Chapter 102
By the time they arrived, the cave was eerily silent.
Bai Chen’s cave was relatively small, with only a single bedroom. The cubs were inside. Since it was cold, Bai Tu made sure Tu Bing was well covered before heading straight into the bedroom—after all, nothing was more important than the cub’s survival.
Seeing Bai Tu enter, Tu Bing forced herself to stay awake and struggled to sit up.
Beastmen usually gave birth in their beast form, but Tu Bing had endured too much shock today, so she had given birth in human form.
Whether it was due to premature birth or her anger, both cubs had been born weak—one barely clinging to life, while the other had been born without breath.
Bai Tu immediately gestured for Bai Chen to help Tu Bing lie back down while he went straight for the lifeless cub that had yet to be buried.
The newborn rabbit cub wasn’t exactly what Bai Tu had imagined.
It wasn’t completely smooth-skinned—it was already covered in a thin layer of soft fur. However, due to oxygen deprivation, the cub’s nose, ear tips, paws, and muzzle had turned a deep purple.
The moment Bai Tu touched the cub, his eyes lit up.
It was still warm!
“Bring a basin of warm water—make it slightly hotter than usual. And get me a soft piece of beast hide.”
Bai Tu carefully cupped the cub in his hands, checked its mouth and nose, and tilted it slightly to clear out any remaining amniotic fluid.
“Tu!”
Tu Cai had just finished tending to the weaker cub when she looked up—only to see Bai Tu shaking the lifeless newborn.
She was so shocked that she cried out in alarm.
Even if a cub was no longer breathing, it was still one of their own.
Among all the beast tribes, only the Vulture Tribe had the cruel practice of abandoning their dead. The rest would always bury their lost young with respect.
But Bai Tu’s actions looked as if he was about to throw the cub away!
As the amniotic fluid dribbled out from the cub’s nostrils, Bai Tu immediately began pressing his fingers against its tiny chest.
Noticing Tu Cai was still frozen in place, he urged her again.
“Hurry up! Get the warm water and beast hide!”
Only then did Tu Cai realize—Bai Tu wasn’t discarding the cub. He was trying to save it.
Relieved, she quickly ran out to fetch the supplies. But before she could even return, Lang Qi was already back with a basin of warm water.
Thanks to the fire pit, they always had hot water ready. Bai Tu had designed two types of fire pits for convenience—one with a built-in stove and one without. Most beastmen had chosen the stove-equipped version, since even if they didn’t cook, they could still roast corn or boil water.
Bai Chen and Tu Bing’s cave had one of these stove pits, so hot water had been available immediately.
Lang Qi had simply mixed it with cooler water to get the right temperature. Meanwhile, Bai Chen had gone to fetch the softest beast hide he could find.
Bai Tu placed the water-resistant side of the hide over the basin, letting the steam warm it up. Once it was heated, he carefully wrapped the cub inside, leaving only its tiny chest exposed. Then, he resumed pressing on its chest, switching hands whenever he grew tired.
The others had never seen this kind of technique before, but judging by Bai Tu’s serious expression, they could tell he was trying to revive the cub.
Tu Cai stared without blinking at Bai Tu’s every move.
She had witnessed dozens—if not hundreds—of newborns over the years. But only about half ever made it to their one-month milestone. Some died at birth, while others weakened and passed away within days.
A mother’s condition during pregnancy directly impacted a cub’s chances of survival.
So when Tu Cai had first seen Tu Bing’s two cubs, she had already guessed how things would end.
But never—not in the Snow Rabbit Tribe, not anywhere on the Beast God Continent—had she ever seen a shaman or healer bring a breathless cub back to life.
Tu Bing and Bai Chen, however, only had eyes for their child.
If it had been anyone else handling their dead cub this way, they would have objected immediately.
But this was Bai Tu.
The cub had been deprived of oxygen for too long. Bai Tu’s arms were already aching from exhaustion.
Then—
At last—
The tiny, fragile chest beneath his fingers gave the faintest rise and fall.
Tu Bing was the first to notice.
Her grip on Bai Chen’s hand tightened unconsciously, leaving deep red marks on his wrist.
But Bai Chen didn’t care about the pain at all—because he had seen it too.
The cub moved.
The cub that had been born without breath—was alive!
Neither of them could even speak from sheer shock and joy.
No one had expected such a miracle. Even Lang Qi, who had full faith in Bai Tu’s abilities, hadn’t truly believed that the cub could be saved.
In everyone’s understanding, death was final. A cub that was born lifeless had never come back before.
Bai Tu, unaware of what was running through their minds, was already focused on the next step—keeping the cub warm.
