Chapter 214

The arrival of the one thousand workers to Heishan at the foothill was, in fact, poorly timed.

Winter had only just begun, food in the mountains was scarce, and the tribe now had to commence construction on frozen ground once again.

It seemed winter and Heishan were oddly intertwined; every major tribal project had been scheduled against the cold season.

Because of this, veteran construction captains like Xiong Feng and Huan Ping were well experienced.

Frozen earth is hard to break and even harder to stabilize? None of that was a problem—they had the right tools to pry it apart. To ensure foundations held firm, they simply rammed the ground repeatedly.

After all, they weren’t building multi-story structures, just sturdy, three- to four-meter-high single-story buildings—no sweat. Just look at the houses inside the tribe; they’re rock solid.

Over half a month of joint effort from workers and Heishan tribe members, the dormitory zone had started taking shape.

The area nestled south of the threshing ground now housed twenty large dormitory barracks for workers and accompanying communal buildings.

Qi Bai navigated around piles of mortar and earth, stepping through gravel-strewn paths, and entered the nearest structure.

Inside, a broad hall nearly twenty meters long stood empty—stone walls only, no decorations. Footsteps echoed in the hollow space.

Shu Lin strode to the center and then backed away, mapping it out: “We’ll lay a long kang-heated bed along here.” He gestured toward a wall near the entrance. “Then build a separate fire-warming wall here.”

Since taking charge of designing the smelting and blacksmith workshop, Shu Lin had basically taken over all architectural planning. His partner Xiong Feng was construction lead, making them an efficient pair.

When Qi Bai and Lang Ze departed the tribe, these halls weren’t even roofed yet—this was his first time inside.

Questioning, Qi Bai asked: “Dorms this big—will one fire wall suffice to warm it all?”

Shu Lin shook his head. He worried it wouldn’t be enough.

He pointed out the cub rooms as an example: each had a ten-meter kang and two stoves—heat from one side didn’t reach the other.

These dorms were nearly twice that length, with stone walls, not bricks. They wouldn’t fare better.

Mountain dwellings couldn’t retain heat—so even without experience in stone houses, everyone knew warmth escaped fast.

Niu Xi winked at Qi Bai and whispered: “This was Priest Yang Luo’s call. He insisted one fire wall would be enough—said, ‘They used to sleep in the open. Now they have kangs—what more do they need?’ He reminded them, ‘I, the priest, even lived in a cave for a year—why are they so picky?’”

Shu Lin added: “Even if it’s not as cozy as our houses, it surely won’t be cold. I agreed with Priest Yang.”

Qi Bai smiled at the mental image of Yang Luo jumping and pointing.

He continued: “Let’s install two fire walls. These dorms are temporary for workers—once they integrate and move out, we can repurpose these rooms. It’s better to build now than rebuild later.”

Shu Lin scanned the room: “So what are you planning for these rooms?”

Qi Bai’s concern for changing climate had him planning ahead—on Earth there’d been multi-year mini ice ages; if disaster cycles continue, they needed more prep.

His plan: after workers leave, convert the stone dorms into plant warmhouses.

He described their structure: even though he longed to use glass, they’d never managed to produce it—only glass-like slag from smelting experiments. Attempts at glassmaking failed.

Still, even without glass, the warmhouses could work. Many plants—scallions, chives, bean sprouts, wood ear mushrooms—thrive with warmth and moisture rather than lots of sunlight. Mushrooms were especially promising—fast-growing, multiple harvests per growth batch.

He didn’t elaborate, though—after all, he’d only ever seen mushrooms as bags. Whether local mushrooms could be cultivated was uncertain.

He needed time to experiment—no false hope.

Before the workers arrived, warmhouse design was just theory. The tribe had ample food—no need to build them yet.

But now: nearly a thousand workers plus possibly War Bear, Julu, and Yungu tribes meant Heishan needed more food and more ways to produce it.

Niu Xi and Shu Lin hadn’t considered mushrooms—no one knew seeds. Qi Bai’s other ideas, though, clicked something in them.

Niu Xi bounced with excitement: “Bao Bai, you’re so smart! We can bring in earth, keep the fires burning, and make it as warm as summer!”

Qi Bai shook his hand calmly: “Let’s not dream too big yet. For now, don’t skimp on fire walls. Making a few extra mud bricks shouldn’t take long if we all help.”

Shu Lin nodded firmly: “Everyone’s adept at bricks. Once the houses are done, the rest of the workers can pitch in.”

The three circled the room and finalized the dorm layout with twenty rooms.

