Chapter 210

Yang Luo had just seen off the team at the mountain’s foot and stepped through the village gate when he noticed the cubs—some leaned over the brick wall, others squatted at its base—each gazing with eager expectation.

He waved: “Move aside—you’re blocking all the light at the gate.”

The cubs giggled and scattered—but not too far. They weren’t leaving before hearing the outcome.

To the right of the main gate sat an empty room. Cleaned up this morning and furnished with four large wooden tables and bamboo chairs, it had become the main office for Heishan Tribe’s production crew.

Inside, Qi Bai held a charcoal pencil, reviewing “exam papers” the notetakers had done—actually, these were blank bamboo slivers. There wasn’t space to write questions, so Qi Bai had written them earlier on the big blackboard in the school. These slivers acted like answer sheets; he just needed to check for correct answers.

When Yang Luo entered, Qi Bai was placing the last scored sliver. He ordered them by score and separated the top fifteen—these were the first batch of official notetakers for the tribe.

Yang Luo glanced, and the top name gleamed: Bao Xing.

He remembered the math problems Qi Bai wrote that morning—far beyond simple counting. Even he had grown dizzy by the multiplication questions—but these cubs solved them with ease.

Yang Luo clicked his tongue. “Bao Xing is only seven… Are you sure it’s safe to let him be a notetaker?”

Qi Bai blinked. “Don’t worry. The notetaker always sticks with the squad leader. If it’s unsafe below, I’ll call the cubs home at once.”

Yang Luo thought: with the patrol team around, safety was fine—I just hope they don’t mix up the counts. Still, these kids really proved themselves; Qi Bai’s teaching time wasn’t wasted. He smiled quietly—proud of the cubs’ effort.

“Coming out! Coming out!”

They hadn’t even reached the door before the cubs swarmed them.

Qi Bai smiled as he began reading names off the list:

“Bao Xing, Da Yun, Lang Jin… Niu Lu, Bao Yue.”

When he read the last name, Bao Yue punched the air fiercely.

Well done, Bao Yue—even last place, you’re still mighty proud.

Of course, some felt glum.

Hu Meng scratched his head—he suspected he wouldn’t make it, but still felt disappointed.

Yet, Hu Meng quickly pulled himself up. At seventeen and nearly 1.9 meters tall, even as a notetaker he might still get chosen for patrols.

Of the fifteen, all were at least twelve years old except Bao Xing—no infant notetakers here.

Qi Bai distributed blank bamboo slivers and charcoal pencils to each notetaker. “You carry this responsibility. Always be fair and just.”

“Yes!” the fifteen chorused.

He assigned three to Captain Hu Xue of the Third Squad—three were enough for in-village duties.

Qi Bai led the remaining twelve notetakers down the mountain.

At the threshing ground, activity was buzzing.

Not far off, Xiong Feng and his crew were digging foundations, filling wheelbarrows with soil from pits, and passing them to helpers waiting to mold mud bricks.

These were mixed with water and straw, stomped flat, then rammed into molds to form clay blocks.

Not all teams worked smoothly.

Qi Bai arrived to hear Quan Nan’s sharp voice: “I’ve told you—mix the soil properly. Use less black soil, more yellow; mix the straw uniformly.”

She crouched and scattered lumps of straw-flecked clay in the pit, “Even just spreading it out helps.”

Heishan’s soil was rich and soft—but bricks needed both yellow subsoil and straw; otherwise, they’d crumble in the sun.

Overhearing, the squad leader rushed over, snatched the mold, and said, “Watch closely—I’ll do it again.”

He nearly yelled: “How can you be so clumsy? Even three- and four-year-olds know this. I turned away for one moment and you mess it up—caught red-handed. Useless.”

The sub-beastfolk looked bewildered. They’d spent the morning mixing mud—but even simple tasks in the tribe had strict standards: bricks had to be uniform in size, smooth on top, neatly lined up… They still hadn’t internalized the rules.

Qi Bai wasn’t impatient—he stood quietly until Quan Nan got everything arranged before speaking.

Honestly, seeing Quan Nan now—a far cry from the pigtail-twirling kid she once was—Qi Bai felt proud.

Quan Nan only noticed them now. Flushed by Qi Bai’s approving gaze, she blushed.

How embarrassing! And Bao Bai, you’re even younger than me… Why are you looking at me like that?

Qi Bai chuckled and called out Wolf Jin: “He’ll be your new notetaker. Figure out a counting system—final tally each evening, give it to the squad leader, who will summarize for me.”

Quan Nan’s eyes lit up—finally some help.

Unexpectedly fast—test this morning, notetakers by noon.

Time’s tight, duties heavy—she desperately needed assistance.

She pulled Wolf Jin close. “All of our squad is making mud bricks. Each must produce at least 300 quality bricks daily—track it well.”

Wolf Jin, bamboo sliver in hand, nodded. Bao Bai taught them how to record on the way down; he’d remember clearly.

At the threshing ground, five squads worked: three making bricks, two digging foundations. Qi Bai visited each, handing off tasks to squad leaders.

Though minor issues arose, the labor was repetitive; by mid-afternoon everyone was in rhythm.

For example, any bricks sun-drying crooked must be from the morning—they’d corrected by afternoon—each neatly aligned under the squad leaders’ eyes.

Not meant to nitpick—but with such a wide space, tighter rows allowed more bricks to dry faster.

Around 4 PM, all squads returned.

First back: the wood-cutting team. They’d brought “firewood” (the hop tree wood)—everyone busied peeling bark.

Next: the bamboo-cutting crew—500-plus bamboo logs filled the outer circle of the threshing ground.

Yet Captain Niu Xu wasn’t pleased. Her sub-beastfolk team should be stronger.

She shook her head. Though she, a sub-beast, cut seven bamboos today, none of her horned folk matched that—let alone Heishan’s warrior caste. There was no comparison.

But Niu Xu’s real surprise wasn’t their strength—some may have been undernourished—it was seeing the warriors’ beast forms.

She always thought Heishan warriors weren’t too large in beast form—even her partner Niu Shuo was tall—but among Jufeng, still average.

But a few hours ago, she realized she’d been wrong.

Her team included 100 horned workers and 20 warrior guards. In the bamboo grove, as everyone shifted into beast form to drag logs, she truly understood Heishan’s might.

These outsiders were noticeably shorter than her warriors.

Beast form size directly linked to combat power—even without tactics, Heishan’s warriors dwarfed them physically.

She peeked at Huan Ping—once a slave. Two years ago, he was similar in form. Now even ordinary beastfolk like Niu Xin had smaller forms.

Honey badger beast forms are naturally small—but Huan Ping’s growth was dramatic—a sign of Heishan’s nurturing.

She shot a look at Niu Xin—which meant reminding Niu Shuo to train harder.

Spying the threshing ground, Niu Xu quelled her thoughts—time for more pressing concerns.

She called her ten squad leaders: “We need more stone knives. Not everyone can share the 30–40 bamboo bowls—we need at least two per squad.”

They frowned—not from stinginess, but tools were worn. Today’s bamboo cutting had eaten through much already. Now needing 100 stone knives was tricky.

One squad leader suggested, “Skip going to the tribe—everyone brought their stone tools earlier. Let’s fetch stones from the hill and make our own.”

Stones are everywhere, but not all cut bamboo. Many break on impact.

But before they left, the last three squads returned victorious with what they’d been building.

Captain Niu Xi cheered: “Forget collecting—look what we got. Come choose!”

They’d brought back all the shattered rock pieces they could find.

Now there was no need for those stone axes and knives—they had the materials right at hand.