Chapter 118
Shi Wu refused to submit, but the other beastmen felt differently. For most of them—especially those of lower status—it didn’t matter who was in charge as long as they had enough to eat and drink.
While Shi Wu stubbornly clenched his teeth, unwilling to concede, the beastmen behind him, unable to endure any longer, quickly gave in. Some even shouted out the location of the tribe’s salt reserves.
Bai An and the others, having lived this long, had never seen so many beastmen fall sick at the same time. The Black Lion beastmen were even more terrified—many were convinced they might die.
At this moment, not even a leader or the Beast God himself could be more important than their own survival. Shi Wu had only been able to command them because they recognized him as their leader. But now, with everyone struggling to survive, no one was paying him any attention.
Leaving all of them here was impractical. Bai Tu selected a few beastmen whose symptoms were less severe and had them lead Bai Qi and his patrol team to retrieve the salt from the Black Lion Tribe. Meanwhile, the remaining sick warriors were carried away by the Yellow Lion and White Lion Tribes, who had just arrived.
Even though the temperature had started rising, a thin layer of frost still covered the ground. The longer the Black Lion beastmen lay there, the more the melting ice seeped into their fur. If they suffered both food poisoning and caught a cold, their recovery would take even longer.
After handling the situation on the battlefield, Bai Tu sent a fast-footed beastman back to the Snow Rabbit Tribe to prepare large amounts of hot water. The tribe always had hot water available, but this time, it wouldn’t just be for drinking—it would be used to induce vomiting. A small amount wouldn’t be enough for so many people.
Meanwhile, in the Black Lion Tribe’s caves, many of their cubs who had eaten the same food that morning were now curled up in pain, crying loudly. When Bai Qi and his team retrieved the salt, they also brought the cubs back to the Snow Rabbit Tribe for treatment.
The younger the cub, the weaker their immune system. Even those who could shift into human form were no older than seven or eight years old. Seeing this, Bai Tu used what little medicine they had to treat the cubs first.
The herbs were nothing special—just basic medicinal plants. He couldn’t find the perfect treatment on short notice, but something was better than nothing.
As for the adult beastmen, all Bai Tu could do for them was force them to drink salt water and induce vomiting.
On the Beast God Continent, the Vulture Tribe had the strongest stomachs, capable of consuming rotten meat without issue. Other beastmen could handle a little, but not much. Within safe limits, they might experience mild discomfort, but nothing as severe as this.
This mass food poisoning wasn’t just because the food had gone bad—it was because they had eaten too much of it.
In the past, the Black Lion Tribe had eaten spoiled food before. However, back then, food was scarce, and they rationed every bite carefully. A single piece of meat might be stretched over several days.
But this time, Shi Wu’s reckless declaration—Eat as much as you want!—had led to disaster.
It wasn’t just a little overindulgence. Even those with smaller appetites had eaten several large portions. By the time Bai Qi reached their food storage, the only things left were a pile of discarded bones, fur, and a small amount of salt.
Shi Wu had been overly confident, believing that after days of scouting, his plan was flawless. He had thought that allowing his warriors to feast before battle would ignite their fighting spirit.
Instead, it had backfired spectacularly.
Watching Bai Qi take the salt and deliver it to the Snow Rabbit Tribe, Shi Wu’s eyes practically burned with rage. But at this point, no one cared what he thought.
The moment the other lions heard that salt water could help, they rushed to drink it.
Salt was important—but only when they were healthy. Right now, they were on the verge of death. Who cared about the tribe’s salt supply when their own lives were at risk?
Besides, after today, who even knew if their tribe would still exist?
Beastmen had resilient bodies.
By the end of the day, many were still suffering from vomiting and diarrhea—some could barely stand without help.
But by the second day, nearly half had recovered.
Even so, none of them dared to move recklessly.
After all, they were completely surrounded by the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s warriors. If they so much as looked aggressive, they might get beaten into the ground.
By the third day, most of the lion beastmen had fully recovered.
However, new problems emerged.
The Black Lion warriors had started forming factions within their own group.
One faction firmly believed that their food poisoning was a punishment from the Beast God, a sign that attacking the Snow Rabbit Tribe was wrong. They thought they should now obey Bai Tu’s arrangements.
Another group agreed with Bai Tu’s explanation—that they had simply eaten too much spoiled food. However, they also believed that raiding for food had been the wrong decision.
