Chapter 136

“Wolfze’s house is empty,” came a voice from outside.

Qibai shot Wolfze a glare. As soon as Wolfze turned his back, Qibai hurriedly slipped into his fur coat. When he looked again, he noticed Wolfze’s ears were flushed red.

It wasn’t the normal kind of red—it was frostbite. Qibai reached out and touched his earlobe. “Does it hurt?”

Wolfze thought a moment. “It just itches.”

Normally, with his thick animal pelt, frostbite shouldn’t have been possible. That meant he must have spent a long time outside in human form.

Qibai’s heart twinged. “So careless… Tonight when we’re back, I’ll warm you up with a hot compress.”

The corner of Wolfze’s mouth lifted. “Mm.”

Qibai huffed softly and took two black cloaks down from the wall. He handed the larger one to Wolfze and pulled the smaller onto himself, tugging the hood forward so it covered his still-damp hair.

When Wolfze opened the door, he nearly bumped into Xizhou, who raised his hand in greeting, bright-eyed. “Ah, so you’re at Qibai’s place. No wonder no one answered when I shouted at your house just now.”

Wolfze gave him a few appraising looks, then turned aside to let Qibai step out.

Xizhou scratched his head, still puzzled, while Huqiao muttered under his breath, “Told you not to rush. We could’ve just waited outside.”

It was hard not to notice: Wolfze had gone home and come back with a brand-new cloak—matching Qibai’s perfectly. Huqiao instantly guessed the source and sighed inwardly: having a mate really was nice.

This time, the group didn’t head to the sheep pen by the kilns but instead walked out of the tribe toward the thorn-fenced valley.

After ten days away, Huqiao had mostly shaken off his heartbreak and returned to his usual lively self. “Finding these Four-Eared Sheep was no joke.”

Xizhou nodded quickly. “That’s right. The snowstorms were too fierce—no matter how we drove them, the sheep refused to leave their cave. We waited three whole days in the snow before they finally moved.”

Both of them grew animated. Neither had ever spent so long on a winter hunt. They’d learned a lot this time.

Huqiao grinned proudly. “But that’s nothing. Baobai, you’ll never guess how many we brought back!”

No need for suspense—before they could say, Qibai already heard bleating in the distance.

At the thorn fence, sheep crowded together in a dense, noisy mass—at least a hundred of them.

Houyan and Yangluo were busy directing clansmen to reinforce the barriers. Spotting Qibai’s group, they hurried over.

The snow made the ground treacherous. By the time Yangluo reached them, he was panting, but his voice brimmed with joy. “I’ve checked already—at least eight ewes are carrying lambs. If we raise them well, the tribe’s young won’t go hungry this year.”

Wolfze’s gaze lingered on the half-buried huts inside the valley, his expression dark. “The snow’s heavier than last year. Those shelters may not hold.”

They weren’t sturdy to begin with—half had already collapsed in the earthquake. Whether the rest could bear the weight of snow was doubtful.

“The stone pens at the kiln site are solid,” Houyan said after steadying himself. “Big enough to squeeze them in… but getting them to stay there peacefully? That’s another matter.”

Qibai eyed the largest ram and said thoughtfully, “There are ways to make them listen.”

Once the stakes and thorn fences were checked and reinforced, the clansmen left.

The lead ram searched for an escape but found none, finally leading the flock into the valley huts. Sniffing the walls cautiously, it caught the lingering scent of its kind and, sensing no danger, settled in.

Since becoming apprentice to Monkey Su, Ci Yi had buried himself in the weapons workshop, following Qibai’s advice to study hard. That left the feeding of the sheep mostly to Niuyong, who was only fourteen or fifteen, along with even younger children.

But these weren’t docile livestock, and thorn fences weren’t stone pens. After careful thought, Wolfze assigned four adult horned beastmen to guard the valley.

Tunquan, taking charge, slapped his chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep them in line.” He led his men to an old wooden shed up the slope—once used by shepherds, but now weakened by pests. It would need patching before use.

Meanwhile, Qibai and Wolfze returned to the tribe and went straight to the bamboo hut beside the cave.

When Qibai pushed the door open, Chuan Chuan squeezed out, head lowered.

Standing upright, the ram now reached higher than Qibai’s shoulder. By Qibai’s estimate, he himself was about 1.85 meters tall—meaning Chuan Chuan was already near 1.7 meters.

Qibai patted his shoulder. “Our Chuan Chuan’s grown into a strong ram.”

Chuan Chuan happily butted against him. Even a gentle nudge nearly knocked Qibai off his feet.

Wolfze steadied him from behind. Understanding Qibai’s intention, he softened toward the ram. “Mm. Time for him to claim a flock of his own.”

Qibai blinked. “Claim?”

The two disagreed over how Chuan Chuan should join the new flock.

Wolfze was firm. “He has to defeat the leader. Only then will the flock accept him.”

There was no question—Qibai had raised Chuan Chuan apart precisely to make him strong enough to one day replace a head ram. Unlike wild sheep, Chuan Chuan trusted beastmen. If he became leader, perhaps the whole flock would grow accustomed to humans too.

But Qibai frowned. “He’s never lived with other sheep. He doesn’t know how to fight. How could he beat their leader?”

Wolfze looked at him blankly. “Without a fight, how else does one become leader?”

Qibai hesitated, then offered his own blunt plan: “He’s a sheep with backing. We could just… help him. Kill the leader ourselves and put Chuan Chuan in its place.”

Wolfze shook his head at the muscular “little sheep.” “Wild beasts only follow the strongest. He smells of humans. If we just throw him in, they won’t accept him—they might kill him.”

Qibai froze. He had forgotten: this wasn’t the modern world of tame livestock. Here, even herbivores fought bloody battles for dominance.

Looking at the ram he’d raised since birth, so trusting and dependent, he suddenly felt like an unfit parent—spoiling him without teaching him how to survive. “Then… what do we do now?”

Wolfze chuckled, patting Chuan Chuan’s back. “Fighting isn’t born—it’s learned. He’ll just have to take some lumps.”

Chuan Chuan felt a chill. For once, Wolfze’s voice carried warmth—and that worried him.

And even more uneasy than Chuan Chuan was the head ram still chewing feed in the stone pen, unaware of the rival being prepared outside.

—

On the open ground before the black cliffs, beastmen were training. Wolfze had reorganized drills after returning, dividing the space into areas according to animal forms and body types.

Among them, a few figures stood out.

“Baa~!” “Quack, quack~!”

At the sight of Qibai carrying food, Chuan Chuan broke away from his sparring partner and charged toward him, tailing three loyal ducks flapping along behind.

Wolfze called for a rest, then joined them.

Chuan Chuan, sulking, ate from Qibai’s hand and turned his rear toward Wolfze.

Ignoring the attitude, Wolfze said, “This afternoon, we’ll bring out the head ram. Let him try.”

No wonder Chuan Chuan disliked him—all the sparring partners lately had been sent by this “bad man.”

For training, Wolfze had matched him with horned beast youths in their animal forms, similar in size to a four-eared sheep. Adult horned beastmen were too large, and sub-beasts too small. After days of such matches, Wolfze judged Chuan Chuan ready to test himself against a real rival.

Still, because he was the only sheep raised close to humans, Wolfze didn’t want to risk him recklessly. Better to start with the stone pen’s head ram—just to test the waters.

Do you want me to keep going with Chapter 137 in this same smooth, story-like style?