She suddenly accelerated, drifted around a corner, and sped forward.

The jolt was intense—she almost flung herself off.

Luckily, she balanced herself just in time and, after making a wide loop, successfully reached the Expo Center.

The Expo Center was only twelve stories tall, but the exhibition halls were high-ceilinged, giving it a grand and imposing appearance.

Jiang Ning circled around it once. She didn’t see anyone inside, nor any broken glass.

According to the area layout, Le Town centered on furniture manufacturing, with factories surrounding it. Residential and commercial areas were across the river, now completely obscured in the pouring rain.

All around, there was nothing but floodwater. The Expo Center alone stood firm, breaking through the waves.

The glass was thick—there was no way a hammer could break it.

Jiang Ning used a window breaker. After several hard hits, she finally shattered it.

As expected of a 4A tourist attraction, the Expo Center covered a massive area. The resplendent main hall had been swallowed by floodwaters, but even when she looked up, she could still sense its grandeur.

Darkness had swallowed all splendor. Now, only the flashlight guided her through displays of stylish furniture.

The complex and scattered waterways had protected the Expo Center well.

Or maybe it was simply because it lacked survival supplies that survivors needed—either way, it hadn’t been looted before Jiang Ning arrived.

Furniture was everywhere—anything you could imagine, they had made.

Chinese, European, American, African, Korean, modern, postmodern, classical, neoclassical, pastoral, cyberpunk…

Furniture from all over the world was gathered here, full of imaginative designs—if you could think of it, they could build it.

Jiang Ning didn’t start looting right away. Instead, she headed straight to the top floor’s Furniture Museum.

With the power out, the entire center was pitch black. Her footsteps echoed in the emptiness.

No elevator meant a long, tiring climb. She finally reached the top floor, her feet aching and numb.

The whole level was dedicated to historical exhibits, including photo galleries and physical artifacts—wood samples, ancient furniture in various states of preservation.

She wandered through the exhibition areas with her flashlight for nearly half an hour before reaching the centerpiece: a four-meter-long, irregularly shaped, mottled dark brown piece of wood.

This was ebony.

Buried underground for thousands—even tens of thousands—of years, erosion and nature had shaped it into something between wood and stone: a botanical “mummy.”

Known as the “spirit of all woods” and praised as “fossilized wood,” there was a saying: an ounce of ebony is worth an ounce of gold.

Jiang Ning couldn’t estimate its value. After all, no matter how precious, it couldn’t fill a belly—worthless to a survivor.

The ebony was encased in thick, transparent glass. Not easy to extract.

It was shatterproof glass; no hammering would break it.

Jiang Ning put on her mask, pulled out a chainsaw from her space, and the screeching sound filled the air.

After much effort, she finally sawed open the shatterproof casing—a fragrant scent rushed to her nose.

Honestly, ebony smelled amazing.

No time to waste—she quickly stored the treasure in her space.

Then she got back to work. South Sea rosewood, agarwood, red sandalwood—precious furniture woods of all kinds were either encased in glass or cordoned off with warning tape.

She couldn’t tell which pieces were spiritually potent, so she just tossed everything into her space.

Eventually, she found an exquisitely crafted Qiangong canopy bed made entirely from red sandalwood.

Intricately carved and stunningly beautiful—utter perfection.

But in the darkness, it looked somewhat eerie and sinister.

It was too large. Her living room was already packed with the RV, no way to fit a massive bed.

So she rolled up her sleeves—and disassembled it.

After dismantling, she stuffed it all into her space—matching tables, chairs, stools, dressing tables, everything.

There were plenty of other antique pieces too: Hu tables, Taishi chairs, chaise lounges, and many she didn’t even recognize by name.

To be honest, her hands were sweating as she smashed those glass cases—even with multiple layers of face coverings.

If this were peacetime, she’d probably be sewing in prison for life.

She left no stick or rod unlooted.

By the end, Jiang Ning was drenched in sweat and dizzy with exhaustion.

She found a place to sit, ate some chocolate for energy, and drank a can of Red Bull.

Once she felt a bit better, she turned off her flashlight and entered the space.

Her space had plenty of worn-out furniture lying around, but most of it had vanished.

Jiang Ning was stunned.

The living room had expanded by about 30 square meters, and now there was a spiral staircase—presumably leading to a second floor.

The kitchen, bathroom, and bedrooms had also grown, and the master bedroom now included a walk-in closet.

Counting it all up: one more bedroom and a new study.

Now she had a four-bedroom, two-living-room, three-bathroom, one-study layout. The spiral staircase stopped at the ceiling, hinting at further expansion in the future.

Even more astonishing—the black soil garden, which was only 20 square meters before, now looked about 300 square meters.

Jiang Ning had made the right bet—ancient, spiritually rich wood really worked!

Thank you, ebony. Thank you, red sandalwood. Thank you to all the spirits who sacrificed themselves for the space!

As for the wood that didn’t get recognized by the space, she wasn’t throwing them away. In the bitter cold days ahead, they’d make good firewood.

This trip was more than worth it. She roughly estimated that she had gained an extra 400 square meters, or 1200 cubic meters of storage.

Exiting the space, Jiang Ning headed to the floor below.

The next two floors were filled with Chinese-style furniture. There was too much to take it all, so she relied on price tags—whatever was marked as expensive, into the space it went.

She dumped them all into the garden, stacking them up layer by layer.

If the space could absorb it, great. If not, she’d take them out later for bartering.

Now that she had 1200 extra cubic meters, Jiang Ning was feeling bold—as long as hoarding doesn’t kill you, hoard like hell.

The eighth floor had lounges, screening rooms, over a dozen restaurants, a café, a bakery, and a convenience store—likely for tourists and exhibition guests.

All the meat and vegetables were spoiled, but the restaurants had pre-stocked heavily for the expo: over 10,000 jin of rice, flour, and grains, 300+ barrels of cooking oil, and all kinds of seasonings, teas, alcohol, and beverages.

In a high-end western restaurant, she even found 20 unopened bottles of premium caviar and 30 bottles of Lafite red wine, all within their shelf life.

The refrigerators storing those delicacies had built-in backup power supplies. The three massive fridges were filled with steaks, lamb chops, foie gras, Tasmanian blue lobsters, Parmigiano cheese, and more.

An unexpected haul—Jiang Ning took the fridges too.

From the convenience store and bakery, she took everything that wasn’t expired or moldy.

Even the café’s coffee beans, sugar, milk—down to the coffee machines—she moved them all.

Just from this sweep, she gained another 100 cubic meters of supplies.

After fully exploring the eighth floor, she discovered a large maintenance and supply room that housed two high-power generators.

A place as big as the Expo Center would need backup power, after all.

But to run generators, you needed diesel.

Jiang Ning searched the machine room—but couldn’t find any diesel…