Chapter Thirteen: The Overlord of the Moon, God of War (Part Two)

Chapter Thirteen: Warlord of the Dominant Moon (Part Two)

Jing’er was a little upset. She grumbled to the Cosmic Beast, “What about my Sonica? You’re playing favorites!” Clearly, she believed the Cosmic Beast hadn’t been as attentive in transforming her beautiful serpent Sonica as it had been with Wildchew’s two divine beasts.

Hearing this, the Cosmic Beast seemed rather pleased. It let out a few hearty laughs before replying, “I’m not playing favorites. It’s just that your Sonica’s constitution isn’t as suitable as theirs. Wildchew’s beasts are both very compatible for fusion, but yours simply isn’t. Still, I’ve modified her body as much as I did theirs. Whether she becomes more powerful depends entirely on you. However—”

Here the Cosmic Beast paused, then continued, “But from what I can see, you rarely use your divine beast in battle. That’s not good for her growth. If you want your beast to surpass the other two, she’ll have to work much harder.”

Jing’er understood now. She pouted in Wildchew’s direction and turned away. “I’m not a war maniac—I won’t behave like a barbarian. Sonica can get hurt; those plants of his don’t.”

Wildchew was utterly confused as to why Jing’er was taking her anger out on him, completely unaware of what he might have done to offend her.

At that moment, Wildchew noticed a remaining piece of the rhizome nearby. After glancing at Jing’er and giving her a subtle look, he addressed the Cosmic Beast: “Mr. Horn, thank you for all you’ve done for us. We have no further use for this small piece of rhizome, so please accept it as a gift. I hope you won’t refuse.”

Jing’er’s expression shifted. She had wanted to save part of the rhizome to bring back for her elder sister and her royal parents to use. She hadn’t expected Wildchew to offer it all to the Cosmic Beast without consulting her—after all, she had paid dearly for it, sacrificing her own vehicle in the process.

Still, when she caught Wildchew’s second meaningful glance, she forced herself to swallow her anger.

The Cosmic Beast hadn’t expected Wildchew’s offer either, but after a brief pause, it accepted without protest. “Humans, thank you. I won’t stand on ceremony—this is truly vital for my kind. I hope we’ll have the chance to work together again.”

It gave them no opportunity for further pleasantries, and continued, “In truth, this rhizome is now useless to you. Your bodies differ from ours; you and your divine beasts have already absorbed as much as you can. Without the energy of my kind to neutralize it, the rhizome cannot alter the bodies of other species. Without our help, it serves no purpose for you.”

Wildchew and Jing’er were both surprised by this revelation. Wildchew, in particular, felt relieved—he’d suspected as much. The body modifications had always been guided by the Cosmic Beast. His real motive in giving away the rhizome was to learn how it was used. For humans, so long as they understood something’s purpose and use, and it was truly beneficial, they could always find a way to obtain more.

After another pause, the Cosmic Beast spoke again: “My kind desires these rhizomes, and I know that you humans possess many ways to acquire them. Therefore, I hope we can cooperate. Ever since our last human friend vanished, it’s been nearly impossible for us to obtain them in their complete form. In the future, my kind can help you modify your warriors.”

At these words, both Wildchew and Jing’er felt a surge of joy.

Jing’er asked eagerly, “Mr. Horn, do you mean that if we work together, your kind can help us modify our warriors?”

The Cosmic Beast did not answer directly. Instead, it said, “We are always happy to help our friends.”

Wildchew was puzzled by this noncommittal response, but replied courteously, “We, too, are glad to have a friend as helpful as you.”

The Cosmic Beast let out several hearty laughs. Then the hovering rhizome dissolved into a pool of fluid and was instantly absorbed by the creature, vanishing without a trace.

From beneath the fur on its neck, the Cosmic Beast produced two more items. One was a fist-sized bell, entirely golden in color, its material unknown. The other was a metal plate about the size of a palm.

The turtle egg, which had been floating before the Cosmic Beast, now slowly drifted toward Little Black and merged into his body.

