Chapter 173:

The sharp blast of a whistle echoed over the tribal wall. Everyone busy with their tasks immediately stopped and looked toward the gate.

That signal?

Suddenly, excitement surged throughout the tribe.

Those churning goat milk or chopping wood dropped their tools without hesitation. The orc splitting fish, halfway through slicing flesh, paused and then stood up resolutely with bonesaw and fish still in hand. The cubs, just recently let outside, scampered after the adults in wide-eyed curiosity.

All eyes fixed on one place: the gate.

With a thunderous roar, the gate burst open. A white direwolf, with a snow leopard cub riding its back, led the hunting party into the main road like a flowing river.

“The hunting party’s back!”

“We’re saved!”

Even though they hadn’t been starving like in past years, only seeing the hunting team return with full spoils could the tribespeople finally feel secure about having enough food for the year.

At the front, Yang Luo’s eyes glowed with emotion as he raised his arms to the sky. The snow leopard cub hopped down and padded to his feet.

The beastfolk pulling the carts parked them neatly and transformed into human form, lining up behind Lang Ze. Their faces carried a calm confidence, traded for the impatience they wore when they first left, forged in blood and battle.

Trained warriors ran to the first cart, lifting straw covers—beneath it were large, living animals.

Gasps spread through the crowd. It was near-impossible to bring live beasts from the hunting grounds on the orc-continent—taming them was nearly impossible.

Qi Bai, standing beside Yang Luo, stared wide-eyed. He’d followed closely during the return but hadn’t noticed any living prey hidden under straw until just now.

It turned out these live beasts were captured not during the hunt, but on the grassy plains near the tribe.

Fox Qiao and Xi Zhou rushed over, lifting a small calf tied with rope. Its eyes sparkled as it tried to struggle. Among the live captures, it was the largest.

To be honest, after such a massive hunt, Fox Qiao and Xi Zhou barely even considered it a prize. After all, they had hauled down a giant ape that nearly filled half a cart—too big to bring back alive.

Yang Luo’s hands shook with emotion. He steadied himself and raised his sleeve, drawing the gleaming iron dagger at his waist.

“Thank the Beast God for blessing the Black Mountain Tribe with food!”

He was wearing a bone blade and this special iron dagger that Qi Bai had made for him—the tribe’s finest. At this pivotal sacrifice, he offered it to the Beast God, representing their sincerity and devotion.

“Thank the Beast God!” the crowd echoed.

The beastfolk warriors, slaves-turned-warriors, especially, had never seen celebrations this close to the hunting season. Their breath quickened as they watched the iron blade gleam—which signaled a blood ritual.

“This is the most grand and important rite of our tribe.”

“The mighty Beast God, shine across the land, give us wisdom and courage!”

Yang Luo knelt beside the calf, holding its horn high and the iron blade sharpened:

“Warriors of Black Mountain! With your blood, awaken the noble blood of the Beast God—grow stronger in battle, conquer all!”

The warriors stood back, clearing a wide space around Yang Luo and Lang Ze. In this sacred moment, only the strongest warrior would offer the blood for the ritual.

All their hearts pulsed with respect for Lang Ze—he had led the hunting party, always charging ahead, saving countless lives.

Among them, Niu Shuo’s respect was palpable. As one of the strongest warriors in the clan, after training with Lang Ze all winter, he had grown stronger and wiser. Strategy had become just as powerful as strength in hunting—and shockingly, despite many days of intense fighting, no one but the avalanche victims had died or suffered severe injury.

Yang Luo concluded the ritual, brandishing the blade:

“Beast God above!”

“Beast God above!”

Lang Ze, firmly resolute, kneeled and pressed his head into the calf’s blood. The crowd erupted in chants:

“Lang Ze!”

Though only a few hundred stood there, Qi Bai felt as though ten thousand souls were singing. Tears threatened his eyes as he thought of how Lang Ze had brought so much home but was once denied honor due to his status as a former slave. In their world, rising from slave to respected warrior was no small feat.

At that moment, Qi Bai felt all injustice melt away and shouted Lang Ze’s name over and over.

Lang Ze wiped the blood from his lips, embraced Qi Bai who ran forward, burying his face in Qi Bai’s neck. That embrace was his anchor, reminding him that all their trials were real and valuable.

