Chapter 332

When she saw Lang Ze’s palm suddenly transform into a wolf’s claw, Cang Xi’s expression changed. She carefully studied both Lang Ze and Qi Bai, then after a moment closed her eyes, bowed her head slightly, and gripped the bone necklace on her chest.

Jingle.

Cang Xi’s face instantly turned pale. At the same time, the bone pendant in her hand gave off a clear ringing sound.

The sound vanished almost immediately, yet it left Qi Bai’s heart trembling. He had never heard such a sound before—it felt as if it came from an ancient past, and also from a distant future.

Lang Ze clenched his fist. He felt a force beyond description, and for a brief moment, everyone in the carriage seemed to radiate with an unusually strong presence.

Cang Xi opened her eyes, breathing heavily. Cang Xie, who had been watching her closely, immediately stepped forward to support her as she nearly collapsed.

Lang Ze frowned.
“What was that just now?”

Sensing Cang Xie’s wariness, Qi Bai pushed open the carriage window and called out to Hu Meng:
“Don’t let anyone come near the wagon.”

Hu Meng nodded, circling the moving wagon once to keep distance from those around.

Qi Bai reassured them:
“Don’t worry, it’s safe here.”

Cang Xi, still weak, explained:
“This is the Cang Quan shamans’ incantation. It allows us to sense the bloodline connection between descendants of divine blood. By it, we can feel our kin’s existence, even in the outer lands, and not lose our way.”

She paused, uncertain.
“Just now, nearby—I seemed to sense more than one presence of divine blood. They were not Cang Quan.”

Qi Bai and Lang Ze exchanged glances. Very few in the city knew of Diao Lan and Hu Xiao’s true identities. There was no way Cang Xi could know. It seemed her sensing was real.

“Since you’ve confirmed it, then you’re not violating your ancestor’s command,” Qi Bai tapped the rim of his cup. “Over two hundred years ago, the Xian Ling clan that once ruled the temple was destroyed. Divine blood has long become legend on the beastman continent. Which clan are you descended from?”

“Xian Ling… so they too have perished?”

Cang Xi’s eyes were filled with astonishment at the changes of the world and with confusion about the future. She hadn’t expected that after the Cang Quan left the outer lands, the entire world would be so utterly changed.

Cang Xie’s voice was hoarse:
“We don’t know how long we spent in the outer lands. The shamans and chiefs of our tribe recited the ancestors’ stories word for word, instructing us to pass them down to every future chief and shaman.”

It was a time before temples and cities. The five clans of divine blood ruled the beastman continent together.

These five clans were:

• the Xian Ling clan, possessing the “Divine Eyes” that could foresee the future;

• the Yan Ling clan, with “Divine Voice” able to command all things;

• the Ju Ling clan, with “Divine Body,” vast forms matching mountains and rivers;

• the Qi Ling clan, with “Divine Thought,” who could commune with spirits and call gods down to earth;

• and…

Cang Xie looked at Lang Ze:
“...the Jiang Ling clan, with ‘Divine Power,’ able to transform their beast forms at will.”

The Jiang Ling could freely control their own beast shapes, even briefly taking the forms of others. Lang Ze’s ability resembled this “Divine Power,” but like Hu Xiao and Diao Lan, he did not inherit the full breadth of a divine-blood clan’s gifts.

The same applied to the Cang Quan, a branch of the Yan Ling. They could not converse with all creation like the true Yan Ling, inheriting only the power to command beasts.

Qi Bai said:
“Other than the Xian Ling, we’ve never heard of the other four.”

Cang Xie nodded.
“They likely no longer existed by the time we entered the outer lands.”

As beastman tribes multiplied, the five clans’ domains expanded. Friction escalated into war.

“Clans of divine blood had innate senses granted by the Beast God. They could feel one another’s presence. Other than the final victor, none could escape that earth-shaking war.”

That same sensing bound them together—and made them eternal enemies.

The Ju Ling, least inclined to fight, were the first to perish. The Jiang Ling and Qi Ling were ambitious and powerful, but in the end none could overcome the Xian Ling’s ability to foresee battles.

“Our Yan Ling ancestors, through communion with beasts and trees, learned of the fates of the other clans. Knowing they too could not avoid the war, they followed the ancestor god’s guidance to hide the last surviving branch in a sanctuary beyond the Xian Ling’s foresight.”

These “branch” descendants were born of divine-blood and ordinary beastmen. Some latent blood stirred in them, giving faint sensing ability, but weaker, and only to kin of their own kind.

