Chapter 201

The sand belt scouts searched through the pile of corpses, then ran quickly back to the valley entrance.

“Elder, there are no survivors.”

Lu raised an eyebrow—not with grief, but with a flash of ridicule in his eyes. He turned toward a pockmarked female beastwoman beside him and said mockingly, “Seems like we arrived too late.”

Despite the heat, the pockmarked woman wore a long fur cloak. Yet even wrapped in heavy layers, a chill still clung to her figure.

Hearing Lu’s words, she slowly opened her slightly narrowed eyes, revealing pale pupils. A strange smile curled her lips.

“Elder Lu, that’s not right. Zhu Biao rushed into battle without orders to claim glory, causing the Sanghuo Tribe to lose so many strong warriors.”

“It was clearly his fault. How could it be ours?”

Lu gave a low chuckle, which grew into hearty laughter. After a moment, he stopped and corrected himself, “Sangxi is right. We did send reinforcements as soon as we could. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to save them.”

Sangxi, second only to the tribal chief in the Sangmeng Tribe, had always held a mysterious air. Lu, though chief of the Liangshi Tribe, never once underestimated her.

He wasn’t as foolish as Dayan’s tribal leader.

Sangxi pulled up her hood. “My task is done. I’ll escort our warriors back to the tribe.”

“Of course. Thanks to the Sangmeng warriors for delivering food to the traders’ families.”

During trading days, Lu’s tribe stationed guards, and the Sanghuo Tribe regularly sent food supplies. This time, Sangxi was in charge of food delivery.

Though the Sanghuo Tribe was made up of three groups—Dayan, Liangshi, and Sangmeng—Lu only thanked the Sangmeng warriors, never mentioning Dayan’s contribution. His words were laced with calculated probing.

Sangxi showed no extra reaction. “Elder Lu, I’ll leave the rest to you.”

Lu stepped aside and nodded slightly, clearing a path for her. “Rest assured, Sangxi. Everything here will vanish.”

Once the Sangmeng warriors left, Lu raised his chin and spoke with satisfaction, “Pile them up. Burn them all.”

“Yes, Elder.”

But Lu’s good mood didn’t last. As they approached the trading area, they spotted broken fences and tents still burning in the distance.

Lu seized a stumbling Sanghuo tribesman. “What happened?!”

Covered in soot, the man gasped, “E-Elder… the slaves… they took our supplies!”

Lu’s face contorted with rage. “Heishan Tribe…!”

The people of the Heishan Tribe had no idea they were being wrongfully blamed.

At that moment, Ma Ling of the Langji clan was carrying two severely injured companions, finally reaching a cave where they had hidden supplies.

They pulled out wagon boards from the cave and unearthed bone wheels buried in the dirt. They quickly assembled the cart. Only a few sips of water and a couple of bites of milk curd later, they hit the road.

At first, they could only strap Tun Quan and Hu Qiao tightly to the cart. The group barely had grass mats for shade and were quickly sunburned.

Not until they crossed the Xi River and found their old wagon with a compartment did travel conditions improve slightly.

Wolf and horse took shifts day and night. What should have taken forty days—they managed in just twelve.

“Ah! It’s the wagon! The trading team is back!”

At the threshing ground, Heishan tribespeople were working alongside the Jufeng clan.

The moment the young ones cried out, everyone stood and turned to where they were pointing.

Strangely, only one lonely wagon stood in the distance. Stranger still, it was only a ten-minute walk away, yet it wasn’t moving at all.

Qi Bai sprinted toward it.

Why was there only one wagon? Where were the rest?

Langze ran even faster. By the time Qi Bai reached the cart, Langze had already checked the fallen tribesmen and was about to lift the bamboo curtain of the wagon.

Qi Bai’s heart nearly stopped at the sight.

In front of the cart, a gray wolf lay collapsed—just skin and bones beneath the thick fur, barely breathing.

Inside the wagon was even more horrifying.

Three people lay there—Hu Qiao and Tun Quan flushed red, and Ma Ling unconscious. Despite all the noise, none had stirred.

And then, as Langze lifted the curtain, a stench of rotting flesh burst out—putrid wounds beginning to fester.

