Chapter 125
As Bai Tu had expected, when the Flower Bear Tribe first moved into the bamboo forest, it wasn’t completely devoid of animals. There were creatures that lived off bamboo, such as bamboo rats and bamboo lemurs.
Both were real animals, not beastmen.
Some tribes didn’t allow large predators near their territory because they could threaten their beastmen and cubs. But small animals like these were usually left alone to grow naturally—if they encountered them, they could even be a convenient snack.
Logically, the Flower Bear Tribe shouldn’t have paid them any attention either. The size difference was immense—bamboo rats posed no threat to them whatsoever. The bears were so large that even some wolf cubs were bigger than a full-grown bamboo rat. Adult beastmen could accidentally step on one and crush it without even noticing.
But logic didn’t account for the Flower Bear Tribe’s endless curiosity.
Having never seen such creatures before, they found them amusing and decided to catch them to play with. However, their excitement caused such a commotion that they ended up scaring the bamboo rats away instead.
The bamboo lemurs, which were about the same size as the bamboo rats, were also frightened and fled in all directions.
Finding their panicked reactions entertaining, the Flower Bear beastmen made a habit of chasing them around every so often. Their territory was full of bamboo with very few other plants, meaning there was hardly any prey passing through. With little else to do besides eating, they turned to this game for fun.
But perhaps they had taken it too far—now there were far fewer bamboo rats than before. They had to travel quite far to even spot one.
Thinking about the chubby little creatures scurrying around, Xiong Li sighed in regret. “There aren’t any here. Not enough bamboo.”
The Snow Rabbit Tribe had a few bamboo groves—not small, but nowhere near the scale of the Flower Bear Tribe’s former territory.
“Let’s catch a few and bring them here,” a nearby beastman suggested. “Once we finish work, we can go play with them.”
Xiong Li nodded in agreement, completely on board with the idea.
To the Flower Bear beastmen, bamboo rats weren’t food—they were playthings.
Bai Tu: “……”
He hadn’t expected the food shortage in their tribe to be partly their own fault.
From the way they described it, there must have originally been a lot of bamboo rats.
Now he finally understood why they had once said, We can’t eat bamboo as fast as it grows.
It wasn’t because they ate too slowly.
It wasn’t because the bamboo had started growing at double speed.
It was because they had driven away the original inhabitants of the forest.
If the bamboo rats had been left alone, they would have continued to reproduce, expanding their population and naturally keeping the bamboo growth in check. But with the pandas scaring them all away, there was nothing left to control the spread of bamboo.
Without another species to balance the ecosystem, the Flower Bear beastmen had clearly failed to manage the bamboo on their own—leading to an even denser forest.
Bai Tu was speechless for a moment.
There were many tribes that struggled to feed themselves through their own efforts.
But a tribe that managed to starve itself through its own actions? That was a first.
The Snow Rabbit Tribe had plenty of food. Even without the supplies they had taken from the Red Eagle Tribe, they could rely on their crops and livestock to get through both the rainy and snowy seasons.
But Bai Tu was quite tempted by the idea of using bamboo rats for food.
Technically, rabbits had the highest reproduction rate among prey animals. However, since the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s beastmen had rabbit forms, they didn’t hunt or farm rabbits themselves. They didn’t mind if other tribes ate rabbits, but catching and raising them was out of the question.
Bamboo rats, on the other hand, could be a perfect substitute.
They didn’t need to breed too many—just enough to serve as an emergency food supply. Having extra food on hand was never a bad thing.
In the end, the task of finding bamboo rats was assigned to the Hawk Tribe.
Since Hei Xiao had temporarily settled in the Snow Rabbit Tribe, Hei Yan still visited every few days. Even when Hei Xiao drove him away, he would return within ten days. Despite this, more and more hawk beastmen were choosing to stay in the Snow Rabbit Tribe.
The hawks had originally received orders from Hei Yan to protect Hei Xiao and follow his commands. However, once under Hei Xiao’s leadership, that command had been slightly altered—they were now following Bai Tu’s instructions instead.
