Chapter 207

Early morning. The mountain forest was shrouded in silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of insects crawling beneath the withered leaves.

A fine, brittle frost painted the ground in vast stretches of grayish-white. A cold wind blew, scattering the ashes of a campfire into the air, making the already dim sky appear even gloomier.

Qi Bai jumped down from the carriage and stretched his limbs on the ground.

The weather was changing rapidly; even at this early hour, each breath formed misty white puffs in the air.

As he rotated his body to warm up, Qi Bai thought to himself that he should have brought a cloak. Throughout the night, even with a stove inside the carriage, he had been awakened several times by the cold.

Only when he finally felt warm did Qi Bai tighten his animal hide coat and head toward where the slaves were being held.

The beastmen of the patrol team were already awake, most of them sitting where they were, chewing on tough strips of dried meat.

Ma Ling, along with Zhuya, Humeng, and Niu Yong, was dragging the bound slaves forward one by one, eventually forming a long line.

The previous night, before going to sleep, Ma Ling had already taken a headcount. Now, they were conducting a second tally.

The reason for the second count was twofold: to prevent anyone from escaping and to verify the numbers again. After all, it had been pitch dark the night before, and with everyone huddled together, mistakes were inevitable.

The three young beastmen—Zhuya and the others—were now crucial. Despite Ma Ling’s enthusiasm for everything, he was still functionally illiterate.

Counting up to a hundred or two was manageable, but when faced with nearly a thousand people, his fingers were no longer enough. He had to rely on the tribe’s younger members, who had attended school longer.

It took them nearly half the morning, until the sun had fully risen and Priest Yang Luo had emerged from the carriage, for the four of them to finish their task.

“There are exactly one thousand… no, one extra person,” Ma Ling reported, taking a large gulp of water. He couldn’t understand why these slaves were so difficult. Just to get them to line up properly, he had expended tremendous effort.

Lang Ze cast a final glance at Yang Luo. “Priest Yang Luo, do you have anything to add?”

Yang Luo seemed listless. He waved his hand dismissively. “I have nothing to say. Let’s proceed as discussed yesterday and take them back.”

Yang Luo had tossed and turned all night but had to admit that he had no better solution.

With no objections, they set off immediately.

As Lang Ze approached, the previously lifeless line of slaves began to stir restlessly. Dull eyes flickered with fear.

This was the man who had killed their leaders yesterday.

“Stay still! No moving!” Ma Ling gripped one end of the rope, pushing back those who were frantically trying to retreat.

“From now on, you belong to the Black Mountain Tribe,” Lang Ze declared, pointing to the corpses being hauled on the carts. “Anyone who dares to escape, or falls behind and fails to keep up with the group, will share their fate.”

At his words, several beastmen slaves shuddered involuntarily.

Yet, despite their fear, they continued to steal glances toward the back of the line.

They thought their actions were subtle, but from outside the formation, it was glaringly obvious when hundreds of people simultaneously made the same movement.

Qi Bai followed their gazes to the middle of the long line, where a conspicuous dip marked the gathering place of nearly half the sub-beastmen.

Qi Bai raised an eyebrow. So, the leader of this “rebellion” was undoubtedly a sub-beastman.

Hu Xiao, hidden among the smaller creatures, rolled his eyes discreetly. Honestly, pulling off such an expression in beast form was quite challenging, but he managed it nonetheless.

These fools. When he had urged them to rebel yesterday, not one of them had been capable. Now, when decisions had to be made, they all looked to him for guidance. Where had they been earlier?

But despite his internal grumbling, Hu Xiao silently raised his head.

He had noticed yesterday that the group with the carriage had come from the north. Now, the direction they were heading was still north.

Well, as long as it was north, it was fine.

Hu Xiao lazily lowered his head, pressing his forelimbs slightly downward.

A simple gesture of submission was enough to make all the slaves obediently turn around.

Watching this, Qi Bai curled his lips slightly. Interesting.

On land freshly touched by sunlight, two groups diverged in opposite directions.

A small team of just over a dozen people, led by Ma Ling, was tasked with retracing the slaves’ path northward. They were to check for any obvious traces left behind and determine whether the Sanghuo Tribe might be following them.

The larger group, led by Lang Ze, marched north toward Black Mountain.

The long line advanced slowly. The beastmen warriors of the Black Mountain Tribe had shifted into their beast forms, patrolling back and forth along the column.

Herd management was familiar work to them—it was no different from tending sheep. Except now, they were driving beastmen instead of four-eared sheep.

Though, compared to this group, the tribe’s four-eared sheep were far more agreeable.

At least when herding sheep, they could run freely. Now, trapped behind a sluggish procession, they could only fret impatiently.

