The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 109: One Ear’s Confession

My name is One Ear. I am a rat.

I was born into the colony within the Spirit Copper vein valley, long before the greatest Rat King appeared to claim his throne.

From the moment I took my first breath, I was frail. My body was a withered thing, and I existed only to be trampled and humiliated by my stronger kin. I learned to cope with the physical pain by retreating into my mind. I often lay in the darkness, pondering a single question: Why did I come into this world?

I never found an answer.

One day, starving until my chest clung to my spine, I scavenged a piece of rotting meat. Joy flooded my heart. I thought, Finally, I won’t starve to death today.

But misfortune is a relentless hunter. A robust, muscular rat discovered me. He didn’t just snatch the meat; he decided that I, too, was food.

I watched, paralyzed, as he began to gnaw on my ear. He tore at my flesh, but strangely, I felt no fear. Perhaps I was simply tired. Tired of the agony, tired of the struggle. I thought that if I died, I could finally be “carefree” like the others.

I saw the shadow of death descending.

And then, a voice rang out.

It was majestic, commanding, absolute. It ordered all rats to gather.

This must be the legendary Rat King, I guessed.

A sudden impulse seized me. I wanted to see the face of this King before I died. So, dragging my broken, bleeding body, I crawled out of the shadows.

I saw the sun.

It had been so long since I had seen it. The sunlight fell upon me, heavy and tangible, like a warm blanket. In that golden light, a miracle occurred: I survived. Later, I learned it was the Rat King’s technique that had knitted my flesh back together.

The Rat King gave me food—flavors I had never imagined existed. He patiently taught me the Dao of cultivation. But what made my soul tremble with ecstasy was that he gave me a name.

“One Ear.”

In that moment, I found the answer I had spent my life seeking.

I came into this world for one purpose: to meet the Rat King.

I swore a silent oath to the heavens. I would dedicate my flesh, my blood, and my soul to him. Even if I must die a thousand deaths, I will not hesitate.

“How about it, One Ear? Isn’t the Boss majestic? Isn’t he awe-inspiring?”

Big Black’s excited voice snapped One Ear back to the present. The large black rat was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, completely unbothered that Gray Skin hadn’t joined them. Big Black had seemingly guessed that the opportunist wouldn’t stay.

“You made the right choice coming back,” Big Black continued, slinging a heavy arm around One Ear. “Boss is going to be the King of the Demon Race one day! Just you wait!”

One Ear didn’t speak. He simply nodded, his expression grave. His single eye swept the surroundings, coldly analyzing the terrain and the group of demons standing before him.

Big Black patted One Ear’s shoulder roughly. “Come on, let me introduce you to the Boss’s crew. They’re all new faces to you!”

He pointed a claw at an elderly figure. “This is Bibo. He’s an old beaver from the East Sea. Very knowledgeable!”

Bibo stroked his whiskers and offered a polite, diplomatic smile, nodding at the newcomer.

One Ear did not smile back. He looked the beaver up and down, his gaze dissecting the elder’s value.

Just broke through to mid-stage Qi Condensation. Strength is passable, One Ear analyzed internally. But he is old. Vitality is declining. How many years of effective service can he offer the Boss?

“And this is Winged Tiger,” Big Black continued, gesturing to a striped beast with folded wings. “He’s new. Cultivation is okay, but his actual strength is just so-so.”

The tiger bristled immediately. “You damn black rat! Your cultivation is lower than mine! How do you have the face to say that?”

While the two bickered, One Ear’s eye drifted over the Winged Tiger’s physique. It lingered on the jugular vein, shifted to the location of the heart, and finally settled on the temple.

Physically average, One Ear noted clinically. Temperament is volatile. A troublemaker. A liability.

Winged Tiger was in the middle of a retort when a sudden chill pierced his fur. He instinctively whipped his head around, locking eyes with One Ear.

The depth of cold, predatory malice in that single red eye made the tiger freeze. It wasn’t the look of a sentient being; it was the look of a butcher assessing a side of beef.

Before Winged Tiger could process the threat, One Ear blinked and looked away, his expression returning to a neutral mask.

Winged Tiger stood there, unsettled and sweating. What… what was that look?

