Chapter 233

“This one?” Qi Bai turned the little bone knife over in his hands, staring at it. “You found this on that envoy from Shangcheng?”

Lang Ze nodded.

Qi Bai looked utterly dumbfounded—the knife was almost identical to his own.

But it couldn’t possibly be his. He had just seen the wooden box holding his own bone knife back at home. Lang Ze hadn’t even been near it, so there was no way he could have taken it.

And besides, Lang Ze would never make a joke out of something like this.

Qi Bai ran a hand through his messy hair, struggling to recall everything about Mao Bai’s tribe.

But the truth was, when Mao Bai was orphaned, he had been far too young.

His only memory was of a blurry figure—his mother-father. His voice had been gentle, always stroking Mao Bai’s little belly to coax him to sleep. Even now, when Qi Bai recalled that memory, his stomach seemed to feel warm.

For a sub-beastman to raise a cub alone was no easy task. Mao Bai’s mother-father often had to shift into beast form and hunt around the tribe on his own, just so the cub could eat.

Usually, no large prey would be near the tribe’s surroundings, but his luck had run out. When the tribesmen brought Mao Bai to find him, he was already gone.

Mao Bai had seen with his own eyes his mother-father’s bloodied body carried away to the wilderness. From that day on, he became an orphan. And because of his fur color, he had become the least favored cub in the tribe.

As for his horned-beastman father, Mao Bai knew almost nothing. He’d only vaguely heard others say his father had once been the strongest warrior of the tribe. And then… maybe something else, but it was hazy.

Qi Bai swallowed hard. “My father… I think he wasn’t from Fengbao Tribe… He died on a hunt…”

Fengbao Tribe—that was the tribe where Mao Bai had been born.

But looking back now, things didn’t quite add up. If his father really was the tribe’s strongest warrior, how could he have died so easily?

Qi Bai grimaced. No way…

Could it be his father never actually died, but ditched his family for some rich lady in Shangcheng? Faked his death, abandoned wife and child, and later turned up as a Shangcheng envoy? And then, while bullying others in his new life, got caught red-handed by his own son-in-law?

Lang Ze: “…”

The native beastman clearly couldn’t follow Qi Bai’s melodramatic train of thought.

“Ahem.” Qi Bai broke off his own nonsense, smiling sheepishly at Lang Ze.

Ugh, that’s way too much like a bad drama. Even I don’t believe it. And if it really were true, then he’d be nothing but a scumbag father not worth acknowledging. Honestly, I’d rather help Mao Bai get rid of the trouble myself.

Awkwardly, Qi Bai dropped his head and fiddled with the knife again. Suddenly, a thought lit up in his mind: “Wait… isn’t this bone knife a bit too small?”

Indeed, both his and this one were only palm-sized. That would make sense for a child, but not for an envoy.

And yet the envoy had kept it on him at all times. With its priceless material and a blade too dull for combat…

Qi Bai muttered, “This doesn’t feel like a weapon at all. More like… a token.”

The stone-brick warehouse was dark and cold, with only thin shafts of moonlight seeping through narrow vents high on the wall.

By the firewood were two heavy wooden cages. Wugu grass had kept their captives unconscious, but an extra safeguard was always useful—especially after the near disaster of information almost leaking out.

Because the envoy had not come alone. He’d brought four attendants.

One of them had nearly succeeded in sending a message out. That one had been an anteater beastman, who somehow could control ants.

If not for Qiu Bai, whose beast form also preyed on insects and who noticed the strange trail of ants in time, they might have slipped through.

That anteater beastman had been killed immediately upon discovery, but it had put the whole team on alert.

Qi Bai rapped his knuckles against the wooden cages. Honestly, Lang Ze had some talent—these temporary cages resembled ancient Huaguo prisoner carts, only sturdier, with thicker bars and tighter gaps.

Now, with less Wugu grass used, the two captives were awake again.

Qi Bai studied the older man critically. Hm. Wrong age, wrong face. No way he could be related to such a handsome beastman like himself.

The two had already seen Lang Ze many times on the march from Beihuang to Heishan. So when Lang Ze brought Qi Bai in, the scarred woman barely flicked her eyelids, and the envoy, Ji, remained calm and aloof.

Ji snorted. “Boy, release us at once. I am an envoy of Qitu City. By holding me, you are making yourselves enemies of the entire Qitu City.”

