Chapter 301

“The flames will cleanse away all pain and hardship. Our clansmen have returned to the Beast God’s side—never again will they know hurt or sorrow. They have departed, taking with them suspicion and resentment, leaving only hope and expectation. We will not forget them. We will carry on their place and ensure Silver Moon continues without end.”

Qi Bai’s gentle voice sounded in every ear.

The beastmen had never held such a funeral rite for the dead before. Yet in this moment, with Qi Bai’s low chanting, the anger in everyone’s hearts seemed to burn with the altar’s fire, gradually solidifying, until at last it became pious and unshakable conviction.

On the grassland, wind suddenly rose. It scattered the thick smoke, weaving through the clansmen as though softly caressing each beastman’s face, as though lingering in farewell.

The burial pit for the ashes was dug by the clansmen together.

At first, some used tools. But at some point, everyone threw the tools aside, digging the earth out with their bare hands, handful by handful.

Lang Ze solemnly lowered the wooden box containing the ashes into the pit. Soil sifted down, pattering softly onto the box.

In Hua Nation, they believed the dead should be “laid to rest in the earth.” Whether or not such a blessing held true on the Beastman Continent, Qi Bai still hoped these clansmen he had never met in life could sleep peacefully in the land they had known best.

At last, someone could no longer hold back and collapsed before the pit, sobbing loudly.

“It’s my fault! If I had listened to Lang Zhan and returned to the tribe earlier, the tribe would not have been slaughtered!”

“Wuuu—it was my foolishness! I should have known Cang Shensi would never just give us land for free, I should have known!”

The under-ten cubs didn’t understand why the adults wept bitterly and knocked their heads on the ground. Frightened, they looked around, then soon began to sob softly too.

Lang Zhan, eyes red, seized an ya-shouren’s arm. If he didn’t stop him, the stone in the man’s hand would have crushed his own skull.
“What are you doing?!”

The ya-shouren’s eyes were full of grief. “My grandmother and father both died in the tribe, only I escaped early. What difference is there between me and someone trampling their corpses to live? I am the tribe’s traitor—death is what I deserve!”

Lang Zhan roared angrily: “What did the Great Priest just say? Have you all forgotten?! What use is dying?!”

“Wuuu—don’t let Father die.”

Lang Huai pulled a sobbing cub, hiccupping from crying, into her arms. “Look at them—see how terrified the cubs are? You think your life is worthless, but theirs is priceless. If you die, what will become of your cub?”

The ya-shouren looked at his child. The stone suddenly felt heavy as a thousand jin. At last it slipped from his palm, thudding to the ground.

An older ya-shouren stepped forward, dragging him up and into his embrace, choking with tears.
“You didn’t want this. I know this isn’t who you are.”

Such scenes were not few. Clansmen supported one another, leaning against each other. The invisible wall that had stood between them was finally shattered.

Lang Ze’s voice was hoarse. “Thank you.”

Thank you—for holding a funeral for my father and mother-father. Thank you—for helping the clansmen untie their knots. Thank you—for everything you’ve done for Silver Moon. Lang Ze’s single “thank you” carried countless emotions.

“Why thank me? They are your clansmen, and they are also mine.”

Qi Bai tilted his head, listening to the grass and trees sway in the breeze.
“We cannot live forever in the past. We must always look forward. The road will be hard, but I believe everyone can endure.”

The clansmen of Manghuang and Fenggu had been separated for more than ten years. One side had never ceased seeking vengeance; the other had unknowingly “lingered on” in the enemy’s shadow. Their lives had changed utterly.

If left unchecked, these divisions would, with time, breed suspicion and hatred, until someday they were irreparable. Only by tearing open the wounds, laying their darkness bare under sunlight, could they truly accept each other.

The pit was finally filled. The clansmen turned their heads, looking expectantly at Lang Ze and Qi Bai.

From the moment they left Fenggu, they had been traveling constantly. Lang Ze had never told them their destination, nor made any promises.

But Qi Bai could see it clearly—they hoped Lang Ze would accept them, hoped he would stay on this fertile grassland and rebuild the Silver Moon tribe.

