Chapter 3 — The Spirit Beast I Adopted Is the Baby Demon Lord

The ferocious demon rat charging toward me suddenly went rigid, the crimson light within its beady eyes instantly extinguished. With a heavy thud, it collapsed to the ground, stone dead. Between its brows, a tiny red puncture mark no larger than a needle tip remained, yet not a single drop of blood escaped. I stood frozen, bewildered. What had just happened? There was no time to ponder; the remaining demon rats were still attacking with unbridled madness. Suppressing the gnawing suspicion in my heart, I continued to swing my sword, slashing and parrying. Yet, a bizarre phenomenon unfolded. Every time a rat attempted to ambush me or launched a lethal strike toward my blind spot, another rat would inexplicably stiffen and drop dead on the spot, its condition identical to the first.

Gradually, the pressure on me eased significantly. Though still struggling, my life was no longer in immediate peril. My spirits lifted, and my sword strokes grew more vigorous. Half an hour later, I drove my blade through the heart of the final demon rat. I leaned against my sword, gasping for air, my entire body drenched in blood and my spiritual essence nearly exhausted. Strewn across the earth were five or six dozen rat carcasses, the pungent, foul stench filling the air and making my scalp tingle. The eerie sensation from the battle resurfaced. Who was helping me? Those silent, precise, and lethal strikes—could it be Ink Jade? Impossible! It was so small, severely injured, and tucked away in the cave dwelling, completely devoid of any detectable spiritual fluctuations. Could it be some master from the sect passing by, offering secret aid? But what could they possibly gain from helping me? Unable to find an answer, I decided to stop thinking about it.

The most urgent task was to harvest the spoils. Fighting back my nausea, I began to extract the demon cores. The low-grade cores were only the size of a fingernail, dull and grey. After a long stint of work, I had gathered fifty-seven low-grade cores. Luck was on my side; inside a slightly larger rat, I discovered a darker core, faintly laced with blood. This was the core of a mutated demon rat! Fifty-seven low-grade spirit stones, plus five from the mutated variety, totaled sixty-two! Clutching the bulging pouch, I wiped away the grime, my heart blooming with joy. Ink Jade’s rations were secured, with plenty to spare!

By the time I dragged my exhausted, blood-smeared body back to the cave, dusk had settled. Pushing open the wooden door, I saw Ink Jade curled up in its corner. Hearing the noise, it raised its head, its black eyes appearing even deeper in the dim light. It sniffed the air, clearly catching the heavy stench of blood and musk on me. For a fleeting second, a look flashed across its eyes—was that... disdain? I had no time to mind its temperament. Like a worshiper offering treasure, I upended the pouch onto the ground. A cascade of fifty-seven dull, low-grade cores, along with the deep red mutated one, formed a small pile on the tattered straw mat.

"Look!" I said, my voice laced with excitement and pride. "Your rations! Sixty-two cores! This should last you a good while!"

Ink Jade slowly rose and approached. It circled the pile, pushing its nose forward to sniff, particularly lingering on the mutated core. Then, it looked up, nudged the low-grade cores aside with a paw, and let out a familiar, dissatisfied growl. It then tapped the most valuable mutated core with a claw, pushing it toward me. I was stunned.

"What does this mean? Is this one... tastier?" Did it truly have the ability to distinguish the quality of the cores? Ink Jade ignored me, stubbornly pushing the mutated core to my feet. Then, it lowered its head and began crunching away at the most basic, grey, low-grade cores. Crunch, crunch. It ate rapidly, never once glancing at the precious mutated core again. I was completely bewildered. It was leaving the best one for me? Did it know this core was worth more? What on earth was this creature?

In the days that followed, I became a regular visitor to Black Wind Valley. The mission to cull the rats remained active, as if the creatures were inexhaustible. With my first experience, combined with that strange, silent protection, my courage grew. Each visit, I ventured deeper, slaying more rats. That ghostly "teammate" remained, striking down any ambushers at my most critical moments. This boosted my efficiency, and my hoard of cores grew. Ink Jade’s stomach was like a bottomless pit; no matter how many cores I brought back, it would finish them within days.

Its injuries had long since healed. Once the bandages were removed, no scar could be seen on its left forepaw. It had grown a size larger, no longer the listless grey lump it had been. While its fur remained grey, it had turned sleek and lustrous. The most distinct change was in its eyes. The black was now pure and abyss-like. When it looked at me, the heavy, un-cub-like pressure became more pronounced. It still paid me little heed, save for using those dark eyes to exert silent pressure when it wanted food. Once satiated, it would lie in a corner, either sleeping or watching me with a gaze that felt almost like observation as I went about my chores in the cave. A bizarre balance formed between us. I risked my life to hunt, trading cores to sustain it. It took charge of eating and staring at me with those unfathomable eyes.

Until that day. I returned from Black Wind Valley with a full bag again. Luck had exploded; I had slain over a hundred rats and successfully felled a high-speed mutated rat that had nearly claimed my life, earning two mutated cores! Returning to the cave, my mood was excellent; I hummed a tone-deaf melody while pouring out the pile of loot with a triumphant clatter.