Qi Bai curled his lip. “Qitu City, huh? Even if they wanted to back you, do you know where you are right now?”

Ji’s voice sharpened. “Of course I know. Heishan Tribe. That foolish Sanghuo chief—he was marching to attack Heishan!”

“So what? By the time Qitu City tracks you down, you’ll be bones in the dirt. Beastmen die outside every day. No one will trace it back to us.”

Qi Bai’s tone was airy, his gaze flat, as though he truly didn’t care whether they lived or died.

The scarred woman, Sang Xu, finally spoke: “Since you’ve brought us to your lands, you must have a reason.”

Ji calmed, his arrogance returning. “You want to know how to build a city, don’t you? Let me go, give me plenty of supplies, and I can teach you.”

Qi Bai shook his head. “What’s so special about building walls? No—I want to know, what did you do to the monkey horned-beastmen of Sanghuo Tribe?”

Back when Lang Ze fought their chief, Hou Pei, he’d already noticed something strange.

From what Xiong Han and the Sanghuo slaves described, Hou Pei’s strength had not always been like that. It had surged suddenly in a short time, even nearly overpowering Zhu Qi, their chief.

But with the boost came madness—Hou Pei had grown violent, erratic, beating slaves for nothing, even terrifying his own people.

Later, while searching the Sanghuo camp, Lang Ze had found several cubs who resembled Hou Pei—horned beast cubs with bones that gleamed metallic.

He’d brought them back, but most of the time they were manic, rarely lucid enough to communicate.

Now, when Qi Bai asked, both captives fell silent.

The scarred woman slowly lifted her head. Her pupils were ghastly white, reflecting the torchlight like some demon risen from hell.

Qi Bai hadn’t expected it and jumped in fright.

Fortunately, Lang Ze’s warm hand steadied his waist from behind, or else he might really have bolted.

Neither captive answered. Qi Bai, shaken, no longer pressed them.

Outside, once they left the firewood storehouse, Qi Bai clenched his fist. “Judging from their reaction, they won’t cooperate. What do you plan to do next?”

Sangmeng Tribe hadn’t attacked Yinyue directly, but from Lang Yao’s account, they clearly knew something. And now here was Ji, with a bone knife identical to his.

These two were holding clues to his and Lang Ze’s origins. Whatever their identities, Qi Bai intended to wring every answer out of them.

Until now, Lang Ze hadn’t pushed them hard—just starvation—because he hadn’t known about Ji’s connection to Qi Bai.

And since they’d been isolated, they didn’t even know Sanghuo had been destroyed, which explained their arrogance.

But now? Their days were about to get much harder.

Lang Ze said carefully, “Yinyue Tribe had ways of dealing with enemies.”

All violent methods. He didn’t want his sub-beastman to hear the bloody details.

But after listening, Qi Bai waved it off: “That’s nothing. Beating people isn’t effective.”

Lang Ze shook his head faintly. His little mate was so soft and gentle—better he not be around when such things happened.

But Qi Bai suddenly grabbed his hand, babbling:

Honestly, the beastmen’s imagination was nothing compared to his ancestors’. Tiger benches, finger-breaking, nail-pulling…

The more Lang Ze listened, the more wrong it felt. A chill crept up his spine. This wasn’t what he’d meant at all…

Qi Bai scratched his head. I’m not a freak, really. Just too much TV back on Blue Star. Picked up all this trivia.

Still, if those didn’t work, he leaned close to whisper another idea into Lang Ze’s ear. “This one will definitely work.”

Lang Ze’s eyes curved as he rubbed Qi Bai’s head.

Qi Bai blinked. “So? Got a plan now?”

Moonlight bathed his pale cheeks, giving him a faint glow—like the most precious gem in the world. A gem with wicked ideas.

Qi Bai noticed the look in Lang Ze’s eyes and felt a sudden jolt of alarm. He took a step back.

But Lang Ze was faster. He bent down, hoisted Qi Bai over his shoulder.

Qi Bai kicked and smacked his back. “What are you doing! I can walk! Put me down!”

Oh no—he could even hear patrol warriors chuckling nearby. This was humiliating!

Lang Ze shifted him higher, settling him comfortably, even giving his butt a playful slap, before striding swiftly toward the tribe.

He didn’t care about the two captives now. That could wait until morning.

Right now, he and Qi Bai had more important things to do.