Chapter 298

When Lang Ze saw Qi Bai open his eyes, he immediately stepped forward, lifting him out of the Sacred Spring and wrapping him tightly in a fur robe.
“Does it hurt?”

Qi Bai shook his head. Only the beginning had been difficult to endure; soon after, he had fallen into that mysterious state where thought seemed to sever itself from the body’s senses, leaving him feeling nothing at all.

He shook his head to clear it, then quickly told Lang Ze about what he had heard:
“Did you hear those voices?”

“No,” Lang Ze replied, “I stayed fully conscious—only felt the changes in my body.”

Hearing that, Lang Ze finally relaxed.

Unlike Qi Bai, who had merely “fallen asleep” and woken up with strength and guidance, Lang Ze had endured the Sacred Spring’s painful reshaping of his body head-on.

The pain had felt like knives splitting apart flesh and stretching his bones—agony no ordinary beastman could withstand.

That was why Lang Ze had been watching Qi Bai the whole time, noticing the first instant anything seemed strange. But since he could sense the spring’s transformation was beneficial, he hadn’t dared to interrupt Qi Bai—he had simply waited for him to wake on his own.

Qi Bai stretched his limbs, threw a few punches into the air, and said in wonder:
“Listening to you, I think my body feels lighter too. My strength also feels like it’s grown.”

Soaking half a day in the spring had proven more effective than half a year of hard training. If he could soak a few more times, wouldn’t he become ridiculously strong?

It was only then Qi Bai noticed how quiet everything was. Night had already fallen. Moonlight shone down overhead, illuminating the small Sacred Spring.

Qi Bai blinked uncertainly.
“Is something wrong with the spring?”

When they’d first arrived in the afternoon, the spring had been fifty or sixty centimeters deep. But now, there was barely twenty left. Where had the rest gone?

“It seems the Sacred Spring contains a certain energy,” Lang Ze explained. “That energy flowed into our bodies, so naturally the water decreased.”

He stepped out into the forest surrounding the spring and shifted into beast form. The giant wolf lowered its tail before Qi Bai.

“Climb up,” his eyes seemed to say.

Qi Bai’s eyes went wide. “Lang Ze, your beast form got bigger again!”

Thinking of something, he quickly scrambled up the wolf’s back, wrapping his arms around the single horn.

One ring. Two rings… three rings!

When they had first arrived at the Holy Antelope tribe, Lang Ze’s horn had only two and a half rings. Now, just half a day later, he had advanced directly to a third-rank warrior.

The ranks of beastman warriors weren’t something broken through casually. Judging by how difficult each breakthrough had been for Lang Ze, and how his beast form transformed each time, the difficulty clearly increased geometrically.

Lang Ze’s father, Lang Shun, had taken twenty to thirty years of fighting to reach third rank. Even Du Shen Shi of the Upper City hadn’t advanced until he was over sixty—yet his first advancement had directly made him a Shen Dian’s envoy. That showed just how precious third-rank warriors were.

But Lang Ze had advanced from nothing to third-rank in only three years. Even in the Beast God’s City, that speed would be unmatched.

No wonder the spring’s water level had been drained so low—Lang Ze’s leap in power, plus Qi Bai’s communion with heaven and earth, had consumed it.

When Qi Bai explained the changes to Ling Ping and Ling Ta, he felt a little embarrassed.

Ling Ping’s feelings were complicated. How much Sacred Spring water was consumed depended on the strength of the beastman who entered. She and Ling Ta had barely used any by comparison. Clearly, the gap between them was even larger than she had imagined.

Ling Ta, however, remained calm.
“It doesn’t matter. The Sacred Spring’s blessing only comes once in a lifetime. The power you’ve gained is its recognition of you.”

That ended Qi Bai’s faint hopes of “soaking again.” Still, Sacred Spring water was an incredible treasure. He quietly wondered whether the Holy Antelopes might trade some to them.

Meanwhile, Wu Xun nearly wept when he heard the spring had been half-drained. He even crept out at night to watch over it.

It was Ling Qiu who firmly warned him:
“What’s done is done. We offered it freely. Tomorrow you mustn’t show resentment before Lang Ze and Bao Bai. Otherwise, a blessing will become a curse.”

Wu Xun had no choice but to cover his chest and agree.

So the next morning, when Qi Bai and Lang Ze emerged, Wu Xun greeted them even more warmly than before.

Qi Bai and Lang Ze understood the situation but said nothing. They simply prepared to depart at once.

The moment they entered the Mist Forest, they heard the sharp voices of cubs.

“Great Priest brother! Great Priest brother!”

The instant the giant wolf appeared, Dou, Wu, and the other half-grown cubs lit up and ran forward, calling for Qi Bai.

Behind them, over a hundred Silver Moon beastmen stood with packs on their backs.

