The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 61: Fist Fighting the Pangolin

Little White let out a shrill war cry.

She knew the Pangolin was a walking fortress, its scales harder than iron. Attacking its body was futile. Instead, she hefted her carrot—which glowed with an ominous mix of red and green light—and swung it viciously at the beast’s tongue.

To a palm-sized rabbit like Little White, that slender tongue was as thick as a python.

Splat!

The carrot slammed home. The strange energy coating the vegetable acted like strong acid, instantly sizzling a crater into the soft pink flesh.

“ROAR!”

The Pangolin bellowed in agony, its attention finally locking onto the two pests—the white rabbit spirit and the rat.

It flicked its tail. The motion seemed casual, but the heavy appendage crashed down like a falling stone pillar.

BOOM!

The cave floor shuddered. Debris rained from the ceiling.

Little White, nimble as a leaf in the wind, had already hopped to safety. The tail left a trench where she had been standing just a heartbeat before. She raised her carrot, eager to go for round two.

“Enough! Move it!”

Big Old Black grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, dragging her towards a narrow tunnel. “The objective is complete! Stop showing off and run!”

Enraged, the Pangolin ignored the pain in its tongue and thundered after them. It tore into the large stone cavern, its eyes red with fury.

Suddenly, it froze.

The beast’s instincts screamed danger. It stopped dead, sniffing the air, its small eyes darting around warily.

High above, hidden in the shadows, Wu Yuan grinned. It’s in the jar.

This wasn’t just any cave. Wu Yuan had reinforced every inch of the walls using the [Condense Earth into Stone] spell. More importantly, he had saturated the very soil with his Demon Power, creating a dense interference field to jam the Pangolin’s [Earth Walk] ability.

There was no escape.

Wu Yuan kicked off the ceiling, launching himself downward like an arrow loosed from a divine bow.

Mid-air, he activated the [Blood Surge Art].

Crack. Snap. Pop.

His bones expanded, his muscles swelled, and his fur bristled with red energy. By the time he hit the ground, he had transformed into a two-meter-tall juggernaut of muscle and violence. Even compared to the massive Pangolin, he no longer looked small.

“Hah!”

Wu Yuan didn’t waste time with speeches. He clenched a fist wreathed in boiling Blood Qi and hammered it straight into the Pangolin’s armored skull.

KRAKOOM!

The sound was sickeningly loud. The scales on the beast’s forehead shattered like glass, sending a spray of blood into the air.

The Pangolin’s head snapped back, its eyes rolling in their sockets. For a second, it looked concussed. But only for a second.

“ROAR!”

The pain didn’t cower the beast; it unleashed its primal nature. The Pangolin went berserk. It swung its claws—curved blades sharp enough to slice steel—straight at Wu Yuan’s chest.

Wu Yuan didn’t dodge.

He took the hit, letting the claws rake across his chest, tearing muscle and spilling hot blood. At the same moment, he threw a backhanded smash into the beast’s jaw.

Thud!

Wu Yuan grunted, flexing his pectorals. He locked his muscles tight, stemming the blood flow instantly. His Demon Power surged, knitting the flesh back together before the blood could even dry.

“Again!”

Wu Yuan was a whirlwind of violence. He didn’t use fancy spells. He didn’t use tricks. He used raw, unadulterated force.

His fists were hammers, each blow carrying the weight of a mountain. Every punch landed with a meaty thud, splashing blood and bone fragments across the cave walls.

“Refreshing!” Wu Yuan roared, his eyes wild. “This is what I needed!”

Ever since the fight with the Goat Spirit—where he had been suppressed and beaten to within an inch of his life—a knot of resentment had been festering in his chest. He had won that fight, but he hadn’t dominated it.

Today, he was venting.

In the safety of the tunnel entrance, Big Old Black watched the two behemoths tear each other apart. He wrung his paws, his face a mask of anxiety.

“Why is the Boss brawling with it?” he muttered. “It’s a Barbarian Beast! Just let us swarm it! Why risk the fur?”

Beside him, Little White was bouncing on her toes, waving her carrot like a cheerleader’s pom-pom.

