Chapter 236

Upon hearing that the priests had spoken, Lu Ming immediately pulled Xiong Nuan along and headed straight to the nearest display booth.

On the modestly sized booth were various exquisite tools. Lu Ming picked up something made of bamboo and eagerly held it up to her body to measure: “This is really pretty. Is it for decoration?”

At that moment, the chiefs and priests of the Zhanxiong, Yungu, and Julù tribes also arrived beside the booth. Although they didn’t speak as eagerly as Lu Ming, it was clear they were also very curious about the function of these items.

Standing behind the first booth was Yang Ling. Once a slave, Yang Ling had never made direct eye contact with other ordinary beastmen, except for the Heishan and Jufeng tribespeople.

But after a single day of crash-course sales training, Yang Ling still felt a bit nervous facing so many important people.

However, upon seeing the encouraging look from Qi Bai and the expectant gaze from the team captain Hu Xue, Yang Ling suddenly found courage.

His booth was the very first at the entire small trading fair — the face of the Heishan Tribe and the Third Production Team. He couldn't back down.

Recalling the key points Qi Bai had taught the day before, Yang Ling put on a warm smile and explained calmly, “This is not a decorative item; it’s a tool for washing pots.”

He gestured toward the rest of the 30+ tools on the table. “These are all tools we use in cooking.”

That’s right — for beastmen, food is everything. And this booth, the most prominent position in the fair, was fully stocked with cooking tools rushed out over the past few days by the Third Production Team.

There were bamboo spatulas for stir-frying. And even among bamboo spatulas, the Heishan Tribe had differentiated them into straight spatulas, angled spatulas, rice paddles — along with ladles and slotted spoons for similar uses.

There were also auxiliary tools like graters, peelers, oil brushes, egg beaters, bamboo tongs, and more.

All kinds of different sizes and types — enough to suit everything from a single-person kitchen to a tribal cafeteria.

And the item Lu Ming currently held in her hand was a bamboo pot scrubber, specifically for scrubbing pots.

Lu Ming looked at the evenly cut bamboo bristles in disbelief. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that the Heishan Tribe used something this refined just to scrub pots.

Wait — a deep doubt suddenly crept into Lu Ming’s mind: Do you really need to scrub the pot after cooking?

But seeing the Heishan tribe members around her with the calm look of "this is just how we use it," she held back her question.

She had a gut feeling that asking this might not be wise — the Heishan Tribe would probably give her an answer she wasn’t ready to accept.

Next to the cooking tool booth was another one filled with a variety of cooking pots.

Behind that booth stood Lu Guo, earnestly explaining to everyone, “This is a steamer used for steaming food, and these are ceramic pots used for stir-frying and making soup.”

Before the workers arrived in Heishan, Lu Guo, known for her excellent pottery and charcoal-making skills, had always managed the pottery workshop.

Ceramics were extremely valuable, and Lu Guo had thought the priests and chiefs wouldn’t take them out for trade.

To her surprise, Qi Bai specifically came to her yesterday — not only did he plan to trade ceramics, but he also put her in charge of the entire booth.

So Lu Guo was especially enthusiastic about promoting the pottery. She already knew how popular these ceramic pots and jars were going to be.

Noticing a beastman from the Zhanxiong Tribe staring intently at one of the large ceramic jars, Lu Guo said warmly, “Although we’ve only displayed these few pots and jars, if you have fixed stove dimensions, we can also custom-make ceramics to fit. It will just take a bit more time.”

The subtext? As long as the price is right, custom orders are always available.

Xiong Xin saw the booth displaying ceramic wares like they were free and thought he was imagining things. After hearing Lu Guo’s explanation, he wanted to dig out his ears.

So many ceramics... Heishan has this many? And back when we traded with them, they were so expensive?

But just as Xiong Xin turned his gaze to Qi Bai, he was fiercely glared at by Lang Ze, standing behind Qi Bai. He didn’t care whether the other party was a sub-beastman or not — no one was allowed to question his mate.

Qi Bai seemed to understand Xiong Xin's look. He tapped the side of a ceramic pot, signaling the Zhanxiong tribe to take a closer look. “The ones we traded before were glazed ceramics — those are much harder to make than these unglazed ones.”

So stop complaining about the price, Qi Bai thought. Sure, we overcharged you — but not by too much.

Meanwhile, the Yungu chief Yun Tan cast a deep, meaningful glance at Julù chief Lu Yan.

Lu Yan, on the other hand, looked completely calm and uninvolved — clearly, he had known about the ceramic trade between the Zhanxiong and Heishan tribes all along.

Yun Tan squinted. Well, well. You two youngsters had something this good and secretly traded it without even telling your elders?

Just then, Xiong Nuan walked over from the cooking tools booth and touched one of the ceramic pots in front of Lu Guo, then nodded at Xiong Han and the priest.

The two ceramic jars they had previously traded from Heishan were kept in Xiong Han's tent, and Xiong Nuan had seen them often. Those were clearly higher quality than the ones on display now.

Seeing Xiong Nuan’s approval, the Zhanxiong tribe’s priest Xiong Zi smacked Xiong Xin on the back with her staff: “So rash — mind your manners.”

“No worries,” Hou Yan said with a smile, waving his hand. He nodded to Yun Tan and the others. “Let’s go check out the other things.”

As they continued along, the number of people in the tour group gradually decreased.

Who could blame them? Quilts, pillows, mats — even the things for sleeping in Heishan were too tempting. Everyone just kept getting drawn in.