Then there were those who still saw plundering as completely natural. After all, hadn’t the Wild Lion Tribe looted countless tribes before? And weren’t they eventually driven away anyway? It wasn’t like their tribe was the only one that had ever stolen food.
This last group was further divided into two opposing views—one faction believed they had simply been unlucky this time, while the other blamed Shi Wu for being incompetent and wanted to replace him as leader.
For now, all of the Black Lion Tribe beastmen were confined in one place. Since their numbers were large and they had initially come to attack the Snow Rabbit Tribe, no one had even considered the issue of feeding them. As a result, the lions had gone two full days without eating, and at this point, even breathing felt bitter.
The more starving they became, the more irritable they grew. With the cold keeping them from sleeping, their frustrations mounted until everything began to irritate them.
At first, they were just divided into groups, but at some point, a conflict broke out, and a full-on brawl erupted.
All the pent-up frustration from the past few days exploded, and neither side held back.
Before long, they had shifted into their beast forms, fighting for real.
By the time the guards arrived with reinforcements, injuries had already occurred.
The most surprising part?
The most severely injured person was Shi Wu.
Most of the lions only suffered superficial wounds, but Shi Wu—who had already been wounded by Lang Qi’s claw—was not so lucky.
During the fight, some beastmen, fed up with Shi Wu’s oppressive rule, took advantage of the chaos to attack him directly. His throat wound, which had only just begun to clot, was torn open again.
By the time the fighting stopped, he had lost a lot of blood.
His loyal followers began to panic.
Strictly speaking, they had started this fight. Most of them had ties to Shi Wu and had always strutted around the tribe, flaunting their power. They couldn’t stand how so many others were quietly obeying the Snow Rabbit Tribe instead of resisting.
They had wanted Shi Wu to command an escape.
But the other beastmen weren’t idiots.
Back in their own tribe, they might have gone along with plans to attack the rabbits. But right now?
Rushing out now would be suicide.
Besides, those who wanted to escape were all talk. They weren’t actually willing to fight back themselves.
Once the argument started, Shi Wu tried to suppress the dissenters with his authority, just as he always had.
But this time, there were far more people who didn’t support him than those who did.
Unsurprisingly, he got beaten down by the mob.
With Shi Wu severely injured, the beastmen who had been plotting to cause trouble finally settled down.
No one wanted to be the next Shi Wu.
*
Bai Tu received news of the infighting while he was discussing the construction of new brick kilns with Bai An.
The tribe already had several kilns, but considering how many houses needed to be built, it still wasn’t enough.
They couldn’t reduce the amount of raw materials needed, so the only option was to build more kilns. Fortunately, by now, their tribe had built so many different types of kilns that the process had become second nature.
Hearing that the Black Lion Tribe had started fighting among themselves, Bai Tu was momentarily speechless.
“They can’t even go a few days without turning on each other? They really know how to make trouble.”
He glanced at the list of work assignments in his hands, thought for a moment, and made a decision.
“Forget resting—put them all to work.”
If they were healthy enough to fight, then they were healthy enough to work. And if that was the case, there was no way he was going to let them sit around doing nothing.
“Send all of them to the brick kilns,” Bai Tu ordered.
There was no reason to waste perfectly good labor. Leaving them idle would only lead to more trouble.
As expected, the moment the Black Lion beastmen were put to work, they became far more obedient.
Part of it was because Shi Wu’s injuries had forced his supporters to quiet down.
The other reason?
When they arrived at the work site, they discovered that there were already several lions and vulture beastmen working there.
With so many people unable to resist, the Black Lion beastmen figured they might as well focus on their work.
While working, they spotted some familiar faces—members of their tribe who had previously been captured by the Yellow Lion Tribe.
When Shi Su had launched his surprise attack, the Black Lion Tribe had been caught completely off guard. The captured lions were now working alongside them, though their workload was noticeably heavier and dirtier.
Seeing them, a few Black Lion beastmen started sweating nervously, silently feeling relieved that they hadn’t suffered the same fate.
However, their relief was short-lived.
Just a few days after the Black Lion prisoners were put to work, Shi Su arrived at the Snow Rabbit Tribe with several former captives from the Black Lion Tribe.
Shi Su’s purpose this time was to have these lions identify the cubs.
This could have been done when they were first rescued, but there was a common factor among these beastmen—they were all physically weak, and many of them were pregnant.
Being in poor health meant they couldn’t handle too much emotional distress. Regardless of the truth, a mother who had lost her cub would be overwhelmed upon seeing other lion cubs.
