Chapter 161

Chapter 161

Qi Bai had just handed out food and sleds to Ma Ling’s group and sent them out of the tribe.

Out of the 55 sleds in the tribe, the hunting team had taken 45. Only 10 were left as reserves.

To avoid delaying the hunting team, Qi Bai gave them the newly made sleds crafted in winter. The ones left behind were the earliest-made—many of which had badly damaged boards.

It wasn’t that the clanspeople didn’t take care of the sleds. Whether it was the tribe’s only muddy road or the mountain paths and grasslands beyond the settlement, any trip would wear down the sleds terribly.

From the remaining short ones, Qi Bai picked out six tall sleds and gave them to Ma Ling’s squad, and then found two more for the bamboo forest team led by She Li and Lu Guo.

Now only two broken sleds remained in the shed. To use them, they had to be repaired first.

But the craftsman in charge of repairs was busy at the moment.

The school, which had already paused lessons, had its fire wall lit. Hu Huo was leading the foraging teams of Tu Ya and Diao Lan, weaving fishing nets.

These nets didn’t just have to hold large fish—the weight of water alone was a challenge. Ordinary grass rope wouldn’t hold up.

However, without any fresh thick vines to use, when Qi Bai entered the room, everyone was seated around the tables twisting grass ropes.

Just hearing the friction between their fingers and the dry grass made Qi Bai feel his own palms were going to spark. He almost felt bad interrupting Hu Huo.

But Hu Huo saw Qi Bai and didn’t pause his work—he stood up, still holding the half-twisted rope. “Bao Bai, do we need to change anything about the fishing nets?”

Qi Bai waved his hands. “No changes. But the two remaining sleds in the shed need fixing before they can be used.”

Hu Huo replied, “Got it. We’ll finish the fishing nets first, then I’ll go fix the sleds. They’ll be ready for use by tomorrow morning.”

He added with a grin, “Good thing you had us build extra sleds in advance, Bao Bai. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have enough now.”

Beside him, Quan Lie also laughed. “I don’t think these will be enough. Once we finish the nets, we should chop more wood and make more sleds.”

It was true—thank goodness Qi Bai had anticipated this and had Hu Huo make extra sleds during the winter.

Qi Bai had thought everything in the tribe relied on sleds for transport. So he figured winter was a good time to make more, since they’d be too busy hunting and foraging later. He hadn’t expected to need them so soon.

At that moment, Bao Xing ran into the school. “Brother Bao Bai, the milk from the two ewes has been fully collected and delivered to the cubs’ homes.”

Bao Xing had come to deliver a message from Hu Xue. His cheeks were flushed from running, and he spoke louder than usual—clearly proud to be helping.

Qi Bai didn’t disappoint him either. Hearing this, he followed Bao Xing outside immediately.

After a single tribe-wide meeting, all 200+ members now had assigned tasks—even five-year-old Lu Xia had a job: helping watch over the cubs.

Though it was called “watching the cubs,” it mostly meant playing with them. All the adults were busy now, and the newborns, who hadn’t yet taken human form, needed to be kept safe.

While beastman children were tough and didn’t mind a few bumps, they were incredibly energetic. Without supervision, they could run straight into the snow. And with the bitter cold, even adults would struggle to endure it, let alone fuzzy little infants.

In the nursery’s ten-meter heated platform, half of it was fenced off with animal hides to make a big circle. Inside, the unsteady cubs were tumbling all over one another.

Lu Xia lay at the edge of the hide-fortress, eyes wide as he watched the little ones inside.

They had just finished drinking milk and looked like they were tipsy, wobbling with every step.

Little Bear Shan had shifted into beast form, lying on his back with his round belly rising and falling. A small rabbit lay on his belly, while two wolf cubs hugged his feet, gnawing happily.

Nearby, baby cows and ponies had flopped over, fast asleep on the heated bed.

This kind of scene was rare, even on the beastman continent where animal forms were common. Few tribes would entrust their cubs so freely to others.

But in Heishan Tribe, this was the norm. People felt happy not having to hide their children.

Just look at how chubby and healthy they all were—of course, everyone wanted to show off their babies.

Qi Bai poked one little cub’s belly and rubbed another’s fuzzy ears, feeling like he’d wandered into a fairytale world.

A few sub-beastmen sitting nearby laughed. “Bao Bai loves cubs so much—go ask the priest to bless you. Maybe you’ll have your own soon.”

Sub-beastmen usually conceived in winter. And though there were many cubs now, Qi Bai still showed no signs of pregnancy. Everyone figured he wouldn’t be having a baby this year.

To the beastmen, a partner who didn’t get pregnant was someone not blessed by the Beast God.

Yang Luo, who had been accounting nearby, glanced at Qi Bai’s stomach and silently cursed: must be because Lang Ze wasn’t “capable.”