Technically speaking, the temperature inside the cave wasn’t too low, but that was only in comparison to the freezing outdoors. The reality was that the cave was only about ten degrees Celsius, which was far too cold for a newborn cub.
Traditionally, beastmen relied on two main methods for keeping their cubs warm: One, holding them in their beast form, using their own body heat to warm the cubs. Two, wrapping them in thick layers of beast hide.
However, both methods had significant risks.
Beastmen couldn’t stay curled around their cubs forever—the cubs needed to feed. And with their massive size, even the smallest movement could accidentally crush or suffocate a fragile newborn.
Many beastmen would stay awake all night, afraid that if they slept, they might roll over and injure their own cub.
As for wrapping them in beast hide, that came with its own dangers. Thick hides were heavy, and if left unchecked, they could cover the cub’s mouth and nose, causing suffocation.
Both methods worked for insulation, but neither was truly safe.
That’s when Bai Tu thought of modern incubators.
Of course, with their current technology, building an actual incubator was impossible.
But he could replicate the principle using a heated water-bed.
The biggest challenge was finding a waterproof material.
Right now, the only soft, waterproof material in the tribe was beast hide. While it had good water resistance on one side, it couldn’t be sewn into a fully sealed water pouch.
Smaller natural materials, like fish bladders, were waterproof, but they weren’t large or sturdy enough to create a safe incubator.
Just as Bai Tu was struggling to find a solution, he suddenly remembered the food containers used for cubs.
These containers were made of two ceramic pots, with an outer layer filled with hot water to keep food warm for half a day.
If he used warm water instead of hot, he could maintain the perfect temperature for a newborn cub.
The only issue was that food pots were too deep, making them unsafe for placing a cub inside.
So Bai Tu had Lang Qi go to the pottery workshop and fetch two shallow clay basins of the right size.
Then, he used wooden supports to stabilize them, preventing the pots from shifting.
Once everything was secured, he poured slightly heated water into the outer basin, then carefully tested the temperature of the inner basin.
Since clay had excellent heat conduction, the inner basin warmed up quickly after just a short time.
However, it still wasn’t safe to place the cub directly inside.
So Bai Tu took the same beast hide he had used earlier, cut it to size, and lined the basin with it before gently placing the cub inside.
This setup provided a warmer, safer sleeping environment than the rest of the cave.
With a thin layer of beast hide covering the top, the cub could sleep comfortably while staying at the right temperature.
At the same time, Tu Bing could finally relax a little, knowing that her two cubs were safe without having to constantly stay on edge.
However, this method wasn’t without flaws. The most obvious issue was that the water needed to be changed frequently since its temperature would gradually drop.
Fortunately, the clay basin was placed on the heated kang bed where Tu Bing was resting. This spot was warmer than the rest of the cave, meaning they wouldn’t have to change the water too often.
“Every time you change the water, make sure it reaches this level,” Bai Tu instructed, carefully demonstrating the process. “Gradually add hot water in the middle. When the water level is nearly full, take the cub out and replace it with fresh warm water.”
Bai Tu was worried that Bai Chen might not control the temperature properly, which could result in either freezing or scalding the cub.
To make sure he got it right, Bai Tu had Bai Chen repeatedly test the water temperature until he was certain that Bai Chen could accurately gauge the changes. Only then did he feel at ease.
Bai Chen memorized Bai Tu’s instructions word for word, taking the task seriously.
Tu Bing, lying nearby, was also listening.
Even after witnessing her cub being brought back to life before her very eyes, she still felt like everything was a dream.
Especially Tu Bing.
Even though she had never given birth before, she knew something had been terribly wrong with her condition today.
The moment Tu Cai told her that one of the cubs wasn’t breathing, she had known her worst fears had come true.
The physical exhaustion and the grief of losing her child had overwhelmed her so suddenly that she lost consciousness before she could even speak.
She vaguely remembered dreaming—a long, muddled dream.
Yet somewhere deep in her subconscious, a voice urged her to wake up—there was something important she had to do.
Tu Bing didn’t know how long she had been unconscious.
But the very first thing she did when she woke up was tell Bai Chen to find Bai Tu.
She had thought that asking Bai Tu to take a look at the cub would at least ease the pain of the day’s events—but she never expected him to perform a miracle.
Before they even had time to process what Bai Tu was doing, the cub had come back to life.
For a moment, Tu Bing didn’t know what to feel.
Should she be grateful that she had sent Bai Chen to find Bai Tu?
Or should she be relieved that Bai Tu hadn’t been angry about Tu Lei’s actions and had still chosen to help them?
