The Great Rat

Faced with the might of nature's wrath, even Bai Chuan was powerless.

He could only shrink inside the tree hollow and watch quietly.

He still wasn't strong enough after all.

Heaven's will defied human wishes—the rain continued for an entire day and night, only easing up around midnight.

But Bai Chuan, having rested all day, looked at the sky and saw it still overcast, with thunder rumbling intermittently.

And the forked tongue he flicked out could still taste the heavy moisture in the air.

All of this signaled that the rain would likely continue.

Knowing that this break in the rain might be the only chance to go out for a while, Bai Chuan left the tree hollow and headed toward the ground.

Of course, it couldn't really be called "ground" anymore—after a full day and night of rain, the surface was already covered in over ten centimeters of water.

That amount of water was already extreme, considering this wasn't the human cities of his past life, where flooding mostly came from outdated drainage systems failing to cope.

Still, it didn't affect Bai Chuan much for now.

In the darkness, Bai Chuan moved along with the flow of the water.

At this moment, perhaps due to the heavy rain, quite a few animals shared Bai Chuan's mindset.

So the forest tonight was unusually lively—slow lorises ambushed sleeping lizards, porcupines sneaked bites of jackfruit, hornbills caught snakes to feed their chicks, mongooses hunted scorpions...

Along the way, at the edge of his territory, Bai Chuan spotted a thick, massive python of his own kind slithering past, as well as a nimble black leopard.

But the two sides merely exchanged a glance and passed each other by—clearly, the other party yielded, and no fight broke out, probably because both recognized the danger the other posed.

Besides, this was his territory, and there was no shortage of other prey right now—no need to fight to the death.

In the wild, everyone avoided unnecessary battles whenever possible.

Along the way, Bai Chuan didn't know what his fellow pythons were thinking, but he himself gave up hunting large prey and only ate various small snakes or frogs.

Why? Because of his safety awareness—as everyone knew, snakes were at their weakest while eating, and if they ate too much, their combat ability dropped.

So he kept climbing up into the treetops and then back down to the ground, picking only snakes, frogs, birds, and squirrels that were easy to swallow and went down quickly.

Everything was about maintaining his best condition to handle any situation—he ate until he was about sixty or seventy percent full, a level that wouldn't make his body too bloated.

Soon, he felt he had eaten enough.

And by then, thunder rumbled more frequently across the sky, lightning bolts illuminating the entire heavens, making the forest flicker between light and dark like a scene from a horror movie.

The rain was probably about to start again.

And Bai Chuan began his journey back.

The next day, early morning.

The torrential rain arrived on schedule, accompanied by fierce winds.

Raindrops as big as fists pelted the leaves and tree trunks, and even Bai Chuan, curled up in the tree hollow, felt some effects.

Fortunately, the tree was big enough, and being alert, he simply blocked the entrance with his own snake body.

He had to admit, having a dry and comfortable shelter during a rainstorm was quite a luxury.

But the situation outside was grim—vaguely, he could hear wails and cries of misery rising and falling amidst the storm.

In the afternoon.

"Squeak... squeak..."

Bai Chuan suddenly heard a faint sound, and in that cry, he could even detect a hint of emotion—the sound of someone relieved to have escaped danger.

What was this?

A bit puzzled, he pulled back his body. The cry was so human-like that it made him instinctively curious, wanting to check if it was his imagination.

He poked his head out of the hollow to look, only to realize that the water level outside had already risen past halfway up the tree he was in.

And down below, above the water's surface, a big rat was clinging desperately to the tree trunk, its fur completely soaked, shivering in the howling wind.

It was also being pelted hard by the huge raindrops, yet despite all that, it didn't let out a single scream of pain.

This discovery made him both startled and amused, and even a little pleasantly surprised.

Startled—had the water really risen this high? It was already close to halfway up his tree hollow.

Amused—the rat's pathetic, pitiful expression was so comical he couldn't help but find it funny.

Come to think of it, this was the first time he'd seen takeout deliver itself.

But as the saying goes, when heaven offers a gift, you don't refuse it.

Since the heavens had sent food right to his doorstep, how could Bai Chuan waste such kindness and let this plump, juicy rat go?

He was still feeling like he hadn't eaten enough anyway.

So he stretched his head downward.

"Squeak~?! Squeak—"

His sudden movement startled the rat below, causing its front claws to nearly slip loose and send it plummeting. It scrambled to grip again, letting out the most pitiful squeak it had ever made.

If it weren't soaking wet right now, Bai Chuan felt certain the rat could have demonstrated an instant full-body bristle of fur on the spot.

In that moment, the rat found itself trapped in a dilemma.

It looked down at the deep, bottomless water below, where the current surged violently—the very peril it had only just escaped after immense struggle.

Then it looked up, where a massive snake was drawing closer, its terrifying maw alone enough to make the rat's heart pound with fear.

For a time, it was caught in indecision, at a loss for what to do, so frantic that a single large tear welled up in its eye.

Death below, death above—if this rat had any understanding, it might have sighed: "Stretch out my head and die, tuck it in and die, either way it's death. Heaven wants me gone!"

Of course, it wouldn't have to choose for long.

Because Bai Chuan, to prevent it from escaping, first slowly extended his head, inching closer step by step, giving the rat below enough of a safety buffer so he didn't immediately trigger its flight response and drive it to jump into the water.

Only after he had crept close enough to be certain did he suddenly lunge his snake head forward and bite down.

Inside the nest, Bai Chuan first blocked off the cave's only opening before releasing the large rat from his mouth.

That's right—he hadn't bitten the rat to death.

As for injecting venom? Even less likely. Under normal circumstances, an Eye King wouldn't waste venom on prey that posed no threat. After all, venom was precious.

As for why? Bai Chuan could only say it was probably out of boredom.

There was no telling when this weather would end. Cooped up here as a snake with no entertainment, he had finally encountered a living creature.

Since he could guarantee it wouldn't escape, why kill it all at once?

It was only a bit of meat anyway—wouldn't it be better to keep it around for amusement?

When he got tired of it or hungry, he could eat it then. No rush.