The moment the Spirit Mulberry Tree flared its signal, Big Old Black’s muscles coiled tight.

He dug his solitary functional claw into the earth, churning up a cloud of dust as he dragged his broken body forward. His lumbar spine had been snapped in two by the Goat Demon’s kick, and his internal organs were a ruin of bruised pulp. He vomited blood with every agonizing inch he gained, leaving a dark trail in the dirt.

He wriggled toward the center of the valley, where an enormous cocoon—as large as a small hill—dominated the landscape.

“Bibo!” Big Old Black roared, his voice cracking with strain. “The Boss’s plan worked! Phase two is a go! Get over there and save him!”

Hearing the shout, Bibo gritted his teeth against the searing pain tearing through his frame. He propped himself up with trembling hands, staggering toward the cocoon.

His condition was horrific. The gash across his waist was shocking—a gruesome ravine of crimson muscle and exposed white bone. Blood wept from the wound with every staggering step, looking as if his torso might detach from his hips at any moment.

Seeing Bibo’s precarious state, a wave of remorse washed over Big Old Black. His beastly eyes dimmed with self-blame.

“I should have held back,” he rumbled low in his throat. “If I hadn’t hit you that hard, you wouldn’t be falling apart right now.”

Bibo coughed, a wet, rattling sound, but his reply was pragmatic. “If the wounds weren’t real, that cunning old goat never would have taken the bait. He had to believe we were finished to walk into the trap. It was this or death.”

Bibo’s eyes narrowed, sharp with urgency. “Cut the chatter. Have you located the Boss?”

Before Big Old Black could answer, a frantic commotion drew their attention.

Little Huang was clawing maniacally at a specific spot on the cocoon’s surface. Tears and snot streamed down his furry face, his expression one of pure panic.

“He’s here! The Boss is right here!” Little Huang screamed, his voice breaking. “Boss, don’t you dare die! If you die, who’s going to feed me?!”

Bibo frowned at the display. He limped forward, shoving the weeping weasel aside, and opened his mouth. A flash of green light shot out—his tooth Magical Artifact.

The artifact’s glow was dim, flickering as if it were about to be extinguished, reflecting its master’s weakened state. Bibo focused his remaining Qi, driving the tooth to carve a small aperture into the thick silk layers.

As the hole deepened, the darkness within gave way to a grayish-white hue.

“That’s it!” Little Huang’s eyes lit up. “That’s the Boss!”

He scrambled to retrieve a bamboo tube from his robes. With trembling paws, he uncorked it and carefully tilted the contents over the opening. A stream of rich spiritual liquid cascaded down.

The moment the liquid touched the target, it vanished. The grey object inside drank it in greedily, absorbing the moisture like parched earth.

Moments later, a faint, almost imperceptible aura began to swell, eventually stabilizing into a weak but steady rhythm.

Bibo exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Relief flooded his chest. He didn’t stop, however, widening the breach until Wu Yuan’s entire form was exposed.

When the team finally saw Wu Yuan clearly, they gasped in shock.

He was a husk.

His skin was as dry as dead wood. As Bibo reached in to assist him, the slightest friction caused flakes of dried skin to peel off like dead leaves. They froze, terrified that a careless touch might snap his fragile limbs like dry twigs.

As they carefully extracted Wu Yuan, the Goat Demon trapped deep within the cocoon seemed to sense the shift in pressure—a glimmer of escape.

“Spare… me…” A hoarse, desperate rasp echoed from the depths.

The plea was cut short. The torn layers of the cocoon began to heal as if it had a life of its own, sealing the breach instantly. The silk contracted, binding the demon tighter. The massive white hill trembled violently, a silent testament to the struggle and pain occurring within its belly.

Ignored by the cocoon, Wu Yuan lay exposed to his subordinates.

His fur—originally jade-like, warm, and lustrous—was now a mat of withered straw. He looked like a corpse dried for a hundred years in the desert, radiating an aura of absolute deathly stillness.