Either way, today had turned out to be the luckiest day of her entire life.
After giving his instructions, Bai Tu reminded Bai Chen to pay attention to Tu Bing’s diet: “If she needs anything, remember to ask Mu and Cai.”
Finally, he glanced at the two peacefully sleeping cubs. Worried that his cold hands might chill them, he didn’t touch them directly. Instead, he carefully pulled the nearby beast hide up, covering them properly before leaving the cave.
Having been busy for most of the night, Bai Tu was both exhausted and drowsy. He hadn’t even made it back to his own cave before stumbling from fatigue. It was so late that he almost slipped, but fortunately, Lang Qi caught him just in time.
Without a word, Lang Qi hoisted Bai Tu onto his back and murmured softly, “Sleep.”
Bai Tu was too tired to protest. Given their relationship, there was no need for unnecessary politeness. He simply leaned against Lang Qi’s back and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Feeling the grip on his shoulders loosen, Lang Qi instinctively tightened his hold, securing Bai Tu firmly against his back.
When they arrived at the cave, Lang Qi prepared warm water and gently wiped Bai Tu’s face and hands with a damp towel before drying him off with a clean one.
Now clean and comfortable, Bai Tu seemed quite content even in his sleep. He shifted slightly, adjusting his sleeping position—
And then, right before Lang Qi’s eyes, he transformed into a small rabbit.
Lang Qi carried the towels and water outside, quickly washed himself, dried off, and climbed into bed.
Shifting into his beast form, he carefully curled around the little rabbit, using his paws to support his own weight, ensuring that no part of his massive body would accidentally crush Bai Tu.
Before closing his eyes, Lang Qi’s gaze lingered on Bai Tu’s belly.
The little rabbit was so tiny, and with the extra fluff from his winter coat, it was impossible to see any changes.
Lowering his head, Lang Qi gently pressed a kiss to the rabbit’s forehead before closing his eyes in satisfaction.
*
The Next Morning
When Bai Tu woke up, he found himself curled up on Lang Qi’s stomach.
At this point, he was completely used to it.
Honestly, having a living “bed warmer” in winter wasn’t bad at all.
At the very least, it was warm enough.
Especially Lang Qi’s thick wolf belly— it was warmer than any material Bai Tu had ever seen.
Still half-asleep, Bai Tu rubbed his face against Lang Qi’s soft fur, letting out a contented sigh.
Just as he was about to hop down and shift back to human form, Lang Qi’s paw pressed him down.
Bai Tu blinked in confusion and looked up, noticing that Lang Qi’s eyes were slightly red.
Did he overheat?
Lang Qi’s body temperature was naturally high, so he usually didn’t need the heated kang bed. But Bai Tu got cold easily, so their cave was kept warmer than most.
Feeling a little worried, Bai Tu hesitated for a moment before crawling up from Lang Qi’s belly to his shoulder, finally stopping at his face—
Then, he gently nuzzled against Lang Qi’s cheek.
The moment he touched him, Lang Qi’s eyes turned even redder.
Bai Tu might not be a naive child, and it only took him a second to realize what was happening.
Silently, he retreated back to the bed and obediently shifted back into human form.
The next second—
The giant wolf beside him also shifted back into human form.
Now, with only a single blanket covering them, Lang Qi grabbed Bai Tu’s arm—but just as he was about to tighten his grip, he seemed to think of something and softened his hold.
Instead, he leaned in and pressed two light kisses to Bai Tu’s forehead.
“Alright, time to get up.”
Although they always lingered in bed a little every morning, Bai Tu still felt a little unaccustomed to it.
Lang Qi, however, refused to let go of his arm.
Feeling helpless, Bai Tu finally leaned forward and returned two kisses. “There. Now can we get up?”
Only then did Lang Qi release him, reaching over to hand Bai Tu his clothes.
Even with the heated kang bed, the cave was still nothing like summer, and at least one layer of beast hide was necessary to keep warm.
Bai Tu tucked the inner layer of his clothes under the blanket to warm them up first before slowly getting dressed.
Lang Qi wasn’t afraid of the cold, so he finished dressing quickly. By the time Bai Tu finished putting on his beast-hide layers, Lang Qi was already fully prepared.
Lang Qi rubbed his forehead against Bai Tu’s and said, “It’s snowing again outside. I’ll go get food. It’s too cold—you stay here.”
Hearing that it was snowing again, Bai Tu hesitated for a few seconds before deciding to stay inside today.
Reheated food might not taste as good as something fresh from the pot, but going outside in who-knows-how-many degrees below freezing first thing in the morning was definitely not a wise choice.
