The Rat Cultivator

Chapter 99: How Sweet These Dates Are

Watching the Snow Plains Wolf King’s bewildered expression, Big Black stepped forward with his chest puffed out and his chin tilted high.

“Since the Great King has been merciful enough to overlook your past and take you in as a dog,” Big Black declared, “it’s only right that I educate you on the Boss’s legendary benevolence!”

The Wolf King bristled. Despite his best efforts to suppress his pride, hearing himself referred to as a “dog” by a mere rat made his lips curl. He bared his jagged fangs, a low, guttural growl vibrating in his massive throat.

Big Black completely ignored the threat. He was here to break the newcomer’s spirit. The Wolf King was dangerously powerful—second only to Wu Yuan himself—and Big Black worried that if the beast mistook kindness for weakness, he might harbor treacherous thoughts. Wu Yuan might be too weary to care about such trifles, but as the King’s most loyal enforcer, Big Black had to be thorough. No demon would be permitted to disrespect the Boss.

“You’re a defeated general and a fresh recruit,” Big Black continued, his voice heavy with feigned importance. “Technically, you should be entitled to nothing. However, the Great King is generous. He’s decided to grant you an advance on your benefits.”

Big Black paused, deliberately stretching the silence to whet the Wolf King’s appetite. Nearby, Wu Yuan—who was busy sorting through the spiritual remains of the Two-Clawed Soul-Confusing Pei—shook his head. He knew Big Black had learned this theatrical “good cop, bad cop” routine from Bibo.

“First,” Big Black said, watching for a reaction, “the Great King rewards you with a private patch of Moon Spirit Grassland.”

The Wolf King’s eyes flickered with disdain. First-tier, low-grade Moon Spirit Grass? That’s fodder. “There are roughly four to five hundred plants in that patch,” Big Black added.

The Wolf King’s expression shifted. His eyes suddenly became disarmingly vacant, his pupils dilating as if he’d just been hit over the head with a mallet. He blinked, certain he had misheard.

“Four to five hundred?” the wolf stammered incredulously. “You… you mean forty or fifty?”

Bibo looked at the wolf with the pitying gaze one might reserve for a particularly slow country bumpkin. “Of course not,” the beaver replied, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

The Wolf King let out a long, regretful sigh. “Right. I figured. I told myself it was too good to be true—”

“It’s four to five hundred plants per month,” Big Black barked, his voice ringing with triumph. “Your patch is on the smaller side, so that’s all it can yield for now!”

The Wolf King froze. He looked at the Winged Tiger and Bibo, but they remained perfectly stoic, as if receiving five hundred spirit plants a month was as mundane as a sunrise. He swallowed hard. The unruly, predatory glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a head-empty happiness. His ears, which had begun to perk up in defiance, suddenly flopped over in a display of puppy-like enthusiasm.

“Really?” the wolf whispered, his voice cracking with shock.

Big Black didn’t stop. “Furthermore, you’ll receive three hundred pounds of low-grade Spirit Rice every month, ten middle-grade Snake Spirit Fruits, and a hundred pounds each of Spirit Copper and Purple Jade.”

The rat enforcer took a deep breath. “You get one full day at the Bamboo Pool—a middle-grade spirit land—and your daily residence will be moved to a middle-grade zone. You’ll also get seasonal distributions of Golden Thread Peaches and Blood Jade Mulberries. There’s a whole list of other junk—Spirit Stones, scrolls, the usual. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Big Black finished his pitch and coughed, his throat dry from the listing. He tucked his paws behind his back, looking insufferably smug. “That’s the baseline. Contribute to the mountain, and the rewards get better.”

Big Black never mentioned what the Wolf King’s duties would be, and the Wolf King didn’t care to ask. At these prices, he would have gladly offered his own hide as a rug. No late-stage Qi Condensation beast in the outer wilds could find a deal this sweet, even if they searched with a magic lantern.

The Wolf King looked at Wu Yuan, who was idly inspecting the Ancient Xun artifact he’d looted. In a blur of white fur, the massive wolf lunged forward—not to attack, but to throw himself prostrate at the rat’s feet. The impact of his enormous body made the cavern floor shiver.

Realizing his size was still too imposing, the Wolf King frantically pawed at the dirt, digging a shallow trench and wedging his belly into it so that his eyes were exactly level with Wu Yuan’s paws.

“Great King!” the wolf choked out, tears actually welling in his crystalline eyes. “I thought our clan’s destruction was a tragedy… but now I see! My wandering was merely a journey home to find you!”

The Snow Plains Wolf King’s voice broke. “The legends say my ancestors were the watchdogs of the Northern Plains King. Today, I finally reclaim my ancestral glory!”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Wu Yuan, who considered himself a connoisseur of eccentric behavior, felt a cold sweat break out on his neck. His mouth twitched. Even the Winged Tiger, usually the king of shamelessness, stood frozen with his jaw hanging open.

“Well said!”

Big Black broke the silence, rushing over to the Wolf King with the Pangolin in tow. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders! I knew you were a demon of culture! But,” Big Black added, putting his hands on his hips, “your vision is still a bit too small.”

The Wolf King looked up, confused. “Small?”

“The Boss isn’t just some ‘Northern Plains King,'” Big Black declared with fanatical certainty. “In the future, he will be a Demon Emperor!”

The Pangolin nodded like a bobblehead. “That’s right! Emperor!”

The Wolf King fell into a daze, his eyes gleaming as he imagined himself as the lead watchdog of a literal god. Wu Yuan felt several black lines manifest on his forehead. He kicked Big Black away with a tired huff.

“You bunch of uncultured fools,” Wu Yuan muttered. “Daring to spout such nonsense. You aren’t afraid the wind will catch your tongues? Emperor? King? Have any of you even seen a late-stage Qi Condensation beast yet, let alone an Emperor?”

The Wolf King raised his head, his gaze burning with a terrifying, adorkable intensity. “I see no flaw in the logic! Great King, allow me to contact the Northern Plains clans! Once your cultivation is ready, you need only raise a paw, and they will abandon their ‘Holy Halls’ to bask in your light!”

The Wolf King was practically vibrating with passion. Even the usually cynical Little Gray looked thoughtful, and the Winged Tiger began muttering about a “Tiger-Wolf-Rat Alliance.”

Bibo, squinting through his glasses and stroking his beard, looked as if he had just discovered a new continent of profit.

Wu Yuan let out a heavy, weary sigh. Between Big Black and the Pangolin, the brainwashing on this mountain was already out of control. Now he had a “Big Smart One” adding fuel to the fire.

“Enough,” Wu Yuan said, his paw hitting the ground with a firm thud. The demons instantly snapped out of their fantasies. “We are all just minor Qi Condensation trash. Don’t go around dreaming of the heavens before you’ve even learned to walk, or the rest of the world will laugh us to death. Focus on the work. Improve your cultivation first. Everything else is a fairy tale.”

The cold water of Wu Yuan’s pragmatism brought them back to reality.

He’s right, they all thought simultaneously. Everything is built on strength. If our cultivation is too low, we won’t even be worthy of standing by the Great King when he claims his throne.

In that moment, a shared resolve hardened in their hearts. They wouldn’t just work; they would cultivate like demons possessed. They would not be the ones to hold the Great King back.