Chapter 242

Lang Ze had clearly realized that with the tribe’s growth, certain problems were inevitable.

With the addition of four more tribes, the Heishan Tribe was about to expand from a small group of fifty into a city of over ten thousand.

But as they developed, they also had to focus on governance. If the citizens of Heiyao City could not unite, then the downfall of the Sanghuo Tribe would serve as their warning.

One must remember—in the battle between Heishan and Sanghuo, Heishan had achieved what could be called a one-against-ten crushing victory.

Of course, Heishan’s overwhelming strength and advanced weaponry played a part. But the Sanghuo Tribe, despite their numerical superiority, collapsed so quickly largely because the three clans within them harbored mutual suspicion. Even when marching to war, they refused to give their all. That was a key reason for their annihilation.

Now, with Heiyao City soon to be formed—not only comprising five main tribes, but also complicated divisions within Heishan itself, between official clansmen and provisional ones—if every tribe continued acting independently, then no matter how beautiful or solid the city was, it would still be a pile of loose sand. They wouldn’t even need an external invasion; the city would collapse from within.

Lang Ze would never allow Heiyao City to repeat Sanghuo’s fate. For days, he had been pondering how to quickly forge the city into a unified whole.

But what he hadn’t expected was that before any outsiders made a move, problems first appeared within Heishan’s own ranks.

Qi Bai nodded, though his line of thought differed from Lang Ze’s.

While Lang Ze considered governance on the grand scale, Qi Bai was more focused on individuals.

With the rise of a city, more tribesmen like Ma Liang, awakening to self-awareness and personal ambition, would inevitably appear.

But at this stage, they were like newly opened children—unable to control their thoughts, easily straying down dangerous paths.

Just like Ma Liang, who had no understanding of how vital large-scale production of pottery and iron was, and had instead risked betraying the tribe for a mere hundred or two hundred pieces of meat.

Once the city was built, temptations would multiply—and so would problems.

Qi Bai couldn’t control thoughts, but guiding them in the right direction was essential.

Qi Bai said:
“I think the establishment of a city must come with a set of clear, written rules that everyone can accept.”

Lang Ze frowned: “Written… rules?”

Ma Ling silently repeated it in his head. Written rules? He knew each word separately, but together they confused him.

“Yes.” Qi Bai nodded.

The Beast Continent had no clear codified law—or at least, none Qi Bai had ever seen.

Beastmen lived by customary laws, rooted in clan bonds and faith. Chiefs and priests held absolute authority; their word was law, their command was execution, passed down orally.

It was easy to imagine how uncertain such rules made development, with one leader’s whim swaying everything.

Ma Ling, puzzled, finally grasped a point:
“Right—we have writing now. Everything you said can be written down. As long as the cubs learn to read, they’ll know the tribe’s rules.”

Qi Bai smiled:
“Writing things down presumes rules exist in the first place. That’s what I mean by written order—or rather, law.”

“A city has far too many people. We can’t teach each person individually as before. But if we codify every aspect of life into fixed laws, with punishments for violations, then behavior will have boundaries. Even in cases like Ma Liang’s, we can follow the law to decide punishment.”

Qi Bai had long wanted to say this. Their punishments now were too crude—exile or death, with little distinction.

Murder and theft—acts of vastly different severity—were punished almost the same. In many tribes, theft was even punished more harshly than murder.

Lang Ze asked: “Then what other punishments could there be?”

This touched a blind spot in his knowledge. Weren’t exile and death just how things were done? Did Qi Bai mean whipping like with slaves? That didn’t sound like him.

Qi Bai blinked:
“There are many methods. In fact, you already used one today.”

Lang Ze paused: “I did? What?”

“When you restricted Ma Liang’s movements under Ma Chong’s guarantee—that’s a form of punishment.”

In Qi Bai’s mind, that was simply supervised probation and suretyship—with collective responsibility. Even without violence, it worked effectively.

And beyond that, there were prison terms, fines, and forced labor—all far more useful than simply killing someone.

Of course, in chaotic times heavy punishments were needed. The death penalty, even collective punishment, would still be necessary to maintain law’s deterrence.

Lang Ze asked: “Prison terms—doesn’t that just make criminals into slaves again?”

