

Just yesterday, some old fellows came to court to lament about having no food at home.

Let's hope the wealthy merchants in town haven't completely fled, or else we'll have no choice but to squeeze from the hands of the courtier lords.

In these crushing times, can't they squeeze him alone? Though he had some grain stored at home, he couldn't withstand the large number of people in his household—masters plus servants and guards, numbering dozens, surviving mainly on thin porridge each day.

Everyone has selfish desires. There's still a few months before harvest. The variables in between are immense; he cannot risk his family's life just to please the Emperor.

"Your Majesty, what Minister Zhao said is true. This disaster was widespread and fierce beyond anyone's prediction. Most places weren't prepared at all. The current plan is to order states and cities to distribute seeds and hurry planting; as for relief grain, the people must rely on self-rescue. This disaster has been devastating, with countless people succumbing to it. Though it's cruel, the old minister must say, due to the decrease in population, with the current richness in vegetation, survival should not be an issue as long as people work diligently."

"Minister Zhao and Minister Zhang's words are true," many officials echoed in agreement.

A flood destroyed everything, not just lives, but all food, clothing, supplies, nearly everything—even buildings weren't spared. Folks really had no strength left; now this no-solution solution had to be employed.

Otherwise, these officials wouldn't be staying with the Emperor in the mountains; there's literally no place to live.

Even the royal palace still hasn't been repaired, mostly buried in mud, the entire palace remains in ruins.

"So let's act according to what you nobles propose. Within three days, seeds must be gathered and distributed to each state, while informing all states of a complete tax exemption this year, focusing all efforts on farming and comforting the people. As long as the entire nation is united in disaster relief, I believe this difficult crisis can be overcome."

"Your Majesty is wise," replied the assembled ministers.

"Minister Zhao, it seems I recall Lingzhou Prefecture sending newly discovered seeds last year, with amazing yield, at least a thousand pounds per acre. Does such a thing exist?"

"In reply to Your Majesty, yes, that is true."

"Are there any remaining?"