Chapter 180

Lang Ze glanced at the slightly restless Diao Lan. “Giant Wind Tribe?”

Diao Lan stared at the bamboo cup in her hands. When she looked up again, her eyes were full of resolve.

“The Giant Wind Tribe lived south of the grasslands. They were a different kind of beastman.”

“Giant Winds are born taller than the average beastman. They have no beast form—or rather, their beast form is not like others. They transform their humanoid bodies into something even larger.”

“I’ve seen them before. They are honest and loyal friends. Excellent hunters, though not skilled craftsmen, always appearing a bit messy.”

“Speaking of which, your Silver Moon Tribe shouldn’t be that far from them.”

Lang Ze frowned. “I’ve seen all the tribes across the grasslands. I’ve never heard of such a group.”

Diao Lan replied slowly, “The Giant Wind Tribe never left their territory. And considering your age, it’s not surprising you don’t know them. They were wiped out fifty years ago.”

She paused, recalling the sudden appearance of the giants, then added, “Though now it seems some of them may have survived and migrated to the Beast God’s sanctuary. No wonder no one found them.”

Qi Bai asked, “Those people? Who are you talking about?”

Diao Lan took a deep breath and looked directly at Lang Ze. “You may have seen them.”

Lang Ze’s gaze darkened, and a faint chill emanated from him.

“I’m only guessing,” Diao Lan continued, unfazed by his killing aura. “The destruction of the Giant Wind Tribe wasn’t done by just one group. At least four tribes participated in that assault.”

She closed her eyes, seemingly still able to recall the scene:

A lone, half-burnt totem. Charred tents. The nauseating scent of roasted flesh in the air.

The young Diao Lan stood dumbfounded, listening to adults calling and searching under broken wood for survivors.

A gust of wind blew by, and a round ball of grass swayed atop the debris—a toy children liked. She had one too, though not as large.

The ball rolled down the ruins, across the muddy red ground, and came to rest on what looked like a soft, dark beast pelt.

Little Diao Lan stepped into the red puddle to chase it—

But was gently picked up by someone.

“Samor,” the person said. “Let me take you somewhere clean.”

As she rested her chin on their shoulder, she finally saw the full picture. The black “pelt” was a massive corpse. Further away, an even larger severed arm lay twisted, its fingers still clenched mid-struggle.

It was then that she noticed the marks that didn’t belong in their tribe:

“Saber-toothed tiger fangs, Devil Bone’s wooden vines, lion footprints, Bearclaw spikes…”

The fire destroyed the Giant Wind’s territory, but not the traces left behind by the attackers.

“These weren’t all the tribes involved. At the very least, Saber-Tooth and Bearclaw Tribes have always hated each other. Something else must have caused these unrelated tribes to join forces.”

Lang Ze asked, “What do you think their goal was?”

Even with only two encounters, he had already noticed the Giant Wind people were strong. As Diao Lan said, those who attacked them suffered heavy losses themselves.

They weren’t after wealth—Giant Winds weren’t good craftsmen, and everything had been burned.

So there had to be another, more important reason.

Diao Lan’s eyes filled with hatred.

“For years, I’ve asked myself that same question. But I’ve never found an answer.”

Whether fifty years ago, or five years later when her own tribe was attacked—what exactly were they after?

Yang Luo, frowning, interrupted her. “I’ve wandered among tribes for thirty years and never heard of this. How do you know so much—down to the tribes involved?”

“Because I saw it with my own eyes.”

Qi Bai’s mouth dropped open. “How’s that possible?”

She had just said the Giant Wind Tribe perished fifty years ago, and she looked barely thirty.

Yang Luo was equally shocked.

Among the fifty or so former slaves that arrived at Heishan, he thought Zhunya—the chieftain’s son—was already the most unusual. But these people turned out to be anything but ordinary.

First Lang Ze of Silver Moon, now Diao Lan, whose age couldn’t be guessed at all.

“My appearance doesn’t match my age,” Diao Lan said calmly, “but it hasn’t diverged too much—yet. I’m over fifty. I was about eight or nine when the Giant Wind Tribe fell.”

Qi Bai noticed something subtle.

She had said “yet.” Which meant her youthful appearance might last much longer.

That explained the sense of discord he’d always felt from her.

Despite looking young, her insight and experience surpassed even that of the priest Yang Luo.

With her true age revealed, everything finally made sense.

Diao Lan gently touched a mark on the inside of her left arm and shook her head with a wry smile.

“You don’t need to dig into my origin. That tribe no longer exists.”

She had always been cautious about her youthful appearance—never staying too long in any one tribe.

Though beastmen could live up to 200 years, most died earlier—during hunts or from disease or starvation.

In a world where faces changed constantly, someone who didn’t age was dangerous.

So every few years, she had to cause trouble—break something, steal food, pretend to fall ill—anything to leave her master’s tribe and join another.

But slaves weren’t treated as people. Each escape nearly cost her her life.

The only exception was during the massive flood that swept the eastern continent. That’s how she ended up in the Heishan Tribe.

She wasn’t sure if this decision was right—but for the first time, she felt a sense of belonging.

She wanted to stop wandering. She wanted to stay in Heishan.

Which meant the truth about her looks would come out eventually.

Better she reveal it herself.