While the warriors had been away fighting, Lang Huai, the sub-beastmen, and the cubs hadn’t been idle. Following Qi Bai’s teachings, they had woven saddles from vines and wooden planks.

They weren’t as refined as the saddles Qi Bai and Lang Ze had brought, but they sufficed to carry supplies.

Rolled hides tied up, baskets of food strapped in place—when Lang Sheng and the others returned, the territory had been cleaned spotless. Not even a dried mushroom stem remained.

Lang Ze approached his own saddle. Fortunately, he and Qi Bai had anticipated changes in beast form during its design, leaving adjustable margins at the joints. Otherwise, his sudden growth would have made the old gear useless.

The first to notice his change was Lang Sheng. The gray wolf circled the white giant, growling curiously, until Lang Ze lazily lifted an eyelid.

One glance was enough. Lang Sheng froze, shivered his coat, then hurried off as if nothing had happened.

Once Lang Ze’s saddle was fixed, Qi Bai carefully set up a large bamboo basket inside it, lined with furs.

“Dou, Yuan…” Qi Bai called each name. One by one, cubs shifted to beast form, and he grabbed them by the scruff and dropped them into the basket.

Those with parents needed no attention. Half-grown young were big enough to run on their own.

Counting it all, only a little over twenty sub-beastmen and cubs remained—just enough to fit in one basket.

The fluffy wolf pups tumbled inside, rolled once on the furs, then scrambled up to peer over the rim. As soon as Qi Bai pushed one down, another popped back up. He couldn’t help laughing.

“Huai, come too,” he called.

Unlike the shameless cubs, Lang Huai demurred, patting Lang Sheng’s bedroll. “I can just ride here.”

Qi Bai tugged her insistently.
“That’ll be too cold. I need you to help watch the cubs. Don’t argue.”

“Alright.” With everyone watching, Lang Huai had no choice but to shift into beast form.

Food was tucked in, the lid placed atop. Then Qi Bai climbed onto the great wolf’s back.

A little snow leopard promptly poked out from his furs.

“Meow-ow, meow-ow~!” It stood on Lang Ze’s head, commanding with passion.

“Aw-oo, aw-oo!” The wolf pups in the basket howled in chorus.

Amid the racket, the giant wolf slowly rose.

Departure!

On the third morning, the long caravan of Silver Moon and Holy Antelope reached Song Wu.

The change was obvious the moment they passed the gates.

The slums that had once crowded both sides had emptied, leaving the city far more spacious.

For many Silver Moon and Holy Antelope beastmen, this was their first time entering a city. Everything amazed them. But Qi Bai and Lang Ze had no time for sightseeing. They led Ling Qiu and Wu Xun straight to the City Lord’s residence.

The Wan Gu Da Wu Hall was gone, reduced to rubble. Ji now lived in the City Lord’s Hall, Zhao in the Shen Shi Hall.

This three-tribe meeting would be held in Ji’s residence.

Ji’s eyes were shadowed, clear proof of sleepless nights spent managing the aftermath.

Seeing Qi Bai glance toward the door, Ji shook his head and explained to Ling Qiu and Wu Xun:
“Wan Gu has fallen, but much remains to handle. The Da Wu cannot spare the time. All matters in Song Wu fall to me for now. Today, I alone will meet you.”

Behind him, Hu Liao sneered inwardly. Zhao was simply too lazy to come discuss serious business, and Ji was covering for him.

Hu Liao had said all along—outsiders couldn’t be trusted. Ji should have had Zhao seized with the other Wan Gu survivors, leaving the Da Wu position to the Chi Hu. But Ji insisted on protecting Zhao, bringing trouble on himself.

Ji didn’t need to turn around to know Hu Liao’s thoughts. But no matter the pressure, he had to persist.

He sighed and addressed the visitors:
“Today, the largest tribe in Song Wu is my Chi Hu. Apart from us, there are twenty-odd small tribes with fewer than two hundred members each. If the Holy Antelope join, you’ll be the second largest. I offer you two wu and two elder positions. What say you?”

Positions just below Da Wu and City Lord—four at once. It was a generous offer.

But to Ji and Hu Liao’s surprise, Ling Qiu and Wu Xun firmly refused.
“The Holy Antelope have never wished to leave our land. Our past battles were only to defend ourselves. As long as the City Lord does not expand into the Wilds, we prefer the status quo.”

Ji pressed again. “You truly will not join Song Wu?”

Ling Qiu nodded again.

Ji glanced at Lang Ze and Qi Bai, seeing they had expected as much. Persuasion would be useless.

Qi Bai and Lang Ze had indeed guessed.

After experiencing the Sacred Spring themselves, they understood—the Holy Antelope would never abandon it.

So the two sides instead reaffirmed their borders.

The Mana Mountains would divide them: east to the Holy Antelope, west to Song Wu. They pledged alliance, trade, and peace.

According to tradition, Ji and Ling Qiu swore before the Beast God—and that was that.