Yan trailed toward the rear of the line. He carried two rolls of animal hides on his back. Though just two rolls, they felt as heavy as boulders. He longed to discard them but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

These hides were all that remained of the tent he had once called home. They were his entire world.

Many others in the back of the line carried similar burdens.

But Yan had never resented his home as much as he did now. He almost wished the Black Mountain tribesmen would confiscate his hides. Unfortunately, whether they planned to seize private property only after reaching the tribe or for some other reason, not a single Black Mountain tribesman spared him a glance.

His group had not had a full meal since crossing the Xishui River.

In the past, they could scavenge for wild grasses and leaves to stave off hunger. But after being captured by the Black Mountain Tribe, they had remained bound.

Aside from desperately bending over to snatch a few blades of grass from the ground, they had gone nearly a day and night without food.

Now, everyone was hungry and thirsty. Their feet felt leaden, each step a struggle. Only the ropes binding them together kept them from falling behind.

Qi Bai was well aware of their hunger. But seated inside the carriage, he was busy sketching on a wooden plank with charcoal, showing no intention of addressing their plight.

Yang Luo peeked out through the carriage window. “They’re moving so slowly. They might not even make it before nightfall.”

Qi Bai blew gently on the charcoal dust. “It’s fine. Let them take their time. It’s not far to the tribe anyway.”

Yang Luo hadn’t expected Qi Bai to be so composed. In the past, it was always Qi Bai who argued against him, insisting that slaves should be treated as ordinary tribesmen. But now, faced with another group of slaves, Qi Bai seemed like a different person.

Qi Bai smiled at Yang Luo. “Priest, I’m not foolish enough to invite every slave we encounter to join the Black Mountain Tribe.”

“The warriors brought limited supplies of dried milk curd and meat. Most of it was given to Ma Ling’s group. The remaining food isn’t enough to feed so many people. We can’t let our warriors go hungry while these slaves eat their fill.”

“Besides,” he added, “they still have the energy to play games. They won’t starve anytime soon.”

Yang Luo shifted closer to Qi Bai, lowering his voice. “What games? Do they still have malicious intentions?”

“Whether it’s malicious or not, I can’t say.” Qi Bai paused, looking at Yang Luo. “But they certainly don’t see us as their masters. They’re probably thinking that since they escaped the Sanghuo Tribe once, they can do it again with us. For now, they’ll comply with our arrangements. But if the Black Mountain Tribe treats them as poorly as the Sanghuo Tribe did, they’ll likely seize the first chance to run.”

Qi Bai thought of the little fox’s eyes. With such a restless element among them, this group of slaves was already different from other tamed captives.

Yang Luo whispered anxiously, “If that sub-beastman is trouble, why not just eliminate him?”

Qi Bai shook his head. Judging by the group’s behavior—stealing supplies but avoiding bloodshed—the sub-beastman didn’t seem ruthlessly cruel.

Moreover, anyone capable of rallying so many slaves was a talent worth observing.

Yang Luo clicked his tongue and leaned back against the carriage wall. Let them scheme. He couldn’t see what use that sub-beastman could possibly be.

A thousand people being escorted back to the tribe by just over a hundred beastmen warriors might sound exaggerated, but it was happening right before their eyes.

Through this incident, Qi Bai learned a valuable lesson: sometimes, you have to be firm when necessary.

For instance, Lang Ze had initially tried reasoning with them, but they responded with violence. Only when the Black Mountain Tribe demonstrated its true strength did they finally cower like quails.

A journey that should have taken half a day ended up requiring twelve hours with these captives in tow.

Hou Yan watched the snaking line of torches, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

Was he hallucinating? How else could he explain this vision?

“Elder Chief, there’s no time to explain,” Qi Bai called out as he jumped down from the carriage. “Return to the tribe. We need to convene a meeting.”

The flickering torchlight cast confused expressions on the faces of the Black Mountain tribesmen.

After returning to the tribe, Lang Ze led the slaves to the threshing ground.

Meanwhile, all other tribesmen gathered in the plaza, leaving only the patrolling beastmen to guard the captives.

Standing on the elevated platform, Qi Bai cleared his throat. “I assume everyone has seen the group of people down the mountain. They are escaped slaves from the Sanghuo Tribe.”

“Escaped slaves!” “The Sanghuo Tribe!”

The crowd erupted in shock.

Yang Luo motioned for silence, urging them to listen to Qi Bai’s instructions.

“The tribe’s development requires more laborers. Regardless of their origins, they represent a source of strong labor for Black Mountain.”

Qi Bai took a deep breath, ensuring his voice carried to everyone. “But winter is here. We must prioritize sheltering them. So, starting today, we all have to work hard again.”