18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 522

Chapter 522

Rosie was the embodiment of diligence, faithfully watering her fledgling garden

twice a day. Yet despite her efforts, more than half of the grass and trees withered away within days. The scorching heat and lack of water were concerns, but the real enemy was the soil itself.

Stella was no agro-scientist, yet her optimism remained unshaken. "Don't worry, we've still got half left," she said with a reassuring smile.

The sound of hailstones relentlessly pummeling the RV was like a relentless drumbeat. There was only one home-a precious sanctuary-that Stella cherished dearly, and she swiftly ushered everyone inside Arcadia for shelter.

After a couple of hours, they emerged to find the hail mostly melted away. But the storm took another third of the plant life with it. It wasn't the impact that killed them, but rather their inability to adapt during their transplanting phase, as they faced the relentless assault of extreme weather. Even humans would struggle under such conditions.

known for its restorative properties. Stubborn as ever, she refused to give up. Once every plant had perished, she planted a fresh batch. This time, she learned from experience. Instead of planting directly into the alkaline soil, she transferred the plants into

she finally planted them, soil and all, back into the ground. This time, half of the plants survived. Their growth was pitiful-a sad, wilted sight that seemed on the

resources. "Arcadia is home to mulberry trees, cypress, winter

history was a mystery-whether it had been land before or part of the seabed. The soil wasn't saline, and the alkalinity levels seemed manageable. Stella could

On mild mornings and evenings, the canine

a month had passed. At sunset, the two would stroll along the beach. Stella glanced back frequently, pondering, "Has the mountain grown taller?" It felt further from the sea than

50 meters inland. Neither of them were geologists, so whether it was the mountain

Indeed, the land had revealed more of itself within a month. The environment was harsh, but as long as land remained, hope would spread like wildfire. On the rocky shore, she planted a few cypress seeds,

sunset, she spotted a hint of green. A single weed. It was only half an inch tall, but the moist seaside air had nourished it well. It likely sprouted from

Stella's interest in the endless mountain range grew; she wanted to know where it ended. But hiking was tough; just half an hour of uphill and downhill sapped their

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