Chapter 176

Beyond discussions about daily meals, the hottest topic in the tribe lately has been the irrigation channels outside the fields.

Digging canals turned out to be as intensive as laying foundations for a building—following marked grass ropes, everyone dug continuously through the soil. Even cubs just over ten could help.

But a pressing question lingered: once digging was done, then what?

If sub‑beastfolk asked their companions at night, “We dug such deep ditches—how much water must we carry back?” the horned beastfolk could only scratch their heads. “No water carrying needed,” they’d say. “Bao Bai said the water would flow in by itself.”

Sub‑beastfolk glared in disbelief. Of course water wouldn’t magically flow into ditches! Unless they’d been too distracted during Bao Bai’s instructions.

They couldn’t see the finished result yet, so while working, their curiosity only grew over those three days of digging.

On the day the canal finally carried water, nearly the entire tribe gathered at the fields. Even guards stayed atop the watchtower to watch.

Around the perimeter of the “field”-shaped farmland, a channel nearly two meters wide had been fully dug and connected.

Lang Ze and Monkey Yan were carving out the final section—the extension that linked to the Cannibal River.

“Water’s coming!”

Although the last shovelful of dirt hadn’t even been removed, the river water, flowing in slowly, broke through and turned neatly into the narrow trench.

Seeing the water flooding the canal, Qi Bai yelled, “Quick—bring over the stones!”

Several agile horned beastfolk reacted at once, placing heavy rocks firmly at the channel’s entrance.

Though the river lay in a lower valley and rarely overflowed unless in heavy rain, the tribe didn’t intend to create a tributary; they just needed enough water for irrigation. So Qi Bai had two massive stones installed at the inlet to regulate and stabilize the flow.

These heavy tasks were handled silently by the horned beastfolk. Soon, no other tribe members were at the canal inlet—it was just them and the rushing water.

The channel’s current rippled cheerfully forward, and the beastfolk trailed close behind, watching as the water filled the trenches they’d worked to clear.

The flow entered the field’s outer perimeter, splitting into two streams that continued ahead.

Cubs crowded the stone footbridge over the water, dipping hands into the stream or hopping on the stones in excitement. They were thrilled.

Adults cheered—just as Bao Bai promised, the water was flowing into the canal by itself.

Once the canal was dug, horned beastfolk couldn’t stay in the fields all day—hunting was still the tribe’s priority.

Within their borders, prey was scarce, but within a two to three-day radius, the tribe could still find plenty to hunt. Larger tribes often conducted hunts ten days out—not just for food, but to survey their territory.

At the hunters’ meeting, Monkey Yan volunteered to lead hunts away from the fields.

He told Lang Ze with a grin, “I only know how to hunt. I’m still muddled about planting. Better you stay and help.”

Lang Ze nodded agreement—hunting nearby wasn’t dangerous enough to necessitate his presence every time.

Then he turned to Niu Shuo: “Select the ten most capable horned beastfolk from the Niu tribe who won’t join the hunting party. We’ll need them here.”

Amid the awed stares of Ma Song and others, Niu Shuo patted his chest, confident: “Captain, each horned beast from the Niu tribe is a brave warrior. I’ll choose the best ten.”

Early the next morning, Monkey Yan led the hunt southward, while the gatherers resumed their labors.

Beside the flowing canal, Qi Bai stood by the wagon as rows of plow-sleds—over two meters long—were displayed. This was their first field demonstration.

Though the yak‑form beastfolk remained expressionless, their tails swished with excitement.

Even Niu Xi and the other sub-beastfolk glowed with anticipation, brushing the yak’s fur.

Why the bright moods? Today’s planting was a special honor.

Qi Bai specifically chose horned beastfolk of yak form to help with farming so they could partner with them in the field.

The horse‑tribe beastfolk, however, felt bitterness—why choose yaks over horses, who also carried weight?

Qi Bai had his reasons: in ancient agriculture, an ox was valuable, but yaks were nearly twice as large—naturally stronger.

After winter forging, they produced only twelve plow-sleds. Each team of one horned beastfolk and two sub-beastfolk received one.

Niu Shuo and the other ten yak warriors each claimed one, as did Lang Ze.

Lang Ze’s was slightly smaller—the first prototype made by Qi Bai, intended for demonstrations. Later versions were wider and bigger.

Not because Lang Ze couldn’t pull bigger ones—just for demo clarity, he kept this one.

Attaching a plow-sled wasn’t hard. They wore their saddle harnesses and tied the sled to it with grass rope, adjusting for balance.

The horizontal bar on top was made by Fox Huo and Ma Shu.

Qi Bai held onto the bar and explained: “Plant the blade firmly into the soil. Keep balanced. And if you hit hard stone or lose control, warn the beastfolk ahead immediately.”

He pointed at the square field: “Follow the canal line straight ahead. The plowed sections will be obvious—no need to worry about losing your path.”

Niu Xi, freckles bobbing at the temples, pumped his fist. “Show us, Bao Bai!”

Though Niu Xi was yak-form, she wasn’t from the yak tribe—she was just tagging along. Niu Xu and Niu Xi exchanged eager glances.

Qi Bai smiled: “Alright.”

He pushed the plow firmly into the ground and said to Lang Ze: “Time to start.”

The great white wolf waved his tail and effortlessly pulled the sled over a meter-wide swath.

As Lang Ze walked forward, rich black soil turned upward. Unlike the hard surface, the subsoil was loose and moist—step on it, and your foot sank slightly.

Every watcher stared in wonder—this was remarkable.

Qi Bai adjusted his straw hat and grinned behind Lang Ze. It wasn’t just the tool—it was fun to work this way.

He didn’t need to whip like farmers of old; his partner followed the right path. He felt like a gleeful capitalist harnessing labor’s power.

Niu Qiu grabbed her partner’s neck fluff: “Learned? Let’s try!”

The yak-form beaststead nodded and nuzzled Niu Qiu—obvious confidence in his ability to walk straighter and faster.

Cultivating wasteland is never easy. It takes endless time and energy.

Under the fierce sun, the twelve massive beastforms stood across the square plot like chess pieces—measuring every inch of land with firm steps.

From sunrise to moonlight, every hoof marked their devotion and the land’s transformation.