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Cen An tidied away the dishes, boiled a kettle of water, and tossed in a handful of Sparrow Tongue Bud. He sipped the sweet, refreshing liquid.

He even felt a touch of contentment.

In his previous life, as an orphan who managed to get into university and land a decent job, the effort he had poured in was unimaginably grueling for most people.

It seemed there was never a moment in his life when he could pause, savor a pot of tea, or listen to the sound of rain.

It was only after being transported to this calamity-ridden world that life suddenly became simple. So much so that even facing the dreaded Gloomy Rain Period ahead, his heart remained utterly calm.

By the time he finished the pot of tea, night had deepened.

He stoked the fire pit with fresh wood, crawled into his bedding, and drifted off peacefully.

He slept soundly through the night.

The next day marked the fifth day of the Gloomy Rain Period.

Cen An was startled awake by the sound of rain outside.

The downpour arrived as expected, beating against the roof canopy louder than firecrackers. The torrential rain fell without pause, as if a hole had opened in the heavens, pouring down the waters of the Milky Way.

Cen An scrambled out of bed, threw on his raincoat, and dashed outside to survey the situation.

Water pooled ankle-deep on the ground, flowing away like a small stream. Yet the black soil showed no standing water, maintaining only a faint dampness.

The not-particularly-robust roots of the white radishes and sweet asparagus clung tenaciously to the earth, not even swaying in the torrential downpour—clearly the mysterious work of the system.

He went to check the Raindrop Essence Cup again. The blue essence inside was nearly full. Indeed, the heavier the rain, the faster the essence collected.

He hurried back inside.

Such heavy rain rendered his straw cloak and conical hat useless; within ten minutes outside, water seeped through.

Fortunately, the fire pit burned steadily. He warmed himself by the flames while boiling a handful of noodles.

Yesterday’s bamboo chicken broth noodles had been delicious indeed. A steaming bowl of noodles warmed him from head to toe.

After idly sitting at the table for a while, drinking two pots of tea, he found himself oddly unsettled.

Having worked nonstop day and night for days preparing for this Gloomy Rain Period, the sudden leisure now felt strangely hollow.

Cen An stroked the Piranha plant peering over. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed his axe and chopped the broken bamboo bed to pieces.

This rickety bamboo bed wasn’t just missing a big chunk of its surface—three legs were short, one was long. Sleeping on it was anything but comfortable.

He’d long wanted to replace it.

60 bamboo, 5 grass ropes, 4 iron ingots… Once the recipe was activated, the pile of materials transformed into a new bamboo bed.

Though called a bed, “bamboo mat” suited it better—about 1.2 meters wide, 2 meters long, and 40 centimeters high. Slightly smaller than a bed, yet its comfort remained undiminished.

The freshly made bamboo pallet glowed with a soft green sheen, its faint bamboo scent refreshing and pleasant. The surface was smooth and level, sturdy and resilient.

As usual, Cen An spread a layer of dry grass, topped it with a fur mattress, and laid a fur-lined down quilt on top—a perfectly comfortable resting place.

After curling up in the blankets for a while, it was time for lunch.

The midday meal consisted of pigeon soup and steamed buns.

Fresh pigeons had been soaked in their own blood all morning, then stewed whole until tender. A gentle pinch with chopsticks easily separated the delicate bones.

As Cen An ate, he heard a crunching sound from inside the hut. Turning, he saw the Piranha plant furtively picking bones off the floor to eat.

Cen An: …

He silently pushed the picked-over bones toward it.

It felt like raising a puppy that wouldn’t bark…

The steamed buns used up the last of the household’s wheat flour. So that afternoon, Cen An fashioned a mortar from stone and wood.

Pounding wheat was backbreaking work, but Cen An had plenty of time now. He worked in intervals, resting between sessions, and by afternoon had pounded seven or eight batches. He sealed them all in bamboo tubes and stored them in the grain jar.

A layer of bamboo charcoal lined the bottom of the jar, keeping it perfectly dry and safe.

After finishing the grinding, he swept the entire house again, striving to make every corner spotless and orderly.

Another hour passed.

Cen An sat at the table, lost in thought for a while, wondering how everyone else was faring.

Sister Qu and Brother Zhao’s homes should be fine, but could Yu Fei and Yu Lin’s little shack withstand this torrential downpour?

He’d never been to Tian Yuan’s place, but he’d heard it was also on the edge of the village. Would it hold up?

And then there was the dog owner… He wasn’t from Yongning Village, but there were no other villages nearby. Could he be living deep in the mountains? Surely he wasn’t some kind of hermit…

His thoughts drifted aimlessly as the sound of rain grew louder and louder.