“Our ancestors, blessed by the Wolf God, migrated to the grasslands and found land to flourish. For centuries after, our territory shifted and expanded. Until my father, Wolf King Shun, when Silver Moon became the overlord of the plains, revered by all tribes.”

Lang Ze’s voice rang strong and resolute.

“Yet the stronger Silver Moon grew, the more complex the problems. Within, Lang Shuo plotted fratricide. Without, E Gu and other tribes circled, coveting. And there were always the unrestful slaves. Silver Moon’s fall was never merely a simple tribal war.”

“Our clansmen died, our tribe was destroyed. That pain I share. But if Silver Moon is to be reborn from war, each of us must bear this pain.”

“I know some among you refuse the merger of Fenggu and Manghuang. I know some may not wish to acknowledge me as chieftain. But remember—Silver Moon wolf clan never fears a challenge! Whoever refuses me—step forward! I accept your challenge!”

“Chieftain!” “Chieftain!” “Chieftain!”

“Lang Ze!” “Lang Ze!” “Lang Ze!”

In that moment, all voices joined as one, calling his name with all their strength.

Qi Bai stood behind him, gazing fixedly at his mate.

That broad, sturdy back. That tall, unyielding figure. His mate was no longer the solitary, stubborn, thin youth he once had been. He was a chieftain who could hold up the sky for his people. He was their king.

“Good!”

Lang Ze lifted his hand, and silence fell instantly. He swept his gaze across every expectant face.
“I know many want to stay here. But these grasslands are no longer fit for us to live. Raise your spirits—we must keep moving. Wherever we are—that is Silver Moon! The north will be our home from now on!”

“The north!” “The north!”

Though their eyes brimmed with reluctance to part with the land, no one hesitated. Not one wished to linger another day. They swiftly packed their hearths, preparing to depart.

Beneath a great tree not far away—

Ling Ping couldn’t help sighing. “Such land they can abandon, only to march northward. Could it be that the north, near the Beast God’s dwelling, is truly that rich?”

Born and raised, it was the first time Ling Ping had come so far, seeing such endless plains.

Though the Holy Antelope had dwelt for generations in the Wilds, and the E Gu built their city in Song Wu, that didn’t mean those lands were good environments.

On the contrary—mountains unscalable, forests thick with miasma, venomous insects and plants, and vast endless swamps. Life there made hunting and foraging dozens of times harder than on the grassland.

Were it not for guarding the Sacred Spring, Ling Ping would want to move the tribe here immediately.

Nearby, Shu rubbed his knees and muttered, “What do you know.”

Silver Moon had only so many people now. The richer the land, the harder to hold. Better to find new territory and build up again, than be bullied by former “little brothers.”

Besides, others might not know the Beast God’s dwelling—but he, the young city lord of Qingchi, had traveled far and wide. He knew: that land was perilous, snowbound all year.

How could it be rich? But it was indeed sparsely inhabited.

Hu Liao’s only thought was reaching Hei Yao City. Empty grasslands held no appeal. “Let’s go. They’re ready.”

The caravan set out again. Qi Bai looked back toward the great marsh receding behind them.

Clouds mirrored in clear waters, Fengling blossoms budding on the shore, a few deer sneaking back to drink alertly.

Just that glance, and Qi Bai could already imagine the marsh in bloom, beautiful and untouched by the rise and fall of beastman tribes.

Wolf Shun and his mate had named their cub “Ze” after the marsh—hoping Lang Ze would be like it: pure, strong, and endlessly full of life.

The caravan’s course stayed northeast. After more than a month, they finally reached the border of Dong Yi and Bei Huang.

Only then did Qi Bai’s heart ease.

All along, what he had feared most was another expanse of thousand-li scorched red earth, like he and Lang Ze had crossed when first heading for Manghuang.

Two months of drought-road—thinking back still chilled him.

Then, it had been winter. With only the two of them, their water needs were small, a mountain spring sufficed.

Now was different. They had fifteen hundred people. A small stream couldn’t sustain their cooking needs, let alone in this summer heat when they couldn’t store ice as in winter. Even water containers were a headache.

So while the little snow leopard sprawled on the giant wolf’s head panting adorably, beneath that cuteness was a mind full of worry.