Wait—no stoves?

Indeed—they’d never planned for stoves inside the dorms. With fifty people per block, stoves would be impractical—and food was limited.

Instead, the kangs and fire-wall bases simply had openings to add firewood. No stoves needed.

That didn’t mean no hot meals.

Opposite the threshing ground, a large building equal to two dorms stood, with two entrances—left to a dining hall, right to a kitchen.

The dining hall was like a school canteen—long tables and benches for meals. A pass-through window connected back to the kitchen.

Next to it, a slightly smaller build served as the water-fetching room; latrines were at the dormitory’s far rear.

Unlike the empty dorms, the canteen was not only completed early but already active.

Inside the kitchen, steam rose as nearly forty beast-folk prepared dinner. A big table stood center—workers chopped and washed ingredients, passing them to stoves and ovens.

Ten large stoves burned, and baking ovens radiated aromatic scents.

Huxue carried a bucket of fresh blood back and greeted Qi Bai with a smile: “Bao Bai, you’re back!”

This kitchen was Huxue’s joy. The tribal kitchen was big but cramped—ten people max. Cooking for hundreds was manageable; feeding over thirteen hundred? Too much.

With this spacious kitchen, work sped up.

Huxue handed over the bucket and wiped her hands: “Just in time—the hunting team brought back a fresh stag. The chieftain reserved two hind legs for your party. Want to take them back raw or have us cook them here?”

If it was for others, she’d just serve. For Qi Bai—not sure. His cooking was legendary.

Glancing out at workers barely clothed in loincloths, Qi Bai almost thought he’d entered a farm stay. Simple setting, fresh ingredients, choose-your-style service—modern comfort, indeed.

He replied with a grin: “For me and Lang Ze, please cook them. We’ll pick up after work—perfect for a late-night snack.”

“Alright.” Huxue beamed. “How do you want it prepared?”

“Any way is fine.” Qi Bai laughed.

“I’ll manage,” she promised.

After parting, Qi Bai entered the water-fetching room.

Inside, Zhuang Yu, Lang Ye, and Quan Lie—three elderly horned folk—sat warming by the fire.

Though they seemed relaxed, fetching water was serious labor. Firewood came from the lumber team, but the water? Their job.

Each morning, they carried buckets to the river and back via carts. Stone basins held cool river water; hot water was stored in clean bamboo tubes.

Those tubes weren’t just for show—hot water was unlimited.

In the bitter cold, anyone working outside craved hot water—workers without fur always listened for Zhuang Yu shouting “Hot water!” then rushed over with their bowls.

That first gulp warmed them for hours.

Public facilities like the water room and latrine didn’t just help workers—they served both Heishan and Jufeng people in the threshing ground.

Heishan tribe members had toilets in the village; spending days far from home was awkward. No more—now all needs were met.

Qi Bai thoroughly inspected this area while, elsewhere, Lang Ze returned to tribal matters.

In the planning office, squad leaders reported recent work to Lang Ze—Huan Shuo for hunting, Lang Ji for training, even patrol leader Hou Yan.

Lang Ze pinched his temple: “You’re the chief—arrange as you wish. No need to tell me.”

Hou Yan waved and smiled: “Patrols were really Ma Ling’s duty—I was helping out. Should inform you all.”

Ma Ling, rubbing her hands, said: “Chief, you’ll have to explain things to me—I still don’t know half of it.”

The hunting battalion oversaw all outgoing hunting and patrol forces—so besides Huan Shuo as captain, there were deputy captains Lang Ji and Ma Ling.

Ma Ling was unique: despite her title, she never officially took the post—she led tracking slave routes, returned to lead them to the Xi, all within days. Meanwhile, the tribe had transformed enormously—all in just over ten days.

“You don’t understand something, just ask,” Hou Yan said, handing over a list of assignments. “Before Lang Ze left, he arranged everything—personnel, schedules, handoffs. I just followed his example.”

The tribe used to have shifts but not with such structure. Ma Ling gratefully accepted the bamboo roster.

At least she’d learned instead of goofing off—otherwise, she’d be lost now.

As dusk waned, Lang Ze descended.

The tiny kitchen by the wall had officially become the “small cafeteria.” Since the larger one was running, this smaller one served only the internal work battalion.

Others? Sorry—you didn’t sign up. Food rations are limited—go eat at the big hall.

Lang Ze didn’t mind—Qi Bai was waiting.

Sure enough, entering the hall he found Qi Bai in a corner, waving with a smile. Across sat Zhi and Ai—two Jufeng tribe members.