Chapter 232

By the haystack in front of Qi Bai’s house.

Lang Ze stood outside, a little dumbfounded, catching the things his mate kept handing out from inside.

“These are the dried meats you made before you left,” Qi Bai said, reaching another bundle out without looking back. “And these are sweet potato chips. Didn’t Ma Ling say there were little cubs among the clansfolk? The sweet potatoes we harvested this year taste great, and the dried ones are especially sweet. The kids will definitely like them.”

“And here are some dried fruits…” Qi Bai hesitated, then put the dried fruit back with a mutter: “Forget it, better to bring more meat. Meat fills the stomach.”

Although nowadays Qi Bai liked to chew on candied fruit after meals, that was only because their life had become so comfortable.

He himself had escaped hunger before; he knew that at times like these, treats were meaningless—meat was what kept you alive.

Listening to Qi Bai mumbling to himself, Lang Ze’s lips curved up: “This is enough. The wolf clan only has fourteen people this time. That’s plenty for everyone.”

Qi Bai poked his head out from the haystack, checked the dried meat in Lang Ze’s hands, then nodded: “You’re right. We can’t give them too much at once. There are too many people in the dorms now. If there’s excess and nowhere to store it, it might even cause trouble.”

He crawled out of the haystack, then hurried back into the house. “Let’s bring a few hides too.”

When the two arrived at the dormitory area with their bundles, the workers had just eaten their fill and were walking out of the dining hall.

Today was a big day in the tribe. With so many arrivals, none of the workers were in the mood for overtime.

Some lounged in the dorm area, curiously staring at the newly arrived slaves.

“The Sanghuo Tribe, that big tribe, really got wiped out by Heishan?”

The new slaves had been assigned before dinner by Lang Ze.

Based on experience with the first batch of workers, the newcomers were scattered and inserted into the existing one hundred small squads.

Whether managing ten people or thirty, the squad leaders had no objections to Lang Ze’s arrangement.

Everyone had known some slaves would be brought back, but the tribe had never planned to prepare dorms for them in advance.

Like the previous workers, these slaves would build their own stone houses. Until then, they were temporarily housed in others’ dorms.

Of course, no heated kang-beds for them. But wasn’t there still the stone floor? They could make do with straw mats.

To the old workers, even this was generous. At least there were firewalls and stoves—better than the drafty tents of many tribes.

After all, when they first came, they had slept for ages under nothing more than leaky sun-shelters.

The slaves, hearing the workers’ questions, nodded timidly.

The workers finally relaxed—no more fear that Sanghuo would suddenly reappear and drag them back.

Yes, of course. Heishan was this strong—how could Sanghuo ever be a match?

The slaves had also noticed the brand marks on the workers’ faces, but oddly enough, seeing these people made them feel different somehow.

The workers felt it too: they were different from the slaves now. They were prospective members of Heishan. Even if not all would be accepted, they were already closer to belonging than the slaves were. That was their advantage.

But as they spoke, the slaves’ eyes kept drifting toward the dining hall, their stomachs growling.

It wasn’t intentional—the smell wafting from there was just too strong. What food could smell that good? If only they could have a bite—even death right after would be worth it.

A horned-beast worker stood in front of them, flossing his teeth with straw as if to flaunt it. He smacked his lips: “Don’t keep staring at the dining hall. That food’s for us. We ate loads of meat today.”

A sub-beastman worker glared at him—showing off here, huh? Why don’t you act this tough in front of the squad leaders? Two extra bites of meat and you forget who you are.

He turned to the hundred slaves assigned to their dorm: “It’s not that you won’t get food. But you have to work for the tribe. Here in Heishan, your suffering ends. Follow the squad leaders and work hard, and you’ll eat.”

Qi Bai and Lang Ze happened to pass by then.

Qi Bai nodded inwardly. That’s the way. Better for the veterans to guide the newcomers, rather than me shouting from a stage.

He didn’t think this batch needed 24/7 supervision. As long as the hunting squad guarded supplies, it was fine.

Before, they’d feared runaways might lead Sanghuo back. Now Sanghuo was gone, the risk was gone too.

And the north wasn’t like Beihuang, dotted with tribes everywhere.

From Heishan heading south, you could travel ten days without seeing another tribe. Further still, only Zhanxiong, Yungu, and Julu.

In the cold, hungry winter, no one would dare run. Even if they did, surviving in the wild was unlikely.

And once they survived a winter here, you probably couldn’t drive them away.

Workers stood to greet Qi Bai and Lang Ze. Even the timid ones sneaked shy glances at them.

Qi Bai smiled kindly at everyone, which only deepened the new slaves’ envy. These veterans looked so impressive—even the Heishan beastmen seemed close with them.

Meanwhile, half the workers were gathered at the threshing ground, peering toward the big shelter.

Clearly many clansmen were already there. Qi Bai tugged Lang Ze along, quickening his steps.

The once-empty shelter was now half-filled with mud-bricks the workers had made. The remaining space was split in two.

For the Niu Clan, crushed by Sanghuo, only Niu Shuo and a few had escaped. Of five or six hundred, just seventy or eighty remained.

Now, an elder sub-beastman clutched Niu Xiu’s hand, the two sobbing as they embraced.

The elder wept for his child, only now learning that Niu Xiu had nearly been eaten alive by cannibals.

Heishan had first saved his cub, and now saved him.

Niu Xiu, for his part, couldn’t believe he’d see his father again. He still thought it must be a dream.

Such scenes played out often among the cattlefolk—some joyful reunions, others mourning kin who were gone forever.