What Cang Xie and Cang Xi recounted was fuller than the fragments Hu Xiao had glimpsed. Yet, being their tribe’s oral history, it carried omissions or embellishments. Unless another hidden divine-blood survived elsewhere, this was perhaps the closest truth they could give.

Where there are people, there is conflict. The struggle had shifted—from five divine clans to all other beastman powers. Ironically, once supreme rulers, the divine-blood were now coveted resources.

Lang Ze said:
“Now, some are seeking divine blood, to find it and control it. Your appearance may already have drawn their attention. Warn your people—do not reveal your powers lightly.”

Cang Xi worried:
“We have never spoken of divine blood, but we’ve never concealed our ability to command beasts either. This…”

After so long in the outer lands, they had no idea the world had changed. Prepared to be discovered by the Xian Ling, they had prioritized survival and growth over hiding.

Qi Bai waved it off:
“That’s no worry. In Hei Yao, commanding beasts is nothing rare.” He thought of the Ju Feng tribe in the city, wearing a wry grin. “When you reach Hei Yao, you’ll see.”

Hei Yao’s secrets were unknown to Cang Xie and Cang Xi. But one thing they did notice: ever since the Cang Quan joined, the army’s march sped up greatly.

The woven baskets and saddles made along the way were all in use. The march shifted from travel-by-day rest-by-night to a three-shift rotation of hauling and resting.

Soon, they entered the lands of the E Lian tribe.

Qi Bai had prepared supplies as thanks and personally handed them to Niu Yan.

Yet, after receiving them, Niu Yan did not leave.

Qi Bai considered, then said:
“Hei Yao’s caravans will return to Bei Huang next year. If your people want goods, tell me and I’ll have them bring them for E Lian.”

Only when Lang Ze, growing impatient, glanced over, did Niu Yan muster courage, face flushed:
“Great Priest, your caravans told us Hei Yao takes in beastmen fleeing hardship. Since you accepted even the Le Li, could you… could you accept our E Lian tribe too?”

Qi Bai blinked, surprised at the request.

Niu Yan’s shoulders slumped.
“So it’s impossible after all…”

“Of course it’s possible.”

Niu Yan snapped his head up, staring.

“But,” Qi Bai asked, “is this within your authority to decide?”

Though an outstanding youth, Niu Yan was not the E Lian’s chief. This was not his alone to decide.

Niu Yan clutched the supplies tightly:
“I’ll convince the chief!”

Qi Bai silently calculated. The Le Li food stocks weren’t enough for the whole winter, but would last until they reached Bei Zhou.

The E Lian were only a small tribe of three or four hundred. Adding them wouldn’t slow the column, but for people stripped of food, it could mean life instead of starving to death.

Qi Bai said:
“If you wish to come, you’ll receive two meals a day. But the column will not stop to wait for you.”

Niu Yan nodded furiously, then ran toward his tribe.
“Great Priest, we’ll catch up!”

The E Lian lived in a mountain hollow, their tents lonely amidst leafless slopes.

When Niu Yan returned, gloom weighed over the camp.

The hunters had returned, but brought little—barely enough for ten days, and still they had to fear the Le Li raiding again.

Worst of all, they had no salt left. Without salt, the horned beastmen lacked strength for another hunt.

“Chief! Chief! Hei Yao has defeated the Le Li!”

At his shout, everyone rushed from their tents. Old Niu Qu was first, spotting the supplies in his arms.
“Are those Hei Yao’s rations? Did they give you salt?”

Niu Yan shoved the supplies into him and sprinted straight to the middle-aged chief, shouting:
“Chief, Hei Yao City is willing to take us in! Call the tribe quickly—if we delay it’ll be too late!”

The chief’s eyes blazed.
“Foolish talk! How can we abandon E Lian’s lands?”

Niu Yan skipped over all the wondrous tools he’d seen, cutting straight to it:
“Food! Hei Yao gives us two meals a day!”

The chief glared at the dazed clansmen.
“What are you waiting for? Take down the tents!”

Soon, behind Hei Yao’s host, another line formed—beastmen with ragged bundles and chipped bowls, staring at the Hei Yao warriors with desperate hope.

Where do we line up for food?

No one knew how the rumor spread that following Hei Yao earned meals. But in the next days, the “tail” behind the column grew longer and longer.

These tribes had been stripped bare by Le Li. With little more than hide packs, they could join the march. With Hei Yao warriors’ aid, stumbling as they were, none yet fell behind.