The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 117: Large Intestine Cultivation

Wu Yuan paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before turning back to Big Black.

“I don’t want the raw Geng Gold ore here,” he instructed. “The quality varies too much. We need to standardize it. Select the highest quality ore and send it directly to me. As for the rest—the stuff with too many impurities—have the rat demons refine it in the crevices of the giant rocks.”

He sighed with genuine appreciation. “Thanks to the Peng Bird’s technique pulverizing the mountain, the ore is already separated. That saved us a lot of effort.”

The crevices in the Purple Jade vein beneath the bamboo forest had become increasingly useful as they developed the area. The deeper one went, the hotter it became, filled with intense Fire Attribute Spiritual Qi yet lacking any open flame. It was, effectively, a natural, high-grade kiln.

Wu Yuan had previously used it to refine bamboo charcoal with excellent results. Later, he sent stronger rat demons deeper into the fissures and discovered that the heat at certain depths could produce charcoal rivaling the Spirit Bamboo Spirit Charcoal.

If the crevices weren’t so dangerously narrow and hard to navigate, it would have been a perfect Artifact Refining hall. However, Wu Yuan was cautious. Reckless expansion might destabilize the thermal vents or leak Spiritual Qi, damaging the bamboo forest ecosystem above. He treated the mysterious geology with a healthy dose of respect and fear, leaving it largely untouched save for the ore refinement.

The process was simple: rat demons carried the ore in, let the ambient heat burn away the impurities, and carried the purified metal out.

Whether for crafting or for Wu Yuan’s personal consumption, refined Spirit Copper and Geng Gold were far superior to the raw stuff.

The rat clan responsible for this task had become remarkably proficient. Every survivor in that crew had maxed out their fire resistance—mostly because those who couldn’t withstand the heat had long since turned to ash.

In Wu Yuan’s eyes, these survivors were no longer just vermin; they were “employees.” They created value. Therefore, he valued them in return.

He paid them well.

The rat demons who volunteered for this dangerous labor received substantial rewards. They had unlimited access to healing herbs and Spirit Plants, and Little White and Little Gray were permanently stationed nearby to provide immediate medical attention.

Wu Yuan’s philosophy was simple: “If they die despite all this support, then they were simply too weak for the job.”

The positions were highly coveted. The hazard pay was enormous, allowing a rat to retire in luxury after a few tours of duty, lounging by the bamboo pond and gorging on spirit food. For the ambitious, it was a fast track to management.

Any rat smart enough to use their wages to buy Spirit Stones for cultivation was immediately flagged by Big Black and Bibo as “management material.” In the early days of Little Green Mountain, finding rat demons with logical thinking and long-term planning skills was rare.

Sure, the work was painful. A rat demon would go in and come out looking like a medium-rare steak, roughly 30% cooked. But simply cut off the burnt flesh, apply some of Little White’s ointment, and in a few days, they were good as new.

They didn’t die, did they?

To the rat swarm, this was unparalleled benevolence. A King who paid you for your service? A King who healed you when you were hurt?

“Our King is righteous!” they squeaked.

Wu Yuan accepted their praise with a benevolent smile, hiding the subtle, grinding exploitation beneath.

He was increasingly satisfied with the Spirit Swallowing Rat bloodline. First, their loyalty was fanatical. Second, their innate “Spirit Gathering” talent—inherited from Wu Yuan’s own awakening—made them highly adaptable. They had no specific elemental affinity, which meant they could adapt to almost any environment.

Most were dim-witted, unable to learn even the simplified [Spirit Enlightenment Art] beyond gathering Lunar Essence. But for Wu Yuan, that was enough. A labor force didn’t need to be geniuses; they just needed to be durable and obedient.

Back in the treehouse, Wu Yuan picked up a piece of the highest-quality Geng Gold Spirit Ore.

It was only the size of a fist, but it was dense and heavy, emitting a cold, white spiritual glow. Even holding it, he could feel a sharp, solemn killing intent prickling against his skin.

Geng Gold was harder than Spirit Copper and possessed a natural sharpness. It was the premier material for swords and killing instruments.

Wu Yuan, however, disliked edged weapons. He preferred blunt force—the visceral, bone-shattering impact of a mace or hammer. He enjoyed the sensation of flesh exploding under his strikes; it gave him a sense of uninhibited delight.

“Perfect timing to cultivate the large intestine,” Wu Yuan muttered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I wonder what talent it will unlock?”

He gripped the ore tightly. Demon Power and Blood Qi surged from his palm, grinding against the metal like a millstone.

Grind. Crackle.

Fine dust trickled through his claws. Under the pressure, the impurities shattered and fell away, leaving the core of the ore to grow smaller and denser. The Geng Gold Qi concentrated until it was blindingly bright.

Finally, only a round, metallic bead remained. It felt less like a stone and more like a condensed sword.

Wu Yuan nodded in satisfaction. “Only this quality is worthy of me. Eating raw ore after breaking through would be a waste of my cultivation.”

He tossed the egg-sized bead into his mouth and bit down.

CRUNCH.

“Ugh. Prickly.”

Wu Yuan grimaced as he chewed. “Spicy. Very spicy. And it produces too much grit. It gets stuck in the throat.”

Sparks of pale gold flew from his mouth as he crunched, scratching deep grooves into the stone floor of the treehouse.

“Compared to this, the astringent taste of Spirit Copper is a delicacy. This is getting harder to swallow the more I chew.”

He stretched his neck, grabbed a cup of Moon Spirit Grass juice, and downed it to wash the gravel down his gullet.

He felt the sharp, heavy mass slide down his esophagus and drop into his stomach like a lead weight.

BOOM.

The moment it hit his stomach, his digestive fires roared to life. The Mountain Range Spirit Patterns lining his stomach wall flared, attacking the intruder. The Geng Gold melted into a searing, metallic liquid, releasing a burst of violent Qi.

Thunder rumbled from Wu Yuan’s belly, accompanied by the distinct sound of clashing swords, as if a war was being fought inside his gut.

Wu Yuan patted his stomach nonchalantly, let out a massive, metallic burp, and smoothed his fur.

“Refreshing!”