Qi Bai clenched his hand slightly.

A tribe with giant, humanlike bodies… a tribe whose members never aged. If you add Silver Moon’s partial beast-form…

The answer became clear.

These people had targeted tribes that were different from ordinary beastmen.

But what exactly were they after?

Yang Luo began pacing.

“Let’s stop worrying about the past. That’s beyond our control. Right now, the Giant Winds are preparing to attack us—and we can’t even find them!”

Diao Lan said cautiously, “They weren’t an aggressive tribe, in the past.”

Yang Luo groaned, his teeth aching.

“They just showed up out of nowhere today! If the hunting party hadn’t chased them off, they might have attacked. With the hunters gone, how can we defend ourselves with only horned and sub-beastmen?”

Diao Lan had only seen the Giant Wind Tribe before their destruction. She couldn’t be sure what they’d become now. She lowered her head.

No matter what they once were, she was now part of Heishan.

She would not let anyone threaten her people.

“I don’t think they mean harm,” Qi Bai said softly.

All three turned to stare at him.

“I examined the wood they brought,” he continued. “If I’m right, those were tools for carrying water.”

And the thick smoke earlier came from burning dry grass in the fields…

“I suspect they saw smoke from afar and came to put out the fire.”

Their eyes had never focused on the people—only the fire. And once the smoke cleared and they saw the flames were out, they immediately retreated.

But one detail troubled Qi Bai:

Among the firefighting tools were oil tree branches—which only make fire worse.

Still, based on how they panicked and dropped everything when leaving, he felt the Giant Winds feared them more than the other way around.

Lang Ze remembered the stares he received in the red mountain range. They had been more curious than hostile.

He hadn’t sensed any ill intent—otherwise, he wouldn’t have let them leave unharmed.

Suddenly, urgent whistles sounded outside.

The four raced to the wall. The sentry Niu Xin shouted, “Those giants—they’re back!”

Tribespeople gathered. Xiong Feng clenched his fists. Even the lame Hu Huo threw off his pelt and prepared to fight.

But Lang Ze waved his hand. “Stay in the village. Remain alert.”

“Hu Qiao!”

A lithe beast form darted from the crowd—Hu Qiao leapt atop the wall in a few quick steps.

Lang Ze squeezed Qi Bai’s hand gently. “Go back. I’ll return—by tomorrow night at the latest.”

Qi Bai clutched his fingers tightly and nodded.

Hu Qiao was agile and good at tracking. Qi Bai understood Lang Ze’s plan.

The two figures—one white, one gray—vanished like phantoms into the forest.

Qi Bai squinted into the distance.

The Giant Winds were sneaking back to retrieve their wooden logs. Two of them couldn’t find theirs, grumbled a bit, got scolded, and eventually left.

It was very late.

Qi Bai couldn’t sleep. He got up, lit a lamp, and pulled out a bamboo scroll marked with a map.

He circled the two places where they’d seen the Giant Winds.

But the information was too sparse to locate their base.

Still, whatever shock their appearance brought, the farming project could not pause.

At dawn, Qi Bai helped load tools and seeds onto carts.

At the edge of the fields, he divided the seeds into small bags—each enough for one row.

He explained to everyone:

“Plant one row, come back for the next. Don’t mix them up.”

It was a bit rigid, but since they had never farmed before, this was the simplest method.

He had even invented a bamboo seed planter:

A half-human tall tube, hollow inside, sharpened at the bottom, with a short stick tied near the end.

They could jab it into the ground, drop a seed in, and cover it up—no bending or digging.

The short stick helped them measure spacing, ensuring even rows.

The stick could be swapped to adjust distances between crops.

Before planting, though, one more thing was needed: manure.

They had been composting it for half a year.

Now, lines formed in the fields.

Horned beastmen like Niu Shuo dug deep holes, buried manure, and shaped the rows.

Behind them were teenagers, using the bamboo planters to drop in seeds.

Last were the sub-beastmen, carrying large buckets of water from the canal to soak the soil.

Niu Xu sniffed. “Goat manure really doesn’t stink.”

Tu Ya nodded. “Even the stuff from the toilets isn’t that bad. Bao Bai said it’s fertilizer—not dirty.”

Ma Qian laughed as she watered. “Back in my old tribe, there weren’t even toilets. We did our business next to the tents.”

Her words made everyone laugh, remembering the old days.

Back then, poop dried on the ground, kids ran around barefoot, sometimes stepping in it. No one washed their hands. They’d just eat after playing.

Though it had only been half a year since they came to Heishan, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Ma Liang, trailing behind his mother Ma Qian, whispered, “You don’t have to say all that…”

Niu Xu wiped sweat and grinned. “Why not? If we hadn’t come here, we’d still be wearing filthy hides.”

Ma Liang frowned but said no more.

Once they started working, no one left the fields.

Even when Qi Bai told them to rest, they waved it off. “We’re fine! Let’s just break at lunch.”

The clouds drifted across the sky, casting moving shadows.

Heishan’s fields gradually transformed into neat rows.

But before lunch arrived, it wasn’t the food cart they saw—

It was Lang Ze and Hu Qiao.

Hu Qiao, sporting two big dark circles under his eyes, said excitedly:

“We lost them again!”