Divine Throne of Primordial Blood - A Year of Great Undertakings - Book 6, Chapter 101: The Source of the Turbulence

In the distant future, the world was in ice

Humans live in cryo facilities underground, awaiting for the distant Spring,

Robots manage the facilities

They built a ‘village’ there and lived there.

They dreamed that, one day, they would live together with the ‘Humans’ (Master).

This, is the story of the Ice Country.

One will to create oceans. One will to summon the mulberry fields.

One will to slaughter countless devils. One will to eradicate innumerable immortals.

Only my will… is eternal.

In a humble village untouched by ambition, ​Hua Jin lives an idyllic life as the adored daughter of a farming family—a rarity in an era where sons reign supreme. Content with her simple joys and doting kin, she dreams only of peace… until the skies turn vengeful.But Hua Jin has a secret: a mystical space brimming with untold resources. While others scramble when droughts scorch crops, floods drown kingdoms, and plagues darken horizons, she smirks. “We’ve got this.”Yet survival isn’t just about hoarding grain. With her family’s unwavering love as her shield, Hua Jin masterminds a laid-back revolution: turning their farm into a fortress, bartering wit for wealth, and outsmarting fate itself. Who needs panic when you’ve got a lazy genius with infinite storage and a clan that laughs in the face of doom?

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”