But the chiefs and priests moved too quickly, and the other beastmen from Zhanxiong, Yungu, and Julù, who had come along, couldn’t bear to leave.

They quietly glanced at their own leaders — realizing the chiefs weren’t watching — and simply stayed behind at the booths, no longer following the group forward.

Especially at the grill stand, where the sizzling aroma of meat was rising — it was completely packed with people.

Hu Qiao, while brushing oil on the skewers, shouted, “Grilled mutton skewers! Delicious grilled mutton skewers! Two pieces of beast meat for one skewer — what? Too expensive?”

“Look at this — how much oil do we use on one skewer? This oil is made from beast meat, you know?” Hu Qiao held up a skewer and pointed at the charcoal in the stone trough. “See this? Know what that is? No? Exactly — it’s charcoal, only found in Heishan. Grilled meat cooked over this won’t get burnt.”

Hu Qiao then grabbed a seasoning jar and sprinkled it generously. The already mouth-watering aroma instantly became irresistible. “See this? These are exclusive Heishan seasonings — every skewer gets this much!”

“Let me tell you — once you leave Heishan, you’ll never find grilled meat like this again.”

The horned beastman at the front of the line quickly pulled out a piece of beast meat, the size of a palm.

It was half his daily ration — but he didn’t care. Even if he went hungry tonight, he had to have one bite, or he knew he’d regret it.

He handed the meat to Xi Zhou, who was in charge of “payments,” his mouth nearly drooling: “I want to trade for two skewers.”

Xi Zhou broke into a big smile: “Sure! Two skewers of grilled mutton. Since you're the first customer, I’ll throw in half a skewer extra.”

The beastman happily took the skewers, holding them reverently in front of his face like they were divine offerings, then leaned in to sniff.

His companion urged him: “Stop sniffing, eat already!”

With everyone watching, the beastman finally chose to eat the smallest skewer first — then took a big bite.

As the meat entered his mouth, everyone stared at him: “Well? How is it? Why aren’t you moving? Is it not good?”

But the towering horned beastman froze—eyes wet.

Delicious. Too delicious.

Compared to this bite, his past thirty-odd years of meals hadn’t even been food.

Without hesitation, he pulled out the rest of his ration. “Here—trade this too. Give me more skewers—with extra spice.”

Xi Zhou and Hu Qiao exchanged a look and laughed. “Coming right up—extra spice it is.”

Confidence filled them. Price didn’t matter. Once someone tried it, they’d never stop.

Sure enough, the crowd erupted:

“Me too!” “Give me one!” “Extra spice here!”

The barbecue stand roared to life. Next door, the braised meat and pastry stalls shouted louder too.

The pastry stall offered not wild-picked fruit, but crafted snacks: flower cakes, meat-filled flatbreads, fried pastries, fried mushrooms…

The visiting beastmen gaped. Food could look this beautiful? Fruit shaped like blossoms? Innards that smell good?

Soon, every stall was crammed, even with those who only watched.

If Xushan’s trade days had been raw-material fairs, the Black Mountain’s was a full marketplace—trade, snacks, entertainment all in one.

For the first time, these native beastmen thought:

So this is what a great tribe is?

This is the Black Mountain Tribe?

Compared to them, Xushan was nothing. Sanghuo was nothing. Even Sunset City itself might not rival this.

Meanwhile, the chiefs and shamans, moving faster, passed through the market into the dormitory quarters by the threshing ground.

And there, stepping into the stone houses, they forgot even the barbecue taste still in their mouths.

Warmer than spring, heated walls and kang-beds. Could such houses exist?

“This… this is where slaves live?” gasped Deer Jian, the Giant Deer shaman, his voice cracking.

What kind of joke is this?

Only now did they understand that those strange stone piles were dwellings.

If it were chiefs’ or shamans’ quarters, perhaps. But Qi Bai said these were for workers.

Workers—men who once bore Sanghuo’s slave marks.

“Yes, they were slaves,” Qi Bai nodded, “but now they’re workers of the Black Mountain. Not only housing—come, there are canteens and water houses too.”

It wasn’t mealtime, but the kitchen was already preparing. After all, they had to feed not just workers but the three visiting tribes—some 300–400 guests.

Yun Tan, Xiong Han, and Lu Yan, the three chiefs, stood before the massive kitchen, watching food plated into clay dishes and slid into towering ovens, their minds reeling as if in a dream.

The three elder shamans, Yun Zhang, Xiong Zi, and Deer Jian, meanwhile stared at slaves drawing water in orderly turns.

They exchanged glances, shaken to the core. Was slavery… really worse than this?

Even they themselves had never lived so well.

Yang Luo delighted in their expressions. He coughed lightly, pretending to forget his earlier opposition to abolishing slavery, and proudly declared: “Only backward tribes exploit slaves. In Black Mountain, there are no slaves—only workers. They work tirelessly without need for control.”

The three shamans’ worldview crumbled.

So… is that how it is? Have we been the backward ones all along?

Qi Bai smiled, then asked: “So—are you interested in the Black Mountain’s goods?”

They blinked, dazed, before nodding slowly: “Of course… but…”

The unspoken worry was clear. It’s all so fine… but can we even afford it?

Qi Bai blinked playfully. “In the past, you were merely friends of Black Mountain. But after the war against Sanghuo, the Zhanxiong, Yun Gu, and Julu are already our allies. Tell me—are you interested in taking the relationship a step further?”