With the territory under constant watch, there were no security concerns. So, aside from two hawk beastmen stationed near Hei Xiao for convenience, Bai Tu had assigned the rest to various tasks.
One of the biggest advantages of having wings was being able to fly in a straight line, unlike other beastmen who had to navigate around difficult terrain. Bai Tu selected six Black Hawk Tribe members and four vultures to go on a mission to exchange for sheep.
Sheep could be sheared twice a year. If they were brought back now and raised for a while, they would be ready for their first shearing just in time for winter. This meant that their first batch of woolen yarn could be produced before the next cold season.
With a few hawk beastmen still left in the tribe, Bai Tu called them over and assigned them to accompany Xiong Li on a mission to capture bamboo rats.
“This time, don’t scare them away,” Bai Tu warned Xiong Li.
Even for the hawks, flying there and back took several days. If the bamboo rats were frightened off again, they would have to wait even longer before making another trip.
The hawk beastmen were used to long-distance travel. A two- or three-day journey was nothing more than a short trip to them, and they didn’t even need to stop for rest. As soon as they caught the bamboo rats, they would fly straight back.
After more than ten days without the Flower Bear Tribe’s beastmen around, the bamboo rats had grown a little bolder. They now dared to roam freely through the bamboo forest.
Unfortunately for them, they never expected their tormentors to return.
Caught off guard, they were rounded up in one swift move.
Since bamboo rats had strong teeth and could chew through things easily, Bai Tu took precautions to prevent them from escaping. On the day they arrived at the bamboo forest, the hawks, under Xiong Li’s leadership, captured dozens of them and immediately flew back to the tribe.
Bai Tu separated them by size and gender, housing them in individual enclosures made of brick and cement—materials too difficult for them to gnaw through.
As for food, the Snow Rabbit Tribe already had plenty of bamboo. Seeing how fast it was being consumed, Bai Tu decided to expand their bamboo plantations while the season was still suitable for planting.
No matter how much bamboo the Flower Bear Tribe’s previous territory had produced, it was too far away to be transported efficiently. Unlike materials like iron, which could be transported once and last a long time, bamboo was consumed daily in massive quantities. Without an improved transportation system, it made more sense to grow their own supply.
Luckily, bamboo had the advantage of growing rapidly. Once transplanted, it would take only a few years for a new grove to flourish.
Compared to other animals, bamboo rats were relatively docile. Perhaps because they had been constantly startled in the past, they quickly calmed down as long as they had food and water.
After settling the bamboo rats into the livestock area, the beastmen there began organizing other enclosures.
The livestock area had emptied out significantly over the winter. Even though people had been capturing animals to restock the pens, the number of animals was still far lower than before.
There was enough to eat, but the sight of so many empty enclosures left everyone feeling dissatisfied.
Especially since in just over two months, the rainy season would begin. Even though the tribe had stored plenty of salt from their last trade expedition and wouldn’t be running out anytime soon, people still felt uneasy about the lack of livestock.
After all, a single trip to the market required trading away a significant number of animals.
And during the entire rainy season, they wouldn’t be able to hunt at all.
Strangely, instead of increasing the number of hunters, Bai Tu had been assigning more people to tasks that no one expected—leaving many beastmen confused.
Some had asked about it, but Bai Tu didn’t seem the least bit worried. Instead, he kept urging everyone to cut as much wild grass as possible—the more, the better.
Even Bai Dong’s group of young beastmen, who led the grass-cutting team, were feeling overwhelmed by the workload.
Even Bai An came to ask if Bai Tu had miscalculated.
Before winter, there had been plenty of prey, yet back then, even the grass-cutting efforts weren’t this rushed. Now, with prey numbers dwindling, everyone was growing increasingly anxious—so why was Bai Tu still so calm?
Bai Tu pulled out a bamboo slip recording the behaviors of their domesticated animals and pointed to a specific entry.
“There are currently thirty-seven pregnant sows in the tribe.”