While Lang Qi was gone, Bai Tu washed up and then cuddled the two cubs for a while.
The cubs’ biological clocks were almost synchronized with the adults—they would wake up briefly in between naps. Sure enough, just as Bai Tu finished tidying up, the cubs opened their eyes.
The little gray wolf saw Bai Tu and instantly perked up.
As soon as it stood up, it started running forward but suddenly stopped midway, scanning its surroundings carefully.
“Your uncle’s not here.”
Bai Tu chuckled, immediately guessing what the little wolf was looking for.
“He went to get you food.”
But the little gray wolf didn’t care about food.
As soon as it confirmed that Bai Tu was alone, it sped up again, charging straight toward him—
Only to be blocked by the bed railing.
Bai Tu had specifically designed the bed railing to prevent cubs from jumping or falling off the bed.
Seeing both cubs stuck at the edge, Bai Tu smiled and picked them up, one in each hand, pulling them into his arms.
The two wolf cubs, now back in their familiar embrace, wriggled around excitedly.
Bai Tu stroked one, then the other, feeling an immense sense of fulfillment.
So what if he hadn’t given birth to these cubs himself?
He was the one raising them.
*
Meanwhile, down in the tribe…
The atmosphere was livelier than the day before.
Bai Tu’s actions had completely shattered everyone’s previous understanding of him.
Saving a cub that had already died—this was something unprecedented.
Only five people had witnessed it firsthand last night, but by morning, the entire tribe had already heard the news—Bai Tu had brought Tu Bing’s stillborn cub back to life.
Reviving the dead wasn’t something even the most skilled shamans had ever dared to claim they could do.
Even in the past, when renowned shamans like Wu Jiu and Wu Lai boasted of their powerful abilities, none of them had ever dared to say they could bring a breathless cub back.
To the beastmen, Bai Tu’s abilities had already surpassed those of a shaman.
Lang Qi had just descended the mountain when he felt multiple eyes on him.
When he entered the communal dining hall, he confirmed that he wasn’t imagining things.
Looking around, he noticed that the beastmen were all staring at him with clear admiration.
Of course, they envied him.
The stronger Bai Tu was, the higher his status—and as Bai Tu’s mate, Lang Qi naturally became someone to be envied as well.
Many beastmen found themselves thinking—why isn’t Bai Tu’s mate me?
But, of course, this was nothing more than wishful thinking.
It was said that Lang Qi wouldn’t even let others look at Bai Tu.
At first, people thought that was just an exaggeration.
But now?
Seeing that Bai Tu wasn’t even allowed to come down to eat, it seemed like the rumors were true.
A collective sigh rippled through the crowd.
They had always known Bai Tu was incredible, but somehow, he kept exceeding their expectations.
Yesterday’s event had shaken them to their core.
The realization that even a stillborn cub could be saved filled them with an excitement as intense as eating 2 kilos of meat in one sitting.
The high mortality rate of cubs was a pain that every beastman carried in their heart.
The older generation had personally witnessed their own children die.
The younger generation might not have had cubs of their own yet, but they had watched their younger siblings die. It was a brutal reality.
Cub deaths happened every single year, sometimes multiple times.
More than half of the newborns that survived birth didn’t make it to their first year.
And even those that did reach one year old were not entirely safe.
But Bai Tu had the power to change this fate.
Word spread that Tu Bing’s two cubs were already noticeably stronger than they had been the night before.
At this rate, they would surely grow up to become some of the strongest cubs in the tribe.
Of course, some of these statements were a bit exaggerated.
From midnight to morning, only half a night had passed. No matter how much a newborn cub could change in that time, the difference couldn’t be that drastic.
As for saying the cubs would grow up to become warriors of the tribe—that was definitely an overstatement.
But that didn’t stop the other beastmen from believing it.
And once they believed, the conversation naturally revolved around the cubs.
Then, someone realized something.
Even in summer, when food was relatively abundant, it wasn’t uncommon for cubs to die.
Sometimes, there wasn’t even a clear reason—one moment, a cub seemed fine, and the next, it suddenly fell ill.
Symptoms like vomiting and diarrhea were common, and some cubs would develop a high fever, their skin turning red-hot to the touch.
Some managed to survive, but many did not.
Winter was even worse. The worst year had seen nearly twenty cub deaths in a single winter, and even in the best year, at least a few cubs still died.
But this year— From before the rainy season until now, not a single cub in the tribe had died from illness.
If that alone wasn’t enough to prove something had changed, then what about the cubs from the Red Eagle Tribe?
