Chapter 342

On the day the hunting party returned to the city, Hei Yao saw its first snowfall.
A thin layer of snow dusted the stone-paved streets, like fine sand scattering with the wind.

This year’s autumn hunt had been especially bountiful. Not only did they bring down many wild beasts, the most important gain was the number of live animals captured—far exceeding any previous year.

Qi Bai watched the lines of Ding beasts and Ming beasts marching in formation beside the Cangquan people, like schoolchildren in neat rows filing into the livestock pens. He couldn’t help but feel that some talents simply couldn’t be envied, only admired.

Since the hides of Ding beasts and Ming beasts made the finest armor and warmest furs, Hei Yao had never given up on trying to breed them. Unfortunately, results were disappointing—out of ten cubs, one or two surviving was already considered good, and getting them to reproduce was even harder. The ranchers were constantly fretting.

But now—just look at this—over five hundred adult Ding and Ming beasts had been brought back alive. If they could be kept healthy, Hei Yao’s animal husbandry would leap forward by next year.

The Cangquan beastmen were just as overjoyed.

Though they had far greater affinity with beasts than ordinary people, not every wild animal could be tamed. Normally they also had to start from cubs, building up their herds slowly.

But there were two exceptions: the Man oxen and You pigs, closest kin to the Cangquan. By chance, Ding beasts and Ming beasts were strikingly similar to You pigs—not only in appearance but in habits as well. That was why they succeeded in bringing back so many.

No matter what, this display by the Cangquan in the autumn hunt earned everyone’s admiration.

The Household Division even set aside a vast tract of land outside the city as pasture, for the Cangquan to herd their beasts.

Calling it pasture sounded grand, but there wasn’t much to it.
Unplowed land already held wild grasses and vines. They only had to scatter the seeds collected in autumn and let nature sprout freely in spring.

At the same time, Qi Bai began preparing the goods for their journey to the Beast God City.

Hei Yao now had a fairly complete production chain. Beyond the two main streets, every foodstuff—oil, salt, sauces, wine, meat, eggs, milk—had its own workshop. Leather, wicker, and furniture had also grown into industries of scale.

But Qi Bai wasn’t planning to haul all of that to the Beast God City. Considering transport and storage, he settled on two key goods.

The first was honey. Qi Bai had invested in many city workshops, but beekeeping remained under his sole control.

Don’t underestimate it—beastmen loved sweets, but few beast forms could safely gather honey. Honey’s value on the beastman continent rivaled gold. Thanks to the bees’ labor, selling honey was currently Qi Bai’s most profitable venture.

The second was Mok-hua cloth. At the end of last year, Huohuo, Hubu, and Su Yu had built a loom based on Qi Bai’s sketch of a “stream-of-consciousness” design—a loom one person could operate.

Cloth woven on these looms was finer and more even. Most importantly, efficiency skyrocketed—what once took nearly two months per person now could be done in less than one.

Bao Xi and Luo Shu had both confirmed: nowhere outside Hei Yao had they ever seen cloth like Mok-hua. The only comparison was Jiao-sha, the gauzy fabric worn only by the high priests of the temple. That alone proved how precious Mok-hua was.

When Qi Bai first heard the word “Jiao-sha,” he had been stunned. Wasn’t that something from myth? Yet here it was, on the beastman continent. He still didn’t know if it was the same as what he imagined.

But obtaining it was nearly impossible. It was said the Yi people devoted their entire tribe’s efforts, and only once in ten years could they weave a single roll. Every inch was offered to the temple to make priestly robes. The Yi themselves couldn’t use it, let alone trade it.

Compared to that, Hei Yao’s Mok-hua cloth was practically generous. Pricey enough that common folk couldn’t afford it—but at least it could be bought.

Su Yu carefully packed the rolls of cloth in the wagon, cushioning each with thick furs against the jolting of travel. Just then, the leather curtain lifted, and Huohuo handed in another roll.

“Lord Huohuo.”

“Eh?” Huohuo paused mid-step. “Did you forget something?”

Su Yu shook his head.

“Oh.” Huohuo drew back, saying as he went, “If you need anything on the road, just tell Hubu. Don’t hold back with him.”

For this journey, Qi Bai had selected people from all seven divisions. Because of his leg injury, Huohuo couldn’t endure long travel, so the Craft Division sent Hubu and Shu Lin.

Su Yu, with his astonishing gift for toolmaking, had been chosen too, though he wasn’t yet counted as a Hei Yao citizen. His quota fell under the Priest’s Office.

