Big Old Black stared at the spirit patterns of Wu Yuan’s modified [Blood Surge Art], his brows locked in a knot of confusion.

“It’s clearly largely similar to my original technique,” he muttered, scratching his head. “So why do I completely fail to grasp its mysteries? It’s like reading a book where I know all the words but can’t understand the sentences.”

Wu Yuan smiled faintly. “Study more, think more, and you will naturally understand.”

Big Old Black’s heart skipped a beat. A wave of self-doubt washed over him. Is it because my brain isn’t good? No, impossible. It must be that the Boss is simply too wise, operating on a level I can’t reach yet. It’s definitely not because I’m stupid.

While the giant rat spiraled into an existential crisis, Wu Yuan extended a sharp claw. With surgical precision, he sliced open the chest of the dead Wild Boar Spirit, carved out the heart, and tossed it directly into his mouth.

To a human, eating raw organ meat would be repulsive. But Wu Yuan was a rat now; such qualms had long since vanished. Once he overcame the initial psychological hurdle, his rodent palate found the heart to be a supreme delicacy.

Chewy texture, exploding with rich blood essence…

He savored the metallic tang and the rush of Demon Power flooding his system. The sweet juices slid down his throat, leaving a warm aftertaste.

“I could cook it,” Wu Yuan mused, licking his lips. “But without Spiritual Fire or specialized alchemical cooking techniques, heating the meat would just evaporate the essence. Other enjoyments can be pursued later. When it comes to cultivation resources, waste is a sin.”

Time slipped away unnoticed. Two days later, the Peach Grove—nurtured for nearly a decade by the now-deceased monkey tribe—finally reached its peak.

The air was heavy with the sweet, intoxicating scent of ripe fruit.

“The monkeys spent seven or eight years guarding these trees,” Wu Yuan whispered, gazing up at the heavy branches. “And just as the fruit ripens, I step in and take it all.”

He felt a twinge of emotion, though not guilt. “The [Emperor’s Sap] drove them mad with greed. They fought for a Fated Chance and died by my hand. It is simply a matter of timing and fate.”

He reached up and gently plucked a [Golden Thread Peach].

The fruit was the size of a fist, its skin a creamy white blushed with crimson. A single, faint golden line wound around its surface like a vein of precious metal.

Legend held that the brighter the golden thread, the higher the grade, and the more potent its ability to purify Demon Power.

Wu Yuan took a bite. The flesh melted instantly into a cool, refreshing stream of liquid that rushed down his throat. His Demon Power surged, circulating through his meridians with newfound smoothness.

He checked his internal state. One peach purified nearly ten percent of my Demon Power.

“No wonder human cultivators go crazy for Spirit Food,” Wu Yuan marveled. “Accumulated over time, a diet like this would put anyone miles ahead of their peers.”

Then, his inner accountant kicked in. But every bite is literally eating money.

The peach in his hand was only a First Rank, Low-Grade fruit, but the grove was bountiful. There were six trees, each bearing seven or eight fruits. They only ripened once every ten years.

By East Sea market prices, a single Golden Thread Peach was worth ten Spirit Stones. This grove alone represented a harvest of 500 Spirit Stones.

For a mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivator, that was a considerable fortune.

“This shows just how precious a Middle Grade Spirit Land is,” Wu Yuan thought, his eyes gleaming. “And Little Green Mountain has four of these major resource nodes.”

He turned to Big Old Black, who was drooling slightly.

“Pick the highest quality ones for storage. For the ordinary peaches, try fermenting them into wine or drying them into jerky. Consider it an experiment.”

“If they spoil,” Wu Yuan added with a shrug, “just feed the rot to the rats. Nothing goes to waste.”

He tossed the Golden Thread Peach in his hand to his subordinate. “Here. This one is your reward.”

Big Old Black caught the fruit, stunned. He stared at Wu Yuan, unable to process the gesture. He never expected a subordinate—a literal rat—to be qualified to taste such treasure.

“Boss…” Big Old Black stammered, waving his paws frantically. “No, no! Your cultivation is the most important! Without you, how would we even be here? I can just eat the normal peaches; they have plenty of Qi for me. In the past, I wouldn’t even get to smell the peels!”

Wu Yuan raised an eyebrow. The brute had actually learned humility?

“I said take it,” Wu Yuan insisted, his voice firm. “I am not lacking a single peach.”

Seeing the seriousness in Wu Yuan’s eyes, Big Old Black trembled. He clutched the Golden Thread Peach to his chest like a sacred relic.

“Thank you, Boss! Thank you!”

Wu Yuan returned to the mine tunnels laden with boar meat and baskets of peaches.

As soon as he entered the main cavern, a golden blur shot out from the shadows and slammed into him. Little Huang squeaked excitedly, climbing all over Wu Yuan’s fur.

“I smell it! I smell yummy peaches!”

Wu Yuan laughed, grabbing the fat hamster with two claws and rubbing his head affectionately. “Your nose is sharp as ever.”

He pulled out a Golden Thread Peach and stuffed it into Little Huang’s paws. “You little rascal, I haven’t seen you in ages. Where have you been playing?”

Little Huang puffed up his cheeks, offended. He wriggled free from Wu Yuan’s grip, inhaling the scent of the peach deeply before pointing a chubby finger toward the garden plots.

“Boss, look! My [Moon Spirit Grass] is ready for harvest again! And the [Snake Spirit Fruit] is growing perfectly. How can you say I was playing?”

Wu Yuan looked over. Fifty stalks of Moon Spirit Grass swayed gently in the underground breeze, their leaves glowing with silver light.

He had to admit, the hamster had a gift. “You really can grow anything, can’t you?”

The [Snake Spirit Fruit] was a mutant strain that appeared among the Snake Tooth Rice. Bibo had claimed it wasn’t even in the Spirit Plant Atlas, meaning no known cultivation method existed.

Yet, Little Huang had tinkered for a few days and solved it. He discovered the seeds needed to be incubated inside living snakes. The seeds would sprout within the host, hijacking the snake’s body to absorb Qi.

When Wu Yuan first saw the “plants” slithering around the tunnel, he nearly had a heart attack.

“You really are a talent,” Wu Yuan praised sincerely.

Little Huang beamed, his chest puffing out. “Boss! I’m going to make something even bigger!”

He explained his new plan: replacing ordinary snakes with snake demons. By feeding them other snakes, he hoped to produce fruits with specialized magical effects.

Wu Yuan nodded. “I’ll have Big Old Black step up the hunting in Snake Valley. We need a steady supply of hosts.”

Satisfied with the agriculture, Wu Yuan turned his attention to the mining operations. The results were staggering.

After weeks of relentless digging by the rat swarm, raw [Spirit Copper] was piled up like a mountain in the corner of the cavern. The ore emitted a faint, ghostly blue light, signaling its immense value.

Wu Yuan picked up a chunk of ore, turning it over in his claws.

“Chewing on this stuff to strengthen my teeth is getting less effective,” he muttered. “The returns are diminishing. Leaving it sitting here is a waste of capital.”

He stared at the glowing metal, and a flash of inspiration struck him. A crazy, reckless idea took root in his mind.

What if… I swallow it whole?