The weaker spirits—rabbits, sika deer, and other opportunistic grazers—had been lurking at the periphery, hoping to scavenge leftovers. But witnessing the brutal dismantling of the Monkey King and the ferocity of Wu Yuan, they abandoned all hope.

They knew their place in the food chain. To stay was to die.

Silently, they slipped away into the shadows, leaving only a few powerful contenders lingering in the darkness, unwilling to surrender the prize.

Wu Yuan swept his cold gaze over them. “I have a legion of rats,” he announced, his voice amplified by Demon Power. “Even if you charge together, my army will stall you. You might kill many of us, but time will not wait for you.”

He paused, letting the weight of the logic settle.

“The Fated Chance is about to descend. If you waste your time fighting a deathmatch here, you will miss the window entirely. Why risk mutual destruction when you can find your fortune elsewhere?”

The Eagle Demon perched on a high branch narrowed its sharp eyes.

He makes a point.

As a flying beast, the Eagle had the mobility to scour the entire mountain range. Tethering itself to a bloody siege against a fortified rat swarm was inefficient—and if its wings were damaged, it would be a death sentence in the wild.

It shrieked once, spread its massive wings, and launched itself into the night sky, vanishing instantly.

Seeing the strongest contender leave, the Wild Boar spirits grunted in frustration. They hesitated, pawing the earth, but the wall of hissing rats convinced them. One by one, they turned and trotted back into the deep woods.

Now, only three Leopard spirits remained.

They emerged from the treeline, muscles coiled, tails twitching with agitation. Their eyes locked on Wu Yuan with undisguised hostility.

“We share the summit,” the Leopard leader growled, though his voice betrayed a tremor of uncertainty. “You take the inner circle; the three of us take the outer circle. If you refuse… the fish will die, and the net will tear. We will drag you down with us!”

“Mutual destruction?” Wu Yuan sneered. “You’re bluffing.”

He raised a claw, pointing directly at the trio. “Kill.”

SCREECH!

The 20 elite Rat Demons, already drunk on the scent of monkey blood, erupted like a geyser. Behind them, the ordinary rats surged forward like a gray tide.

The Leopard leader’s pupils constricted. He had hoped to intimidate the rat, but his bluff had been called instantly.

“Retreat!”

He roared, spinning around to flee before the swarm could encircle him. “Good! I’ll remember this, Rat!”

The leopards vanished into the brush, their tails between their legs.

In moments, the peak of Little Green Mountain was empty, save for the victorious rat colony. The air was thick with the hiss of dissolving monkey corpses and the crunching of bones.

Wu Yuan stood alone by the Great Azure Boulder, finally exhaling a breath he had been holding.

Killing the chicken to scare the monkey. Dividing their alliances with logic. Crushing their spirit with momentum.

“It worked,” he whispered.

He ignored his subordinates fighting over the monkey meat. He slumped against the boulder, clutching a Spirit Stone, and greedily drained its energy to replenish his exhausted Demon Power.

His eyes turned to the sky. He waited. The intelligence he had gathered spoke of a Heaven and Earth Anomaly—the descent of the Emperor’s Flow Essence.

Suddenly, the world held its breath.

Then, the anomaly began.

From every corner of the mountain range, a chorus of bestial roars erupted, a chaotic symphony cheering for the miracle of the moon.

[On the night of Gengshen, the Lunar Essence descends. Within it lies the Emperor’s Flow. It resembles countless olives, ten thousand golden threads strung together, draping over the mortal realm. Grass and trees that receive its essence gain sentience and become demons.]

“It’s here…”

Wu Yuan’s eyes widened, reflecting the sky. “The Emperor’s Flow!”

High above, the moonlight thickened. It didn’t just shine; it dripped. Golden, olive-shaped droplets strung on threads of light began to rain down from the moon like a curtain of liquid gold.

Beside him, the Great Azure Boulder suddenly hummed, emitting a soft, jade-green fluorescence.

It acted like a massive magnet.

The Emperor’s Flow drifting across the nearby sky was seized by an invisible force. Like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, the golden threads bent and converged toward the peak.

In moments, nearly half of the Essence falling over Little Green Mountain was funneled directly to Wu Yuan’s position, forming a dazzling curtain of gold above the boulder.