But Su Yu only said: “The High Priest told me I’ve earned enough points. After we return from the Beast God City, the waiting period for my entry trial will be over. Then I’ll no longer be a slave, but an ordinary citizen of Hei Yao.”

Huohuo blinked, then broke into a sincere smile. “That’s wonderful.”

Su Yu waited a moment longer, and when Huohuo said nothing else, he nodded and lowered the curtain.

Huohuo stood frozen outside for a while before turning away silently.

Unlike the quiet at the wagons, Shu Lin’s family nearby was lively.

Shu Lin stuffed his little squirrel cub into Xiong Shan’s arms. “Your father and I are going out to play. You take good care of your sister, alright?”

Five-and-a-half-year-old Xiong Shan and two-year-old Shu Xuan locked big eyes at each other.

Life was hard. Bear and squirrel sighed in unison.

Zhu Zhu rolled her eyes. “How can you call such an important mission ‘going out to play’?”

She crouched to pick up the little squirrel cub, then took Xiong Shan’s hand. “Don’t listen to your father. You’re coming with Grandma Zhu Zhu to the nursery, to play with the other cubs.”

Shu Lin chuckled, clambering up onto Xiong Feng’s back.

Cubs were like this: when you didn’t have them, you longed for them. Once you did, you fretted endlessly. No matter the true purpose of the trip, to Shu Lin, going to the fabled Beast God City while leaving the kids behind was—well, play.

“Grandpa Yang Luo, do you want to come too?” Qi Bai noticed Yang Luo’s wistful gaze and smiled. “It’s our first trip to the Beast God City. Whether they’re friend or foe, we don’t know yet. Let us scout ahead. If it’s safe, I’ll bring you later. No need to wait ten years for the Grand Assembly.”

Yang Luo’s heart ached. It wasn’t the Beast God City he envied—it was Shu Lin and Xiong Feng.

They had partnered around the same time as Qi Bai and Lang Ze. But those two were always away, and hadn’t even produced cubs. He longed to hold Qi Bai’s little cub someday. A soft, fluffy leopard cub would be adorable.

Yang Luo sighed. Why, oh why, had Qi Bai chosen Lang Ze?

“I’m not going,” Yang Luo waved dismissively. “Whether Upper City or Beast God City, nowhere is better than our Hei Yao. I wish never to leave it.”

“But you must be careful,” he added. “At the first sign of danger, come back. With our city, no one can harm us.”

“Got it.” Qi Bai smiled, nodding. He told Yang Luo and Hou Yan, “The city will depend on you.”

By then, Lang Ze had assembled the team. He came over, puzzled by Yang Luo’s odd hostility, and murmured to Qi Bai: “We can depart.”

Hou Yan chuckled, waving. “Go, go.”

Thus, two hundred elite warriors personally selected by Lang Ze, along with fourteen technical experts from the seven divisions, formed the envoy. On a snowy morning, they set out from Hei Yao.

On the road, Lang Ze did not assume beast form as usual.

His beast shape had grown even larger, too conspicuous in public. He stayed in human form, riding with Qi Bai in the wagon.

Even so, the Hei Yao team could hardly keep a low profile.

The holy spring water they had traded from Sheng Ling in spring—Qi Bai had kept only a small portion for emergencies. The rest he distributed among the five generals with the highest combat strength.

Ling Ping and Ling Ta didn’t carry much spring water themselves, so immersing in it like Qi Bai and Lang Ze once had was impossible. Instead, everyone drank it directly. Not a diluted mix like Sheng Ling’s Wu Xun once gave, but a full jar each.

Perhaps thanks to the water, within months Xiong Han, Lang Kuang, Lang Ji, and Yun Jing—all previously stuck at the edge of second-level warrior—broke through. Niu Shuo, with weaker foundations, still reached first-level peak.

Beyond them, the envoy had dozens of first-level warriors, and even the rest were hardened veterans.

Most terrifying of all was their discipline—powerful alone, but marching as one, their aura made beasts flee from a kilometer away. No wild creature dared approach.

Led by Ma Ling, they soon reached their destination.

“Up ahead is Qing Chi City,” Ma Ling shouted. “And that is Lake Ling!”

Qi Bai stepped down from the cart, eyes widening.

Before him stretched a boundless expanse of jade-green water, gleaming like a flawless gem.

Qing Chi City—it was a city built on a lake.