Yet both then turned to Qi Bai and Lang Ze.

In truth, neither fully trusted the other. The Holy Antelope feared Song Wu might become another Wan Gu. Song Wu feared the Holy Antelope refused them for hidden reasons. Without Lang Ze and Qi Bai, they would never even sit together.

Qi Bai whispered, “If we vouch for them, would that work?”

Lang Ze thought, then nodded. “It would.”

Hei Yao lay thousands of li away. Whatever happened here would not touch them directly. But remember: beneath the Mana Mountains was still a ticking time-bomb. If Gu Jin were ever revived, these two tribes were crucial in stopping it.

Qi Bai sat up straighter.
“What do you both think of the Gu Jin mines beneath the Mana Mountains?”

Ling Qiu said gravely: “We want all who know of Gu Jin killed, to ensure it is never mined or used again.”

“Impossible to kill everyone,” Ji countered, pointing at himself. “The Da Wu and I know. Do you want us dead too?”

Ling Qiu frowned, but Ji’s next words reassured him:
“The Da Wu hasn’t slept for days over this. I promise you—all Gu Jin left by Wan Gu will be destroyed. Every beastman who mined or used it will be executed. From this day forward, the only way to claim Gu Jin is to step over Song Wu corpses!”

Ling Qiu stood, pounding his chest.
“If City Lord Ji has such resolve, then we too vow: for any war to eradicate Gu Jin, the Holy Antelope will never retreat.”

“Good!” Qi Bai clapped. “Then Hei Yao will put this in writing.”

Hei Yao?

Weren’t they Silver Moon? What was this connection to Hei Yao City?

But before anyone asked, Qi Bai explained:
“Oral promises are hard to enforce on descendants. If you don’t mind, let’s make a contract.”

None understood what he meant. Even Lang Ze looked puzzled.

Qi Bai smiled. “City Lord Ji, could you provide a fine hide as a token?”

“Of course,” Ji agreed. Soon, a beastman brought in a large hide.

Qi Bai spread it across the stone table, then cut it irregularly into three pieces. They could only fit back together as one whole.

From his pouch, he took charcoal ink and a bamboo pen, writing identical clauses on each, complete with a map of the Mana Mountains.

The room fell silent. No one even dared breathe as he finished, blew the ink dry, and lifted his hand.

Hu Liao’s eyes bulged. “This is… a Shen Dian totem?”

He had seen such patterns only in the central shrine. Yet even a Shen Si could hardly write so many different ones. Who were these two really?

Qi Bai shook his head.
“No. This is writing—bestowed upon Hei Yao by the Beast God. Each word carries meaning.”

He read the covenant aloud:
“These three contracts are identical. If you agree, press your handprints. Each tribe keeps one. The Beast God will witness. If either Song Wu or the Holy Antelope break faith, bring the covenant to Hei Yao—and we will aid the faithful.”

Wu Xun’s eyes nearly popped out.
“Those of Hei Yao—can they even read this?”

He didn’t doubt the sacredness of the script. But could Hei Yao truly understand it? Otherwise, the covenant would be useless.

Qi Bai answered calmly:
“The Beast God granted this writing to every Hei Yao child. As long as you bring this contract, you will be recognized.”

Privately, he still felt a twinge of guilt. But he had said many times before that “words are the Beast God’s creation.” If the god truly minded, he would have intervened already.

At this point, Qi Bai spoke with smooth confidence.

Ji and Ling Qiu did not dare treat it lightly. After washing their hands, they solemnly pressed their handprints.

Though they couldn’t read, the maps were plain enough. Trust was sealed.

Qi Bai carefully folded Hei Yao’s share and tucked it into his chest.

For him, the covenant wasn’t just for these two tribes. It was just as vital to Hei Yao itself.

Then Ji asked suddenly:
“You’re taking the Silver Moon clan back to Hei Yao?”

“Yes.”

“Then can Song Wu beastmen go too? We want to see the place where the Beast God descended.”

To their surprise, Lang Ze answered lightly:
“Fine. But Hei Yao is far. If your people regret it midway, we won’t send them back.”

After sending the guests away, Ji lingered over the covenant, touching the words. At length, he said:
“Liao, take a team. Follow them to Hei Yao City.”

Hu Liao raised his brows.
“City Lord, there’s so much chaos here. Those brats won’t listen. Better I stay to help.”

Ji drew a long, hidden breath. Then he turned, his face utterly sincere, as if deaf to the hint.
“Lang Ze and Bao Bai are no ordinary men. Their Hei Yao City may rival the Upper City itself. We must befriend them. If the Fu Shen Si does not support us, only they can.

This matter decides Song Wu’s survival. I trust only you, Liao. It must be you.”

It wasn’t entirely false. Ji truly believed Hei Yao City was extraordinary.

Hu Liao’s expression flickered. Finally, he bowed.
“Please rest assured, City Lord.”