The Black Lion Tribe had given away so many cubs, yet only around ten of them remained unclaimed in the Snow Rabbit Tribe. This meant that some of these mothers had already lost their cubs forever.
Such an emotional shock could be dangerous, especially for those still carrying unborn cubs.
After discussing it, Shi Su and Bai Tu had agreed to hide the truth for now. They decided to wait until after these lionesses had given birth and recovered slightly before revealing which of their cubs had survived.
Reuniting with their children should have been a joyful moment.
But knowing that some cubs had lost their lives due to Shi Wu’s actions only deepened the hatred toward him.
One lioness, who had failed to find her own cub, stood silently for a long moment, watching the remaining cubs.
Then, suddenly, she turned to Bai Tu and said, “Can I exchange food for my mate?”
Bai Tu froze.
Of all the captives Shi Su had rescued, most had been imprisoned by their own mates.
This lioness was no exception.
What shocked him was that even after all that, she still wanted to bring her mate back.
Bai Tu wasn’t the only one surprised. Others around them also reacted with disbelief.
Shi Su’s face darkened. “Shi Yu!”
Had anyone else said those words, Shi Su wouldn’t have been this furious.
But it wasn’t just anyone—it was his own sister.
He had risked his life to rescue her, leading his warriors into the Black Lion Tribe’s territory to get her out.
As her brother, saving Shi Yu had been his duty.
But what about the others?
The entire tribe had fought to bring her back.
What would they think if they heard her say this?
Did she not care about those who had risked everything for her?
Shi Yu ignored her brother’s anger and kept her gaze fixed on Bai Tu.
“I can make medicine. I may not know as much as you, but I’ve studied for a long time. I also recognize many plants, including those that can kill. I can trade herbs and food—will that be enough to get him back?”
Bai Tu glanced at Shi Su, then back at Shi Yu, pausing slightly.
At first, when he heard her request, he had been shocked.
But now, after hearing her mention her knowledge of herbs and poisons, a different thought crossed his mind.
Perhaps Shi Yu’s intentions weren’t what they seemed.
“What do you want to do?” Bai Tu asked.
Shi Yu looked at him, weighing the chances that he would agree to her request. After a long silence, she finally spoke slowly, “I don’t want him to live comfortably.”
Shi Su had been to the Snow Rabbit Tribe many times, and even though Shi Yu had never accompanied him, she knew a few things. She understood that even those assigned to labor as punishment wouldn’t go hungry.
But Shi Yu felt that was too easy on him.
Her cub had lost its life, possibly long ago. Meanwhile, the very person who had sent the cub away—its own father—was living without fear of hunger or suffering. She couldn’t accept that.
Bai Tu thought for a moment.
“Forget the food. You can take him. Take care of yourself, and when summer comes, come help with the herb gathering.”
Shi Yu had spent a long time locked in a cave, surrounded by others in the same desperate situation. Every cub that was born was taken away. Before her body had even fully recovered, she had been forced to conceive another.
It was no surprise that many of these captives suffered psychological damage.
Some could endure it. Others had already broken completely.
Shi Yu clearly belonged to the latter group.
Everything she had gone through—the imprisonment, the loss of her cub—had left deep wounds that wouldn’t heal just because she had returned to her tribe. Learning that her cub was dead had been the final blow, the last straw that broke her.
If she wasn’t given a way to release that pain, her condition would only worsen.
Besides, her mate was far from innocent.
He had imprisoned his own partner, knowingly sent their cub into an uncertain fate, and had shown no remorse for his actions.
When Shi Su had launched his attack on the Black Lion Tribe, Shi Yu’s mate had escaped in the chaos. And during this current assault on the Snow Rabbit Tribe, he had been one of the main instigators.
Whether viewed from the perspective of the Yellow Lion Tribe or the Snow Rabbit Tribe, he was an irredeemable criminal.
As long as Bai Tu was sure that Shi Yu wasn’t trying to bring him back out of love or pity, he had no reason to refuse her.
After all, the tribe had plenty of workers. Losing one meant nothing.
Shi Yu hadn’t expected Bai Tu to agree so easily. A faint glimmer of light appeared in her eyes.
Even though they were all from the Black Lion Tribe, beastmen captured at different times were treated differently.
Those whom Shi Su had previously captured were given the heaviest labor.
After all, they had been exchanged for food, and many of them were guilty of severe crimes.
