Chapter 143

The little ewe kept her distance. At about five or six meters from the thorn fence, she froze, wary eyes fixed ahead. No coaxing could make her step closer.

Chuan Chuan, of course, didn’t understand her hesitation. Happily, he trotted to Qi Bai, snatched the feed from his hand, and carried it over to place before her.

The ewe pawed the ground nervously, reluctant to eat. Chuan Chuan pushed the food closer with his head, bleating eagerly, as if insisting, “Try it — it’s really good!”

And truthfully, his meals were better.

The flock inside the thorn pen survived mostly on dried grass the tribe had stored away — safe but bland. Chuan Chuan, along with the ducks, enjoyed special feed mixed with a few fresh plants. Still, even so, it was raw, untouched by fire, the kind of food most wild beasts would never accept.

To Qi Bai’s surprise, the ewe lowered her head at last. Slowly, cautiously, she nibbled. Chuan Chuan bleated with joy, looking more pleased than if he’d eaten it himself.

Qi Bai couldn’t help but smile at their interaction.

Just then, Tun Quan ran up behind him, shouting breathlessly, “Leopard Bai, the stone pen is ready. We can move them anytime.”

“Good.” Qi Bai tossed the last of the feed between the two sheep. When they had finished, he turned to the horned beastmen waiting nearby. “Open the gate.”

The weather had worsened these last few days. The makeshift shelters in the valley looked ready to collapse under snow and wind. It was too dangerous to keep the flock there. And with Chuan Chuan now fully accepted, this was the moment to guide them into the stone pen.

The thorn gate wasn’t level with the ground, so they first had to clear the short wooden stakes driven deep into the earth. Several horned beastmen braced their arms around the posts, gave a shout, and heaved them free.

Qi Bai beckoned. “Come on, Chuan Chuan. Time to go home.”

“Baa~!”

For the first time, the Black Mountain tribe felt like true shepherds.

Still, things didn’t go quite the way Qi Bai had imagined.

Before leaving, Chuan Chuan did raise his head and call once toward the valley. Most of the flock lifted their ears, then began shuffling forward after him. But beyond that, he wasn’t exactly a leader keeping order. Once outside, he only marched forward confidently with the ewe at his side, caring little if stragglers fell behind.

Fortunately, he knew the road home well. He’d walked it almost a year now. Without waiting for guidance, he led the way.

Behind him, more than a hundred sheep straggled into a long, uneven line. Some stopped to nose at tufts of grass under the snow. Some stood blankly in place. Others even tried darting away.

But Wolfze had prepared for this. His team formed a ring at the rear, steering escapees back with practiced ease.

At the very end of the line, Badger Ping shook his head, watching a few sheep squeeze into the middle of the flock. “Leopard Bai is clever,” he sighed. “He raised one sheep and tamed the whole herd.”

Xiong Feng nodded agreement. He and the others had herded sheep twice before, and the difference was night and day.

Not long ago, when they had first driven this flock back, fifty beastmen had to transform, forcing their way through snow to keep the animals on track. Meals had been nothing but dry jerky and mouthfuls of snow, no one daring to loosen their guard.

Now the flock plodded along almost peacefully, slow enough for them to chat as they went.

Dog Lie brushed frost from his lashes. “I’m starting to believe Leopard Bai. Keep training these sheep long enough, and one day they might graze outside on their own.”

Badger Ping and Xiong Feng burst out laughing. “If that happens,” Xiong Feng boomed, “I’ll raise five hundred myself. Endless lamb every day!”

While they joked along the snowy road, the tribe inside the valley grew tense.

The sheep had to enter through the main gate. To be safe, every child was ordered indoors, no wandering allowed. Little faces pressed eagerly against windows, eyes wide to catch the sight.

Sun Qing gave his younger brother’s head a smack. “Look at Chuan Chuan — so majestic!”

Sun Yuan’s small face hit the window ledge with a thud. He didn’t even flinch, already too used to his brother’s blows, just craned higher on his toes for a clearer view.