“I’m taking them to the priest,” Langze said, transforming into human form. He tied the harness to himself and ran toward the village.

Other horned beastmen who had just arrived quickly lifted the unconscious Langji, who was too weak to shift back into human form.

The usually lively Heishan Tribe had never been so quiet. But quiet didn’t mean abandoned.

Quite the opposite. Several large stoves blazed. Herbs, wooden blossoms, hot water, firewood—everything was rushed to the school.

Diao Lan stood at the school’s entrance, taking materials and delivering them inside.

There were no sterile rooms in the tribe. But to minimize infection, once the wounded were brought in, no one else was allowed to enter.

The two critically wounded lay side by side on wooden tables.

Qi Bai’s face was dripping with sweat, but his hand holding the bone knife was steady as he cleaned Tun Quan’s stomach wound.

The heat and travel had caused their wounds to fester, fusing flesh and pus. Qi Bai had to cut through it all to expose the rot.

All fear of blood and wounds he once had when he arrived in this land was gone. Only one thing remained: the determination not to lose a single companion.

“Priest Yangluo, please… think of something!” cried Quan Nan, almost sobbing.

Yangluo wiped his forehead. He had never seen injuries like this before. When he cleaned Hu Qiao’s leg wound, he thought he saw worms writhing inside. If Langze hadn’t held him up, he might have collapsed.

He wanted to say the wounds were beyond saving—to give up. But seeing the eyes around him and Qi Bai’s clenched jaw, he couldn’t say the words.

Just then, Langze felt a tug on his clothes.

Looking down, he saw Langji awake, barely conscious, grasping his cloak.

Langze leaned closer to hear him whisper: “Jufeng… Jufeng…”

Quan Nan caught it too. “Right! Jufeng Tribe! They can heal them!”

Yangluo finally remembered—these were the ones the Jufeng Tribe had healed.

“Quick! Go find the Jufeng people!” he shouted.

Langze knew now they couldn’t rely on their own priest.

“I’ll go!” he shouted. By the time anyone looked, he was already a shadow at the door.

Langze knew where the Jufeng Tribe lived, but out of respect, had never entered their stone forest—just as they never crossed Heishan’s walls.

But this was an emergency. All rules could be broken.

As a giant wolf, he flew across the threshing ground. The Jufeng warriors were still there, cleaning up after the hasty departure of Heishan folk.

Langze didn’t speak. He shifted to human form and grabbed Wei’s arm.

His voice was calm, but the bulging veins in his arm betrayed his desperation.

“Take me to your shaman. Save my people.”

By the time Shaman Wurou and Zhi arrived, it was pitch black outside—but the school was lit as bright as day.

No open flames—just dozens of oil lamps in ceramic bowls to avoid smoke.

No one doubted Langze could bring the shaman back.

Even if they had to turn over every stone in the forest, even if the cost was great—if there was a chance, the beastmen of Heishan would not give up.

So they kept every oil lamp burning, so when the Jufeng shaman arrived, they could immediately tend to the wounds.

Shaman Wurou was old, but his eyes were still sharp.

Qi Bai uncovered the wound beneath the wooden blossoms.

All the rot had been cleared. The grotesque gash looked even more frightening under lamplight.

Wurou nodded, then shook his head.

Quan Nan rushed forward. “Shaman, don’t shake your head! You can save them, right?”

Wurou waved a hand. Zhi pulled out a pouch of powder from the bamboo basket and handed it to Langze.

“I told you before—we Jufeng can’t trade this powder for salt anymore. The key herb is gone. These are the last of our medicine.”

“We’re willing to give it to our Jufeng friends, but…” Zhi looked at the wounds. “There’s not enough to save them both. You might have to choose just one.”

The school fell silent.

If there were no chance, they’d let go. But to have a chance, and still lose someone—that was unbearable.

Langze clenched his jaw. “What kind of herb? Just say the word. We Heishan will find it.”

Zhi shook his head. “It only grows atop mountains in winter. You won’t find it now.”

“We can!”

Everyone turned toward Qi Bai, who stood firm and unwavering.

“We have that herb!”