“And this,” Big Black said, pointing to a trembling ball of fur, “is Little Gray from the Rabbit Tribe. He and his sister work for the Boss, though she’s probably off playing with Second Brother Huang right now.”

One Ear turned his gaze to the rabbit.

Little Gray, who had been trying to merge with the background, yelped and jumped straight into the air. He landed shaking like a leaf in a gale.

“Y-y-yes! Hello!” Little Gray stammered, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace of pain.

Big Black scratched his head, confused. “Little Gray, what’s got into you today? One Ear is just a bit ugly, he’s not that scary.”

He turned back to his scarred friend. “The others aren’t around right now; I’ll introduce them later. Come on, let’s get you settled. I’ll take you to find a cave for your territory. Let me tell you, Boss is extremely generous. The Spiritual Qi here is thick, and there are spirit plants everywhere. It’s paradise!”

Big Black threw his arm around One Ear again and led him away, chatting animatedly.

As the pair disappeared into the foliage, the tension in the clearing snapped. Little Gray let out a long, shuddering breath.

He turned to the beaver elder, his voice trembling. “Elder Bibo… that One Ear… could he be…?”

Bibo’s gentle, grandfatherly smile vanished instantly. His face turned grim as stone.

“Yes,” Bibo said, his voice hard. “That is a Soul-Flogging Demon Rat.”

He paused, looking in the direction they had left. “It seems his mind is still clear for now. But who knows how long that will last?”

Little Gray buried his face in his paws, lamenting, “Oh, Great King above… our peaceful days are over!”

Winged Tiger, finally catching up, gasped in horror. “Wait! You mean he has the Soul-Flogging bloodline?! I thought they were extinct! Everyone kills them on sight! How can one still exist?!”

Bibo shook his head. “They aren’t extinct. The bloodline appears randomly among rat demons. But very few can maintain their sanity. Once they lose control, they trigger a Soul Calamity and are exterminated by the major powers.”

“Why didn’t we kill him immediately?!” Winged Tiger demanded, indignant. “Waiting for him to go crazy and cause a disaster? That’s insane!”

“A Soul Calamity just means a few demons die,” Bibo said quietly, a gleam of calculation in his eyes. “But if… if a Soul-Flogging Demon Rat can actually maintain its reason? The value of such a subordinate is immeasurable.”

The lore of the Soul-Flogging Demon Rats was the stuff of nightmares. Originating from the Netherworld, they possessed an innate talent to extract and manipulate souls. The danger lay in their gluttony; once they harvested too many souls, the energy would aggregate into a “Soul Tide,” a rolling disaster that stripped the spirit from any living thing it touched, growing exponentially like a snowball from hell.

Winged Tiger paled. He spun around and started marching toward the central tree house. “I need to tell the Great King! This is a ticking time bomb!”

Little Gray scrambled forward and grabbed the tiger’s tail. “Are you an idiot? What’s the rush?”

“Let go!”

“Think about it!” Little Gray hissed. “Do you think the Great King doesn’t know? If he kept One Ear, he obviously has a plan!”

Bibo nodded in agreement. “To question the King’s judgment on this would be unwise.”

Winged Tiger slumped, looking like he had just lost his inheritance. “But… but Big Black and that psycho are best friends! I’ve been bullying Big Black for weeks! What am I going to do?!”

Panic set in, followed quickly by a survival instinct. Winged Tiger’s eyes darted around until they landed on Bibo. His expression shifted instantly from terror to sycophancy.

“Ah, Elder Bibo!” Winged Tiger purred, sidling up to the beaver. “I haven’t properly congratulated you on breaking through to the mid-stage of Qi Condensation! Truly, you are strong in your old age! Following the Boss, I’m sure you’ll have a chance at Foundation Establishment!”

He grinned, showing all his teeth in a friendly grimace. “Since we have nothing to do, how about I treat you to a bath? My treat!”

Bibo stroked his beard, his mood lifting instantly at the flattery. “Hah, if not for the Boss’s help, I would never have succeeded.”

He sighed, the memory of his breakthrough still fresh and terrifying. “Indeed… a bath sounds lovely.”