The Rat Cultivator

[Green Information: The Spirit Mulberry Tree is advancing to a First-Order Middle Grade Spirit Plant. After advancement, it will form a symbiotic relationship with the Spirit Silkworms, naturally generating a defensive Formation.]

Wu Yuan’s heart leaped with joy as the text floated in his mind.

Over the past months, he had devoured every scrap of information available, filling the gaps in his cultivation knowledge. He understood exactly what this meant.

In the cultivation world, the grade of a Spirit Plant corresponded directly to a cultivator’s realm.

First-Order plants corresponded to the Qi Condensation stage. The [Moon Spirit Grass] and [Snake Tooth Rice] currently in his possession were merely First-Order Low Grade.

A First-Order Middle Grade plant, however, was a treasure. In a place like Little Green Mountain, where Spiritual Qi was thin and scarce, such a thing was incredibly rare.

But the true prize wasn’t the tree itself. It was the symbiosis.

While plants and insects coexisting was common, a symbiotic relationship capable of spontaneously generating a Formation was unheard of.

“This is likely a First-Order Middle Grade Formation,” Wu Yuan analyzed, his mind racing. “Among the Hundred Arts of Cultivation, Formations are ranked as the supreme discipline. Their value is incalculable.”

“Even Bibo’s clan, the River Otters of the East Sea, never managed to secure a complete First-Order Middle Grade Formation despite generations of effort. That alone speaks to its rarity.”

Wu Yuan didn’t hesitate. “Bibo, come with me.”

The two demons rushed toward the source of the anomaly.

When they arrived, a magnificent sight greeted them. A massive mulberry tree, fully four zhang tall and one zhang thick, towered over the vegetation.

It acted as a vortex, greedily drinking the surrounding Spiritual Qi.

Crawling all over its bark were the Spirit Silkworms. They didn’t move randomly; they marched in precise, rhythmic lines, resembling living white currents. They looked like threads of raw silk woven directly into the tree, forming complex, glowing patterns.

These silkworms were frantically extracting Qi from the air and the soil, funneling every drop into the Spirit Mulberry Tree.

Wu Yuan frowned slightly.

How did such a conspicuous tree survive the Great Demon’s gale?

Wait. This tree wasn’t here before. It must have sprouted after the Di Liu Jiang—the Emperor’s Sap event.

To go from a sprout to the verge of Middle Grade in less than half a year… the potency of the Emperor’s Sap was truly terrifying.

Beside him, Bibo finally processed the scene. His eyes went wide.

“Great King! This Spirit Mulberry Tree… it’s about to break through to First-Order Middle Grade!”

The otter was trembling with excitement. “I saw it before when it was just a sapling. It showed no signs of advancement. How did it happen so fast?”

But his excitement quickly turned to worry.

“However… Great King, advancement requires a massive amount of Spiritual Qi. The soil here is decent for Low Grade plants, but it absolutely cannot support a breakthrough to Middle Grade.”

Bibo looked around nervously. “And a disturbance this large is going to attract attention.”

As if on cue, rustling sounds emerged from the underbrush. The chaotic fluctuations of Qi rolling off the tree acted like a beacon to the local wildlife.

A crow monster, its feathers matted and eyes wild, descended from the canopy. It was an early Qi Condensation beast with roughly twenty strands of Demon Power.

The moment it saw the fat, glistening Spirit Silkworms on the bark, it lost all reason.

Saliva dripped from its beak. Driven by pure gluttony, it didn’t even pause to assess the situation. It shrieked and dove straight for the tree.

“Great King!” Bibo cried out. “If these beasts disturb the advancement, the tree might fail! It would be a waste of a heavenly treasure!”

Wu Yuan raised a hand, his expression unreadable. “No hurry. Patience.”

He watched the tree intently, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the timing.

Bibo forced himself to stay still, though his claws dug into the earth. He glared at the encroaching monsters, his gaze sharp enough to kill.

Wu Yuan knew Bibo hadn’t noticed the subtle, wondrous movements of the silkworms. Without the prompt from the information, Wu Yuan wouldn’t have realized it either.

This phenomenon was incredibly obscure. It wasn’t recorded in standard cultivation texts.

Wu Yuan had only found a reference to it in a dusty travelogue tucked away in the corner of a Storage Bag—a book Bibo had likely kept just to fill space.