Spring didn’t just make beastmen more restless—it also affected animals. After surviving the winter, young animals had matured and could now be separated from their mothers. Meanwhile, the adult animals had entered their breeding season, meaning they were about to be put to good use.
And those thirty-seven sows? That was just counting the most prolific breeders—the pigs. Bai Tu hadn’t even included the cows, sheep, and other animals.
The combined food consumption of these animals would be staggering.
If they didn’t prepare now, by the time the young animals grew larger and their appetites increased exponentially, they’d find themselves in the same predicament as the Blood Wolf Tribe—forced to borrow hay just to keep their livestock alive.
And borrowing food was no simple matter.
Last year, the Snow Rabbit Tribe had fewer domesticated animals and had started cutting grass earlier than anyone else, which gave them an ample hay supply. Because of this, they had been able to spare some for the wolves. Even then, they had still been forced to slaughter some of their livestock early—otherwise, the pregnant animals they had now wouldn’t have even made it through the winter.
With that lesson in mind, and knowing exactly how many animals would be born in the next two months, Bai Tu wasn’t going to take any risks.
Anyone in the tribe who wasn’t already busy was sent to cut grass.
All of it was dried and stored away for winter.
Bai An had learned to read a fair number of characters over time. While he still struggled with writing, he could understand the numbers on the bamboo slip just fine.
After reading over the livestock records, he waved a hand dismissively.
“The small animals won’t eat that much. The grass we’ve already cut should be enough.”
“It’s absolutely not enough,” Bai Tu corrected him immediately.
He had already calculated everything.
As the animals grew, their food consumption would multiply.
Even over the winter, when raising the calves and piglets, he had noticed this effect.
Bai An clearly didn’t understand how many piglets a sow could give birth to.
“Even if each sow only has seven or eight piglets,” Bai Tu said conservatively, “that’s still two to three hundred piglets in total.”
In reality, he expected even more than that. With the stable food supply and safe environment in the tribe, there was no reason their domesticated animals would produce fewer offspring than wild ones.
Bai An was stunned.
“They can have that many?”
When they had first started capturing live prey before winter, very few of the animals had been pregnant. The only births they had witnessed were among sheep and cows, and those usually resulted in just one or two offspring—three at most.
Since wild boars typically only had four or five piglets per litter, Bai An had assumed that was the upper limit.
He had no idea that domestic pigs could give birth to far more.
Although he was still a little skeptical, Bai An ultimately decided to trust Bai Tu.
If Bai Tu was this certain they needed more hay, then they would keep cutting.
Besides, there was no shortage of wild grass.
Cut it now, and a new batch would grow in just a few days.
Compared to fruit and grain, which took months or even a full year to mature, wild grass grew like an endless resource. No matter how much they harvested, there was always more coming in.
Everything in the tribe was running smoothly.
But there was one issue—the number of wild animals passing through their territory was much lower than usual.
As the weather grew hotter, there should have been more migrating prey.
Instead, after several days of scouting, they found that there were even fewer than when the weather had first started warming up.
In previous years, large groups of prey would pass through every few days, lingering in the tribe’s territory for a while before moving on. This gave the beastmen an opportunity to capture them.
But now?
The frequency remained the same—prey still arrived every few days.
The problem was that the herd sizes had drastically shrunk.
Before, they had seen herds of dozens.
Now, if they spotted a group with ten animals, they considered themselves lucky.
With fewer prey, hunting became even more difficult.
There were more beastmen working in the tribe than ever before, and their various tasks created a lot of noise. That, in turn, made it harder to pinpoint the exact locations of passing prey.
Sometimes, before anyone even noticed, an entire herd would slip away.
At first, Bai Tu assumed this was simply due to overhunting.
After all, many tribes had rapidly grown in numbers over the past few years.
With more mouths to feed, demand for food had naturally increased.
If more beastmen were hunting migrating prey before it reached them, then it made sense that the later tribes in the migration path would have less to catch.
However, after observing the situation for a while, Bai Tu realized something was off.
A decrease in prey should be gradual.