The cubs rushed forward, wanting to hug the couple, but adults gently pulled them back. “Not now, ceremony’s not over. Remember this—one day, you’ll be warriors or find partners just like them.”

Yang Luo lifted the calf to continue the ritual, slaughtering each hunting warrior’s prey with his own hands—so every warrior could receive the blessing of blood.

At the ceremony’s end, Yang Luo declared that tomorrow the tribe would hold a Spring Day Festival to mark the start of the year’s labors. It was the first time such a festival had ever been declared—but now, villagers buzzed with anticipation. Sunlight warmth, food, community… for a tribe used to hunger, that meant everything.

Amid cheers for the giant ape and other spoils, some faces grew distant. Observing the final cart, a few noticed the hunting numbers seemed too small—but no one spoke of it.

Near the last covered cart, Rabbit Ruo clenched her fist so tight muscles tensed. Beside her, Ma Liang chewed his nails with anxious energy. These were the parents, partners, siblings of those missing.

Lang Ze lifted the straw, revealing four broken bodies.

A sub-beastfolk cried out, “Father…” and rushed forward, but Fox Qiao stopped him—he could not touch the bodies.

Those lost were gone.

Pig Zhu gently pulled a small cub behind him and covered her eyes. Another orphan would join the tribe today. He looked at the wounded Maliao, whose face was mangled by beast bites, and quietly vowed, “We will raise you strong. You go rest in the Beast God’s embrace with your parent.”

Nearby, Ma Liang asked, “Only four bodies… what about Ma Chong? Did something happen later?”

Fox Qiao closed his eyes, silent.

Lang Ze spoke: “They were separated in the avalanche. We only found these four bodies.”

The crowd held its breath in grief and acceptance.

They had always known hunting was a fight for survival, but this made it real: some did not return.

Pig Zhu gently pulled Ma Liang back into the crowd. Loss was part of their world—they must survive.

Yang Luo, staff in hand, stood by the cart and said, “They have returned to the Beast God—send them on their path.”

The tribe followed the carts solemnly, honoring each fallen warrior’s final send-off as the rest carried on their tasks.

Ma Liang looked deep into Lang Ze and Qi Bai’s direction one last time.

Rabbit Ruo turned first, scooped up her husky cub, and headed straight for the salted meat duties. Busy tasks ahead gave her strength.

Twenty-four hours later, the tribe had salted every beast recovered from the hunt. Qi Bai assigned work groups of ten, each with a cart-load of meat to process plus tools. They included seasoned butchers, preserved skins, and gathered tendons for bowmaking.

Fox Huo organized cubs to assemble drying racks for curing meat—these were needed urgently.

In minutes, the groups sprang into action—animating yards with organized labor. Beastfolk formed, dressed the carts, cleaned meat, and salt spread fast. The salt-making boxes from the sea trip were poured in. The pace was electric.

Even beastfolk accustomed to pulling carts in their beast forms adapted quickly—sub-beastfolk now pulled solidly with human strength, and proudly passed the on looking beast-form warriors.

“Look at us,” they seemed to say, “we’re strong too.”

At nightfall, the village was lit bright as day by torches made of oil-soaked wood and pine cones set into homemade oil-tree torches. Qi Bai leaned against Lang Ze, saying softly, “Pigsong made these.”

Lang Ze watched as Qi Bai explained how oil from inside the hollow oil-tree trunks made the torches burn brighter and longer—and for the first time, they realized the trees were hollow.

They marveled together, as natural joy filled between them. Despite the night’s labors, they weren’t tired—they thrived.

For over twenty hours, the tribe worked nonstop until the sun returned to zenith. They’d salted meat, processed skins, dried tofu and butter—they were stronger and organized as ever.

At the small orphan’s dorm, Sun Lin yawned as Tun Quan exited despondent, not even responding to a greeting. Nearby, some sub-beastfolk subsets were energetic; others were spent. Tiger Xue explained, “They’re betting to see which team could finish fastest.”

Sun Lin, bewildered, asked, “Isn’t Tun Quan’s group ahead? Why are they the glum ones?”

Tiger Xue pointed: “Because they finished extra early—their last batch was bonus. They’ve already done more.”

Qi Bai and Lang Ze exchanged a meaningful smile—everyone remained spirited.

In the kitchen, Qi Bai and Lang Ze realized it was past time to return…

Qi Bai took a deep breath and said, “Time to go home.”