A Fake Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beast

Although the Elves' footsteps had spread across the entire northern region of the Folded Ear Continent, the Elf bureaucrats and Rus Wang both chose not to mention expanding southward.

There was no other reason.

The expansion had gotten too ambitious. The Elves had simply filled in the map for Rus Wang. In reality, the original Levant Region—and even the Levant Region as a whole—had far too few people, a ridiculously low population density, and development levels close to zero. It simply couldn't absorb any more. Even if Rus Wang handed over steam locomotive technology, or the vehicles the Elves had tinkered together using the Soul Tools he'd provided, there still weren't nearly enough people to fill the enormous labor shortage.

Since Rus Wang had taken them in and settled them in the Levant Region, the Elves had spent 198 years developing. After the nationwide Soul Master rebellion, they'd eventually recovered from their "trauma" and set out again. Even now, their total population had only just surpassed eight million. It couldn't be helped: Elves lived for over three hundred years, carried each child for two years, and didn't reach adulthood until forty-five. (I did the math: at a population growth rate of 0.5%, 3 million × (1 + 0.5%)^240, then subtract some for deaths, illness, and unrest.)

Even if the Elves began having several children at a time in their fifties, their available labor force would still be tiny. And they had to occupy the vast northern lands of the Folded Ear Continent, which were larger than the Eurasian Continent. This was more than overexpansion—it was like a rubber band being stretched to its limit from both ends, ready to snap at any moment. Rus Wang wasn't so cold-hearted as to put Elves whose bodies were still those of children to work, too.

So, after deciding to visit that continent again next year—the one that wasn't yet called the Sun Moon Continent—Rus Wang and his wives planned to spend some time at the Elf Kingdom.

After transforming upon reaching one hundred thousand years, a Soul Beast's intelligence became comparable to that of humans and Elves. As long as it had genuinely climbed its way up to the hundred-thousand-year mark, rather than living off its ancestors' legacy, it generally wouldn't be some oddly minded, low-intelligence child. Instead, it would think and live like a normal adult Elf or human.

And the Heavenly Tribulation was a hurdle every Soul Beast feared. The Dragon Race had also been cursed by their ancestors' infighting and had to suffer the lightning tribulations alongside everyone else. So, after the Soul Beasts had hurried to reach the hundred-thousand-year mark for survival, resources, and other reasons, those who had overcome that hurdle were generally laid-back. With their long lifespans, they all hoped the Heavenly Tribulation triggered at two hundred thousand years of cultivation would come as late as possible.

As a result, the core area of the Nanshan Rainforest had such a high concentration of natural energy that Soul Beasts there cultivated extremely quickly. Once the hundred-thousand-year Soul Beasts survived their tribulations and transformed, they would simply abandon their territories in the core area and move to the Elf Kingdom. They only came back occasionally, leaving their former lands in the awkward state of being claimed by no one.

As for the Ten-Thousand-Year Soul Beasts in the Mixed Circle and the Edge Zone around the core area, the ones Rus Wang assigned land there were all intelligent enough not to steal or cause trouble. If a hundred-thousand-year Soul Beast happened to return one day and found one of them occupying its territory, that would be tantamount to asking for death. A hundred-thousand-year Soul Beast had an extremely strong sense of territory, and they'd lose their lives on the spot.

Looking at all the hundred-thousand-year Soul Beasts in the Nanshan Rainforest now, every last one had chosen to transform and move to the Elf Kingdom. It left Rus Wang at a loss whether to laugh or cry. So the Nanshan Rainforest was for cultivation, and the Elf cities were for living, huh?

But it made sense. The Elves' cultivation levels didn't require anything from a Soul Beast's body. Under the Mental Contract Law developed by their son Barus, the two sides could even become mutually beneficial partners. Besides, the Nanshan Rainforest had little to offer but trees, constant rain, and pools. It couldn't compare with the cities of the Elf Kingdom, where culture and entertainment were booming. If they weren't in a hurry to become two-hundred-thousand-year Soul Beasts and simply wanted to enjoy life, then the latter was the obvious choice.

"Where are Thalassa and the others?"

Rus Wang returned to the manor he'd bought in Ravenna's new suburbs, carrying a basket of vegetables and Brachiosaurus meat. (It was the kind of Brachiosaurus from Jurassic World. Rus Wang had physically tamed them, then handed them over to the Elves to raise as cargo beasts.) He saw that the enormous house and grounds were empty except for Tingxiao (the World-Breaking Thunder Dragon), who was sunbathing beside the pool, and asked the question.

Tingxiao took off her sunglasses. "I think they saw the second- or third-born kids helping the Elves with their work, so they went to check in on them. I didn't see any of mine, so I came back."

Rus Wang's descendants developed intelligence early. His wives usually drove them out of the Nanshan Rainforest's core area when they were in their forties or fifties, forcing them to become independent. And, with Rus Wang's encouragement, the kids tended to gather in the Elf Kingdom. First, they could cooperate in groups, then claim a territory of their own in the Nanshan Rainforest. Second, perhaps because of the Mental Contract Law—or perhaps because they were half-siblings and there weren't many other female dragons around—some unexpected relationships had developed among the kids, much to Rus Wang's surprise.

It was only natural for his wives to check in on the kids they'd sent away to live independently.

"If they went to check on the kids, then let's go, Tingxiao. We'll see how Barus and Elena are doing."

Whenever Rus Wang thought about his eldest son, he got annoyed. His eldest had completely warped his own tastes by raising Elves, and after getting together with Elena, he'd dodged his father's dragon claws for over a century.

If Elena hadn't caused such a huge stir when she broke through to Titled Douluo, Rus Wang wouldn't have had a chance to catch Barus at all.

"Perfect. I want to see what's going on with that fake hundred-thousand-year Soul Beast of his."

Tingxiao perked up at the thought of seeing the eldest child of her big sister Thalassa's first litter. After all, a Soul Beast who'd used the Mental Contract Law to have the first Titled Douluo among the Elves, Elena, boost him to a hundred thousand years of cultivation was bound to be interesting.

The reason he was called a fake hundred-thousand-year Soul Beast was that when Barus and Elena had conducted a series of experiments while she was at rank 92, dissolving the Mental Contract had reduced Barus to twenty thousand years of cultivation, while Elena remained at rank 92.

Barus had therefore gained a clear understanding of how, at four thousand years of cultivation, he'd raised Elena's cultivation from rank 19 to rank 25, and how, once he'd reached twenty thousand years, Elena—already at rank 92—had boosted him to a hundred thousand years.

But none of that was important. What mattered was that this kind of Mental Contract had shocked the hundred-thousand-year Soul Beasts living in the Elf cities, his half-siblings. After all, the prospect of reaching that level without triggering a Heavenly Tribulation was an incredibly tempting one.

They could always swallow their pride and try raising Elves themselves.

However, since Barus said that his cultivation was only a fake hundred thousand years, rather than a hundred thousand years of cultivation of his own, they still needed to conduct experiments and verify whether it would trigger a Heavenly Tribulation—and whether, under such a tribulation, the Mental Contract Law could offset its immense power.