The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 96: Clearing Wolf Mountain

Wu Yuan nodded with satisfaction before turning his gaze toward Big Black.

“When the time comes, you’ll be the primary target—the visible decoy commanding the swarm,” Wu Yuan said. “We need to see if they’re desperate enough to attempt a decapitation strike. Keep your wits about you; I’d rather not have to find a new general because you let yourself get eaten.”

Big Black scratched his head, a bit slow on the uptake. “And what about the others, Boss?”

“Bibo, you’re the face of our vanguard. You’ll be the one to check the Wolf King’s momentum. Winged Tiger, you’re his shadow. Your job is to be as obnoxious as possible—stall the Wolf King and that Pei. Give them zero room to breathe or think.” He then looked toward the smaller creatures. “Little Yellow, Little White, you’re on logistics. Ensure the supply lines hold and the wounded are dragged back for treatment immediately.”

Big Black tilted his head. “And you, Boss? What are you doing while we’re out there being bait?”

Wu Yuan gave him a long, weary look. He knew Big Black wasn’t exactly a scholar. “I,” Wu Yuan explained with patience, “will be the knife in the dark. My target is the Pei. If I can take out their brain in one strike, the rest of this mess cleans itself up. That creature is too dangerous to the swarm’s collective mind to be left alive.”

He turned back to Bibo and the Winged Tiger, his expression hardening. “Coordinate. The outcome of this expansion rests on how well you two can dance with a wolf.”

Three days later.

Bibo led the swarm into a sprawling network of pre-dug tunnels. They moved like a subterranean black tide—a silent, chittering river of fur and teeth rushing toward Wolf Mountain.

While the Frost Wolves remained huddled in their central lair, they were far from unobserved. Every wolf patrolling the mountainside was shadowed by an inconspicuous Fire Ant or a silent Spirit Bee. These were Wu Yuan’s “invisible eyes,” transmitting every twitch of a tail and every sniff of the wind back to the command center.

For 72 hours, a million rats had labored like frantic miners, weaving a web of tunnels beneath the wolves’ feet. The mountain was now a hollow shell, a trap waiting to be sprung. Wu Yuan had been careful, however; he kept the tunnels away from the core frost-zone to prevent the Wolf King’s heightened senses from catching the vibration of a million scratching claws.

Wu Yuan watched from a shadowed ridge, his eyes cold and analytical. Seeing his forces in position, he let out a single, sharp breath.

“Commence.”

The order rippled through the earth. Beneath the unsuspecting mountain wolves, the soil began to heave. Vigilant wolves paused, noses twitching as they caught a sudden, metallic scent in the air.

Suddenly, Spirit Bees dived like golden needles, aiming for the wolves’ eyes. As the beasts snapped and snarled at the air, the ground beneath them exploded. Rat demons burst forth like black lightning, aiming straight for the soft underbellies with bared claws and jagged teeth.

The mountain erupted in a discord of howls—furious, terrified, and short-lived.

The Frost Wolves in the core zone were instantly alerted. They surged toward the center, their Demon Power flaring to drop the temperature into a bone-chilling frost. Finally, the Snow Plains Wolf King stepped out from his cave. His crystalline blue eyes scanned the treeline, his nostrils flaring at the overwhelming scent of fresh blood.

The Pei clinging to his back was even more agitated, its spiritual sense screaming of a trap.

Wounded wolves stumbled back toward the King, but their numbers were pitiful. Soon, the flow of survivors stopped entirely. The Wolf King stared at his decimated pack, a spark of pure, icy rage flickering in his eyes. He had spent months gathering these local packs, only to see half his kingdom vanished in a single breath.

The forest floor began to rustle. From the shadows of the ancient trees, the rat swarm spilled out like a living shadow. Thousands of crimson eyes fixed on the wolves, radiating a collective, bloodthirsty hunger that made even the Frost Wolves shiver.

“Damned vermin,” the Wolf King growled, his voice a low rumble of thunder. “You dare challenge me?”

Bibo and the Winged Tiger stepped forward from the parting sea of rats. Before Bibo could even offer a formal challenge, the Winged Tiger’s snarky voice cut through the tension.

“Well, well! If it isn’t the Snow Plains Wolf King,” the tiger drawled, leaning back with a provocative grin. “What’s a ‘majestic’ king doing out here in the dirt, scraping for leftovers? Didn’t you use to have a whole tundra to play in?”

The Tiger slapped his own head with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, that’s right! I forgot! Your homeland was sacked, wasn’t it? You aren’t a king anymore. You’re just a stray dog looking for a new master’s porch to sleep under!”

The Winged Tiger burst into a fit of mocking laughter, sounding like a street thug who had just landed the perfect insult. He laughed until tears pricked his eyes, the sound echoing off the icy rocks.

Even Bibo winced, quietly shuffling a few steps away from the tiger. The Great King was right, the beaver thought. This cat is a natural-born provocateur.

The Wolf King’s aura exploded. The air around him froze into jagged shards of ice as he fixed a murderous gaze on the tiger. A low, guttural roar vibrated in his chest.

Hidden in the darkness, Wu Yuan’s powerful consciousness watched the Pei. He felt the small creature sink its teeth into the Wolf King’s neck—a sharp jolt of pain to snap the King out of his blind rage. It worked; the Wolf King hesitated, his muscles coiling but not yet leaping.

Almost there, Wu Yuan thought. He sent a mental ping to the tiger: Hit him harder.

The Winged Tiger didn’t miss a beat. He wiped a mock tear from his eye and sneered. “Look at you, hesitating. Truly a spineless stray. You’ve lost your teeth along with your territory, haven’t you? Useless.”

The word “useless” hit the Wolf King like a physical blow.

He snapped. With a roar that shook the mountain, the Wolf King turned into a white blur of frost and fury, charging straight for the Winged Tiger. Behind him, the Frost Wolves surged forward like a white avalanche.

The rat swarm met them head-on, a black river crashing against a white tide.

But this wasn’t a blind clash. Under Wu Yuan’s precise micro-management, the rat swarm began to fracture and pull away, baiting the elite wolves into the open, isolating them from the center, and leaving the Wolf King—and his hidden strategist—exposed.