For example, if there had been ten animals in a herd last year, there might be eight this year.
That kind of steady decline was expected.
But what was happening now?
One year, there were ten.
The next year, there were three.
That kind of sudden drop wasn’t normal.
Even if some tribes had grown and were consuming more food, their appetite would have increased gradually, not all at once.
For example, the wolf cubs in the tribe were eating slightly more this year than they had last year—but their growth had been a steady process.
Bai Tu had been prepared for a slight decrease in available prey.
But this abrupt, drastic decline made no sense.
If this had happened in previous years, the only option would have been to try capturing all the prey that passed through.
But this time, they had an advantage.
With hawk beastmen in the tribe, they had access to information from all across the continent.
After discussing the matter with Hei Xiao, Bai Tu decided to send the hawks out to investigate.
The advantage of having wings is the ability to leave at a moment’s notice. However, there was still concern that venturing into unknown territories could be unsafe. After preparing enough food for them, Bai Tu instructed, “Investigate where you can, but don’t force your way into places you shouldn’t. Come back as soon as possible.”
The Hawk Clan wasn’t the only winged tribe. Although they were nearly invincible in aerial combat, they weren’t entirely safe—especially in someone else’s territory, where they were outnumbered. If a conflict arose, it could be extremely dangerous.
Bai Tu did want to figure out what was happening, but the safety of his people came first. If investigating put the Hawk Clan at risk, then it wasn’t worth it.
The southern region was a familiar route for them, so there was no need to check. The northern beastmen, who traded sheep, were about to return and would likely bring back any relevant news. Therefore, the main focus was on the east and west. A dozen Hawk Clan members split into two teams and set out early the next morning.
With their speed and the fact that they were only scouting, they traveled light and moved much faster than when carrying prey. The round trip took less than five days. Despite the quick journey, they managed to uncover the reason for the decline in prey—several large tribes were aggressively hunting.
The Hawk Clan’s scout leader reported to Bai Tu and Hei Xiao: “Many beastmen from those tribes are capturing prey, killing them, and throwing them into pools of water. They have overwhelming numbers, so we didn’t dare get too close. We watched from a distance before retreating.”
The other team that scouted the western continent returned with a similar report: “Some tribes without water pools hang their prey on trees to dry. The smell carries from far away.”
It wasn’t fully summer yet, but the temperature was already high. Drying meat at this time could work, but if it spoiled, the stench of rotting flesh was unbearable—far worse than any other kind of spoiled food. Several Hawk Clan members nearly vomited from the smell, even without getting too close.
Initially, they were discreetly observing, but the overwhelming stench caught them off guard. A young beastman accidentally made a noise and was discovered. The reeking air stunned him for a moment, preventing him from taking flight, and he was nearly caught by the beastmen of that tribe. If not for the squad leader grabbing him just in time, someone would have been injured.
Older members of the Hawk Clan might have handled it better. Over a decade ago, the Red Eagle Tribe lived near the Black Eagle Tribe. The Red Eagle Tribe frequently ate rotten meat—some even refused fresh food, deliberately waiting for it to spoil. Their entire territory reeked of decay. Even flying overhead, one could smell the stench.
The younger generation of the Hawk Clan had been too young at the time and had long forgotten that life. Since Hei Yan became their leader, the younger Hawks had become the tribe’s main hunters. They ate the best food available, and after joining the Snow Rabbit Tribe, their living conditions improved even further. Even though they liked play-fighting with the young wolves, their meals were unaffected—they ate and drank well.
Neither the Snow Rabbit Tribe nor the Blood Wolf Tribe had ever consumed spoiled food. Although the Hawk Clan didn’t have natural cold-storage caves like this region, they never kept food for too long. After learning new food preservation methods, they often processed their prey into snacks the same night they caught them.
Having never encountered such a revolting odor before, the Hawk Clan scouts left that tribe’s territory faster than usual. Despite traveling a greater distance, they were so overwhelmed by the stench that they barely ate on the way back.