Only then did the Cosmic Beast speak again: “This bell was crafted by my kind at the request of our previous human friend. If you ring it anywhere in this star system, I will come to your side as quickly as possible. I hope you, like our last friend, won’t disappoint us. The other item was left for you by that human friend. As for the little one in the egg, I’ve given it some help. It won’t be long before it hatches. But as for the mineral-based creature behind your ear, I’m afraid we can do nothing for it.”

The Cosmic Beast paused once more before finally saying, “I hope we’ll meet again soon. My kind awaits your good news.”

With that, a strange radiance—evidently formed by mental energy—flared from the creature. Without any visible movement, it vanished without a trace.

The manner of the Cosmic Beast’s departure startled both Wildchew and Jing’er. Once she’d recovered, Jing’er rushed to Wildchew, snatched the bell from his hand, and declared loudly, “I’m keeping this bell. I have more family than you.”

Wildchew didn’t argue. He simply smiled and turned his attention to the small, yet unusually heavy, metal plate in his hand.

With his keen eyesight, Wildchew quickly noticed the fine script carved into the plate. Reading the slightly larger characters at the top, he couldn’t help but murmur, “Dominant Moon Body-Refining Technique.”

The words had barely left his mouth when he cried out in astonishment. Jing’er, startled by his exclamation, immediately seized the metal plate and demanded, “What? Fatty, did you just say this is the Dominant Moon Body-Refining Technique?”

As soon as she saw the larger characters herself, she too shouted, “Heavens, it really is the Dominant Moon Body-Refining Technique!”

But almost immediately, her face twisted with distress and she shoved the plate back into Wildchew’s hands. “I have no desire to turn into a hulking brute like the Dominant Moon Warlord!”

Wildchew, of course, knew the legacy of this technique. It was the martial method created five thousand years ago by a warrior known as the Dominant Moon Warlord—a pure external practice, entirely of human origin. According to history and legend, the Dominant Moon Warlord had claimed to have invented it himself, but always insisted it wasn’t suitable for ordinary people, never revealing who it was intended for.

Now, Wildchew finally understood—the technique was only suited for those who, like himself, had been transformed by the Cosmic Beast known as Horn.

The realization delighted him. He already had the Starry Sky Technique for spiritual cultivation and the Frenzied Dragon Technique for true energy. Now he’d acquired the Dominant Moon Body-Refining Technique, a superior external martial art far beyond the body training included in the Frenzied Dragon Technique.

For warriors, whether internal or external arts, the body is paramount. True energy and combat techniques alike rely on it. Internal arts build from within outward, while external arts temper from the outside in. Ultimately, all roads lead to the same destination.

Seeing Wildchew’s elation, Jing’er grew even more annoyed, mocking him from the side, “Laugh all you want, but be careful you don’t laugh yourself silly.”

Wildchew was genuinely baffled as to why the princess seemed perpetually annoyed with him since he’d regained consciousness. She certainly hadn’t spoken to him with such familiarity before.

Before he could voice his confusion, Jing’er suddenly softened, her tone becoming almost gentle. “Fatty, could you do me a favor?”

Sensing a scheme but unable to refuse, Wildchew replied, “Your Highness, whatever you need, just say the word.”

He adopted a formal tone, playing the dutiful official.

The princess’s expression grew even more peculiar. After a long silence, she finally bit her lower lip and looked up at him. “Fatty, the little turtle in your egg is so adorable. I really like it. Would you give it to me?”

She seemed to realize immediately that this was asking too much, and didn’t dare look at him again.

Only then did Wildchew understand why the princess had been acting so strangely toward him since he’d awakened. It turned out she’d set her heart on the turtle egg, but hadn’t known how to ask.

She could hardly be blamed—the little turtle within the egg was so irresistibly cute, even Zixia adored it. If it weren’t for the fact that keeping the egg with her was unsafe—who knew when its cosmic-level mother might come looking for it—it was agreed that letting Wildchew take it into the Forgotten Starfield was the best choice. The largest wormhole connecting the Caro Empire to the Forgotten Starfield could only accommodate a medium landing craft at best.

Little Phil had even been reduced to tears more than once over the thought of parting with the egg.

A creature both formidable and adorable, perfectly sized, was as precious to these noble young ladies as the finest jewels. Who among them wouldn’t want a delightful companion for themselves and their beloved divine beast?