Chapter 196

When the salt-gathering team returned that afternoon, the trading caravan’s lineup was finalized: 100 members—80 horned beastmen and 20 sub-beastmen.

On the journey, the horned beastmen would work around the clock—pulling wagons, patrolling, and scouting routes—while the sub-beastmen would make the most of every moment preparing food and fresh water for the group.

Unlike last year, this time the caravan wouldn’t stop to hunt each day unless they encountered an especially large game. Their goal: forced marches, traveling as fast as they could between the tribe and the trading day.

The caravan leadership was also set: Niu Shuo would serve as the main captain, with Lang Ji and Ma Ling as deputies. Monkey Yan would also accompany them.

At the send‐off meeting, Lang Ze made one thing clear: though the three leaders would make joint decisions, if they couldn’t reach consensus, everyone must heed Niu Shuo’s command.

Niu Shuo was visibly moved. He came from the Xiao Niu tribe—one of the most recently merged communities—and felt grateful for this rare trust. If Lang Ze believed in him, he wouldn’t let the tribe down.

Even Niu Xu, Niu Shuo’s partner, hugged him excitedly—a triumphant moment for the Xiao Niu contingent. It reinforced that only merit, not origin, determined one’s place in Heishan.

Qi Bai watched Ma Song’s expression carefully. Hailing from the Xi Shui tribe, Ma Song represented nearly half its numbers—but this time the tribe hadn’t assigned him a leadership role. Yet he didn’t seem disappointed; he recognized that Niu Shuo, Lang Ji, and Ma Ling offered a balanced blend of diplomacy, strength, and overall capability—making them ideal leaders.

The next morning around 4 or 5, the entire tribe gathered at the village entrance to see the caravan depart. Farewells were bittersweet—it would be at least two long months before they returned, and news from afar was rare.

Yet the crowd’s sadness soon gave way to purpose: everyone quickly returned to work.

First task: deal with the leftover salt that hadn’t fit on the wagons. It needed rinsing, re‑boiling, and drying—tedious, but necessary for tribe consumption, as the raw coarse salt was only good for trade.

Others headed to the fields. Tens of acres of golden millet were ready for harvest.

Under the hot sun, the hat‑wearing harvesters worked methodically with bone knives, bowing over the stalks and making steady progress.

Millet no longer tasted like bland grain: Qi Bai’s millet flour–soy sauce had won hearts—especially red‑braised meat with its aromatic glaze. Now, with so much millet in store, there’d be no limit to how much they could make.

Tu Ya stood at the field edge, pinching a heavy millet head, staring at the nearby sweet potato plot.

Lu Guo asked, “Spacing out?”

Rabbit-Ya nodded: “Our plants grew better than wild ones, didn’t they?”

Lu Guo realized it was true—the sweet potato vines on hills looked greener and more vigorous in their tended fields.

Tu Ya laughed: “Qi Bai used to say that, like animals, plants need eating and drinking. I thought it was silly—they can’t talk, how can they need that? But now I get it. They maybe have mouths we can’t see.”

Earlier, Tu Ya might never have noticed such insights, but now the tribe was changing. People learned to observe, to reflect, and to improve. Subtly, Qi Bai was inspiring them without realizing it.

Meanwhile, Qi Bai was busy leveling ground near the field edge with string and a ruler. A communal grain-drying yard needed building—critical for the ensuing harvest of millet and upcoming soybeans.

He chose a spot slightly south of the fields. In the future, it’d sit at the center of farmland expansion—whether heading east or south—saving effort for everyone.

He could allocate so much space because the tribe’s powerful neighbors were helping: the giant beasts cleared brush and uprooted trees swiftly, creating nearly twenty acres of level land in just half a day.

Now, two towering giants rolled stone mills across the drying yard, packing down soil. The stone mills were cylinders hollowed and mounted on an axle to roll easily with a rope.

People free to work grabbed heavy logs—or shifted into beast form—to tamp the earth firmly.

Suddenly, Qi Bai paused mid-work. He ran over to Lang Ze, ideas buckling: “Millet and beans need days to dry—and lugging them into town daily is too much. We should build a wooden shelter beside the yard—so night-watchers have a place to sleep and can protect the harvest in case it rains.”

Lang Ze peered skeptically at the sky—rain felt unlikely—but agreed anyway. “No harm being prepared.”

Midday, Hu Xue brought down provisions. As the sun became intense, villagers retreated across the yard to the canal by the Man‑eater River—with its shade, flowing cold water and piranha-proof wire—it became the perfect natural cooling station.

Under the big tree near the shelter, everyone drank water from bamboo bowls, grateful for the reprieve.

Qi Bai’s mind wandered to a small plot where unknown seeds were growing—little green beans he wished could mature so he could drink mung bean soup in this heat.

Rabbit Ru sat beside him and asked, “Guess what? Quan Liu says the four-eared sheep are listless. They huddle together and won’t graze. What should we do?”

After some thought, Qi Bai suggested calling Priest Yang Luo. He hurried over, cupping chilled radish soup, a midday favorite for cooling down. Radish soup was plentiful and easy on the resources—plenty of roots had been harvested already.

He offered the bowl with a smile.

Yang Luo looked from Ru and Qi Bai to the steaming soup. He nodded slowly. “The sheep are probably overheated. I know how.”

Pats Ru on the shoulder: “From tomorrow, you don’t need to come to the drying yard—go shear the sheep with Quan Liu. They’re great with animals, and the sheep trust him.”

Ru hesitated—she didn’t know how to shear. Yang Luo understood: “You’re new here. Bring Zhu Zhu with you—he can help.”

Qi Bai added logistical advice: “Quan Liu’s been working hard. Mornings, take the flock early, bring them back before heat—then let them out again when it cools.”

Raising livestock at this scale was new for Qi Bai too—he was learning with them. Thankfully, the sheep were healthy and resilient.

Ru jotted everything down and compiled names to staff the shearing group, so no one crossed workflow with field workers.

Over by the bamboo stand, Peng hesitated before walking over to help chop bamboo.