The newly captured Black Lion beastmen had also done wrong, but among them were some who had opposed Shi Wu’s invasion of other tribes.
Out of consideration for those individuals, Bai Tu had temporarily assigned them lighter work—at least until everyone was properly divided into groups.
The work assigned to the Black Lion Tribe beastmen still differed from that given to the Snow Rabbit and Blood Wolf Tribes, but at least it was far better than the grueling labor assigned to the lions Shi Su had previously captured.
When Shi Yu’s mate saw how Shi Ken and the others were living, he was shocked—and deeply relieved that he hadn’t been captured last time. At the same time, he took pleasure in mocking Shi Ken, sneering that despite how much Shi Ken had treasured his mate, he was now living in even worse conditions than himself.
However, his smugness didn’t last long.
Barely half a day after his mocking remarks, he was dragged before Shi Yu.
The moment he saw her, he immediately assumed she had come to rescue him. Overwhelmed with excitement, he completely failed to notice the expressions of those around him.
“Yu! I knew you’d come! Are you here to take me away?”
Shi Yu’s expression was unreadable.
Her lips moved slightly, as if forming a faint smile.
“Yes. I’m taking you back.”
After retrieving her mate, Shi Yu left with him.
Meanwhile, Bai Tu wasted no time reorganizing the Black Lion beastmen, dividing them into separate groups based on their past actions.
Those who had participated in the captivity of mates and cubs were placed into a single group.
Those who had actively joined the attack on the Snow Rabbit Tribe formed another.
Those who had never intended to attack other tribes but had been forced into it by Shi Wu and his followers were assigned to a different group.
Simply put, the fewer their crimes, the lighter their workload and the better their treatment.
Dividing them into smaller groups also made management easier. Those who had previously been slacking off were now unable to hide within a large crowd, and as a result, work efficiency improved drastically.
In the Snow Rabbit Tribe, everyone worked—except for the cubs.
Bai Tu didn’t spend much time worrying about the Black Lion Tribe beastmen. With warmer weather arriving, the workload in the tribe was increasing rapidly, and there was no time to waste.
Still, no matter how busy he was, he made sure to check in on Lang Qi’s condition.
Ever since Lang Qi had nearly killed Shi Wu with a single claw swipe, Bai Tu had suspected that his strength had increased.
After observing him closely, he confirmed that it wasn’t just his imagination.
Even in beast form, Lang Qi had grown noticeably larger and stronger compared to the early winter.
However, because they had been spending most of their time in human form while caring for the cubs, this change hadn’t been as obvious until now.
Only after seeing Lang Qi in battle and ensuring that his body suffered no ill effects afterward did Bai Tu feel fully at ease.
*
When you’re busy, time flies.
Especially when you’re also caring for a few cubs.
It felt like just yesterday that the two wolf cubs had learned to shift into human form, yet more than a month had already passed.
With the ice and snow melting, water seeped into the soil.
Within just a few days, fresh green buds began appearing on the ground and in the trees.
Spring in the Beast God Continent was brief.
Bai Tu wasn’t about to waste a single day.
He planned to plant every spring crop he could—spring wheat, various legumes, the rice and sweet potatoes he had purchased at the market, and different fruit varieties.
Since wild grass hadn’t fully sprouted yet, he took advantage of the open land to get the fields planted ahead of time.
A special farming team was also assigned, tasked with caring for the crops long-term.
At the time, no one could have predicted just how important these seemingly insignificant plants would become in the future.
While the farmers viewed spring grass as an obstacle to their planting efforts, it was a blessing to another group—the livestock caretakers.
Throughout the entire winter, nearly all of the tribe’s prey had been kept within the enclosed breeding areas, where they had steadily gained weight.
But bigger animals meant bigger appetites.
The dry grass stored before winter had been rapidly consumed, and supplies were running dangerously low.
With new grass starting to sprout, the beastmen in charge of livestock could finally breathe a sigh of relief—they no longer had to constantly worry about how to feed the animals.
Of course, they could have simply slaughtered the animals and preserved the meat.
But after getting used to fresh meat, who wanted to eat the dried, stored meat from earlier in the season?
Plus, after seeing what had happened to the Black Lion Tribe, the entire tribe was secretly grateful that they had never resorted to eating too much questionable food.
In the past, they had had no choice—simply having enough to eat was a luxury, and there had never been enough surplus to worry about food going bad.
Now, things were different.
They only hunted when necessary, and any freshly caught prey was completely consumed within two or three days, preventing spoilage.