That was over 190 cubs brought back with them.
Aside from the ones returned to the White Lion Tribe and the Yellow Lion Tribe, the rest all remained in their tribe.
Some of the cubs that had originally gone back with their mothers were even sent back to the communal cave.
Not because their mothers didn’t want them, but because the cubs were already used to their new environment and felt more comfortable staying in the cave.
Plus, since the Lion Tribe adults had work during the day, it was simply more convenient to leave their cubs in the communal cave and pick them up at night.
In short, the tribe’s cubs were now divided into two groups: One group was completely raised by the tribe, the other group spent most of their time in the communal cave and only a little time with their parents.
But they all had one thing in common— Since arriving in the tribe, almost none of them had fallen seriously ill.
Even if a cub did get sick, Bai Tu would immediately isolate them in a separate room for treatment.
And in just one or two days, they would recover completely.
The terrifying, worsening illnesses of the past had completely disappeared.
Even in tribes that had shamans, not all cubs were healthy—even the largest tribes frequently lost cubs.
Sometimes, even when a cub was successfully treated by a shaman, they would later discover that the cub had been left mentally impaired.
They had never really discussed this before, but now that they were comparing, they realized—their tribe’s cubs were actually healthier than those in the big tribes.
At first, some beastmen had been a little resentful about bringing back so many cubs. After all, the two Lion Tribe clans hadn’t provided much extra food, meaning that eventually, those cubs would have to eat from the tribe’s own supplies.
But now— They suddenly realized how close they had come to making a terrible mistake over something so trivial.
Bai Tu had ensured that all these cubs would survive the winter. His abilities were far beyond what they had imagined.
And after bringing a dead cub back to life yesterday, it was clear that he wasn’t just an ordinary healer—his skills were unparalleled.
If a healer like him were in a big tribe, not only would they be willing to support 190 cubs, they’d probably even gladly take in 100 more adult beastmen.
And yet…
They had actually considered resenting Bai Tu over something as minor as a little extra food for the cubs.
Thinking back, many beastmen felt a chill run down their spines.
Bai Tu rarely made requests, and he always spoke gently, which had made many of them forget one crucial fact— With Bai Tu’s abilities, he could easily be a tribal chief in any other tribe.
If he hadn’t disliked being called a shaman, he would have already been recognized as the tribe’s one and only shaman.
Bai Tu had always treated their injuries freely, never asking for extra compensation.
Even at mealtime, he ate less than most.
And even if the tribe didn’t provide for him, Bai Tu could have easily traded medicine for enough food to feed all the cubs— and still have food left over.
It was said that Wu Lai, the former shaman of the Red Eagle Tribe, had hoarded so much food that it filled several entire caves.
Bai Tu was far more capable than Wu Lai.
If he had been charging for his medicine, he could have gathered more food than the hunters could ever bring in.
But Bai Tu’s talents didn’t stop at healing.
Half of the tribe’s food security in the summer had been thanks to the traps Bai Tu had taught them how to make.
And now, many of their current food supplies had been hunted and provided by the Black Hawk Tribe and Blood Wolf Tribe— all because of Bai Tu.
Even the Black Lion Tribe, which was larger than their own, was reportedly struggling to store enough food for the winter.
Most other tribes were in the same situation.
This year, the number of wild prey had noticeably decreased.
If not for the traps Bai Tu introduced, the help from the two allied tribes, and Bai Tu’s idea of raising captured young animals, not to mention the food he had traded for at the markets, their tribe would be just as desperate as the others—carefully rationing their supplies, trying to scrape by until spring.
Thinking about all this, the beastmen who had been misled the day before suddenly broke out in cold sweat.
Yesterday, when they heard that the cubs had supposedly caused trouble with the Black Lion Tribe, their first instinct had been to send them away.
Some had even harbored resentment toward Bai Tu.
But now? If not for Bai Tu, the tribe wouldn’t have survived this long at all.
By the end of the discussion, everyone regretted yesterday’s thoughts even more than before.
Yesterday, they had only worried about food. Today, they finally understood just how much Bai Tu had changed their lives.
Even if they set aside food and safety, Bai Tu’s ability to save cubs alone made him more important than even the chief.
With this realization, the way they looked at Lang Qi completely changed.
It was no longer just envy. There was resentment.
This incredible Bai Tu… Had already been taken by Lang Qi!
Some of the younger beastmen even had another thought.
After all, many tribal chiefs had more than one mate.
And shamans? Some elderly shamans even took new mates when they were old enough to have gray beards.
Sure, Lang Qi was Bai Tu’s mate right now, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would always be.