Luckily, their route this time was not a straight line. From Fenggu to the plains, then here—they had skirted that scorched land.

As for the drought in Bei Huang and Dong Yi—compared to the red earth, it was nothing.

More than that—stepping onto familiar ground, Qi Bai felt firm again. Once they found Xi Shui, they would have both water and direction home.

Day by day the sun burned hotter. By noon, the heat stilled even Hei Yao City.

Yang Luo sat in the temple doorway, fanning himself, wearing the linen vest Qi Bai had given him. Beside him a low tea table, holding apricot wine chilled in spring water.

Next to him sat Xiong Zi, Yun Zhang, and others. The elder priests loved to sit here—not only could they check the sundial at a glance, but they could also see the central plaza clearly.

According to Qi Bai and Lang Ze’s arrangements before leaving, all clansmen had been assigned new farmland this spring.

The rule was: adult beastmen could claim up to ten mu; cubs over fourteen up to five. In practice, everyone claimed the maximum.

All spring they labored tirelessly, and the results were clear. To the north, hundreds more acres of fields now stretched green, and by autumn, golden grain.

The northern threshing ground was long overcrowded. Threshing was fine, but drying grain wasn’t enough.

No problem. Courtyards, roadsides—everywhere became drying grounds.

Especially the wide stone plaza at the temple’s entrance—most popular of all.

Sweep it clean, stake out a patch, spread the grain—then collect it at night. Clean, simple, convenient.

Now, the plaza was covered in grain and dried apricots. Just looking brought joy.

Farther off, the tofu shop at South Street’s edge bustled with people coming and going.

Yang Luo fanned himself. “Those shopfronts on Trade Street—what’s your take?”

Since finishing the outer wall last month, the Gongsi had started building Trade Streets along the four avenues. Rows of shopfronts rose swiftly. South Street’s two facing rows were already done.

For now, only the tofu shop operated. The rest sat empty. They needed a plan.

Xiong Zi said, “Selling them isn’t hard, just too many. In the end, clansmen will just buy them back as homes.”

Two hundred shops on South Street alone. With only one tofu shop using them, it did seem excessive.

Yun Zhang drawled, “Not so. Since the Great Priest set it down, even leaving space for East and West Trade Streets, it means he already calculated the future. No need to fret—just wait for him to return.”

Yang Luo: “...” Useless answer. He turned to Lu Jian and Wu Rao, hoping for better.

But one was distracted, still thinking of her “surgery,” the other sipping fruit wine in bliss.

None were in working mode.

Yang Luo rolled his eyes internally. These elders—when leading labor, worth two men each. But when thinking was needed—they went blank.

Everything had to wait for Qi Bai. No matter how capable, he couldn’t do it all!

Just as he was about to press them, Hu Meng burst in. “Priest Grandpa! Th—the Great Priest!”

Yang Luo scolded, “What priest, what not priest? Catch your breath and speak properly!”

Hu Meng gulped air. “The City Lord and Great Priest are back—with a huge company of people!”

Yang Luo shot up so fast he nearly toppled. Only Hu Meng’s quick hands steadied him.

The others also leapt up. “Quick—let’s greet them at the gate.”

“Wait!” Yang Luo stopped them, turning back. “Did you say—the City Lord and Great Priest brought others back too?”

Hu Meng nodded rapidly. “At least a thousand-strong troop! They’ll reach the city within half a day!”

Yang Luo waved urgently. “Don’t rush to the gate yet. You lot, change into ceremonial robes! Meng—notify Elder Hou Yan and the rest—armor up and assemble at the gate.”

“Aye!”

---

On the endless steppe, towering walls rose like a lighthouse. The broad road pointed straight ahead, guiding beastmen toward the majestic city.

When Qi Bai and Lang Ze had left, the wall was barely begun. Now, the whole city was encircled, flawless.

Thirty meters high—like a ten-story building in the modern world. But here, it seemed to pierce the clouds, brimming with unmatched majesty.

Qi Bai shouted into the wind: “We’re home! Lang Ze, we’re home!”

Since last October—more than ten months—they were finally at their gate!

