Chapter 68: The Almighty Little Yellow

“The hummingbird?”

Wu Yuan’s fur stood on end. He instantly recalled the elusive pest that had plagued him earlier—a tiny, lightning-fast menace that had snapped its beak on his defenses before fleeing. That bird had given both him and Bibo a massive headache.

“You ran into the hummingbird?” Wu Yuan scanned the hamster for injuries, his voice tight. “Are you hurt?”

Little Yellow immediately puffed up. He threw his chest out, chin held high, looking for all the world like a conquering general returning to his emperor.

“Boss, please. How could a tiny bird be a match for me?” Little Yellow scoffed. “I handled it with ease.”

“It tried to ambush me,” the hamster added, shaking his head with mock pity. “Simply overestimating its own ability.”

As he spoke, Little Yellow placed his chubby paws on his hips and thrust his pelvis forward in a pose Wu Yuan found disturbingly familiar.

Wu Yuan’s face turned black.

The gesture triggered a deeply buried insecurity. When he had first awakened as a rat, Wu Yuan had panicked during his initial self-inspection. He had checked his undercarriage and found… nothing. Smooth as a stone. He had been terrified he was defective, or worse, genderless.

Only later did he learn that rodent biology allowed for retractable testicles, hidden safely within the abdominal cavity.

He had breathed a sigh of relief, but the trauma lingered.

Even now, as a cultivator, Wu Yuan kept his “assets” strictly retracted. It was tactical. It was aerodynamic. It was dignified. He had convinced himself he didn’t need them dangling about—he didn’t urinate anymore, and his digestion was so efficient he barely defecated.

But seeing Little Yellow strike that pose, flaunting his smooth anatomy with such confidence, felt like a personal attack. It was a visual reminder of the “missing parts” Wu Yuan tried so hard to ignore.

Smack.

Wu Yuan slapped the back of Little Yellow’s head.

“Where did you learn such a vulgar pose?” Wu Yuan scolded, feigning outrage. “It’s ugly! Never do it again!”

He wagged a finger. “We are civilized mice. We have status! We cannot lack image!”

Little Yellow blinked, rubbing his head in confusion. “But Boss… isn’t this the pose you always do?”

“I always thought it looked super cool when you did it!”

Wu Yuan froze.

A memory hit him like a brick. He recalled a hunting trip from weeks ago. He had just slain a spirit beast, and bathed in the adoring gaze of his subordinate, the “Drama Spirit” had possessed him.

He remembered planting his hands on his hips, thrusting his chest out, and roaring to the heavens: “A mere monster, handled with ease!”

Wu Yuan slapped his forehead.

Karma, he thought grimly. I taught him to be a cringe-lord.

“Forget that!” Wu Yuan waved his hand dismissively, his face burning with embarrassment. “Tell me about the bird. Skip the nonsense.”

Little Yellow scratched his head, muttering under his breath. “Boss is acting weird today. Usually, he’s not this lively… well, if Boss is happy, I’m happy!”

In truth, Wu Yuan was happy.

His cultivation was soaring. He lived in luxury, ate the finest spirit foods, and commanded a legion of loyal minions. The crushing pressure of survival had faded, replaced by the pursuit of longevity.

Why shouldn’t he enjoy life? Why shouldn’t a mouse have a little flair?

“Okay, so,” Little Yellow continued, rubbing his butt. “The bird tried to dive-bomb the back of my head. It thought it had me.”

“But I predicted it! I sensed the killing intent!”

Little Yellow gestured wildly. “I bent over to dodge. He missed my head and pecked my butt instead.”

“And then?”

“Then I sat down.”

Little Yellow shrugged. “I sat on him. Heard a crack. Broke his neck instantly.”

“My butt hurts a little, but my cool image remains unharmed!”

Wu Yuan stroked his chin, eyeing the hamster with deep suspicion.

You predicted it? Or you just tripped and crushed an elite enemy with your fat ass?

“To be sat to death…” Wu Yuan muttered. “What a disgrace to demonic beasts everywhere.”

Still, he couldn’t deny the results. This was the power of “Strong Luck.” In the cultivation world, luck was a stat just as important as strength. And Little Yellow’s luck was practically a divine ability.

Wait. Wu Yuan slapped his own cheek. Since when do I compare myself to a hamster? I am a mouse destined for the Heavens!

Little Yellow watched his boss slap himself and grew concerned. Is Boss having a Qi Deviation? I need to distract him.

“Oh! And then I looted his nest!” Little Yellow chirped. “I found seeds for [Purple Bamboo]. I planted them immediately.”

“Boss, you have to see it. The bamboo is growing like crazy!”

Hiss.

Wu Yuan sucked in a cold breath. He looked at Little Yellow with new eyes—as if gazing upon a celestial being.

He remembered mobilizing the entire rat swarm to find that hummingbird’s nest. They had combed the mountain for days and found nothing. Little Yellow goes out for a stroll, gets pecked in the butt, and finds a treasure trove?

“Heavenly Mouse,” Wu Yuan whispered.

He reached out and squished Little Yellow’s chubby cheeks, marveling at the creature’s destiny. “Truly worthy of Strong Luck.”

Then, a thought occurred to him.

“Wait. It’s only been a day. How did you grow Purple Bamboo so fast?”

Little Yellow smirked. He pulled away from Wu Yuan’s hands and placed his paws on his hips again—the forbidden pose.

“Boss, you don’t understand farming?”

“You gave me unlimited Spirit Stones. You gave me unlimited supplies.”

Little Yellow shrugged effortlessly. “With those resources? Growing it is something anyone with hands could do. It’s basic.”

“Truly worthy of the future Rat Emperor!” Wu Yuan laughed, playing along. “Little Yellow, the future of our clan rests on your shoulders!”

To his surprise, the hamster suddenly turned shy. Little Yellow twisted his body, acting coy, his face flushing red.

“Oh, stop,” he mumbled, looking down and kicking at the dirt. “Boss is the real Emperor. I’ll… I’ll just be the Second Emperor.”

Wu Yuan chuckled. The little guy’s modesty was adorable.

“Alright, Second Emperor. Lead the way. Let’s see this miracle bamboo.”

They arrived at the new spiritual grove.

Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of violet leaves, dappling the forest floor in shifting patterns of light and shadow. The air here was crisp, filled with the clean scent of wood and vegetation.

Wu Yuan watched as squads of agile rats darted through the stalks. They were the security detail—eyes sharp, muscles tense, patrolling for intruders.

Below them, the labor force was hard at work.

Dozens of farming rats crawled over the earth, inspecting every inch of soil. Whenever a new shoot broke the surface, a team would rush over, packing the base with Qi-infused soil to guarantee optimal growth.

Others were specialized hunters, scanning the stalks for pests like bamboo weevils.

But the elite workers focused on the prize crops.

Wu Yuan saw rats carefully tagging the thickest, most vibrant stalks of Purple Bamboo. They carried buckets of high-grade fertilizer—processed from the waste of Earth Spirit Worms—and applied it with surgical precision.