After reporting their findings, one of the scouts sniffed his own fur, still feeling like the foul smell lingered. Even after two days, he was still haunted by the stench in his dreams.
The cause of the food shortage was now clear. With the growing beastman population, the demand for prey had naturally increased. On top of that, a few tribes were capturing and slaughtering large numbers of animals, further reducing the available prey. If this was just normal meat preservation, it wouldn’t be an issue. But entire tribes were mobilizing, wiping out all prey in their path. It was clear they weren’t just preparing for the rainy season.
Danger lurked everywhere. Any prey that managed to escape from such an environment had exceptional survival and awareness skills, making them much harder to catch. It was no surprise that the tribe’s recent hunts had been less successful. Smaller prey had better chances of avoiding detection, and the ones that were spotted were seasoned survivors—far from the easy targets they had been before winter, when frightened animals would leap into traps at the slightest scare.
Although they didn’t know why those tribes were aggressively hunting prey, the situation made everyone uneasy. There weren’t many animals raised within the tribe, so people naturally became more frugal with their food.
The Flower Bear Tribe was the least affected by this issue. For them, having some meat was already a luxury—if they ran out, they could always return to eating bamboo.
“If you run out of food, you can come with us,” Xiong Chi promised Bai Tu. “We won’t turn you away!” As the most loyal and righteous Flower Bears, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring the Snow Rabbit Tribe and the Blood Wolf Tribe to the bamboo forest if food became scarce. There would always be enough bamboo to eat!
Bai Tu: “…” The bamboo forest was indeed large, but there was a huge difference between feeding a few dozen people and feeding over a thousand. The Hua Bear Tribe’s territory seemed spacious because of their small numbers—if a thousand people moved in, it wouldn’t feel so big anymore.
Besides, after so many years, people had developed certain eating habits. Many beastmen couldn’t adapt to a completely plant-based diet. Wolf and lion tribes, of course, needed meat, but even rabbit and deer beastmen couldn’t survive on plants alone.
The Flower Bear Tribe had switched to eating bamboo out of sheer desperation, but the other tribes weren’t at that point yet. Although prey was scarce, they weren’t starving. Even though Xiong Chi’s suggestion wasn’t practical, his kindness was still appreciated—acts of generosity like his were rare and valuable.
Knowing that prey would only become scarcer, beastmen began to change their attitudes toward the animals they had in the tribe. Previously, these animals were seen as backup food, as summer usually brought an abundance of prey, and there was never a concern about starvation. But this year was clearly different.
Some beastmen, after finishing their daily tasks, started cutting grass outside, and the pile of hay behind the tribe grew larger each day.
Others suggested reducing egg consumption.
The tribe had always slaughtered animals for fresh meat, while eggs—whether chicken, duck, or goose—were collected and stored in the communal kitchen. Since eggs spoiled quickly in the heat, they were usually eaten within two days.
But now that people knew prey was scarce, they hesitated to eat eggs. A single egg was barely a mouthful, but if left to hatch into a chick, it could grow into a sizable meal. If it was a hen, it could lay eggs—one extra egg per day in the future was far better than eating one now.
At some point, a phrase started spreading through the tribe: “Eat one less egg today, and you’ll have more chickens to eat in the future.”
Beastmen who hadn’t thought much about it before stopped eating eggs as well.
Tu Mu, who managed the kitchen, noticed the change. At first, he thought the leftover eggs were due to an abundance of food and everyone’s newfound frugality. But when the same thing happened two or three times, he realized that while other dishes were still being eaten, barely anyone was taking eggs.
For three consecutive meals, the eggs remained untouched. If they continued sitting there, they would spoil. Worried, Tu Mu went straight to Bai Tu.
Lang Qi had already figured out the reason. “They want you to keep the eggs for hatching.”
Bai Tu: “…” That was a great idea, but there was one problem.
Bai Tu explained, “How are they going to hatch if the eggs aren’t fertilized?”
Hatching more chicks wasn’t an issue—he could arrange for it. But the eggs currently being sent to the kitchen were all unfertilized and couldn’t hatch into chicks.