Qi Bai shook his head.
“No—slaves are permanent. This would be labor reform. Unless the crime was unforgivable, the punishment would have a time limit. They’d keep their property, and once they served their term, they could return to normal life. That’s fundamentally different.”

Lang Ze was weighing its feasibility when Qi Bai added another point:
“And another important matter—Ma Ling’s actions today must also be regulated.”

Ma Ling, who had been zoning out, startled at hearing his name: “Me? What did I do?”

Lang Ze also looked puzzled at Qi Bai.

Qi Bai, throat dry, explained the concept of law enforcement authority.

“In short, though Ma Ling is deputy captain of the patrol squad, does he have the right to arrest and interrogate on his own? That’s unclear. I think we need to establish dedicated law enforcement and judicial offices, to prevent abuse of power.”

Ma Ling looked blank: “So next time I encounter such a thing, should I arrest or not?”

“Arresting is right,” Qi Bai scratched his hair. “That’s not the issue.”

But in a world with no concept of due process, it was hard to explain.

Lang Ze chuckled and ruffled Qi Bai’s hair. He understood now: if they could establish codified law, then Heiyao City would run like a cart’s bone-wheels—steady with just a little push.

As long as the City Lord and High Priest steered, the city could go far beyond imagination.

Qi Bai leaned into Lang Ze’s palm with a bright smile: “Mm, I knew you’d understand.”

Ma Ling rolled his eyes skyward. Fine—sweet talk between them was none of his business.

But building a city was even harder than he thought.

Looking back at two years in Heishan, he realized: development relied on Qi Bai, war on Lang Ze. What did the rest of them contribute?

A sense of crisis welled up. They couldn’t just sit back, smug as “original Heishan people.” With more tribes joining, they had to work harder just to keep pace with the future City Lord and High Priest.

That day, Ma Ling grasped the truth of “no progress means regression.” Proudly, he even shared this “wisdom” with his mate She Li—and got an eye-roll in return.

She Li thought: This fool just has too much time on his hands. If he were managing 1,500 workers like me, would he have time to think up nonsense?

“Heh, of course I can’t compare with Captain She Li.”

“Meow meow meow~”

Their cub mocked him mercilessly.

She Li laughed in exasperation, pushing Ma Ling: “Go watch your child. What’s wrong with him? Doesn’t learn to speak in human form—just meows all day.”

“Alright!” Ma Ling flopped onto the cub’s belly. “Come on, change into human form and call us ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’.”

Meanwhile, life in Heishan bustled on.

Ma Liang’s betrayal wasn’t spread around.

Qi Bai first met with the priests, refining their messy plan for the upcoming mating festival.

Joint mating festivals across tribes weren’t rare—small tribes often held them, since they lacked enough eligible youth within their own ranks.

But such events usually lasted only a few days, with no lasting bonds—just for cubs.

Qi Bai, however, insisted this Five-Tribe Festival in Heiyao would be different. Pairings must be blessed by priests, formalizing true partnerships.

The priests were baffled. If not just for cubs, then what was it for? But they obeyed anyway, planning to tell their people once they arrived.

Qi Bai was firm because without limits, the festival would leave the city with countless cubs not knowing their parents.

He intended to establish family and marriage law—and first, paternity must be clear.

After finalizing the festival, Qi Bai locked himself away to begin drafting Heiyao’s first code of law.

Meanwhile, land-clearing was in full swing. Hu Xue had taken charge of meals for all four new tribes, even offering “delivery” at noon.

Yes—Jufeng warriors too were daily clearing their new territory.

And their beast forms nearly drove the other tribes to tears.

While pandas struggled, huffing and puffing to uproot one big tree, Jufeng beastmen casually pulled out ten-meter trees, slinging them over their shoulders as if they were twigs. Even their sub-beastmen grew into five- or six-meter giants.

The pandas whimpered pitifully.

Passing Julu deer, glowing and ethereal, clicked their tongues.

Their blue, starry bodies and elegant antlers should have brought light to the barren winter earth—but clearly, they were useless for digging.

The “luminous elves” had become “dim elves.”

The Julu cursed bitterly: What are you pandas whining for? We’re the ones useless here—and you’re still acting cute? Damn it!