Niu Xu leaned against Niu Shuo’s chest, both with reddened eyes. Even knowing what to expect, they couldn’t hold back their emotions.

This mixture of joy and grief—only time could heal it.

By contrast, the wolf clan’s reunion was far more subdued.

As they walked, Lang Ze quietly handed jerky and sweet potato chips to a few ten-year-old cubs. The children stuffed the food into their mouths without a word.

“Cough, cough!” One choked from eating too fast.

“Slowly, slowly,” Qi Bai said quickly, patting his back and offering a bamboo flask. “What’s your name?”

The cub drained half the flask in one go, shoved it back, and shook his head vigorously before resuming his chewing.

The Niu had been under Niu Shuo’s care since Sanghuo, so they were relatively well.

But the fourteen wolves had only been recognized after returning—by Lang Kuang and Lang Pu.

“That child has no name,” rasped a sub-beastwoman. Her voice was hoarse, as if unused for years.

Qi Bai hurried forward, draping a hide over her shoulders. “Lang Yao, you’ve suffered too much.”

He truly felt guilty. Lang Ze had told him this was his aunt—the daughter of the previous chieftain, his father’s sister. By Blue Star terms, she was his “aunt.”

But among beastmen, kinship beyond parents and children meant little. No such words as “aunt” or “uncle” existed.

Still, to Qi Bai, Lang Yao was truly Lang Ze’s elder. To meet his family like this, in such a state—it felt too abrupt, almost wrong.

Her hair was gray, her eyes clouded, her body frail.

But Lang Ze had said she was near Lang Kuang and Lang Pu’s age—barely in her forties.

Lang Kuang’s voice broke: “I should have gone with Lang Ze. Lang Pu and I would’ve recognized you immediately.”

Lang Pu gently smoothed Lang Yao’s hair, just as he used to back in Yinyue, treating her as their little sister again.

“My eyes can’t see,” Lang Yao murmured, staring at Lang Ze with cloudy pupils. “But you… you look just like your father. I should have recognized you.”

Qi Bai turned his head aside, unable to bear the sight.

Lang Kuang drew a breath and forced a smile. “Why does that child have no name?”

“The father died in battle. The mother fed him her blood after birth. She lasted only a few days.”

Lang Yao looked at the thirteen other cubs. “Most of them are like that.”

One cub whispered, “Grandma… am I really one of your clan?”

In Sangmeng and later Sanghuo, this strange old woman had hardly spoken to him. Only once or twice, when he cried from bullying, had she scolded him.

Never had he thought she was his kin—and that there were so many others too.

The other cubs stared, equally uncertain. From the moment she picked them out, they’d feared she was mistaken. They’d accepted food and water quietly, braced to be sent back to slavery—or beaten and sent back.

But now… it seemed she had always been watching them.

“What does knowing your past identity change?” Lang Yao closed her eyes, voice bitter. “Everyone who knew is dead. Better to erase the past. Only the ignorant survive to grow.”

Lang Pu broke down first, weeping. “You don’t need to worry anymore. We’ll protect our cubs from now on.”

He didn’t know what Lang Yao had endured alone in Dongyi, how many deaths she had seen to become so hopeless. But from now on, they would shield her.

Lang Ze’s eyes grew cold. “The Sangmeng deliberately killed Yinyue people?”

Lang Yao thought back. “Those who resisted were beaten to death. Those who tried to escape were killed. Every day slaves died. I lost count.”

Qi Bai tugged Lang Ze’s arm. Don’t frighten the cubs. Sangmeng is gone—there’s no point in dwelling now.

Then Lang Yao suddenly asked, with a flicker of hope: “Did you find Lang Shuo?”

“He’s alive?” Lang Pu and Lang Kuang cried at once.

Lang Kuang looked at Lang Ze. “Do you remember him? He was hunting captain. When Yinyue was attacked, he had a thousand hunters outside. Did you see him?”

Lang Yao shook her head. “We were the last taken away. I didn’t see him return.”

Lang Pu’s eyes shone. “Good! If we didn’t see him, it means he wasn’t caught. Lang Shuo had only the strongest warriors. They might have resettled elsewhere.”

Whether reunion or news of survivors—it was hope.

Meanwhile, the cattlefolk calmed down too.

Niu Xu stepped forward: “Qi Bai, our clan wants to stay in the dorms, work with everyone.”

The forty cattle behind him nodded. Niu Shuo had told them: pass the tests, and they too could join Heishan.

They didn’t care about rules of legitimacy. They had pride—this life wasn’t easy, and they wouldn’t shame their people.

“Good,” Lang Ze nodded. Then he looked at the wolf cubs. “Same for you. Starting tomorrow, you’ll earn your place here.”

Lang Kuang began to speak, but Lang Ze cut him off. “And Lang Yao will work too—though I’ll do her share. But if I work in the dorms, I won’t take rations from the tribe. You may swap with me if you wish.”

Niu Xiu’s father shook his head quickly, terrified his son might take on his work. He had strength left—better for them to work together and get double rations.

The watching workers were moved.

This was Heishan’s land. Lang Ze could have taken everyone under the shelter with no complaint.

But he didn’t. Heishan treated everyone the same—even them. They felt… a warm belonging.

After settling everyone, Lang Ze didn’t take Qi Bai home. Instead, he led him to a stone house beside the threshing ground.

Qi Bai glanced around, puzzled. “Isn’t this the firewood store? Why so many guards?”

Guards enough to call it a fortress.

“That’s where we’re keeping the Upper City envoy.”

Qi Bai’s eyes widened. You brought the envoy back?!

Lang Ze pulled out the small bone knife from his cloak. “We found this on him.”