The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 113: Provoking the Peng Bird

The Demon Vulture Leader could only attack in blind, terrified fury. Every strike was laden with despair, yet the Peng Bird evaded them effortlessly, moving like a phantom in the wind.

With a flicker of motion, the Peng Bird vanished, reappearing directly above the Vulture Leader. He hovered there, shadowing his prey, maintaining a distance of less than a fist’s width.

The Vulture Leader’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets. This outsider wasn’t fighting; he was playing with his food. The realization allowed the terror in the Vulture’s heart to finally swallow him whole.

Seeing the absolute despair on the leader’s face, the Peng Bird revealed a wild, mocking grin.

“Soon… very soon,” he muttered to himself, his voice trembling with anticipation. “To think there are actually demons with the Ancient Demon Vulture bloodline here. Providence is truly smiling upon me!”

His sharp, predatory eyes swept over the flock below as if scanning a banquet table.

“I’ll eat half to satiate my hunger,” he calculated greedily, “and enslave the other half to serve me.”

Under the oppressive, slate-grey sky, this cruel game had already lasted an entire day. The scorching sun hung high, but choked by the gathering black clouds, it cast no light.

The Peng Bird was a figure of deadly grace. His wings spanned wide enough to blot out the heavens, and every beat stirred up gale-force winds that drew terrified shrieks from the Vulture Leader.

Below, the pressure became too much for some.

Unable to withstand the Peng Bird’s terrifying aura, a few vultures broke formation, attempting to turn and flee.

But the moment they moved, the Peng Bird unleashed a casual burst of wind. The gale acted like a meat grinder, instantly shredding the deserters. They exploded into blooms of crimson mist, filling the air with the pungent, metallic scent of blood.

The rest of the flock, witnessing the power gap, lost the will to fight.

Fear and hopelessness extinguished the light in their eyes. One by one, they landed on the dark rocks of the mine, wings drooping, heads bowed in submission. When they realized the Peng Bird didn’t attack those who surrendered, more followed suit. Like black, withered leaves falling in autumn, they drifted down to cover the mountain.

The sky, once thick with the swarm, was now sparse. Only a few hundred vultures remained airborne, stubbornly rallying around their leader.

The Peng Bird glanced down at the surrendering masses with cold contempt.

“A bunch of trash,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Despite planning to enslave them, he despised their weakness. His gaze quickly returned to the sky, locking onto the struggling Vulture Leader and the remnants of the flock. His eyes burned with the ecstatic look of a hunter about to claim a trophy.

The clouds above grew heavier, turning the color of spilled ink. The world plunged into a premature twilight.

The wind howled, whipping sand and stones against the metallic rocks of the Geng Gold Mine with a deafening clatter.

The Vulture Leader seemed to be carrying the weight of a mountain. His flight slowed to a crawl; every beat of his wings was a majestic, tragic struggle. Despair filled his eyes—he had foreseen his end.

Seeing this, the remaining flock did not flee. Without a shred of hesitation, they charged toward their leader. They huddled together, flapping their wings in unison to generate an updraft, physically lifting their exhausted king to keep him airborne.

The howling wind was their final expenditure of Demon Power. A last stand.

The Peng Bird did not stop them. Instead, he stared at the black clouds swirling above, his eyes shining with greed.

“Good! Good! Yes, struggle more!”

He let out a sharp, ear-piercing shriek that echoed across the heavens.

“With this mass of resentment and gathered Demon Cloud, I can finally refine the [Summon Wind] technique! It will evolve… will it become the [Bone-Eroding Wind]? Or the [Corpse-Rotting Wind]? Ah, I can hardly wait!”

As he spoke, the Peng Bird spat a barrage of wind blades.

They moved like agile fish in a stream, weaving through the gaps in the vulture formation to strike only the leader. They didn’t kill him; they sliced precise, agonizing wounds across his body.

Blood sprayed into the air, dyeing the leader’s feathers a grim crimson.

As the Vulture Leader’s despair hit its peak, faint wisps of black qi began to rise from his body. It was a dark, chilling energy that caused the surrounding temperature to plummet.

Influenced by this aura, the terrified flock began to change. Black Spirit Patterns emerged on their skin, flickering with a gray, sickly light.

The ink-black clouds above churned violently, responding to the sacrifice. They rolled like a tidal wave, poised to swallow the flock whole.

“That’s it! That’s the moment!”

The Peng Bird trembled with ecstasy. He unleashed his Demon Power, summoning a massive storm that swept the entire mine. The wind formed a colossal python, twisting upward to grind the vultures into a fine blood mist.

A red tornado, like a pillar of blood connecting heaven and earth, roared toward the Vulture Leader.

“Haha! Success!” the Peng Bird screamed.

He could almost hear the war drums of victory. The validation he craved was within reach.

“Father! See this? I am not trash! I will—”

“Hmm??”

The Peng Bird’s triumph choked in his throat.

A ripple of powerful Demon Power erupted from the mountain below. A black shadow shot up like a breeze, intercepting the massive blood tornado with impossible precision.

BANG.

The tornado shattered.

The Peng Bird’s ecstatic expression froze, his brain stalling. He stared blankly at the object that had stopped his technique.

It was a shield. A shield adorned with a tiger’s head.

The tiger face in the center of the shield had a slightly upturned mouth, frozen in a permanent, mocking smirk.

“Oop! My bad, Brother Bird! Talk about bad luck.”

A voice drifted up from below, dripping with sarcastic sincerity.

“I was just taking a stroll, minding my own business, and somehow my shield just… slipped? You’re not mad, are you?”

The Peng Bird snapped his head down.

Standing on a crag was a smiling tiger. The expression on the beast’s face was identical to the one on the shield.

Blood rushed to the Peng Bird’s brain. His eyes instantly turned crimson, practically spewing fire.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

He roared, abandoning the Vulture Leader and the ritual entirely. He wheeled around, transforming into a streak of cyan light that tore through the sky toward the Winged Tiger.

He was fast—lightning fast. Several times faster than when he was toying with the vultures.

In a blink, he was in front of the offender.

But the Winged Tiger seemed to have read the script. His body dissolved into a breeze, vanishing from his spot just as the talons raked through the air.

Only a lingering, trolly echo remained:

“No way… no way!”

“Ain’t no way there’s actually a demon who gets triggered over something this small!”

“I said it was an accident! Do you really have the face to attack an innocent bystander?”

Before the Peng Bird could scream in rage, the Winged Tiger’s voice popped up from another location.

“Besides, your cultivation method is all wrong. Too gloomy! I only stepped in because I saw you walking down a dark path. I did it for your own good, bro! Why are you so ungrateful?”