With more wild grass sprouting, and enough leftover corn stalks and other stored feed, they could now hold out until the grasslands were fully replenished.
*
As the season of new life arrived, even the cubs seemed to grow faster.
While feeding the two wolf cubs, Bai Tu clearly noticed that they had become heavier.
Lifting them up, he could feel how round and plump they had gotten.
“What a pity there’s no scale,” Bai Tu muttered. Currently, everyone used bowls as measuring tools, though the sizes of the bowls weren’t exactly the same. However, no one minded this small discrepancy, as there were no more precise measuring tools available.
Bai Tu thought for a moment and decided to make one himself, mainly to visually track the weight changes of the young cubs.
Previously, when the two cubs were in their beast form, he only had a vague sense that they had grown, but there was no concrete way to measure it. Now that they had taken on human form, it would be helpful to record their weight as a reference.
Without batteries or other necessary components, an electronic scale was out of the question. Instead, Bai Tu made a traditional hanging balance scale. He tied a rope near the weighing area, utilizing the lever principle. A small counterweight was placed on the other end, and by adjusting the distance, he could determine the weight of the object being measured.
It sounded simple, but in reality, making it came with several challenges.
The first issue was defining how heavy 500 grams actually was. In another time and space, this question would have been easy to answer—a 500ml bottle of water, a pack of salt, or two bottles of milk would all serve as good references.
But now, none of those existed. Since no one had an exact concept of how heavy 500 grams was, Bai Tu simply chose a roughly equivalent reference. After all, he was only measuring for personal record-keeping purposes—what mattered was tracking growth patterns.
Bai Tu took out two small bowls used for feeding the cubs. The tribe originally didn’t have such small bowls, but newborn cubs had such tiny appetites that if milk were poured into a large bowl or plate, it would only form a shallow layer at the bottom. Before the cubs could take a few sips, the milk would already be cold.
To make feeding easier, Bai Tu had a carpenter create an entire set of small bowls, plates, and spoons. The cubs’ utensils were stored separately, making them more convenient and hygienic. This also reduced the likelihood of illness, as some bacteria harmless to adult beastmen could make cubs sick. The high mortality rate of cubs in the past was partly due to poor living conditions.
For easier storage, all the utensils were made to the same size. Bai Tu estimated that one of these small bowls could hold about 250ml of water.
He then went to the blacksmith to request a few iron plates and found a straight wooden stick. He drilled holes, tied ropes, and began marking different weight indicators.
Using two small bowls of water as the first scale mark, he drew a new line for every additional two bowls of water. In the end, the smallest scale he made could weigh up to 2.5 kilograms. This scale was for weighing the smaller cubs. Using the same method, he also made two larger scales—one that could weigh up to 10 kilos and another up to 25 kilos. The largest one was not handheld but instead mounted on a wall.
With the three scales arranged from smallest to largest, they could be used until the cubs were at least ten years old.
Since he had already made them, Bai Tu decided to teach the carpenters how to make more, so they could be used throughout the tribe—for instance, in the communal kitchen.
Currently, cooking was based on oral tradition. If a new beastman joined the kitchen staff, they would first observe experienced cooks like Tu Mu before trying to cook themselves. During this phase, someone had to supervise until they became proficient.
Bai Tu had seen how they measured seasonings—completely by intuition. Take salt, for example: Tu Mu would grab a handful, and the trainee cook would imitate him. But since beastmen’s hands varied in size based on age, gender, and species, the same “handful” could result in either overly salty or bland food. Most beastmen didn’t mind—after all, salt used to be scarce, and even an imperfect taste was acceptable—but a properly balanced flavor was still preferable.
Later, they switched to using spoons, but that also had issues. Not all dishes required a full spoonful of salt. If a pot contained only two-thirds or half of the usual amount of food, measuring seasonings became tricky.
With a scale, there was no more guesswork. They could simply set a rule—for example, 500 grams of meat required a specific amount of salt. By weighing the meat before cooking, the seasoning could be adjusted accordingly, ensuring consistency.
The carpenters worked incredibly fast. As soon as Bai Tu explained the method, they delivered the finished products in less than two days. Since the communal kitchen used large pots, the scales for weighing meat were also large, capable of handling up to 50 kilos at a time. With these scales, the food in the kitchen became much more standardized—not just for regular meals, but also for snacks, which now had a consistent flavor.
