Chapter 67: Purple Bamboo

My reserves of Creation Power are bone dry.

Wu Yuan stared at the Karma Pearl floating in his sea of consciousness. It was silent, inert, and heavy as a stone. He let out a long, helpless sigh. “I still owe the pearl a massive debt of power. If I had any credit left, I could ask it for guidance. But now?”

He closed his eyes, centering his spirit. From the vast library of Bloodline Spirit Runes seared into his memory, he selected the absolute simplest one—a basic mouse-shaped rune.

Focus. Visualize. Construct.

In the darkness of his mind, he tried to trace the rune’s outline, seeking to understand the profound logic woven into its curves.

Moments later, he snapped his eyes open.

His chest heaved like bellows. His vision swam with inky black spots, and a wave of nausea rolled over him. He felt as hollowed out as a shriveled husk.

“Too draining,” he gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. “With my current mental strength, I can’t even complete a single visualization cycle.”

He shook his head, but the light in his eyes didn’t dim. If anything, it burned brighter.

“If it’s this difficult, the reward must be astronomical.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Pain is just weakness leaving the soul. As long as I persist, I will master this.”

He paused, considering the side benefits. “Besides, exhausting my mental energy like this should increase my capacity once I recover. It’s efficient.”

He rested until the dizziness faded, then immediately dove back into the grueling visualization.

Dawn broke over Little Green Mountain, bringing with it the inevitable chaos.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Little Yellow’s round, furry body slammed rhythmically against the side of Wu Yuan’s treehouse, accompanied by a ceaseless stream of high-pitched chirping.

In the entire rat colony, only Little Yellow possessed the audacity to do this. Any other beast that dared disturb the Boss’s slumber wouldn’t survive to see the sunset.

Inside the treehouse, Wu Yuan was deep in the embrace of sleep. Or he was, until the sonic assault began drilling into his eardrums.

Wu Yuan frowned in his sleep, his hands instinctively coming up to cover his ears. He tried to ignore it, giving his favorite subordinate a chance to live.

Just because I’m a cultivator doesn’t mean I don’t need my beauty sleep! Wu Yuan grumbled internally.

His cultivation method had a hard limit—three hours a day. Any more was wasted effort. The rest of his waking hours were spent burning his brain power on Spirit Runes and spell refinement. That kind of mental exertion required heavy downtime. Sleep wasn’t just luxury; it was a strategic necessity for energy recovery.

And his bedroom was a masterpiece of comfort engineering.

The treehouse sat at the nexus of the vein cavern’s purest Qi. The Blood-Binding Spirit Mulberry acted as a natural pump, flooding the room with vitality and blood essence.

But the pièce de résistance was his bed.

Constructed entirely from Spirit Stones by the beaver architect Bibo, the nest was a functional Small Spirit Gathering Formation. The stones emitted a soft, warm glow, pulling in the ambient Qi from the room and cycling it back into the bed, drastically extending the stones’ lifespan.

It was a simple, practical formation, but building the entire structure out of raw currency? That was a level of decadence few could afford.

Inside this nest of wealth lay a fresh bedding of Moon Spirit Grass, replaced daily to ensure maximum Lunar Essence potency. Lying there felt less like sleeping on a bed and more like floating on a cloud of pure energy.

Wu Yuan even had a pre-sleep ritual: gorging on high-grade spirit materials. He would control his stomach to slowly digest the food overnight, nourishing his body while his mind drifted.

“I literally get stronger by sleeping,” Wu Yuan often marveled to himself. “What shocking wisdom. What efficiency!”

He demanded a strict 8 hours. It was his unique persistence on the path to immortality.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Boss! Boss! Wake up!”

The noise outside reached a crescendo. Little Yellow seemed determined to bring the tree down if that’s what it took to wake him.

Wu Yuan’s eyes snapped open. The benevolent ruler was gone; a grumpy insomniac remained.

He slowly raised a hand.

Snap.

A vine whip shot from his fingertip like a striking viper. It snaked out the window and lashed downward with precise, venomous intent.

“Aowww!”

A miserable squeak echoed through the forest.

The vine was covered in thorns and laced with a paralytic toxin. Little Yellow’s defense was thick enough that he wouldn’t be truly injured, but the pain? That was real. That was heart-piercing.

“I just wanted to tell you I successfully grew the Purple Bamboo!” Little Yellow wailed.

Wu Yuan froze.

Purple Bamboo?

The grumpy fog vanished instantly. He vaulted out of bed, rushed to the door, and burst outside.

Little Yellow was sprawled on the ground, clutching his butt with both paws and sobbing loudly. He looked utterly pathetic.

Wu Yuan’s face shifted instantly. He rushed forward, pulling the hamster up with gentle, caring hands.

“Oh, Little Yellow! Look how careless you are!” Wu Yuan scolded, his voice dripping with concern.

He adopted a mask of righteous indignation. “Did you forget? These are critical days for the Blood Jade Spirit Silkworms! They are nesting on the Spirit Mulberry right now. They are extremely sensitive to noise!”

Wu Yuan shook his head gravely. “Your shouting… if you had disturbed their egg-laying, the losses would have been catastrophic! I had to stop you.”

Little Yellow blinked, tears still welling in his eyes. He scratched his head, looking half-believing and half-confused. “Boss… did you tell me that?”

Wu Yuan gasped, clutching his chest as if physically wounded. “You don’t trust me? I am your Boss! Would I lie to you?”

Panic flashed across Little Yellow’s face. “No! No, I believe you!”

Guilt washed over the hamster. He hurriedly dug into his fur and pulled out a large fruit, offering it up like a peace offering.

“Boss, I’m sorry! Look, this is a Spirit Melon I found a few days ago. It smells amazing. Please eat it! Consider it my apology!”

Wu Yuan accepted the fruit. It looked remarkably like a watermelon, with smooth, striped skin and a faint, refreshing fragrance that made his mouth water.

“Fine,” Wu Yuan sighed benevolently. “I forgive you, Little Yellow.”

Little Yellow stared at the melon in Wu Yuan’s hands, gulping audibly. “Boss… maybe you should taste it now? I promise, once you eat it, you’ll want more!”

Wu Yuan looked down at the drooling hamster and suppressed a laugh. Kids are so easy to manipulate.

“You want some too, huh?”

Wu Yuan waved his hand. A blade of Demon Power flashed, slicing the melon cleanly in two. He handed half back to the hamster.

“Here. We eat together.”

The flesh inside was a vibrant, crystalline red, shimmering like ruby jelly. Wu Yuan took a bite.

Crunch.

Crisp. Sweet. Exploding with juice.

The flavor washed over his tongue, triggering a wave of nostalgia. It tasted like summer back on Earth—ice-cold watermelon on a scorching day.

“Not bad,” Wu Yuan mumbled around a mouthful. “A pity it’s not ranked yet. But the potential is there.”

He looked at Little Yellow, whose entire face was buried in the melon rind. “Little Yellow, try cultivating these seeds. With some care, we might be able to raise this to a Low Grade Rank 1 Spirit Plant.”

“Mmph-hmm!” Little Yellow mumbled, not lifting his head. “Boss, if you like it, I’ll grow a million of them!”

Wu Yuan chuckled, rendered momentarily speechless by the little guy’s loyalty.

He quickly finished his slice and wiped his mouth. “Alright, enough snacks. You said you grew the Purple Bamboo? How was it so fast? I remember we didn’t even have a sprout yesterday.”

Little Yellow swallowed the last of his melon—rind and all—and patted his round belly with a satisfied burp.

“Boss, do you remember that hummingbird?”