And even if their relationship stayed the same, Bai Tu didn’t have to limit himself to just one mate, right?
On the Beast God Continent, shamans weren’t bound by tribal rules—no tribe’s laws could override the authority of a shaman.
So the rule that one person could only have one mate? It didn’t apply to Bai Tu.
Being stared at wasn’t anything new for Lang Qi. He didn’t care about it.
But as he carried food for Bai Tu, himself, and the two cubs back up the mountain, he noticed someone following him.
Lang Qi paused for a moment, then quickened his pace.
When he arrived at the cave, he saw Bai Tu holding the two cubs.
Setting the food down beside them, he simply said, “Wait here for me.”
Bai Tu had already heard Lang Qi’s footsteps approaching and was about to put the cubs down—
But before he could say “Be careful with the cubs”, Lang Qi had already turned and rushed out.
That was unusual.
Lang Qi always picked up the cubs the moment he came in, but today he had barely glanced at them before running off.
As Bai Tu watched Lang Qi’s retreating figure, he noticed something— Lang Qi had subtly flexed his wrist.
Something wasn’t right. Bai Tu considered chasing after him to see what was going on, but when he looked down at the cubs in his arms and the thin clothes he was wearing, he hesitated.
After a brief pause, he decided to return to the bedroom first, carefully placing the cubs back onto the bed before grabbing an extra coat.
Only then did he head outside— But just as he reached the entrance, Lang Qi was already back.
Lang Qi wrapped an arm around Bai Tu, rubbing his cheek against him before casually walking over to wash his hands.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned and began serving food for Bai Tu and the cubs.
“Two layers, still hot.” Lang Qi pulled out the food he had brought for Bai Tu—everything Bai Tu liked to eat.
“A large insulated container?”
Bai Tu had originally planned to ask where Lang Qi had gone, but the smell of food distracted him.
He picked up a bite with his chopsticks, cautiously placed it in his mouth, and— It was still warm.
Nodding in approval, he said, “The insulation works pretty well.”
The small insulated containers used for the cubs had been made earlier, and they had worked fine so far.
But with more cubs in the tribe now, they had rushed to make extra ones.
The larger version had always been part of the plan, but the increased size and complexity made it much harder to produce, leading to many failed attempts.
Bai Tu hadn’t checked in on the pottery workshop in the past few days—he hadn’t expected them to actually succeed.
Lang Qi nodded. “Mm. Now you won’t have to go down the mountain.”
When he had gone to fetch the clay basins last night, he had seen the finished large containers, so he had used one today.
Now, he could simply bring food up, and Bai Tu wouldn’t have to go out in the cold.
Thinking about the beastmen who had followed him earlier, Lang Qi’s gaze lingered on the large insulated container for a moment before casually mentioning—
“It’s snowing. The paths down the mountain have been walked on too much, and they’re getting slippery. Someone just fell.”
At first, Bai Tu had thought it was a bit excessive to have Lang Qi bring him every meal.
But when he heard that someone had slipped, he immediately abandoned the idea of going down himself.
Right now, the Snow Rabbit Tribe lived in the mountains, and they had dug many tunnels for easier travel.
There was even a dedicated path leading down the mountain, designed to shelter them from wind and rain.
Once at the base, they could walk along a wooden-planked pathway, which was also covered to prevent getting wet.
But in winter, it snowed frequently. Beastmen who went on patrol or returned from outside would often track in snow and slush.
On top of that, some young cubs liked to play around, making the already narrow path even wetter.
Since the temperatures were so low, all that tracked-in moisture would freeze into ice overnight or in the early morning.
As a result, certain parts of the path became dangerously slippery.
For most beastmen, slipping and falling was no big deal—they were used to roughhousing and injuries.
But Bai Tu had no interest in walking back and forth on such an unsafe path.
After thinking it over, Bai Tu made his decision. For now, he would just let Lang Qi bring the meals.
However, Bai Tu didn’t plan on having Lang Qi run back and forth forever.
“Once it gets even colder, we can bring the ingredients up here and cook for ourselves.”
Without a thermometer, he had no way of knowing the exact temperature, but judging by the biting cold, the nighttime lows were likely around -10°C, and even the mornings stayed below freezing.
Only at midday, when the sun briefly appeared, did it get slightly warmer—but that warmth was so minimal it was barely noticeable.
Before the sunlight could even melt the morning frost, night would fall again, and the partially thawed ice would refreeze into solid sheets.
At this rate, within a few days, every visible surface would be completely covered in snow and ice.
