The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 158: The Ritual of the Wild Demon Tribe

Wu Yuan stood to the side, his eyes fixed intently on the hamster.

Little Huang was completely absorbed in his work, tinkering with a sedated Sinking Gold Carp while muttering an incomprehensible chant. The scene was so absurd that Wu Yuan couldn’t help but interject.

“Little Huang, can you really force-ripen this carp?” Wu Yuan asked, skepticism heavy in his voice. “Do not waste my materials. That fish is expensive.”

Hearing this, Little Huang froze. He slowly placed his paws on his hips, turned around, and puffed out his chest with absolute confidence.

“Boss! Please do not question my professional ability!”

“Put your heart back in your belly!” Little Huang declared. “Besides, wasn’t this your idea? Do you not even believe in your own genius?”

Wu Yuan scratched his cheek, his gaze drifting evasively. He let out an awkward laugh. “That was… a conjecture. A theoretical possibility.”

The plan was simple: create a “Promoted” Sinking Gold Carp to use as the ultimate bait.

Wu Yuan knew that the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake was rational, cautious, and paranoid. The only thing that could shatter that rationality was the scent of a successfully evolved carp. It was the only way to lure the serpent into a death trap.

Previously, Wu Yuan had looted the Red Refined Fire Snake’s storage bag only to find it tragically empty. The snake had liquidated everything to feed his fish. However, among the scraps, Wu Yuan had found a single jade slip: [Daoist Dragon Snake’s Dragon Raising Secret Record].

It was a fragmented copy, containing only the dietary charts and environmental requirements for the carp. However, it also hinted at a method to “stimulate” dragon blood activity.

Wu Yuan realized the orthodox method was too slow. He needed results now.

So, he proposed a radical theory: Could we forcibly burn the carp’s own Qi and blood to ignite the dragon bloodline? Could we overdose it with Spiritual Qi to fake an evolution?

He had confirmed the feasibility with the Karma Pearl, but the execution required precise, tedious work. Naturally, he outsourced it to Little Huang.

And now…

Little Huang was dressed like a tribal shaman. He wore a wolf skull helmet, a necklace of teeth, and the infamous Ten Thousand Beast Cloak. In one claw, he held a ritual horn; in the other, a fish spear. He hopped around the fish, chanting and shaking his hips in a bizarre, rhythmic dance.

Wu Yuan watched, his expression twisting. “The more I look at this, the more it looks like a scam.”

His gaze landed on the Ten Thousand Beast Cloak, and his eye twitched. He involuntarily smoothed the fur on his own back, cursing internally.

I don’t know which bastard told Little Huang that thing looks majestic. I will pluck every hair from his body.

The cloak was Little Huang’s “masterpiece,” woven from the fur of every beast on Little Green Mountain.

At first, Wu Yuan thought nothing of it when he saw the Winged Tiger and Big Old Black sporting bald patches. But then, he noticed Little Huang eyeing him with a pair of scissors.

That was the line.

Wu Yuan was vain. He took immense pride in his silky, lustrous coat, conditioning it daily with expensive spirit oils. A rat lives for his skin; a man lives for his face. He had sternly refused the donation request and grounded Little Huang.

Little Huang had thrown a tantrum of epic proportions, rolling on the floor and screaming that the cloak was “incomplete” without the Boss’s fur—that it couldn’t be called the Ten Thousand Beast Cloak without the King’s contribution.

The standoff ended with Little Huang being hung upside down from a tree for three days… and a small, mysterious bald patch appearing on Wu Yuan’s back while he slept.

While Wu Yuan sulked in the treehouse, Little Huang had happily continued weaving while hanging upside down, drawing a crowd of admiring beasts who marveled at his “avant-garde” textile skills. The noise was so loud Wu Yuan couldn’t sleep, leading him to double everyone’s workload out of spite.

“Demon God Above!”

Little Huang suddenly shouted, snapping Wu Yuan back to the present.

The hamster took a deep breath and blew into the Wood Calling Spirit Horn.

Wooooo—

A low, resonant sound vibrated through the air. Wu Yuan frowned. He sensed a strange ripple spreading outward—not Demon Power, nor Spiritual Qi.

“Familiar…” Wu Yuan murmured. “It feels like… Providence.”

It reminded him of the time he had peeked at the Bloodline Spirit Rune and accidentally drawn the gaze of the Demon Race’s Providence. But this was different. It was weaker, lacking the imperial majesty of the true Demon Providence. Instead, it felt wild, bloody, and primal.

If the Demon Providence was an Empire, this was a barbarian tribe screaming at the moon.

“This ‘Wild Demon’ ritual has potential,” Wu Yuan noted, his analyst brain taking over.

Suddenly, the Sinking Gold Carp on the stone slab began to convulse.

Crack.

Its golden scales shattered. Muscles twisted and bulged beneath the skin, tearing through the sleek exterior. Dark red blood oozed from the fissures. The fish’s body warped, losing its elegant form and becoming a grotesque, pulsating lump of meat.

But as it deformed, its aura skyrocketed.

A thick, intoxicating scent of Dragon Qi exploded from the meat-lump, filling the cavern.

Wu Yuan’s eyes widened. “By the gods… if I close my eyes, this feels exactly like a Top-Grade Sinking Gold Carp on the verge of dragon transformation. The Dragon Qi is incredibly potent.”

“Little Huang!” Wu Yuan laughed. “You damn genius!”

Little Huang put down the horn, puffing out his chest proudly. “I studied the rituals of the Wild Demon Tribe you gave me. Just a little ‘improvisation’.”

Wu Yuan recalled giving Little Huang some fragmented texts on tribal magic, thinking it would keep him busy. He never expected the hamster to actually reverse-engineer a bloodline-stimulating ritual.

Wu Yuan pinched Little Huang’s cheek. “Good lad! For this, I forgive you for shaving my army bald and ruining the aesthetic of Little Green Mountain.”

Little Huang pushed the hand away, muttering, “You’re the only one who cares about looks, Boss. Are you trying to impress a female demon or something?”

Wu Yuan’s eyes bulged. “Do not slander my innocence!”

“Innocence?” Little Huang grinned, his whiskers twitching mischievously. “I saw you reading that jade slip the other day. ‘Comparative Analysis of Beast-Kin Aesthetics.’ Don’t lie to me.”

Wu Yuan’s face turned beet red. His whiskers stood on end.

“That was research! I was evaluating intelligence! It’s about presentation! It’s about branding!”

“Yeah, yeah. Branding.” Little Huang snickered. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

The cavern filled with the sound of their banter, a rare moment of warmth before the coming storm. In all of Little Green Mountain, only Little Huang dared to tease the Rat King—and only Little Huang knew that the King secretly enjoyed it.

The entire Little Green Mountain was the only place where Little Huang dared to joke with Wu Yuan, and the key was that Wu Yuan also enjoyed playing along with Little Huang.