As he cried out, the giant wolf’s pace quickened, soon outstripping the caravan.

“Awwooo?!” “Awooo!”

From the bamboo baskets, cubs poked out their heads, stunned by the sight.

They rubbed their eyes hard—but no, the massive wall was still there. Not a dream!

Yet compared to the adults behind, the cubs were the calmest.

Luo Tuo nearly tripped over his own hooves.

What… what was this? How was it possible?!

As Qingchi’s young city lord, Shu had thought Lang Ze and Qi Bai led only Silver Moon remnants. Once, maybe strong, but far beneath Qingchi. He had come only for their tempting foods.

Later, he heard from Holy Antelope and Song Wu folk that Silver Moon had not only survived—they had built a city in the north. This Hei Yao City was their goal.

But Shu hadn’t cared. Surely just another minor city. He had seen too many new ones.

After all, Qingchi, a century old, rivaled Wan Gu at its peak. He had even lived half a year in Ji Cheng, one of the Three Upper Cities. He fancied nothing could impress him outside the Beast God’s own capital.

But now—shock was too small a word.

What stood before him—such colossal walls, such towering gates—no, this wasn’t a city.

Even Ji Cheng, one of the Upper Three, wasn’t half this size—no, not even a quarter!

This couldn’t have been built by the God Temple’s aid. Such sheer walls, such gates—beyond the temple’s ability.

The more he thought, the more fear prickled. Since when had a power capable of rivaling the temple arisen?

Hu Liao too was struck dumb. He had once glimpsed the Beast God’s City itself.

That city sat on a mountaintop. This one, on flat plains—yet vaster.

The world thought Beast God City was just a city. But it was really a colossal temple. By size alone, even twenty Beast God Cities couldn’t match this giant.

Now he believed Ji’s words: Hei Yao City was far more important than anyone guessed.

Hu Liao cast a wary glance at Sun. He must not lose this chance.

But while they reeled, the Holy Antelope and Silver Moon clansfolk, who had only seen Song Wu—or no city at all—reacted like the cubs.

Awed, joyous, they clamored: what a huge, beautiful city! They longed to rush closer, to enter.

Meanwhile Qi Bai scratched his head.

Where were the patrols? Had they not noticed? Impossible—a caravan this size entering the perimeter unnoticed? They’d be punished by Lang Ze!

But if they had noticed, why was the gate still shut? Never before had they returned without being greeted early.

Even as he wondered, the giant wolf drew within five hundred meters.

Boom… boom…

Suddenly, the closed gate rumbled.

Before all eyes, the towering gates slowly opened inward.

Within stood five priests in plain wooden robes, Elder Yun Tan in their center. At their sides—armored generals with scarlet-bird bone blades. Behind them—rows of drilled warriors.

Lang Ze slowed, finally halting before them.

“Welcome the City Lord back!”

“Welcome the Great Priest back!”

All bowed low—priests giving priestly rites, warriors their salutes—yet in perfect unison.

“Welcome the City Lord back!”

“Welcome the Great Priest back!”

Two louder voices echoed from above—the soldiers atop the walls, also saluting.

The caravan stopped respectfully ten meters behind Lang Ze and Qi Bai. Such solemn honor was not theirs to share.

Qi Bai slid down from the wolf, stepped forward, and personally lifted Yang Luo and the others.
“You’ve all worked hard. The City Lord and I have returned safely.”

“Great Priest!” “City Lord!”

“Oh! Oh!! Great Priest brother is back!!!”

“Wuuu—Great Priest brother, I missed you so much!”

Beastmen of the city, long waiting, lined the road. Excitement lit their eyes at the sight of their leaders. Cubs nearly burst forward to cling to Qi Bai.

Fortunately, the

adults held them back, mindful that guests had come.

Those first entering the city could hardly take it all in. They hated having only two eyes.

And then, their steps faltered oddly.

By the Beast God! Was this really ground? The streets were cleaner than their sleeping tents.

The Jiao beastmen, still in beast form bearing loads, followed—but Qi Bai introduced them one by one.

He said to Yang Luo: “These three tribes are our friends. They’ve come a long way and are weary. Find three empty houses—let them settle first.”