The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 169: The Snake King’s Tribute

Compared to the smooth, nourishing warmth of standard Blood Essence, the extract harvested from the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake was violently unhinged. It was a rampaging beast, tearing through Wu Yuan’s meridians with reckless abandon.

Yet, to his mild surprise, his body devoured this savage energy with clinical efficiency.

His vitality boiled instantly. A low, thunderous rumble echoed from within his chest, like a storm trapped beneath his ribs. Wu Yuan inhaled sharply. His skin tightened, transforming his physical vessel into a biological furnace, firmly sealing the explosive surge of Qi and blood inside. He closed his eyes, systematically absorbing the raw power to fortify his flesh.

Simultaneously, the churning vitality forcibly drove his Demon Power into a rapid circulation. Even though Wu Yuan was intentionally funneling the Blood Essence into his physical refinement, the sheer magnitude of the energy inevitably bled over, passively upgrading his magical reserves.

Wu Yuan slowly exhaled a plume of mist. He had been in Secluded Cultivation for a full month.

The grueling, continuous physical conditioning had yielded terrifying results. As a byproduct, his Qi Condensation Cultivation had effortlessly climbed to sixty-five strands of Demon Power. The Black Water Flood Dragon Snake’s Blood Essence was truly a premium accelerant.

However, quantifying his physical progression was a far more complex science. Normally, body refinement could be measured in numerical ‘strands’ of vitality, much like Qi Condensation. But Wu Yuan’s innate Barbarian Beast physique rendered such metrics obsolete. His Qi and blood were too dense, too boundless to be divided into strands; they formed a roaring, unbroken river of vitality.

Instead of measuring quantity, Wu Yuan focused on density. He estimated that the overall purification and compression of his bloodline was now roughly eighty percent complete—a staggering rate of progression.

Rising slowly in the center of his Spiritual Qi-rich treehouse, Wu Yuan allowed himself a luxurious stretch. His joints popped like cracking stone. He decided it was time to inspect Little Green Mountain’s industrial progress.

More importantly, he needed to eat.

After a month of sterile energy absorption, his stomach was fiercely demanding actual sustenance. General Chef’s culinary masterpieces had become the absolute pinnacle of luxury on the mountain, and just the thought of that glowing, perfectly seasoned spirit food made Wu Yuan salivate.

He stepped out of the treehouse, ready to take in the cool air of the underground cavern. Before his foot could even touch the ground, a black blur shot out from the shadows.

Big Old Black slammed into Wu Yuan’s legs, wrapping his paws around the Rat King’s thighs and wailing at the top of his lungs. “Boss! I have failed you! I am deeply sorry!”

Wu Yuan’s face darkened, his brows twitching in sheer annoyance. Without a second thought, he punted the heavy black rat dozens of feet through the air.

“Are you wailing at my funeral?” Wu Yuan scolded as Big Old Black crashed into the dirt. “Stop howling like a dying wolf and give your report.”

Big Old Black flipped mid-air, landing nimbly on his feet. He frantically dusted off his rear and scurried back, his head bowed in a show of exaggerated shame. “Boss, you remember how I drafted eight different operational procedures to fully harvest the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake? Well… we hit a minor logistical snag.”

Wu Yuan raised an eyebrow. He glanced past his lieutenant toward the massive form of the Black Water Flood Dragon Snake, which was tightly bound in glowing, dark-red Spirit Mulberry silk and suspended from the cavern ceiling. It was still breathing, its flesh slowly regenerating as the silk siphoned its vitality.

“The subject is still alive and producing,” Wu Yuan observed clinically. “What is the issue?”

Big Old Black rubbed the back of his neck, sighing helplessly. “Extracting its blood to refine Blood Essence produces a certain amount of toxic, low-grade slag. The problem is, our Spirit Mulberry trees are getting picky. They refuse to absorb the defective runoff. They only want the premium stuff now.”

He peeked up to gauge Wu Yuan’s reaction. Seeing the Rat King’s analytical, unbothered expression, Big Old Black relaxed. “I couldn’t just let the biomatter go to waste. Coincidentally, the Fleshy Crest Snake King came begging for his next fix of Snake Spirit Blood. So, I saw an opportunity. I gave him the defective runoff, but under the strict condition that he use his clan to breed a new strain of dragon-blooded snake demons for us to harvest.”

Wu Yuan’s eyes glinted with scientific curiosity. “Did the genetic splicing succeed? The theory is perfectly sound.”

Big Old Black flushed red, looking incredibly awkward. “It succeeded… technically. But the yield was way off. I ordered him to breed massive, thick, blood-rich snakes so we could throw them into the Blood Water Pool for mass refinement. Instead, the Snake King brought me these tiny, pathetic little things. They aren’t even as long as my finger! There’s barely a drop of blood in them.”

Wu Yuan was instantly intrigued. Anything carrying a trace of draconic genetics was bound to harbor hidden anomalies. The miniature size might not be a failure, but a concentrated mutation.

“Bring the specimens to me,” Wu Yuan commanded.

Relieved that he wasn’t going to be punished, Big Old Black let out a sharp, piercing shriek that echoed violently down the cavern tunnels, carrying all the way to Snake Valley. “The specimens are fragile,” Big Old Black explained. “The Snake King has to deliver them personally.”

Wu Yuan nodded. He hopped onto a raised stone platform, crossed his legs, and waited with eager anticipation.

Miles away, in the damp depths of Snake Valley, the plump Fleshy Crest Snake King was lounging in a patch of shade. He was surrounded by a tangle of female snake demons, who massaged his scales and served him.

His eyes were half-glazed, his thick tail twitching erratically as he rode the fading, euphoric high of his last dose of altered blood.

Then, the piercing rat shriek shattered the valley’s quiet.

The Snake King violently convulsed. A flash of paranoid terror widened his eyes, instantly replaced by a rabid, manic desperation. The Rat King’s lieutenant was calling. That meant a potential reward. That meant his next hit.

Whipping his massive tail, the Snake King brutally swatted the female snakes away. They shrieked as they were hurled into the cavern walls.

“The Great King summons me!” the Snake King hissed, his entire body vibrating with jittery, chemically-induced excitement. He was practically salivating. “Quickly! Gather the mutated spiritual snakes we bred! Bring them to me immediately!”

He slithered back and forth, his bloodshot eyes wide with sycophantic zeal. “They are rare goods! The Great King must be satisfied! He must give me more blood!”

One of the bruised female snake demons slowly peeled herself off the rocks, rolling her eyes in sheer disgust. She, like the rest of the clan, had grown entirely desensitized to the Snake King’s pathetic, desperate addiction to the Rat King’s alchemical scraps. Sighing, she dragged her aching body toward the breeding pits to fetch his tribute.