Bai Tu was already thinking ahead—once they dealt with the Black Lion Tribe, he would make some adjustments to everyone’s meals.
For beastmen who didn’t need to go out daily, they could start cooking their own meals.
Or, neighboring beastmen could form small cooking teams, with one person in charge of preparing food for the group.
Once the cold really set in, even a short walk outside would leave them freezing.
For those who had work to do, it was still more convenient to eat at the communal dining hall like before.
But for those resting in their caves, it made more sense to eat inside— Otherwise, by the time they walked down in the freezing cold and then climbed back up, any warmth they gained from their meal would be completely gone.
Lang Qi didn’t know Bai Tu was planning meal adjustments for the entire tribe.
He only heard one key phrase— “We’ll cook for ourselves.”
His eyes darkened slightly, but he still nodded. “Okay.”
Cooking for themselves was perfect, because that meant Bai Tu wouldn’t have to go down the mountain at all.
If it were up to Lang Qi, Bai Tu would stay in the cave forever and never go outside, unfortunately for Lang Qi, his wish was doomed to fail.
They had just finished eating when Tu Cai came looking for Bai Tu.
The reason for her visit was simple— She wanted to talk about the makeshift incubator Bai Tu had created last night.
Tu Cai had gone to check on it early this morning. Inside the clay basin, the two cubs were sleeping soundly—clearly comfortable.
She had tested the temperature inside and found that it was indeed warmer than other areas.
Even compared to the heated kang bed, which sometimes got too hot or too cold, the incubator’s temperature was much easier to regulate.
All they had to do was add warm water at regular intervals, and it stayed just right.
After examining the clay basin, Tu Cai’s thoughts turned to the cubs in the communal cave, especially the weakest one, who was more fragile than the others.
Right now, the communal cave was also equipped with heated kang beds, covered with two thick layers of beast hide. Most of the time, the temperature was comfortable, warm enough for the cubs.
The only issue was that occasionally, the fire burned too hot, forcing them to quickly move the cubs and rescue the beast hides before they got scorched.
This overheating problem occurred every couple of days.
But if they burned less wood or coal, the temperature inside the cave would drop, and the cubs would get cold.
There was also the issue of prolonged exposure to heat—many of the beastmen and cubs living in the cave all day were experiencing excessive internal heat.
For adult beastmen, getting overheated was a common occurrence.
The more diligent ones would ask Bai Tu for medicine, take it for a couple of meals, and recover quickly.
The lazier ones would simply endure it for a few days until their bodies adjusted on their own.
But for cubs, overheating was much harder to handle. Some developed mouth sores, making it difficult to eat.
Tu Cai had always believed that this issue wasn’t a big deal compared to freezing.
Between mild discomfort from overheating and potentially freezing to death, it was obvious which was worse.
Most beastmen would rather suffer from occasional overheating than risk the deadly cold.
But last night, Bai Tu had casually mentioned something— Using warm water for heating wouldn’t cause overheating like sleeping on a heated kang bed would.
He had only said it in passing, so no one paid much attention.
But Tu Cai remembered.
So when she checked on the weakest cub this morning and noticed that it wasn’t eating as well as before, she immediately went to find Bai Tu.
She wanted him to examine the cub and ask if the water-bed method could be used for the smaller cubs as well.
After hearing her request, Bai Tu went to check on the cub. Just as they had suspected, it was slightly overheated.
Overheating had become more common ever since they started using heated kang beds. But there wasn’t an immediate solution to the problem.
For now, they could only make adjustments, like: Placing water basins inside the cave to add moisture to the air, encouraging beastmen to drink more water and tweaking the diet to include cooling foods.
For cubs, however, overheating was even trickier to manage. Their digestive systems were more fragile, and their livers weren’t fully developed, making it harder for them to process internal heat.
Plus, most medicine tasted awful, and cubs couldn’t just take pills like adults.
Instead, they had to drink more water and eat foods that helped reduce heat.
Bai Tu instructed the child who was looking after the weak cub to increase its water intake over the next few days.
Then, he turned his attention to Tu Cai’s suggestion about using water-beds for the other cubs.
He paused for a moment, thinking it over.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to agree— After all, water-based heating was clearly better than direct fire, since the temperature could be fully controlled within a comfortable range for the cubs.
But there was a problem.
For Bai Chen and Tu Bing’s cubs, the system worked well because there were two adults—one watching during the day, the other at night—to regulate the water temperature.
However, in the communal cave, there were many more cubs, and aside from Tu Cai, most of their caretakers were children.
Bai Tu trusted the children with basic tasks, but monitoring and adjusting hot water was something that required serious attention.