Before having scales, they never felt the need for them. But once they had them, they realized how useful they were. For instance, Bai Tu made a tiny version specifically to track how much food five cubs ate per day.
Bai Tu had a habit of meticulously recording the cubs’ physical changes—not just weight, but also height, food intake, and more. He wanted to document everything so he could look back on it later.
Like any new parent, he was eager to capture every little change in the cubs. If he had a smartphone, his gallery would probably be filled with their pictures. Time seemed to fly by, and the most noticeable sign of growth was that the older cubs were gradually learning words they hadn’t known before.
Aside from learning “Dad” and “Uncle” at the very beginning, the cubs had also picked up words like “hug,” “thirsty,” and “hungry.” Once they had mastered these words, they were hardly ever idle. As soon as they saw someone nearby, they would start making requests.
Whether it was a coincidence or intentional, the two cubs made completely different requests depending on who was around. When Bai Tu was there, the most frequent requests were “hug,” “hug-hug,” and “kiss.” But if Lang Qi was nearby, they would suddenly become thirsty or hungry every few minutes, constantly coming up with new requests—just to keep him busy and prevent him from interrupting Bai Tu’s time with them.
Lang Qi had lived long enough to see through their little schemes immediately, but since they were still so young, he decided to let it slide.
However, nearly two months had passed since they had taken on human form, and there was one thing that hadn’t changed at all—they still hadn’t learned to say “Father.” Lang Qi assumed it was because he hadn’t taught them often enough, which was why they hadn’t remembered. Bai Tu was skeptical about this theory, but before he could say anything, he heard Bai Qi calling him from outside.
“I’m going out to check. Watch over the cubs,” Bai Tu said. Lately, there had been a lot of things to deal with, and it wasn’t the first or second time he had to leave suddenly while spending time with the cubs. However, he and Lang Qi always made sure to stagger their schedules so that at least one of them stayed in the cave whenever the cubs were awake.
The cubs had been playing with Bai Tu, but once he left, the cave was left with only them and Lang Qi. The gray-haired cub scrunched up his fair little face in distress, while his black-haired older brother reached out and patted his belly, trying to soothe him to sleep. Just as the gray-haired cub was starting to settle down, a shadow appeared in front of them. The two cubs immediately shut their eyes tight.
Lang Qi stared at the cubs, who had clearly started “pretending to sleep” the moment he arrived. He reached out and poked their chubby little cheeks. “Say ‘Father.'”
Their attempt at pretending to sleep failed. Both cubs opened their round eyes and stared at Lang Qi—but they still didn’t say it.
Lang Qi remained silent for a moment, about to try again, when the gray-haired cub suddenly seemed to think of something. Slowly, he opened his mouth.
“Ma~ma!”
Lang Qi: “???”
Not understanding the meaning of the word, Lang Qi only felt that something about it was off. He originally planned to ask Bai Tu about it when he returned, but Bai Tu had gone out to deal with some housing issues, and by the time he finished, it was already night. After spending most of the day without seeing Bai Tu, Lang Qi had long since forgotten about the question.
It wasn’t until a few days later that Bai Tu finally heard the cubs calling Lang Qi “Mama”—and he nearly burst out laughing.
The pronunciation was clear and precise—he definitely hadn’t misheard.
Even though Bai Tu managed to hold back his laughter, Lang Qi still sensed something was wrong and immediately grabbed him for an explanation. Bai Tu, both amused and exasperated, explained what “Mama” meant and how the cubs had learned the word.
After failing to teach the cubs to say “Uncle,” Bai Tu had given up struggling. In any case, “Dad” was a perfectly good title, and he and Lang Qi treated the cubs the same way. A few days ago, on a whim, he had sung a few lines from an old children’s ride jingle he remembered from shopping malls. The cubs’ learning abilities were impressive—but sometimes, they learned the wrong things. He had casually mentioned over ten different titles, yet somehow, the cubs had managed to pick one that was both incredibly fitting and entirely the wrong gender.
“I can’t take it, hahaha!” Bai Tu waved his hand, trying to suppress his laughter. Lang Qi had spent at least a month drilling the word “Father” into the cubs, and they had never once said it. Meanwhile, Bai Tu had mentioned “Mama” just once, and they remembered it perfectly and even started calling Lang Qi that.
If the cubs weren’t so young, Bai Tu might have suspected they were doing it on purpose. First, they refused to say “Uncle,” and now they were calling Lang Qi “Mama.” No matter what, they just wouldn’t follow his expectations.
