The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 97: Wu Yuan’s Specialty

Bibo lunged forward, his movements fluid and calculated as he intercepted the Snow Plains Wolf King. He couldn’t let the Winged Tiger be snuffed out in a single exchange. Though the Wolf King’s second-tier bloodline gave him a raw advantage, Bibo was a veteran of survival. Between his decades of experience and the Winged Tiger’s erratic, opportunistic lunges, the two managed to anchor the massive beast in place. They were losing ground, but they were doing their job: they were stalling.

On the wider battlefield, it was a different story. It was a massacre.

The rats were systematically deconstructing the wolf pack. Two or three rat demons, bolstered by dozens of Fire Ants and Spirit Bees, swarmed each individual wolf. Their coordination was terrifying—some served as frantic bait, while others tore into hamstrings and throats from the blind spots. Every time a mountain wolf fell, the swarm descended, leaving nothing behind but a darkening stain on the frozen earth.

Only the Frost Wolves held their own, their bodies radiating auras of rime that formed shimmering defensive barriers. But even they were drowning in the sheer weight of numbers.

Watching from the periphery, Wu Yuan’s brow remained furrowed. Why isn’t the Two-Clawed Soul-Confusing Pei intervening?

A single “Soul-Confusing” technique from that parasite would turn this slaughter into a disaster for the rats. Yet, the creature remained still. Wu Yuan could feel a faint, subtle demonic consciousness scanning the treeline.

It’s hunting, Wu Yuan realized. It’s looking for me. Or perhaps it’s looking for the “true” commander.

“Cold Wolf Freezing Breath!”

The Snow Plains Wolf King suddenly reared back, exhaling a translucent, wolf-shaped blast of frost. The temperature plummeted. Bibo’s joints seized as ice bloomed across his fur, slowing his reactions to a crawl. The Wolf King’s fangs then elongated, shimmering like crystalline longswords. With a flash of freezing light, he launched a fang-strike aimed directly at Bibo’s throat.

The Winged Tiger, activating his Wind Walk Technique, blurred into the path of the attack. He raised his tiger-head mace-shield, his eyes brimming with a mock-dramatic sorrow. “Old man, I have to call on your heritage again!”

The frost washed over them, pinning them in place. The ice-sword fang slammed into the shield, shearing off a large chunk of the decorative tiger skull and burying itself deep in the wood. But the Winged Tiger didn’t look relieved. His face paled.

“Wait… this power is too light!”

He was right. The Snow Plains Wolf King had already spun around. Wrapped in a gale of freezing wind, the massive wolf dove headlong into the thickest part of the rat swarm. Rats were pulverized or frozen solid as he tore through their ranks like a white avalanche. He ignored the rank-and-file, his gaze locked onto the large, black rat frantically scurrying toward the tunnels.

“I found you!” the Wolf King roared, his voice shaking the earth. “You’re the one pulling the strings! I knew a beaver and a cat couldn’t coordinate a million vermin like this!”

The Wolf King pursued for several breaths, but a flicker of confusion crossed his icy eyes. How is this weakling so fast? Then, he saw it—yellow spiritual light pulsing beneath the rat’s paws.

“Earth Walk? Dammit!”

Big Black looked back over his shoulder as he ran, his voice a frantic squeak. “Eat my dust, you oversized stray!”

In a fit of genuine terror-induced flatulence, Big Black released a cloud of foul, yellowish gas that hung in the frozen air. Even Wu Yuan, hidden in the shadows, felt a momentary twinge of shock at the sheer potency of the distraction.

Suddenly, the air changed. A melodious, haunting sound from a xun flute rippled across the battlefield.

Big Black’s legs turned to lead. He stumbled, his eyes glazing over. “That… that feels familiar…” he stammered.

Around him, the rat swarm collapsed into madness. Their disciplined formations shattered as they began biting at the air—and each other. The Frost Wolves, sensing the shift, roared with renewed vigor and began a counter-slaughter.

Wu Yuan calmly withdrew the Earth Walk Technique he had been channeling into Big Black. He felt the Two-Clawed Soul-Confusing Pei’s technique wash over him like a tepid breeze. Its consciousness is far weaker than mine. Even with that magical artifact, it’s nothing but noise.

The Wolf King, seeing the Winged Tiger closing in from behind, made his move. He didn’t waste time on techniques that could be parried. He opened his maw, intending to crush the “commander” into the dirt. He even ignored Bibo’s tooth-artifact, which tore a bloody furrow into his flank. He was committed.

The Winged Tiger reached out, but the xun flute sang again, making him stagger and his vision blur. He could only watch in horror as the Wolf King’s jaws slammed shut on the spot where Big Black had been standing, biting a crater into the frozen soil.

If Big Black dies, my bonus is gone! the tiger thought despairingly.

But the Snow Plains Wolf King didn’t feel the crunch of bone. Instead, a primal, bone-deep terror seized him. He twisted his head around to look at his own back.

There, standing behind him, was a white rat demon.

The Two-Clawed Soul-Confusing Pei reacted first. It was the only thing on the battlefield truly prepared for an ambush. The xun flute’s wail shrieked in Wu Yuan’s ears, a psychic needle meant to twist his internal organs. Simultaneously, the Pei triggered its defenses: layers of shimmering barriers erupted around its tiny body, and a wolf-skull magical artifact above its head began to pulse with a protective white light.

“Ten Thousand Roars Spirit Sound!”

Wu Yuan’s voice didn’t just speak; it detonated. The sonic shockwave shattered the Pei’s technique instantly, the backlash sending a spray of blood from the parasite’s nose and mouth. The grand, sovereign roar left the Pei and the Wolf King stunned, their eyes rolling back into their heads as they slipped into a momentary abyss.

“Have a mace!”

Wu Yuan grinned ferociously as he swung his Gu Duo. Crimson blood-qi coiled around the mace like a dying star.

The weapon descended—not with the speed of a strike, but with the inevitability of a collapsing mountain. It hit the wolf-skull magical artifact. The artifact was high-quality; it didn’t shatter. Instead, the sheer force of the blow drove the artifact straight through the Pei’s head. In a clinical, violent instant, the strategist was refined into a fine crimson mist, its physical essence scattered across the Wolf King’s mane.

The mace didn’t stop. It continued its arc, slamming into the Wolf King’s lower back.

The impact sounded like a siege engine hitting a stone wall. A massive chunk of the Wolf King’s flank was pulverized into a gruesome slurry of meat and bone. The King was sent flying, tumbling hundreds of feet across the battlefield before crashing into a jagged rock.

Wu Yuan watched as the elite wolf guards scrambled to shield their broken king. He felt a flicker of genuine surprise. You don’t have a single life-saving treasure from a Great Demon? That’s… actually quite pathetic.

He didn’t follow up. He had only ever intended to kill the brain of this operation; the Snow Plains Wolf King was more valuable to him alive.

The Wolf King struggled to his feet, his hind legs trembling and useless. His eyes were vacant, his spirit crushed. “Is this… right?” he whispered, coughing up blood. “With power like that, why aren’t you claiming the main peak? Why are you out here in the dirt, ambushing a stray like me?”

He looked at Wu Yuan with a profound, soul-deep awe. He tucked his tail between his legs as best he could and spoke with a shaky, deferential rasp. “Most powerful Rat King… did I somehow offend you?”

Wu Yuan’s expression was unreadable. “No.”

The Wolf King let out a ragged breath of relief. If there was no grudge, there was a chance for survival. “Communication… communication is good,” he wheezed.