Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Transmigration

Ling Mo was working overtime when she suddenly slumped over her desk and died without warning. When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer herself—she’d become an eighteen-year-old girl.

Strangely, she accepted the shock with remarkable ease.

She’d always been the type to take life as it came. Besides, her old life hadn’t been anything worth clinging to. Now she’d been handed a new identity for no reason at all—and she was even younger. She should have been scared. Instead, she felt almost… relieved.

Over the past two days, she’d combed through the memories that came with this body.

The original owner had the same name as her: Ling Mo. She’d just graduated high school, eighteen this year. Not long ago, her parents had died in a plane accident, leaving her orphaned.

But unlike most people who lost both parents, she’d inherited a staggering fortune.

That was when Ling Mo went quiet. The setup felt oddly familiar—like something straight out of the novels she used to read.

With that thought, she suddenly had an idea. She lifted her head and shouted at the empty air, “System? System!”

Nothing answered.

…Yeah. She’d gotten ahead of herself.

She dug deeper into the memories. The young girl had shown signs of mild autism since childhood—withdrawn, distant, uninterested in conversation, always alone. Her parents had been her only family, the only people she could rely on.

Their deaths had hit her like the end of the world.

Her parents had been orphans, too. They’d built everything from nothing, didn’t have a child until they were middle-aged, and when they finally had a daughter, they treasured her like something too precious to touch. Afraid she’d fall, afraid she’d bruise, afraid she’d melt away if they held her too loosely.

Then the family collapsed overnight.

There was no elder to guide her through it, no one to sit her down and tell her how to keep breathing. Her grief soured into something heavy and choking, and the walls she’d always had around her only grew thicker.

No relatives. No friends.

She was so lonely that no one could reach her—and she didn’t want anyone to try.

By the time Ling Mo finished, she could still feel it lingering in her chest: that thick, hopeless despair, so strong it seemed to stain the air. It even seeped into her, as if the girl’s final emotions had soaked into the bones of this body.

In those memories, Ling Mo found the truth: the girl had already begun thinking about ending her life. She simply hadn’t had time to do it before Ling Mo arrived.

Ling Mo let out a slow breath. She couldn’t understand it. If you weren’t afraid of death, then why fear living?

But understanding wasn’t required for respect.

She stepped in front of the mirror. Staring at the face reflected there, she lowered her voice. “I hope you’re reunited with your parents.”

For a split second, she thought the girl in the mirror smiled at her.

Maybe it was just her eyes playing tricks.

She shook it off. “Since I’ve taken your body, I’ll live well for you.”

Her old body was already dead. And in that world, she hadn’t had anything worth staying for.

The Ling Mo from before was gone. This was a new Ling Mo now.

She walked outside. Her current home was a villa—originally a vacation place her parents had built. To keep the peace and avoid being disturbed, they’d even bought the entire mountain around it.

Only the rich could be that outrageous. Buying a mountain just to vacation in it.

The scenery was gorgeous, but the silence was suffocating. There wasn’t a trace of human warmth anywhere. Living here too long would crush anyone’s spirit.

Back in her room, a university admission letter lay on the desk.

After a moment’s thought, she decided to go.

In her last life, university had been a ladder she climbed just to survive—classes, part-time jobs, exhaustion, repeat. But this time, she wanted to experience it. For real.

First, she needed to move. The mountain villa was secluded, but at night it felt too empty, too vast. Like the darkness had room to grow teeth.

The girl hadn’t owned much. Ling Mo only needed a quick pack.

Then she saw it: a black ink-jade bracelet.

The jade was fine—beautiful in that quiet, expensive way that made you want to handle it carefully.

According to the memories, the girl’s father had bought it at an auction.

Ling Mo’s earlier shout echoed in her mind. No System.

She stared at the bracelet and muttered, “No System, fine. But don’t tell me a pocket space is too much to ask.”

She wasn’t sure what she was doing. Still, she grabbed a knife and nicked her finger.

Blood welled up. A drop slid off her fingertip and landed on the bracelet.

It vanished instantly.

Ling Mo didn’t even have time to grin before her vision went black.

When she opened her eyes again, the world had changed.

A stream ran through the land. A lake shimmered nearby. Farther away, there was even a small ocean. Beyond all of it stretched broad, fertile soil—dark and rich, the kind of land that promised harvests.

Her first thought was absurdly practical.

[I should plant something.]

Then her heart dropped.

Wait.

A cold dread crawled up her spine. “If I’ve got a pocket space… doesn’t that mean the apocalypse is coming?”

Every end-of-the-world story she’d ever read rushed into her mind at once.

And maybe it was some strange transmigrator’s intuition, but the more she thought about it, the more certain she became.

If that was true, her dream of a lazy, comfortable life was finished.

For a moment, she almost wished she hadn’t transmigrated at all. The old world had been hard, but it hadn’t been ending. Here, she had money—but in the apocalypse, money was nothing but paper.

She forced herself out of the pocket space, fell onto the bed, and stared blankly at the white ceiling.

Of course. Nothing came for free.

Three seconds later, she shot upright.

Her eyes burned with stubborn determination.

So what if the apocalypse was coming? With a pocket space, she could survive. Giving up wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

But her plan had to change. First priority: supplies.

She checked the bank account tied to this identity and nearly went numb at the string of zeros.

The original owner had already converted most of her inheritance into cash. She’d kept only this remote villa. She’d even left a will stating that after her death, all her wealth would be donated to charity.

It saved Ling Mo a massive amount of time and trouble.

Over a billion. Even if the world really ended, she wouldn’t have to worry about the rest of her life—if she used it right.

She grabbed a sheet of paper and started writing like her life depended on it. Food. Clothing. Shelter. Transportation. In minutes, the list became a long, dense column.

She had to thank all those survival novels. Their protagonists had already thought of everything she never would have. All she needed to do was take what worked and discard the nonsense.

But she wasn’t going to stockpile at home first.

If she hoarded supplies on a large scale in her own country, someone would notice eventually. And if the wrong people noticed, she’d be in danger long before the apocalypse even arrived.

Abroad was safer for stockpiling—and there were things she could buy overseas that she couldn’t buy here.

Weapons, for one.

She lifted her hand. The bracelet was gone. In its place was a faint pale mark on her wrist, so light you’d miss it if you weren’t looking.

Still, she wasn’t taking chances.

She’d buy a wristband to cover it up.