Of course, the title itself wasn’t the real issue. The problem was that ever since Lang Qi had learned the meaning of “Dad,” he had become obsessed with getting the cubs to say “Father.” Whenever he had the chance, he would try to teach them, and it was clear he wasn’t going to give up until he succeeded.
But things never worked out the way one wanted them to. The more Lang Qi tried, the more he failed. Bai Tu couldn’t help but laugh every time he saw Lang Qi’s frustrated expression.
Lang Qi lowered his gaze slightly, looking at Bai Tu, who was still smiling. Seizing the moment, he swiftly leaned in and bit Bai Tu’s lip.
“There are cubs here!” Bai Tu immediately wiped the smile off his face and gave Lang Qi a light slap, scolding him for being inappropriate. All five cubs were right next to them! The two older ones, who had been sleeping less than before, were now watching them with wide, curious eyes.
Noticing Bai Tu looking at them, the two cubs immediately stretched out their arms toward him.
“Dad~ Dad~”
“Come here, Daddy will hold you.” Bai Tu picked up the cub and reminded Lang Qi, “The innermost circle of the residential area has been fully designed. You should go choose a house.”
The new residential area wasn’t just for living; like their current settlement, it included all daily necessities and activities. The difference was that it was a larger, expanded version.
The very center of the residential area was designated for food storage—this was the safest and most secure place.
On the other side of the center was the area for discussions and administrative work. Once everyone moved in, it wouldn’t be as convenient as it was now to just drop by someone’s home to talk about things. Setting up separate offices would make everything more efficient. Surrounding the central area were schools, a comprehensive daycare, and dining halls, and beyond that were the residential zones.
The tribe had organized the housing arrangements but did not enforce strict placements. Instead, they divided the area into sections and allowed people to choose within a set range. The selection order was based on ranking points, from highest to lowest—the higher the points, the earlier one could choose. In reality, there wasn’t much difference between locations, but giving people the right to choose made them feel more at ease. It also allowed them to pick their neighbors in advance, preventing potential conflicts.
Bai Tu didn’t have strong preferences about where to live. He just thought that since everyone else was choosing, Lang Qi should as well.
When Lang Qi heard about selecting a house, his expression stiffened. Bai Tu, busy soothing the cubs, didn’t notice. By the time he had finished putting them to sleep and stepped outside, he saw Lang Qi still staring blankly at the map.
There were two map boards. One showed an overview of the new settlement, marking areas like the granary and dining halls. The second displayed several rows of houses, where Lang Qi was supposed to choose their home.
But Bai Tu noticed that Lang Qi’s gaze wasn’t even focused on the second map. He raised his hand and knocked on the board with his knuckles. “Snap out of it.”
Lang Qi came back to his senses and looked at him.
“It’s just picking a house. Is it that hard?” Bai Tu pointed at the rows of houses, suspecting that Lang Qi didn’t understand the markings, so he started explaining. “The south side has more wolf clans, the north side has more rabbit clans. An and Chen will probably live here, Ze likes playing with the little wolves, so he’ll likely choose this area…”
In truth, their choices were limited to just a few houses in the same section. The only difference was whether they would be closer to Bai An or Lang Ze, and the distance was merely a matter of a few courtyards apart—whether they lived at one end of the street or the other. To Bai Tu, it didn’t really matter.
But Lang Qi was staring at him instead of where he was pointing, remaining silent.
“What’s wrong?” Having lived together for so many days, Bai Tu could usually tell Lang Qi’s moods. Right now, he was clearly unhappy.
“There’s no house for you on this map,” Lang Qi said slowly. “You don’t even want to live near the daycare, just to avoid being close to me?”
Bai Tu: “???”
“Do we really have to live so far apart?” Lang Qi asked.
What he actually wanted to ask was whether moving to the new residential area was just an excuse—was Bai Tu’s real intention to distance himself from him?
Lang Qi thought back to when Bai Tu first planned the new settlement—it was right after he had recovered from his memory loss. Thinking about how they had interacted during his amnesia and then comparing it to now, he couldn’t help but doubt.
Perhaps Bai Tu only liked him when he had amnesia.
Or maybe, whether he had amnesia or not, Bai Tu never liked him at all.
Otherwise, why would he be in such a hurry to move away?
Once this thought took root, he couldn’t shake it, especially now that Bai Tu seemed ready to push him away. Lang Qi struggled to keep his emotions in check, forcing himself to ask as calmly as possible.
