Chapter 147

Chapter 147

As soon as Qi Bai stepped outside, he nearly bumped into a few half-grown beastmen squatting by the doorway. Looking closer, he recognized Pig Fang, Wolf Jin, and the rest of their small group.

Qi Bai waved. “Do you know where I can find some old tree stumps?”

Wolf Jin jumped to his feet at once. “I know! What do you need them for?”

Qi Bai measured with his hands at the doorway. “I need something sturdy to smash stones on. Four or five should do.”

When the mining team chiseled ore from the boulders, the chunks came out in all sizes. Even with the furnace, they didn’t need powder, but the smaller the stones, the better the burn.

Niu Lu perked up. “If we bring you the stumps, can we help smash the stones too?”

Qi Bai chuckled. The boys were sharp enough to bargain. “Alright. Smash stones for half a day, and I’ll count it as one work point for your team.”

Right now the tribe was in its quiet season. The only jobs for youngsters like these were feeding the four-eared sheep or foraging. Masonry and construction, especially the forge-house with its odd-shaped walls, were handled by Xiong Feng and the skilled bricklayers. The half-grown ones could only loiter and watch from the doorway.

Niu Lu had just hoped to curry favor with Qi Bai, maybe earn a chance to join ironwork one day. He hadn’t expected an opportunity so soon.

Pig Fang was already grinning. “We’ll get them right away!” He bolted off before anyone else could speak.

A short while later, the group returned carrying thick tree stumps between them.

Dog Lie stopped them at the path. “What are you up to?”

Lu You jerked his chin toward the kiln yard. “For Brother Bao Bai—he needs them for iron.”

Niu Lu shoved him aside. “No, it’s for smashing stones!”

The story was muddled, but one thing was certain: Qi Bai had only just returned, and he was already preparing to make iron.

Ram Luo pushed himself up from under the tree where he’d been resting. “Enough talk. Let’s go and watch.”

With priest and chieftain taking the lead, other tribesmen soon caught wind of the news. One by one, they drifted toward the kiln yard until the space was crowded.

Such a sight could only be found in Black Mountain Tribe.

Beyond these mountains, even pottery was kept as a strict secret, knowledge passed only between chiefs and elders, never to ordinary tribesfolk. But here in Black Mountain, skills were shared openly. Anyone who was willing could learn pottery—and now, iron would be the same.

While Pig Fang’s team fetched stumps, Qi Bai and Niu Xi went to the storage shed to count the ore.

Yesterday’s baskets from the mining team were neatly stacked in rows. The once-empty storeroom was now packed tight. These stones had already been sorted once, so Qi Bai and Niu Xi simply carried out two baskets of ore, then added two baskets of charcoal from the corner—charcoal that Lu Guo had burned especially for smelting.

By the time they came out, four stumps were already set before the forge-house, with Pig Fang’s group standing eagerly beside them. Around them pressed a dense circle of tribespeople, murmuring with anticipation.

Qi Bai couldn’t help but think of the old saying from Blue Star: one person works, ten people watch.

But beastmen weren’t idle gawkers. In fact, they were the opposite.

As soon as the boys started smashing stones, others grew restless. Boar Quan muttered to Lu You, “You’re too slow. Let me do it—your work points will still count.”

But Lu You flushed. “This is what Brother Bao Bai promised us. If you want to smash, ask him yourself.”

Instead of arguing, Ma Ling slipped away and came back lugging a block of wood and a stone hammer. Inspired, others hurried off for tools of their own.

Soon stone hammers rose and fell, cracking ore to pieces. What Qi Bai and Niu Xi would normally need to roast before grinding, the beastmen’s strength reduced in moments.

Qi Bai quickly spread worn hides beneath the stumps to catch the fragments, so the fine ore wouldn’t mix with dirt.

In no time, the baskets of ore and charcoal had become piles of crushed particles.

Qi Bai climbed the steps of the furnace, lifting the baskets to pour in layers of ore and charcoal.

Before he could tip the first load, Ram Luo stepped forward.

Qi Bai understood at once—this was to be a blessing, a sacrifice for the Black Mountain Tribe’s first attempt at smelting iron.

Unlike usual ceremonies, Ram Luo came unprepared, without sacred robes or tools. Yet his chant was more solemn, more devout than any before.

The crowd hushed. A strange melody rose, thin and piercing, as if carried from far away—or from within Qi Bai’s own mind.

“Black Mountain Tribe!” “Black Mountain Tribe!”

The people’s chorus jolted Qi Bai from the trance. The sensation vanished like mist.

Ram Luo had finished his hymn. With a burning branch in hand, he bent to ignite the charcoal at the furnace base.

Qi Bai blinked, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. Their eyes were fixed only on the flame and the promise of iron.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt something during Ram Luo’s rites. The first had been during the winter distribution, when Ram Luo had touched his forehead. He’d dismissed it as imagination then. Now he wasn’t so sure.

But the fire had caught, and the tribe’s eyes turned to him. He set aside the thought and began pouring in crushed ore and charcoal, layer by layer.

“Hu! Hu!”

Monkey Yan and Elephant Yu manned the bellows, dragging the handles back and forth. Flames flared, licking higher until they covered the fuel. Only then did Qi Bai step down.

At the foot of the steps, little Sun Yuan clung to his leg. Leopard Star tugged his sleeve. “Brother Bao Bai, when can we see iron? I want my own weapon!”

Qi Bai chuckled. “Do you know how long pottery takes? Iron is harder still. Don’t expect it so fast.”

Leopard Star counted on his fingers, then groaned. Even pottery already felt endless—kneading, shaping, firing. Iron sounded worse.

Qi Bai flicked his forehead lightly. The boy pouted, but the crowd laughed.

Everyone was curious, but they knew well that iron wouldn’t be handed out easily. Still, they could help in their way—smashing stone, hauling charcoal—and in that way, they too had a part in the making of iron.

Night fell. The workers drifted home, leaving the forge-house glowing with furnace fire.

Wolf Ze and the hunting team entered, cloaked in frost. Fox Qiao stretched his arms wide. “Ahh, so warm!”

The hunters had returned from the plains after another long watch. The red mountain range lay still and silent, the only excitement a few roe deer that had foolishly challenged them—and been carried back bound.

Now Xi Zhou and Fox Qiao crowded the furnace, watching the bellows with shining eyes. When they learned the fire must never be left untended, Xi Zhou declared at once, “I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“I’ll stay too!” Fox Qiao added.

Badger Ping happily yielded his place; he had children at home, including a little lamb who had just learned to take human form. But Pig Quan balked—he had waited all afternoon for his turn.

After much haggling, the three agreed to share the shift.

Qi Bai smiled. “Alright then. I’ll bring your food later.”

Outside, twin moons climbed into a sky bright with stars. Tomorrow would be clear.

Qi Bai watched the wind ripple through the distant trees and, without warning, asked softly:

“Do you think beast gods really exist?”

Wolf Ze answered without pause. “Of course.”

Qi Bai realized his mistake—Wolf Ze was born here. To him, the beast god was as certain as the air they breathed.

So he rephrased. “Then… have you ever seen one? Or felt its presence?”

Wolf Ze fell silent, then said slowly, “Everything we have comes from the beast god. The beast god is everywhere.”

Qi Bai rubbed his head. “But today, I felt something strange. I don’t know what it was…”