The stone pen’s wooden gates stood open. The large room had been divided into two stalls, like a stable. One smaller enclosure already held a few expectant ewes.

The dividing wall was just high enough — over a meter — impossible for the sheep to leap, yet low enough that they could still see one another.

That little room was Qi Bai’s design: a maternity ward for pregnant ewes, separated to ensure they ate enough. After all, the flock wasn’t just food reserves. Their milk mattered just as much.

At the doorway, Chuan Chuan waited as the flock shuffled in, one by one. Any sheep that hesitated earned a sharp jab from his horns.

Wolfze and Xiong Feng stood guard nearby, watching carefully for swollen bellies. Any ewe showing signs was guided into the maternity pen.

At last, Chuan Chuan entered himself. With a sudden burst of energy, he bolted toward the corner, sending the former flock leader scrambling into the wall, trembling and unwilling to move.

Priest Yang Luo hobbled inside with his bone staff, surveying the pen. His face seemed shadowed with a strange melancholy.

Qi Bai followed his gaze to the stone troughs, filled with clean water and grass. “Grandfather Priest, is something wrong?”

Yang Luo sighed, shaking his head. “These beasts… they live better now than we once did.”

Qi Bai chuckled. “Why compare yourself to them?”

After a moment, Yang Luo laughed too. “You’re right. What am I thinking?”

Outside, Qi Bai drew a short dagger from his robes. “This,” he said, “is iron we found in the stones.”

The handle was carved wood, the sheath animal hide. At a glance, it looked plain. But when Qi Bai unsheathed it, cold light flashed along the blade.

Yang Luo stared, transfixed.

Qi Bai twirled it proudly. To polish it this sharp, he had tried five or six different whetstones, finishing with oilcloth for the shine. With one slice, he cut a stalk of dry grass clean through.

Yang Luo tossed aside his bone staff and seized the dagger, lifting it high. Then, dropping to the earth, he pressed his cheek to the soil. “Beast God above!”

Monkey Yan bowed low, voice shaking with awe. “Beast God above!”

To them, pottery made of earth had been wonder enough. But iron, hidden in the very stones they saw every day? That was nothing less than divine creation.

Where Deer Guo and Niu Xi only felt curiosity, Yang Luo saw destiny.

He rose swiftly and beckoned Tiger Meng and Niu Yong. “Today, we hold a sacrifice. Let every tribesman see the iron of Black Mountain. Go — spread the word!”

The two young men, not fully understanding, grinned broadly. A sacrifice meant feasting. They punched fists together, shouting, “Yes, Priest!”

Yang Luo and Monkey Yan clutched the dagger and hurried off, already whispering plans for the ceremony.

Qi Bai and Wolfze stayed behind at the kiln. With Xiong Feng and Mouse Lin, they studied the open ground by the pottery warehouse, sketching plans for two new houses: one for smelting, one for forging.

“The furnace must be tall, with a ladder beside it,” Qi Bai explained, pointing. “Leave square holes on both sides for the bellows.”

As Black Mountain’s construction leader, Xiong Feng had built many houses. But this request left him lost. He turned helplessly to Mouse Lin.

Mouse Lin held a bamboo slip covered in diagrams. He scribbled and compared carefully, then looked up. “I think I understand. But these ‘bellows’ — do you mean the spinning fans you made from clay pots? Those aren’t square.”

Qi Bai shook his head. “No. I’ve already made a small one. I’ll bring it later. Once you see it, you’ll know how to make larger ones.”

The little fans they had used before wouldn’t work. Too weak, too slow. What he had in mind was the old-style wooden bellows he remembered from his grandmother’s hearth — a simple pull handle to push wind straight into the fire. Crude, but powerful.

The forging room would be simpler; its fire needn’t burn as hot.

Mouse Lin tapped the bamboo slip, then patted Xiong Feng’s chest with confidence. “Don’t worry, Leopard Bai. Before you return, we’ll have it all built.”