Drip, drip…

The sound of falling water made him look up abruptly. The roof canopy was torn!

The canopy’s top was made of broad leaves, which had a short lifespan to begin with. The fact that the previous two canopies had lasted this long through the rainy season had been a pleasant surprise.

Soon, the steady drip-drip turned into a torrential downpour, icy rain pouring down from above.

Cen An reacted swiftly, grabbing a wooden basin to catch the water.

Simultaneously, he fetched broad leaves and vines, skillfully crafting four new rain shelters.

Donning his straw raincoat and carrying a ladder, Cen An braved the downpour to climb onto the roof.

Sure enough, the two existing shelters were already torn. He replaced them with the new ones and added a third shelter in the gap between the two existing ones.

He placed the last shelter near the door under the eaves. This created a sheltered spot by the entrance, allowing him to see the courtyard without stepping outside.

Once the four shelters were in place, the dripping inside the house stopped immediately.

Cen An wiped the rain from his face and glanced up to survey his surroundings.

From his elevated vantage point, he spotted trouble. On the northern mountain near his home, a stream of water was gathering. Brownish muddy water slowly washed away, obstructing trees, inch by inch moving down the slope… its speed even accelerating!

A mudslide!

Cen An felt a sudden chill run down his spine!

He immediately rushed back inside, hurriedly loaded half a wall’s worth of lumber onto a cart, and dashed back out.

He activated the formula, and a wall materialized instantly. He laid it horizontally across his doorway. With another flick of his wrist, another ladder appeared.

Working nonstop, he placed wall after wall until he’d formed a semicircle, completely enclosing his home.

The thunderous roar of the floodwaters was already audible, yet he felt an unexpected calm. With a flick of his right hand, a massive beast-hide sack materialized.

The sack was filled with sand, too heavy for Cen An to move alone. He could only walk and place it as he went, deftly and swiftly stuffing over a dozen sandbags into the gaps between the wooden rungs, atop them…

In less than five minutes, a miniature dam stood.

His crude raincoat offered no defense against the torrential downpour. His back was already soaked through, but rest was out of the question.

He had no experience with waterproofing, relying only on vague information he’d seen in his past life. Moreover, he wasn’t preparing for ordinary water, but a mudslide—its impact far stronger than a flood…

Would it work? If it failed, whether he could escape was uncertain, but the little home he’d painstakingly built would be completely destroyed.

Besides, could anyone outrun a mudslide?

The rumbling grew louder, shaking his eardrums painfully. Cen An could already smell the strange scent of rain mingled with earth…

The muddy, yellow water surged like a furious dragon, violently snapping the last row of trees blocking its path and rushing down the flat terrain like a thousand rivers!

Its towering head surged forward with a savage, all-consuming fury. In that moment, anyone could feel only terror…

Fortunately, Cen An’s small dam didn’t have to face the mudslide head-on. His home faced west, while the muddy water approached from the north. He only needed to block the portion spreading sideways.

The small dam served its purpose perfectly. The heavy brown mud slammed into it, causing the dam to crack and creak… yet it remained steadfastly unmoved.

Finally, the mud carved a fishtail-shaped ripple around the area. Surrounded by muddy water everywhere, Cen An’s small, dilapidated hut remained completely untouched.

Success…

Seeing that the strongest force of the mudslide had passed, Cen An let out a long sigh of relief and returned inside.

He untied his straw raincoat; the clothes underneath were completely soaked. He dared not be careless. Hastily boiling water, he gave himself a quick wash before wrapping himself in a thick animal-fur quilt and brewing a steaming bowl of ginger soup.

Generously sweetened with sugar, the soup was both spicy and sweet. Downing the hot bowl immediately induced a sweat, banishing the chill from his body.

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Just as Cen An sipped his ginger soup by the fire pit, mudslides struck the village from three other directions.

The deafening torrent of mud crashed down, sweeping away seemingly sturdy houses like dominoes.

Unaccustomed to mudslides during the usual Gloomy Rain Period, the villagers were unprepared, like Cen An, forced to passively await the disaster.

Fortunately, the nearby mountains were low, limiting the mudslides’ force, and all buildings were single-story. Thus, while some were injured, no one died.

Still, watching one’s home collapse was unbearable. Amid the torrential downpour, cries of anguish rose, only to be swiftly drowned out by the rain…

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Cen An finished his ginger tea, feeling he wouldn’t need dinner tonight. He stroked the Piranha plant’s head as it leaned in, then heard a knock on the door.

Amid the downpour, the sound was indistinct—he almost thought it was his imagination… Yet upon listening closely, the knocking indeed resumed.

He sprang to his feet. “Who is it?”