Bibo’s heart ached. He immediately began casting the [Spirit Rain Technique], summoning a gentle drizzle of Qi to moisten Wu Yuan’s desiccated shell.

Little Huang moved with surgical precision, extracting the Goat Horn Magical Artifact that was still embedded in Wu Yuan’s body, wrapped in layers of silk. When the artifact slid free, it left a gaping hollow cavity.

Disturbingly, not a single drop of blood seeped out. There was no blood left to bleed.

Under the constant nourishment of the Spirit Rain, Wu Yuan’s body regained a trace of elasticity. It was still fragile, but at least he wouldn’t shatter from being moved.

Consciousness slowly returned to Wu Yuan.

Part of his mind had been anchored in the Spirit Mulberry Tree. Through the tree’s senses, he inspected his own withered, decaying body with clinical detachment.

Good, he thought, a sense of relief washing over his mental avatar. There’s a spark of life left. I won’t die today.

From the Spirit Mulberry Tree, he manipulated a subterranean root. It snaked through the soil and pierced into his physical body, injecting streams of concentrated flesh and blood essence—the refined plunder from the battle.

The effect was miraculous. Nourished by the high-grade essence, Wu Yuan’s body inflated at a visible rate. The shriveled hollows filled out, and his frame returned to its original size. However, his skin remained dull and grey, lacking the luster of true life.

That’s enough. The flesh and blood essence can do no more.

Wu Yuan struggled to sense his internal state. His meridians felt empty, echoing. He focused, drawing wisps of Demon Power from the newly injected flesh, and activated his innate talent: [Spirit Gathering].

The atmosphere shifted. Lunar Essence Spiritual Qi flowed into his body like a babbling stream, washing over his parched core.

Finally, sensation returned.

“Moonlight alone isn’t enough… but it will let me move.”

Wu Yuan forced his eyelids open. The world was a blur of indistinct shapes; his five senses were shattered, barely functioning.

“Great! The Boss isn’t dead!” Little Huang’s jubilant shout pierced the fog.

The little weasel bounced in place before snapping his head toward the valley entrance, eyeing the two rabbit demons keeping watch. He turned back to the others. “We’re clear for now. You two, go heal. I’ve got the Boss.”

Little Huang burrowed underneath Wu Yuan, hoisting the larger demon onto his back. With a splash of earth, they dove underground, rushing toward the safety of the mine tunnel’s tree house.

Outside the valley, the White Rabbit Demon stomped her foot, crushing a stone to powder. Her face was flushed with indignation.

“What is their problem?” she complained to her brother. “Why wouldn’t they let me in? I was worried about the Boss too!”

The Gray Rabbit Demon sighed, his expression one of weary wisdom. He spoke earnestly, “We are newcomers, sister. Trust is earned, not given. It is normal for them to be wary. Do not give them a reason to misunderstand our intentions.”

He paused, looking toward the silent, silk-draped valley with a face full of awe.

“Besides,” he murmured, “the Boss… he really is one ruthless demon.”

Inside the underground sanctuary, Little Huang watched the tree house seal itself shut, blocking Wu Yuan from view. Only then did he collapse at the doorway, exhaling a long, shuddering breath.

Inside the dark room, Wu Yuan lay on the bed. His eyes were open but unseeing, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling. His heart was filled with emotion.

The price was steep. Myself, Bibo, Big Old Black… we were all nearly destroyed. But we survived.

Rising from the ruins.

Now, only recovery remains.

With a thought, Wu Yuan opened his Storage Bag. He withdrew various high-grade spiritual materials, items that pulsed with vibrant Qi, and began to devour them.

He swallowed them whole, without hesitation.

As the materials dissolved in his stomach, wisps of pure Spiritual Qi spread through him like a gentle creek, soaking into his bones and flesh. He knew the truth of his condition better than anyone.

The body pumped full of flesh and blood essence was just an empty shell.