But since he was still in disgrace, he just clicked his tongue and shook his head. He didn’t bring it up—Lang Ze wasn’t even home. No need to poke the bear.

Qi Bai awkwardly pulled back his hand. He’d only been petting the cubs before washing up—how did it turn into gossip about him?

And seriously, Priest Grandpa, what kind of look was that? Ugh—he couldn’t exactly tell Yang Luo that he and Lang Ze hadn’t actually “gone all the way,” could he?

Qi Bai realized that his relationship with Lang Ze had totally upended how he viewed his own sexuality.

Maybe not overturned—just that he’d met the right person. With Lang Ze, gender didn’t matter. Heck, they weren’t even in human bodies anymore. Love was love. Lang Ze was irreplaceable.

As for having kids, Qi Bai silently counted on his fingers—yeah, that could wait.

He hung up his animal-hide cloak, took out the leather pouch inside, and placed it by the warm bed. Then he rolled up his sleeves, revealing long, slender arms.

The sub-beastmen, who typically admired rough and wild appearances, glanced from their own calloused hands to Qi Bai’s smooth, flawless ones… and suddenly thought that maybe delicate was kind of nice too. Maybe they’d start moisturizing with pig fat.

Hu Xue, while pouring milk into a clay pot, asked, “What are we making with this milk?”

Milking all the sheep meant the usual wooden pails weren’t enough. Now the stone mill room was full of various clay pots—borrowed from everyone’s homes.

No one needed to label them. Each pot had a unique shape from the pottery kiln, so everyone could recognize their own later.

Qi Bai covered a few pots with stone lids and told Hu Xue, “Don’t touch these. Leave them to ferment. I’m going to make milk tofu with them later.”

Then he picked up two other pots. “Today, we’re making fried milk and butter. Let’s give everyone a taste. If they like it, we’ll make more.”

Tu Ruo was shocked. “Milk can become oil?”

Milk really was magical—it could be turned into all kinds of foods. Qi Bai winked. “You’ll see in a couple days.”

Many people now knew how to render animal fat into oil, but with meat already scarce, there was no extra fat for oil-making. Qi Bai figured they might as well make butter instead.

Luckily, Qi Bai was a foodie. As soon as the ewes started lactating, he began experimenting. It had taken him over a month to come up with these recipes.

Fermentation? Tofu? Hu Xue didn’t understand a word. But she wasn’t worried. When Qi Bai first made marinated meat, none of them had heard of that either—and now everyone loved it.

Qi Bai poured milk into a clay pot, then scooped in several spoonfuls of white powder from his own leather pouch. He began stirring gently over low heat. “This is starch I made. Don’t add too much—we don’t have much. Let’s see how much this batch makes.”

Hu Xue peeked into the pouch. “Isn’t this just sweet potato flour?”

Qi Bai shook his head. “It’s made from sweet potato, but it’s not flour.”

He only had two bags of starch at home, and he brought them both today.

Making that much starch had been hard on Chuan Chuan and Duck Duck (presumably pets or animals).

After producing sweet potato flour, Qi Bai wanted to make starch too—it could thicken sauces or be turned into noodles. Very practical.

Unlike flour, which you just grind from dried sweet potatoes, starch required peeling, shredding, soaking, filtering, letting the liquid settle, and drying the resulting white powder.

Why did Chuan Chuan and Duck Duck suffer? Because all the leftover pulp from filtering starch got mixed into their food.

Fortunately, they weren’t picky and always ate it clean.

Qi Bai had thought the starch would last him a year, but now that he was feeding the whole tribe, two bags suddenly didn’t seem like much.

But what could he do? Making starch consumed too many sweet potatoes. Even if the pulp could be fed to sheep, they didn’t have enough sweet potatoes for that. The beastmen themselves didn’t have enough food—no way were they wasting it on the four-eared sheep. Let them eat hay.

Qi Bai made a mental note: once spring came, they needed to plant more sweet potatoes—lots more.

As Qi Bai stirred, the milk gradually thickened into a paste. He tossed in some dried red berries—leftovers from autumn when the tribe had dried a large batch.

Once the milk paste thickened, he spooned it into clay plates.

When he looked up, all the cubs who had been inside the hide enclosure were now crowded around the stove, staring at him.

Not just the cubs—even the adults seemed to be drooling.

Yang Luo had already tossed aside his tally boards. He swallowed and voiced what everyone was thinking: “Can we eat now?”

Oh man, they made hot milk for the cubs every day—but it never smelled this good before.

Qi Bai scraped off a small portion and let the cubs eat while it was still hot. Then he moved the rest into the cooler outer room. “Don’t rush—this actually tastes better when it’s cooled.”

As he spoke, he poured more milk into the pot.

This batch was for making butter.