“I gambled right!”

Wu Yuan’s heart hammered against his ribs. The boulder was a natural array! He suppressed the urge to scream in triumph and leaped atop the stone.

[Nine Spirits Seizing Essence]!

He activated his cultivation technique.

The golden rain, which was already converging, suddenly accelerated. Under Wu Yuan’s manipulation, the scattered threads collapsed inward, condensing into a swirling sphere of golden light right in his paws.

It was like holding a miniature sun.

The radiance was blinding. And for the beasts, it was maddening.

The rats surrounding the boulder stopped eating. Their eyes turned blood-red. The scent of the Emperor’s Flow stripped away their intelligence, leaving only a primal, burning hunger.

Low, guttural growls rumbled from their throats as they stared at the sun in their King’s hands.

It wasn’t just the rats. From the darkness of the woods, eyes began to appear. The scent of such concentrated Essence was drawing every monster in the vicinity back to the peak.

Big Old Black, usually loyal, swayed on his feet. His eyes glazed over, and he took a step toward Wu Yuan, drool dripping from his jaws.

One Ear, sharper and more disciplined, slammed into him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” One Ear roared, pinning the larger rat back.

Big Old Black snarled, baring his fangs at his lieutenant. But then he looked up.

He met Wu Yuan’s gaze.

It was cold. Freezing.

A shudder ripped through Big Old Black’s massive frame. The ice in his King’s eyes pierced the madness, snapping him back to reality.

“B-Boss… I…” Big Old Black trembled, pressing his belly to the ground in submission.

Wu Yuan ignored him. His attention snapped to his shoulder.

Little Yellow, the small weasel, wasn’t looking at the Essence. He was biting Wu Yuan’s tail frantically, squeaking in terror.

Danger.

Wu Yuan’s blood ran cold. This much Essence… it’s a beacon. A beacon for something I can’t kill.

“A Great Demon is coming.”

He didn’t hesitate. Greed killed more cultivators than old age.

Wu Yuan reached into the blinding sphere of light and tore off a chunk of the Emperor’s Flow. He tossed it casually into the mass of ordinary rats below.

“Mine!” “Die!”

The army instantly collapsed into a frenzy of fratricide, tearing each other apart for the scraps. The chaotic bloodlust would serve as a perfect distraction.

Wu Yuan then looked at his elites—One Ear, Gray Skin, and the others who were struggling to maintain their sanity. He tore off specific, smaller clusters of the golden light and threw one to each of them.

“This is your reward,” Wu Yuan said coldly. “Now, run for your lives!”

He didn’t wait to explain.

Wu Yuan grabbed Little Yellow, leaped off the boulder, and dove headfirst into his pre-dug escape tunnel, fleeing toward the deepest, darkest roots of the mountain.

One Ear caught his share, swallowed it whole, and didn’t even look back. He vanished into a separate concealed hole.

Gray Skin’s eyes darted nervously. Seeing the second-in-command flee, he flicked his tail and dove into the tunnel right behind One Ear.

In the span of three breaths, the leadership was gone.

Only Big Old Black remained by the Great Azure Boulder.

Below him, his kin were slaughtering one another in a pool of blood and golden light. Big Old Black swallowed the portion Wu Yuan had given him, but he didn’t run.

He looked up at the sky, at the golden specks still drifting down.

Just a little more…

The greed in his heart anchored his feet.

SCREEEEEECH—!

A piercing cry shattered the night.

Pitch-black Demon Power rolled over the mountain like a tsunami, snuffing out the starlight.

The chaotic noise of the slaughtering rats vanished instantly. Silence fell over Little Green Mountain—a silence so heavy it felt physical. Every creature, from the smallest insect to the largest boar, froze, silent as a cicada in winter.

Only the Emperor’s Flow continued to fall, piercing the black fog like silver needles.

Above, the clouds churned and parted.

A cyan cloud descended, carrying a terrifying, bird-shaped silhouette. The wind picked up, howling like a mournful ghost, announcing the arrival of a true lord of the skies.

Big Old Black stood frozen by the boulder. Sweat poured from his fur, soaking the stone beneath him.

He couldn’t move.