The book had described a similar phenomenon between a swarm of spirit bees and a flower garden. If Wu Yuan hadn’t obsessively studied and categorized every scrap of knowledge he owned, he would be just as blind as the otter.

The crow monster reached the tree. But before its beak could touch the bark, it slammed into an invisible wall.

It stopped dead in mid-air.

Confusion flashed in its eyes, quickly replaced by horror. It tried to flap its wings, but its body refused to obey. It was frozen, suspended like a fly in amber.

Its eyes rolled wildly, pleading for help from the other lurking monsters.

Then, the horror began.

The crow’s feathers lost their luster. Its skin tightened against its bones. In seconds, the plump, muscular bird began to shrivel, as if an invisible pump were sucking the flesh and blood right out of it.

The surrounding monsters froze. Low, fearful growls rippled through the brush. The predatory instinct turned to survival instinct; no one dared to take another step.

Bibo gaped at the desiccated husk of the crow. He turned to look at Wu Yuan, who stood with his hands behind his back, calm as a still lake.

“Great King… what is this?”

Wu Yuan smiled faintly. “Look above the monster’s head.”

Bibo squinted, focusing his Demon Power into his eyes.

There, amidst the chaotic waves of Spiritual Qi, he saw them. Thin, crimson filaments—like blood-colored silk—extended from the crow’s skull, connecting directly to the Spirit Silkworms on the tree.

“The Spirit Mulberry and the Spirit Silkworms have achieved symbiosis,” Wu Yuan explained, his voice sounding like a lecture in a classroom. “They are evolving a natural Formation. Once the tree advances, the array will be complete.”

Bibo looked at the tree, then at Wu Yuan, stunned.

He had lived in the East Sea for decades. He had seen the world. Yet, he had never heard of this.

But this newborn Rat King knew.

Looking at Wu Yuan’s tranquil profile, Bibo felt a shiver run down his spine. The figure of the Rat King seemed to grow taller, more mysterious. The confidence Bibo had felt after capturing the Ant Queen evaporated, replaced by the humble reverence he had felt during their first meeting.

Wu Yuan noticed the shift in Bibo’s demeanor and felt a secret satisfaction. Knowledge is power.

“However,” Wu Yuan continued, breaking the silence, “the ambient Qi is far from enough. Even with that crow as a snack, the tree is starving.”

Bibo, infected by Wu Yuan’s calm, straightened his back. “How does the Great King plan to proceed? Is there anything this subordinate can do?”

Wu Yuan nodded toward the shadows of the forest.

“Kill the monsters lurking nearby. Feed them to the tree. Do not let their essence go to waste.”

“I will handle the rest.”

Bibo turned. Four wolf-shaped monsters were circling the perimeter, growling low in their throats.

The old otter felt a heavy pressure in his chest.

He was once a peak Qi Condensation cultivator with ninety-nine strands of Demon Power. But time was cruel. He was old now. His Qi and blood were declining, his vitality waning.

He maintained his cultivation realm only by sheer will; his combat power was a shadow of his prime.

The Great King is not easy to fool, Bibo thought grimly. I can’t show weakness here. I have to use my trump card.

A steel resolve hardened in his eyes. He stepped toward the four wolves.

The wolves snarled, sensing a threat, and crouched to spring.

“Hmph,” Bibo sneered, his whiskers twitching with disdain. “A bunch of newly Awakened whelps dare to be insolent?”

“If I were ten years younger, you wouldn’t even have the strength to stand in my presence!”

The wolves lunged.

Bibo didn’t dodge. He opened his mouth.

Ptui!

A streak of emerald light shot out.

It moved like a liquid whip, a blade of condensed water essence that slashed across the clearing faster than the eye could follow.

Schlick. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.

The sound was wet and instantaneous.

The emerald light traced a perfect arc through the air and returned to Bibo’s mouth.

Four wolf heads slid off their necks. Blood sprayed like fountains, painting the grass crimson.

Bibo’s face paled slightly, his breath hitching for a second, but he quickly composed himself. He waved his hand, using his water manipulation to gather the corpses.

He tossed the bodies toward the Spirit Mulberry Tree.

The moment the flesh entered the tree’s range, the invisible force grabbed them. Just like the crow, the wolves began to wither, rapidly turning into dry husks as their essence was devoured by the hungry formation.