Wu Yuan slapped his forehead, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’ve been so capable recently, Bibo, I almost forgot you’re actually an old man.”

He grinned, teasing the aging otter. “But don’t take this the wrong way—at your age, you should be striving harder than anyone! You’ve still got a few good years left in you.”

Wu Yuan’s tone shifted from teasing to encouraging. “If you work hard and break through to the middle stage of Qi Condensation, your lifespan will extend significantly. Don’t give up yet.”

Bibo offered a helpless, bitter smile. His shoulders slumped, the weight of his years suddenly visible.

“Great King,” he sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. “Back when I served the East Sea Dragon Palace, I was tasked with guarding an undersea volcano. During my shift, I was accidentally infected by Fire Poison.”

He looked at his trembling claws. “The Pills required to cure it were far too expensive for a servant like me. I had no choice but to use my own cultivation base to slowly grind the poison out of my system.”

“I succeeded, eventually… but the process dragged on for too long. It permanently damaged the root of my Qi and blood. That damage is why I’ve been stuck at this bottleneck for so many years.”

“Great King,” Bibo looked up, his eyes earnest, “when you cultivate or fight, you must protect your Dharma Body. Once the foundation is cracked, the road ahead becomes a cliff.”

Listening to Bibo’s heartfelt warning, Wu Yuan felt a chill. He saw the cruel reality of the cultivation world—a path riddled with tigers blocking the way. One moment of carelessness could render decades of arduous effort meaningless, turning a proud cultivator into a broken husk.

However, Wu Yuan quickly shook off the gloomy mood. He smiled mysteriously.

“Bibo, remember when I said I’d note your contribution?”

Wu Yuan gestured toward the recovering tree. “Do you know exactly what this is? This isn’t just a Spirit Mulberry anymore. After forming a symbiosis with the silkworms, it has mutated into the rare [Blood-Binding Spirit Mulberry].”

“It doesn’t just eat flesh. It refines the Qi and blood of the monsters it devours into a Middle Grade fruit—the [Blood Spirit Mulberry].”

Wu Yuan paused for effect. “Its primary effect is filling deficits in a cultivator’s Qi and blood.”

Bibo froze.

“So,” Wu Yuan continued casually, “when this tree bears fruit, the first one is yours.”

Bibo’s eyes bulged until they looked like they might pop out of his head. His voice trembled so hard he could barely speak.

“Great King… are you joking? Please, my old heart can’t take this kind of teasing!”

“I never go back on my word,” Wu Yuan said solemnly. “Put your heart at ease. There will definitely be a share for you.”

Thump.

Bibo dropped to his knees and prostrated himself at Wu Yuan’s feet, his forehead knocking against the dirt.

“Thank you, Great King! Thank you!” he sobbed, his voice thick with gratitude.

Over the next month, under careful nursing, the [Blood-Binding Spirit Mulberry] transformed completely.

Gone was the withered, dying plant. The sparse canopy was now lush and verdant, resembling a cloud of emerald green suspended in the air.

The Spirit Silkworms underwent their own metamorphosis.

The cocoons hanging from the branches split open, releasing two distinct types of moths.

The first type had wings dyed a vibrant, aggressive crimson, looking like flickering flames. These were the males. They flew upward, perching on the highest branches of the canopy. Under the sunlight, their red wings gleamed brilliantly, acting as a visual lure to attract curious monsters from miles away.

The second type was drab and grey, completely inconspicuous. These females crawled down the trunk, burrowing into the soil near the roots to lay their eggs.

Soon, newly hatched pale-red larvae crawled out of the earth, inching their way up the bark to rejoin the colony.

Wu Yuan stood to the side, observing the cycle of life with the eye of a researcher.

“So this is the [Blood Jade Spirit Silkworm],” he murmured.

Before the symbiosis, these silkworms were weak. Their silk was pale red and tough—a decent Low Grade material used for clothing or decoration, but useless for combat.

But Wu Yuan’s silkworms were different. They were plump, round, and undeniably cute. They glistened like carved pieces of red jade.

Looking at them, one would never guess that these harmless-looking insects possessed the terrifying ability to drain a grown wolf dry in seconds.

Wu Yuan nodded, satisfied. “The tree and the colony have fully recovered.”

He turned to Bibo, who was practically vibrating with anticipation nearby.

“The tree is healthy,” Wu Yuan announced. “But the Spiritual Qi here is too thin to support its growth any further. It’s time to dig it up and move it back to base.”

He looked the otter in the eye. “I’m leaving this to you. Watch it closely. I want zero mistakes.”

Bibo straightened his back, his expression shifting into one of fanatical determination.

“Great King, rest assured!” he shouted. “I will guard this tree with my life! No monster will touch a single leaf unless they step over my cold, dead corpse!”

Wu Yuan suppressed a laugh.

A single promise of a fruit had turned the weary old otter into a zealot.

The [Blood Spirit Mulberry] was no longer just a plant to Bibo; it was his second chance at life. His hope for the future.

If Wu Yuan hadn’t buried him in administrative work recently, Bibo probably would have slept under the tree every night. Even with the Formation active, the otter checked the perimeter daily, clearing weeds and rocks, and even using his own personal stash of Spirit Stones to fertilize the soil.

“Snap! Snap!”

“Don’t slack off!”

“Move your paws! Watch the roots! If you break a root hair, I’ll break you!”

The excavation site was chaotic. Bibo was everywhere at once, spinning around like a top. He directed the swarm of rats with the authority of a tyrant general, his water whip lashing out to correct any clumsy movements.

Big Old Black stood to the side, scratching his head with a massive claw, utterly baffled.

“The old man went out with the Boss once and came back a different person,” the dog muttered. “Is he having a second spring? I’ve never seen him this fired up.”

Bibo was usually gentle, a result of his advanced age. But today? He was a demon possessed.

He micromanaged every shovel scoop. He personally dug out the main taproot, refusing to let the clumsy subordinates touch the vital core.

Wu Yuan stood on the ridge of the valley, overlooking the procession.

Tens of thousands of rats and over 30 elite rat demons worked in unison, lifting the massive tree and carrying it toward the prepared pit in the mining valley. It looked like a flowing river of fur moving a green mountain.

Bibo ran circles around the moving tree, his anxiety palpable. Every few minutes, he would pull a Spirit Stone from his robe and press it into the soil around the roots, feeding the tree mid-transport to prevent shock.

“Hey! Big guy!” Bibo barked at the lieutenant. “Tell your boys to be gentle! They’re scratching the bark!”

Big Old Black’s face twitched with annoyance. If you’re so worried, carry it yourself, you nagging old fogey, he grumbled internally.

But he didn’t dare disobey. He activated his [Blood Surge Technique].

Boom.

His muscles swelled, his fur bristling as he grew in size. With enhanced strength, he shouldered the heaviest part of the trunk, stepping gingerly to avoid jostling the precious cargo.

Wu Yuan watched the scene with amusement.

“I wonder what Bibo promised Big Old Black to make him work that hard,” Wu Yuan mused.