The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 156: A Fruitless Harvest

Wu Yuan ignored the toxic, viscous slurry of snake blood coating his fur. Instead, he lifted the limp, severed torso of the Red Refined Fire Snake to his snout, squeezing the flesh like a sponge.

Thick, dark crimson blood oozed out, dripping into his open maw. He swallowed it with a look of genuine culinary appreciation, then tossed a chunk of raw meat into his mouth, chewing with a wet, crunching sound.

“Mid-stage Qi Condensation flavor. Exquisite,” Wu Yuan mused, savoring the metallic tang of the venom. “Far superior to ordinary beasts. It reminds me of my dear Little Black back in the day. Truly nostalgic.”

He swallowed the bolus of meat. “With this meal alone, the operation wasn’t a total loss.”

Wu Yuan reached into the gore, extracted the snake’s venom sac and the Fire Snake Poison Needle, and tossed them to Bibo.

“These are your reward,” Wu Yuan said, his voice slick with blood. “Your control over your Tooth Artifact is precise; this Middle Grade Magical Artifact should suit your style perfectly.”

Bibo caught the items, his whiskers twitching with delight. He rubbed the needle against his cheek, ignoring the heat radiating from it. “Suit me? It’s perfect! I know this fire poison flavor all too well!”

Next, Wu Yuan ripped the spine—skull still attached—from the carcass and threw it to Little Wolf.

“For you. Something to grind your teeth on.”

Little Wolf leaped up, catching the grisly trophy mid-air. “Thank you for the reward, Great King!”

The subordinates were accustomed to their King’s generosity. They had sold their lives to him; strengthening themselves was merely another way to serve the colony.

Wu Yuan licked a stray drop of blood from his whiskers, his gaze sweeping over the dark water where the local demons were hiding. His eyes felt heavy, physical, pressing down on the observers like lead weights.

Draped in the butcher’s aura of the Red Refined Fire Snake, Wu Yuan was a figure of terror and envy.

To these newly Awakened, shelter-shocked water demons, Wu Yuan’s combination of tactical cunning and raw brutality was a revelation. He was stronger than the snake, had powerful allies, yet still chose to ambush his enemy.

This is a true Rat King, they thought, trembling. Savage, efficient, and smelling of death.

Even the dullest creature now understood: this Rat King was the true master of the market. Yet, his overwhelming power prevented them from rejecting him. Instead, the brutality awakened dormant, ancestral memories in their blood. Their eyes began to gloss over with a hint of madness.

So this is how demons fight.

The smarter ones had an epiphany: Why fear injury? Why fight fair? Use your brain. Ambush the strong.

By the time Wu Yuan finished devouring the flesh, leaving only a polished skeleton, the audience had fled. A few looked back one last time, seeing the Rat King admiring the bones as if surrounded by celestial music.

A Great Demon should be exactly like this.

Sensing the audience was gone, Wu Yuan dropped the act. The feral glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by cold calculation. He rubbed the Ancient Xun hidden in his palm.

“That performance should inject a different atmosphere into Polong Lake,” Wu Yuan said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Chaos is the ladder. As long as the water demons run wild, the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake will have his hands full.”

Bibo stepped forward, wiping the soot from his fur. “Those rustics have never seen a King with such bearing. Your name will spread across the lake by morning. The market traffic will spike.”

Wu Yuan laughed. “The traffic will spike because I used the Xun to subtly scramble their minds. They won’t be able to suppress their innate violence much longer. That is the nature of demons.”

“War is coming to Polong Lake,” Wu Yuan predicted. “And war is good for business. If they don’t trade their hoarded treasures for resources to boost their strength, they’ll die in the crossfire. We just need to be the arms dealers.”

Bibo bowed low. “The Great King’s mastery of the Xun is terrifying. How could those ants resist?”

Then, Bibo paused, a flicker of nervousness crossing his face. “Great King… will the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake attack us directly?”

Wu Yuan narrowed his eyes, the vertical pupils constricting.

“To the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake, those water demons are just noise,” Wu Yuan said slowly. “But the Red Refined Fire Snake died here. And the Sinking Gold Carp are missing. He won’t let that slide.”

Wu Yuan’s voice dropped an octave, becoming grave. “He will come. Absolutely.”

Then, his expression shifted. The gravity vanished, replaced by a smile of eager anticipation.

“But… that is exactly what I want.”

“I am creating a scenario where he cannot escape. A scenario where he must fight me to the death.”

Bibo clenched his fists, his face solemn. “Great King, we will help you kill him! The formation, the wolf, the army—”

Wu Yuan shook his head, fixing Bibo with an intense stare.

“No. It will be me.”

“I will fight the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake alone. One on one.”

Red light began to bleed back into Wu Yuan’s eyes, but this wasn’t the chemical madness of the Xun; it was the hunger of a warrior.

“I need to test the mettle of a true elite of the demon realm. I need to benchmark my own level,” Wu Yuan declared, his voice rising. “I’ve consumed mountains of resources. I need to know if it was worth it.”

“I need to see my advantages. I need to find my flaws. The data gained from a duel like this is critical for my evolution.”

He looked at his claws. “To forge iron, the hammer must be hard, but the metal must be strong. I cannot rely on formations and minions forever if I wish to become a Demon Ancestor.”

Bibo looked anxious. He wanted to object—it was risky, unnecessary—but seeing the resolve in his King’s eyes, he swallowed his words.

“Great King…”

“My mind is made up,” Wu Yuan cut him off, clapping a paw on the beaver’s shoulder. “The outcome is already determined. I will win. The only variable is how he dies.”

“Instead of worrying, start planning the post-mortem. It’s a Flood Dragon Snake. You lived in the East Sea Dragon Palace; think about how we can harvest his parts efficiently.”

The command was absolute. Bibo bowed and retreated into the shadows.

Alone, Wu Yuan held up the Storage Bag he had looted from the Red Refined Fire Snake. He closed his eyes, extending his Demon Sense into the dimensional space.

His brows furrowed.

It wasn’t just that there were no Sinking Gold Carp inside. It was that there was nothing.

No Spirit Stones. No Spirit Grass. Just a few worthless jade slips containing basic information.

“Bankrupt,” Wu Yuan muttered, opening his eyes.

This was the first time he had encountered a demon so utterly destitute. The snake had liquidated everything—every stone, every herb—likely to feed those carp.

“My total yield,” Wu Yuan sighed, looking at the skeleton on the ground, “is one snake corpse and a needle.”

“A fruitless harvest.”