“Get him, Boss!” she screamed, bloodthirsty glee in her red eyes. “Lock its throat! Smash its face! Kick it in the beans!”

In the center of the cavern, the brawl had turned into a meat grinder.

Wu Yuan was covered in wounds, some deep enough to expose white bone. Even with his monstrous regeneration, he couldn’t heal fast enough to keep up with the damage.

But he didn’t care.

His Blood Qi was boiling, his spirit soaring higher with every exchange. He felt invincible.

The Pangolin, on the other hand, was having a very bad day.

Its aura was dimming, flickering like a candle in a hurricane. Its invincible armor was gone, smashed into dust by Wu Yuan’s relentless pounding. A pool of blood had formed beneath it, fed by a thousand cuts. Its four limbs had been shattered, dragging uselessly on the stone floor.

“UP!”

Wu Yuan bellowed, grabbing the beast by its thick tail. With a heave of Herculean effort, he lifted the heavy creature into the air and slammed it down like a wet towel.

BANG!

The cave shook. Dust rained down. The Pangolin’s eyes spun in dizzy circles.

Wu Yuan wasn’t done. He slammed it left. BANG! He slammed it right. BANG!

It was like a child throwing a tantrum with a ragdoll. The earth trembled, and the structural integrity of the cave began to groan.

Finally, Wu Yuan let go. The Pangolin crashed into a crater of its own making, a broken heap of flesh.

Wu Yuan stepped forward, planting a heavy foot on the beast’s battered head.

“Do you submit?!” he thundered.

“Eeeee! Eeeee!”

The Pangolin stretched its neck, letting out a high-pitched, infantile wail. It sounded like a crying baby, but there was no surrender in its eyes—only stubborn, stupid defiance.

“Tough guy, huh?” Wu Yuan grinned, exposing sharp teeth. “Good. If you don’t submit, I keep hitting!”

He raised a fist the size of a ham.

The Pangolin didn’t cower. It flipped over with surprising agility for a broken thing and threw itself at Wu Yuan, snapping its jaws.

The two collided again. The cave echoed with the wet sounds of violence.

“Yaaaawn.”

The sound stretched out, long and bored, cutting through the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of the beating.

Little White stretched her limbs, patting the ground listlessly. A small puff of dust rose up.

“This Pangolin is brain-dead,” she complained, looking at Big Old Black. “The Boss has been beating it for a full day. Why won’t it just give up?”

Big Old Black stood like a statue, his eyes fixed on the ‘battlefield.’

It wasn’t really a battle anymore.

Wu Yuan was straddling a red lump of meat that vaguely resembled a pangolin. His fists rose and fell with mechanical precision. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The creature beneath him was unrecognizable. The bright red bristles on its tail had been plucked clean, leaving it humiliatingly bald. The blood on its body had dried into a cracked, dark crust. It wasn’t even bleeding anymore—it had run out of fluids to spill.

Its roar was gone. Its wail was gone. All that remained was a faint, wheezing gasp, proof that the Barbarian Beast’s vitality was truly monstrous. It was hanging onto life by a thread, but that thread was made of steel.

BANG!

Wu Yuan threw another punch.

Despite fighting for a full day straight, his punches hadn’t slowed down. If anything, they were faster. Heavier. The wind whistled with every swing.

His wounds had vanished. His fur was sleek and glossy. He looked healthier now than he had when the fight started.

“Fighting is… SO GOOD!”

Wu Yuan threw his head back and roared.

The frustration of the past month was gone, replaced by the clarity of combat. He felt lighter. Sharp.

He stretched his arms, feeling the flow of energy. He had learned more in this one day of brutal melee than in weeks of meditation. He understood now. He knew exactly how to circulate his Demon Power to maximize impact. He knew the precise angle to break a bone. He knew how to hurt things efficiently.

WHAM!

“Submit or die!” Wu Yuan shouted, rhythmically pounding the meatball.

“Not talking?”

WHAM!

WHAM! WHAM!

Fist met flesh with a dull, wet sound.