Chapter 62: Planting Development

“Boss! Boss, stop hitting!”

Big Old Black lunged forward, grabbing Wu Yuan’s fist with both paws. He hung on for dear life, trying to act as a brake.

“The Pangolin passed out ages ago! It can’t talk!” Big Old Black shouted, frantic. “If you hit it again, it’s actually going to die!”

Thump! Thump!

Wu Yuan was so deep in the zone—a rhythmic trance of violence—that his body moved on autopilot. He threw two more punches into the meatball before his brain finally registered the interruption.

He froze.

Wu Yuan looked at his subordinate’s panicked face, then down at his bloody knuckles. A wave of awkwardness washed over him.

He pointed an accusing finger at the unconscious beast. “Well, that’s just rude. It fainted without telling me? How was I supposed to know?”

Hiss.

Big Old Black sucked in a cold breath through his teeth. The Boss is a monster.

Wu Yuan nudged the disfigured lump of flesh with his toe. The Pangolin no longer looked like an animal; it resembled a giant, tenderized meatball.

“Tch. It’s not dead yet,” Wu Yuan said, wiping his hands. “Drag it back to the nest. See if it survives. If it does, great. If not… well, we eat.”

He stretched his neck, his bones cracking satisfyingly.

“I’m going to wash up in the bamboo pool. Have some Spirit Food ready when I get out. Beating people up builds an appetite.”

With that, Wu Yuan turned and strode away. He walked with his chest puffed out and his chin high, radiating the “heroic” energy of a man who had just bullied a mentally challenged animal into a coma.

Big Old Black watched his leader leave, then looked back at the tragic pile of meat on the floor. He swallowed hard.

“Why were you so stubborn?” he whispered to the comatose Pangolin. “Don’t you know the Boss specializes in breaking stubborn things?”

A few days passed.

Without the threat of an invasion looming over his head, and having vented his frustrations on the Pangolin, Wu Yuan felt lighter. His mood was excellent.

“The sun is shining—well, the cave moss is glowing—and I’m in high spirits,” Wu Yuan mused. “Time to check on the crops.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and adopted the “Leader Walk”—slow, deliberate steps, chin slightly raised, eyes scanning the environment with critical approval. He looked exactly like a veteran government official arriving for a surprise inspection of a factory.

“Little Yellow!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the tunnels. “Come here! I have snacks!”

Pop!

The soil beside him exploded. A fluffy yellow head emerged from the dirt like a daisy in spring.

Little Yellow shook the dirt from his ears, his eyes sparkling with pure greed. “Snacks? What snacks? Where?”

Wu Yuan smirked. He reached down, grabbed the hamster by the scruff, and plucked him out of the ground.

“Lied to you. No snacks. We’re going to inspect the territory.”

Little Yellow puffed up instantly. His cheeks filled with air, his body expanding until he looked like a furious, furry tennis ball.

“But,” Wu Yuan added, “I want to see your planting achievements.”

Pop.

The anger vanished. Little Yellow beamed.

“Oh! Okay! Boss, you have to see! I’ve been working so hard!”

Moments later, they arrived at the Lunar Essence Grass plantation.

This specific cavern was prime real estate. Located near the surface, it featured a natural skylight in the ceiling. At night, moonlight cascaded through the opening, bathing the entire chamber in pure Lunar Essence.

Wu Yuan stood on a raised rock platform, looking down at his kingdom.

It was breathtaking.

A sea of silver stretched out before him. The Lunar Essence Grass shimmered, their leaves drinking in the ambient light. The air was thick with glittering particles of essence, creating a dreamlike, illusory atmosphere.

This wasn’t just nature taking its course; this was industrial agriculture.

The soil was enriched with Earth Spirit Worm fertilizer. The water was filtered. And standing amidst the silver waves were dozens of Rat Demons, acting as living conduits to channel the moonlight directly into the plants.

The result? Explosive growth.

The mutated seeds from the Emperor’s Flow Nectar event were slightly less potent than the original stock, but they were far more resilient. They grew fast, spread wide, and reproduced aggressively.

Over 1,000 stalks stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the cavern. They were densely packed—half the height of the premium wild variety, but quantity had a quality all its own.

“These are for the general population,” Little Yellow explained, puffing his chest out. “We use them to help the common rats awaken their bloodlines.”

Wu Yuan nodded. He, of course, didn’t touch this mass-produced stuff.

His diet consisted of the “Private Reserve”—the finest stalks Little Yellow hand-reared to the level of First Order Middle Grade Spirit Plants. He ate them with sides of Snake Spirit Fruit, Spirit Bee Honey, and Golden Thread Peaches.

Just thinking about it made him salivate.

Focus, Wu Yuan scolded himself. You are a King, not a glutton.

He looked back at the field.

Below, thousands of ordinary rats swarmed through the crops. They were a gray tide of labor.

They checked every leaf for pests. They pulled weeds the moment they sprouted. If a plant looked thirsty, a team would rush over with Spirit-infused water. If a patch needed more moonlight, they would squeak for a Rat Demon to adjust the flow.

If they encountered a Spirit Insect too tough to kill, they sounded the alarm, and a patrol of Spirit Bees or Fire Ants would swoop in for air support.

It was a well-oiled machine. A living ecosystem of production.

“It’s beautiful,” Wu Yuan murmured. “The vitality. The efficiency.”

“Every rat has a quota,” Little Yellow said, sounding like a proud middle manager. “We implemented a performance-based bonus system. If their assigned plot grows well, they get Rewards: seeds, Lunar Essence, or Snake Tooth Rice.”

Wu Yuan smiled.

To an outsider, this might look like a sweatshop. The rats worked day and night, never resting.

But in the rat world? This was paradise.

This cave was saturated with Spiritual Qi. Just breathing the air here increased a common rat’s chance of evolving into a monster spirit. The “weeds” and “pests” they removed were actually low-level spiritual resources that wild beasts would kill for.

And the pay was good. Veteran laborers could eventually earn enough seeds to start their own private gardens back in their burrows.

Competition for these jobs was cutthroat. Only rats who had served in the military or earned merit badges were allowed to apply. These weren’t slaves; they were the elite.

As Wu Yuan observed, a Spirit Gathering Rat—one of the evolved ones—scurried over and prostrated itself at his feet.

“Great King! You honor us with your presence!” the rat squeaked, trembling with fanaticism.

Wu Yuan looked down. “Report. What is the yield?”

The rat’s eyes shone with the zeal of a true believer. “Reporting to the King! Little Yellow has implemented the Gradient Planting Strategy! We now have 200 stalks of Low Grade Lunar Essence Grass maturing every single day! The supply for the Rat Demon market is stable!”

Wu Yuan nodded in approval.

He wasn’t a tyrant who hoarded everything. He believed in a thriving economy.

Under his rule, any Rat Demon could purchase resources. Spirit Stones, Spirit Plants, even breaths of pure Lunar Essence—everything was for sale.