Bai Tu: “???”
Bai Tu took a deep breath and said in exasperation, “What, we have five cubs now, and you still want to live separately?”
He finally understood—when talking to Lang Qi, he had to make things absolutely clear, or else Lang Qi’s mind would wander off into wild conclusions. He had merely shortened “Go choose our house” to “Go choose a house,” and yet, in just a short moment, Lang Qi had already imagined them living apart. If Bai Tu had arrived any later, would Lang Qi have jumped to the conclusion that they’d never see each other again?
Even if he was feeling miserable, Lang Qi wouldn’t ignore Bai Tu’s words. Upon hearing that, he jolted and looked at Bai Tu in disbelief.
This was the first time he had heard the term separate living, but after spending six months with Bai Tu, he had learned to break down unfamiliar words and reassemble their meanings. Separate living clearly meant living apart. Did this mean Bai Tu didn’t intend to separate from him?
The surprise hit him too suddenly. Lang Qi stood up at once, reaching out to touch Bai Tu, but just as his hand brushed against him, a familiar voice came from outside.
“What cubs?”
Hei Xiao slowly walked in.
Now that the weather wasn’t as cold, Bai Tu preferred to work in the outermost room. The spot where he placed his desk caught the midday sunlight, which made it warm and comfortable. Of course, being in direct sunlight also meant it faced the outside. The map boards had been taken out earlier when Bai An came by and were casually left on the table. Since there was nothing private on them, Bai Tu and Lang Qi hadn’t bothered to move indoors.
Neither of them expected Hei Xiao to show up. But the surprise lasted only a moment—after seeing Hei Xiao, Bai Tu’s expression was purely joyful. It had been three or four months since they had last seen each other.
“Brother!” Bai Tu rushed forward.
Just that one word made Hei Xiao completely forget what he had overheard. He embraced Bai Tu and didn’t let go for a long time.
“You’ve lost weight,” Hei Xiao commented, his gaze shifting away from Bai Tu’s lips. Even though he had already witnessed Bai Tu and Lang Qi’s relationship, he still felt a little helpless seeing it again. His straightforward and innocent little brother had been completely snatched away by a big-tailed wolf.
“I haven’t,” Bai Tu quickly shook his head. He really hadn’t lost weight. When they had last met before winter, it had been colder, so he had worn more layers. But now, with milder temperatures and the warmth inside the cave, he was wearing fewer clothes.
However, in Hei Xiao’s eyes, Bai Tu was thinner. He rubbed Bai Tu’s head with concern. “I brought you the rubber you asked for last time. On the way back to the tribe, I also found a white plant that looked like fluff. I thought you might like it, so I brought some for you.”
Hei Xiao knew Bai Tu was always interested in things others either hadn’t seen or didn’t pay much attention to. When he saw that plant on the road back from the Red Eagle Tribe to the Black Eagle Tribe, he had stopped to collect some. It felt soft to the touch, though it was in clumps and couldn’t be used directly. But Hei Xiao was certain—if anyone knew what it was, it would be Bai Tu.
There wasn’t a single thing in the entire Beast God Continent that Bai Tu couldn’t identify.
Hearing that the long-awaited rubber had arrived, Bai Tu was overjoyed. “Thanks, Brother!”
After not seeing each other for months, Hei Xiao had endless things he wanted to say to his younger brother. But just as they started talking, the faint sound of cubs reached their ears.
Bai Tu heard it too and had to pause their conversation. “I’ll go check on the cubs first.”
Hei Xiao nodded. Remembering that Bai Tu and Lang Qi had just been talking about cubs earlier, he suddenly recalled the two cubs he had seen while traveling to the market. He was a bit surprised—after all this time, they were still taking care of them.
Seeing Hei Xiao still standing outside, Bai Tu waved him over. “Come inside. It’s windy out here.”
During the day, the cave entrance was great for soaking up the sun, but at night, the wind picked up. Since the sun had already set, it was much warmer inside.
Hei Xiao, wanting to spend more time with Bai Tu, nodded and followed him in. Just moments ago, he had been pleased that his brother still cared about him. But the next moment, as he passed through the middle room and caught sight of the bedroom beyond the fence, he froze.
Even with a barrier in place, there was no mistaking it—there wasn’t just one or two cubs. There was an entire group.
“What is this?” Hei Xiao turned to Bai Tu, his expression utterly incredulous. “What are these?”
Thanks for the chapter~~