My Apocalypse System Arrives 10 Years Early

What were a few difficulties? ’Don’t rush. Have a smoke, write a poem, take it slow.’ After all, "On Protracted War" was the famous military theory established by the old man himself.

And so, Jiang Cai’Er wrote a poem. The prose was decent, but in terms of sheer grandeur, it couldn’t compare to the Instructor’s work.

It was a poem titled *Yi Qin’e: Battle the Tsunami*: "Scorching winds rage, the long sky’s clouds are torn by piercing thunder. The thunder pierces, the parched plains swelter, the rivers threaten to run dry. The flood’s crest may be a thousand tons of iron, but humanity will rebuild the land and overcome. They will overcome; Kyushu will stand as one, and laugh to greet the cracking heavens."

Li Family Village’s little bit of self-entertainment was, of course, live-streamed. It gained considerable traction online, especially Li Xiang’s poem. It came off as a bit of a flex, as it was an imitation of the Instructor’s *Lou Mountain Pass*.

At the same time, it did genuinely boost everyone’s morale.

...

As global temperatures soared, netizens around the world were abuzz with discussions and endless complaints. Just as people felt they couldn’t hold on any longer, dark clouds began to gather. They grew more numerous and thicker by the day, covering an immense area.

Satellite images showed they shrouded nearly the entire globe.

The sky was capped with dark clouds, blotting out the sun. Daytime became as dim as night.

Then the wind started to blow—strange, howling gusts.

In the country, the Central Meteorological Observatory issued an emergency red alert for high winds, with localized gusts potentially exceeding Force 15. A red alert signifies an extremely destructive force, capable of causing severe disasters like collapsed buildings and capsized ships.

The official warning advised everyone to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary, especially those weighing under 110 pounds. This was because anyone lighter could easily be blown away by the wind. Then, a netizen from a coastal region shared a tip: "Try to put tape on your windows in a crisscross pattern."

Taping a crisscross pattern increases the glass’s resilience. It not only helps it withstand greater wind pressure but also prevents the shards from scattering and injuring people if the glass does break.

Some regions had been considering cloud seeding to induce rain, but before they could act, a massive downpour was already imminent.

The wind howls through the tower, heralding a mountain storm.

One netizen living on a high floor was in high spirits. He went out onto his balcony, intending to imitate Li Xiang by reciting a poem for a video he planned to post online: "A great wind rises, the clouds are scattered and flying..."

He had just recited the first line when the tall building began to sway. Terrified, he stumbled and immediately scrambled back inside.

Well, his girlfriend, who was filming from inside, still posted the clip of his undignified retreat. And it was precisely because of this embarrassing moment—the stark contrast with his initial bravado and the complete lack of any staged acting—that it ended up getting a ton of views.

"Living on a high floor is too dangerous," one netizen couldn’t help but comment with a sigh.

Someone living in a high-rise retorted, "You think we like living up here? It’s because we can’t afford a house with a yard! Who wouldn’t want their own detached villa? Easy for you to talk."

A netizen from Jiang City wrote, "Can you believe it? In a non-first-tier city like ours, residential buildings over 180 meters are everywhere, and some are nearly 270 meters tall. I live on the 63rd floor, and I’m terrified."

Jiang City has the second-highest number of high-rise residential buildings in the country, even more than Beijing, Shanghai, or Guangzhou, second only to Shenzhen. If you include Hong Kong Island, it ranks third. Hong Kong Island has 115 high-rises, while Jiang City has 101. Shenzhen has 236. But Jiang City’s economy and housing prices can’t even compare to those other places.

Some companies hadn’t closed for the storm yet. One corporate drone, just getting off work, wrapped his clothes tightly around himself and struggled down the street. He watched as trees in the distance swayed violently before being toppled by the roaring gale. Fortunately, he ate a lot of junk food and, weighing in at one hundred and ninety-eight pounds, was as steady as a rock.

The guy saw an electric scooter "blown over" on the side of the road and, in a moment of goodwill, thought about righting it. But when he got closer, he saw a note the owner had left on it: "Don’t help me up."

It had been laid down on purpose, of course.

Then, the guy also noticed that some of the large streetlights had been dismantled and placed on the ground in sheltered spots.

’Damn, I’ve got to get home, fast.’ Although he was banking on his weight to keep him from being blown away, he felt a sudden, inexplicable panic. He quickly fled back to his rented apartment. On the way, however, he still managed to film some footage, which he later posted on TikTok, tagging his company’s management.

The message was obvious: he was hoping the managers at his company would take a hint and send out a notice that night announcing that there would be no work the next day.

He didn’t get the notice, but his video ended up going viral.

Someone replied, "You’ve got some serious guts, openly tagging your company’s management like that."

Another commented, "I don’t have to work, but I already booked tickets for Wutai Mountain. I’m going even if it’s raining knives."

"The scenic area is probably closed for the storm, right?" a netizen questioned.

At times like this, public sector institutions were, of course, the first to call a holiday. Why else would a government position be so sought-after? And it was usually a paid holiday, at that.

Private companies? Don’t even think about it.

"I already bought the tickets. It’d be a shame not to go," that person said.

A netizen advised, "You can get a refund for the tickets! You really shouldn’t go. If you go missing on the way, you won’t even get a chance to regret it."

A netizen from the north: "Finally fixed the bug where we northerners never get to experience a typhoon."

...

Finally, the downpour began. It was a torrential deluge, as if someone were dumping buckets of water from the sky.

Some people cheered. "It’s finally raining! This damned heatwave is finally over!"

Unfortunately, once it started, it showed no signs of stopping.

And with the rumbling thunder and constant lightning, no one could go outside.

Fortunately, people had prepared in advance, and every household had stockpiled food.