Chapter 248

The day’s celebration lasted all the way into the night.

Just as Qi Bai and Lang Ze were packing up to head home, Niu Cheng suddenly ran over, face tense, and whispered something into Lang Ze’s ear.

Lang Ze frowned after hearing it, then gestured for Qi Bai to walk with him quickly.

Qi Bai hurriedly said his goodbyes to Xiong Nuan and Lu Ming before catching up. As they walked, he asked:
“What happened?”

Lang Ze’s expression was grim:
“Two of the six Jiao-shou-ren cubs from the Sangmeng Tribe have died.”

Qi Bai froze. He knew the six cubs Lang Ze meant.

They were the ones Lang Ze had found in the Sanghuo Tribe—their condition was much like Sangmeng’s chief, Hou Pei. Their minds were unstable, their strength unnaturally great, and their bones had the hardness of metal.

Ever since they’d been brought north, the Heishan Tribe had been feeding them carefully, hoping their sanity would recover enough to share some useful information.

During that time, Lang Ze had even arranged a joint consultation with the Jufeng and Julu Tribes.

The Jufeng Tribe had their snow-qu herb powder, excellent for external wounds, but they weren’t skilled healers. Since these cubs bore no visible injuries, even Wu Rao could do nothing.

It was the Julu priest Lu Jian, widely experienced, who suggested that though she didn’t know why their bones had become so hard, their madness looked like poisoning.

And so, during the wait for more tribesfolk to arrive, Lu Jian and her student Lu Teng had been tending the cubs.

Qi Bai’s face turned grave:
“Didn’t you say before their condition seemed much better?”

Lang Ze nodded. At least when he had checked that morning, the cubs had seemed calmer.

Qi Bai frowned:
“Then why suddenly die? Could someone have silenced them?”

The anteater beastman’s assassination attempt had been discovered, and the envoy’s four attendants had all been dealt with—but if they had other hidden moves, and the news slipped out, that would be disastrous.

Lang Ze shook his head firmly:
“Impossible.”

Those cubs—along with Sang Xu and the envoy Ji—had been guarded day and night by Heishan’s most elite warriors, even during the mating festival.

Not even Lang Ze himself could sneak in and kill them silently without alerting a single guard.

Qi Bai thought about it and agreed. If an assassin that skilled existed, the ones to die should’ve been Ji and Sang Xu, not cubs who barely even remembered who they were.

Lang Ze turned to Niu Cheng:
“Did you notify Priest Lu Jian?”

“Niu Xin already went,” Niu Cheng replied quickly. “Ma Ling and Lu Teng are inside the cave, guarding the remaining four cubs.”

“Good.”

By now, they had reached the tribe’s gate.

The dormitories and threshing ground were too crowded to keep prisoners.

Those eight they’d taken from Sanghuo had long been hidden away inside Heishan. With many unused caves, concealing a few captives was no issue.

Lang Ze’s sharp eyes scanned the settlement.

For Sang Xu and Ji’s interrogations, they were confined separately, in caves below Qi Bai and Lang Ze’s own—originally homes of Shu Lin, Xiong Feng, and Huan Ping.

Those caves were remote and elevated, with little traffic. Even tribesfolk passing daily didn’t know anyone was held there.

Outside, young Jiao-shou-ren patrolled, coordinated with the wall guards to cover every angle.

Satisfied all was secure, Lang Ze passed without pausing, leading Qi Bai to the innermost cave.

He pushed open the bamboo door.

Moonlight slanted in, falling on two corpses with wide-open eyes.

Even prepared, Qi Bai jumped at the sight of their bloodied faces.

But recognizing them as children barely ten years old, fear gave way to fury.

Such cruel deaths—there’s no way the Sangmeng Tribe had nothing to do with this.

From the cave’s depths came pained moans. Qi Bai clenched his fists. They’re still just cubs—what did those people do to them?

The bamboo door creaked, and the drenched Lu Teng and Ma Ling turned. Seeing it wasn’t their teacher, Lu Teng immediately bent back to his work.

He was using the Julu Tribe’s healing method.

One cub was pinned beneath Ma Ling, his back smeared with Julu’s special medicine powder. Lu Teng scraped a bone shard across the skin.

Qi Bai had seen that shard before—some beast’s bone, heated red-hot by friction with the powder.

Thick black blood dripped onto the floor. Yet the cub’s back, though red and burning, bore no wound.

Nearby, three other cubs’ backs glowed red as well—Lu Teng had already treated them while Niu Cheng fetched help.

Still, all three trembled violently, looking close to death.

Sweat pouring, Ma Ling strained to hold one down. The cub was barely ten, smaller even than Bao Yue and the other youngsters—yet his strength rivaled an adult’s, hard to restrain.

Ma Ling gritted out:
“Has Priest Lu Jian come yet? Lu Teng said this only buys time. To save them, we need her medicine powder.”

Lu Teng, hands full, shook his head:
“Their sickness is too deep. Even teacher’s medicine may not work.”

Two already dead—his nerves were frayed. Healing failures were common among beastmen, but these cubs clearly held dangerous secrets. Losing them was a weight neither he nor the Julu Tribe could bear.

Then hurried footsteps sounded.

Niu Xin stumbled in, carrying Priest Lu Jian on his back, her leather pouch hanging at his neck. He must’ve rushed her back from her dwelling.

Lu Teng nearly fainted, dropping everything to steady her. At her age—over a hundred—she couldn’t take such jolts.

Once her feet touched ground, Lu Jian smoothed her hair and caught her breath, then waved:
“I’ve already heard from this young man. Quickly—take me to them.”

She looked over the four cubs, then at the two dead at the door, and drew a small pouch of powder from her bag.

“This is Julu’s ‘living medicine.’ It can numb pain and bring a beastman briefly ‘back to life.’” She handed the pouch to Qi Bai. “But… though it is called living medicine, everyone who has taken it has died.”

At that, Lu Teng sighed and quietly packed away his powders.

Only those at death’s door were given living medicine—to say farewell before passing.

The others were baffled by her words, but Qi Bai understood.

It was no cure but a stimulant—squeezing out the last vitality, creating a brief clarity before death.

On the ground, the four cubs were already near their final breaths.

Qi Bai and Lang Ze locked eyes. No hesitation.

These children had been twisted—bones hard as metal, strength like grown warriors. That was why their minds had broken, why they collapsed so easily.

If they didn’t uncover the truth, such experiments could threaten Heiyao City itself.

“...Jin... Jin...”

Careful not to overdose, Qi Bai fed a little powder to the cub in the back.

The child didn’t wake—but stopped thrashing so violently. His lips mumbled faintly.

The cave fell silent. All leaned close.

Qi Bai crouched, ear to the boy’s mouth.

“...Jin... Jin... Gu Jin...”

Qi Bai frowned:
“‘Gu Jin?’ Have they ever said this before?”

Niu Xin shook his head hard. “Never.”

Until now, the cubs had only growled like beasts. No one thought they even spoke the beastmen’s tongue.

“Gu Jin... Gu Jin...” Qi Bai murmured.

What does it mean? A thing? A person’s name?

Suddenly, his gaze met Lang Ze’s.

“That powder!”

“That thing!”