It wasn’t that the children were disobedient— But kids were easily distracted.
Their attention could shift at any moment, and they could easily forget what they were supposed to do.
For most tasks, being a little late or early didn’t matter much.
But for the makeshift incubator, keeping consistent water temperature was critical.
If they forgot to add hot water on time, the cubs wouldn’t be in a warming bed anymore— They’d be in a freezer.
Bai Tu thought it over before responding.
He didn’t reject Tu Cai’s idea, but he also didn’t agree immediately.
Instead, he said, “I’ll go back and think about how to adjust the method. Once I’ve figured it out, I’ll teach everyone.”
He wanted to find a way to make the heating intervals more precise— Or at least come up with a clearer, more intuitive way to monitor the water temperature.
Tu Cai nodded. As long as Bai Tu was willing to consider it, she knew the issue would eventually be resolved.
After finishing his conversation with Tu Cai, Bai Tu didn’t head back to the cave immediately. Instead, he glanced down the mountain for a moment before tugging on Lang Qi’s sleeve.
“Get me two more clay basins—one large, one small. Once you have them, take them straight to the woodworking cave.”
The woodworking cave was where wooden tools were made. There was a larger, expanded workshop built down the mountain, but two older beastmen still preferred working in their familiar cave instead of traveling down.
Since this cave already had a stockpile of wood, moving everything down the mountain would be a hassle. Bai Tu had let them stay, and now, having woodworkers nearby was proving to be quite convenient—at least, he wouldn’t have to make a special trip every time he needed something.
When Bai Tu entered, he asked one of the older craftsmen to carve more wooden notches like the ones he had used the previous day.
Then, he picked out a larger piece of wood, moved to the side, and requested the craftsman to carve it into a shell shape, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom.
“What do you need this for?”
The woodworker had understood Bai Tu’s request, but he was still confused—after all, Bai Tu’s design had holes on both ends, making it impossible to store anything inside.
“I’m making an hourglass.”
Bai Tu replied casually, knowing the woodworker wouldn’t understand, but there was no point explaining further—once the object was finished, everyone would understand its purpose.
By the time Lang Qi returned, Bai Tu had his wooden hourglass shell and notched wooden pieces ready.
Together, they headed back up the mountain, with Lang Qi carrying a handful of sand.
Once inside the cave, Bai Tu filled the wooden shell with sifted sand and began adjusting it.
He poured warm water into the clay basin, waiting for the temperature to drop, and repeatedly tested the setup.
Only when the sand took the exact amount of time to drain as the water took to cool down did Bai Tu finally complete his simple timing device.
Of course, his homemade hourglass was as basic as it could get.
Though both ends had lids, the top lid needed to be opened every time to check how much sand remained.
After testing it for an entire afternoon, Bai Tu let out a sigh, pulled out a bamboo slip, and started recalling the process of making glass.
Originally, Bai Tu had thought that glassmaking was too complicated.
Back then, they didn’t have enough raw materials, and he figured it wasn’t necessary anytime soon.
But now— Not even a year had passed, and he already had to painfully recall the process.
Rubbing his temples, Bai Tu scribbled down everything he could remember onto the bamboo slip, then headed off to find the cement-making team.
The cement-making and lime-burning teams were part of the same larger group, though they were divided into smaller specialized teams.
Since cement required high temperatures, the cement team would have an easier time transitioning to glassmaking, whereas the lime team wouldn’t have the necessary expertise.
Fortunately, they had plenty of workers, and since cement wasn’t needed as much in winter, construction in the caves could proceed at a slower pace.
For now, Bai Tu only needed a few workers to experiment with glass, so normal production wouldn’t be affected.
However, when Bai Tu mentioned the word “glass,” the entire cement team looked utterly confused.
Their leader hesitated before asking, “Tu, what’s ‘glass’?”
“It’s a kind of transparent tile,” Bai Tu explained, trying to use familiar references.
“It lets in light and is as clear as water. In the future, we can install it in houses, so they won’t be as dark inside.”
Glass had plenty of uses, but hourglasses and thermometers were only a small part of its potential.
At the mention of “water-clear tiles,” the beastmen exchanged uneasy glances.
Finally, the team leader hesitated before speaking— “…But wouldn’t that mean people could see inside?”
After all, beastmen lived in caves and houses not just for warmth, but also for privacy.
If they installed glass, wouldn’t that mean they’d be completely exposed to the outside world?
Bai Tu: “…”
Bai Tu: “I’m only adding a small piece—to let light in. Who told you to build an entire house out of glass?!”
Thanks for the chapter!