Roosters liked to fight, and if they were kept with hens for too long, they would pluck out the hens’ feathers—sometimes even leaving their backs completely bald. To prevent this, Bai Tu had separated the chickens by gender.
The hens laid eggs, while only a few roosters were kept alive—the rest were culled once they matured. The hens were housed separately, with small partitions between groups. After laying eggs, the caretakers would collect them and send them to the kitchen. If they needed fertilized eggs, the roosters had to be reintroduced to the hens for a period before collecting fertilized eggs for incubation.
Bai Tu explained this to Tu Mu and told him to relay the message to anyone refusing to eat eggs at the communal kitchen.
“What about the leftover eggs?” Tu Mu asked. In the past, multiple pots of eggs wouldn’t be enough, but now a single batch lasted for three meals. Even with many kitchen workers, they couldn’t possibly eat them all themselves. After all, they couldn’t eat just eggs, and eating too many was overwhelming.
Bai Tu thought for a moment, then suddenly remembered something. “Has the soy sauce been finished?”
Making soy sauce wasn’t as simple as just leaving it to ferment—it required several steps along the way. Bai Tu had provided the recipe and supervised the process, but most of the work had been done by Tu Mu and the kitchen staff.
Tu Mu thought back to the last stage before he left and replied, “I think it’s almost done cooking.”
Bai Tu decided to make a dish with soy sauce today.
It wasn’t anything too fancy—he planned to use the leftover eggs to make Tiger Skin Eggs.
Previously, without soy sauce or vinegar, the tribe’s cooking options had been limited. Bai Tu often skipped steps that required soy sauce. Since they were already lacking sugar as a major seasoning, the absence of soy sauce made many dishes look pale.
The food still tasted fine—every step in the cooking process mattered—but something always felt like it was missing. Especially for someone like Bai Tu, who had experienced a variety of modern flavors, these meals often felt a bit bland.
Getting chili peppers had improved things somewhat, but they couldn’t be eaten every day. After such a long time of eating food seasoned only with salt and a few plant-based spices, even the simple addition of soy sauce made Bai Tu very satisfied.
Making Tiger Skin Eggs was simple: first, boil the eggs and peel them. Then, fry them in oil until the surface turns golden brown. Next, sauté chopped green onions and minced garlic, add soy sauce and water, and simmer the eggs in the mixture.
A bit of sugar would have made the dish even better, but they only had soy sauce for now. Still, it was progress. Bai Tu thought about how, not long ago, they had to use lemon juice as a substitute for vinegar and extra salt instead of soy sauce. Now, they had successfully made both seasonings, and their food would only get better from here. Plus, the tribe had already planted soybeans and rice, so by autumn, they could produce soy sauce on a larger scale.
Although both soy sauce and salt were salty, they each gave food a different taste.
Since no one in the tribe had ever eaten food made with soy sauce, they hesitated when they saw how much the eggs had changed in color. Many had already been skeptical when they saw Bai Tu making that dark, strange liquid. Now that he was using it for cooking, they were even more confused.
Lang Qi never asked unnecessary questions. Seeing that Bai Tu had finished cooking, he immediately grabbed a pair of chopsticks, picked up an egg, and took a bite. After chewing and swallowing, he glanced at the remaining eggs in surprise—he hadn’t expected such a drastic change in flavor.
He had seen Bai Tu guiding others in making soy sauce and knew that salt was part of the process. He had assumed soy sauce was just black salt water, but now that he had tasted it, he was pleasantly surprised.
Bai Tu had never disappointed anyone.
Lang Qi ate an entire egg and, after waiting a moment to make sure there were no adverse effects, finally let go of Bai Tu’s wrist, allowing him to taste it himself.
Bai Tu felt a little helpless at Lang Qi’s cautious attitude. He had made the soy sauce himself, so of course, he knew it wasn’t poisonous or harmful. Lang Qi was more nervous than he was and insisted on testing it first.
But that could wait—eating was the priority.
Bai Tu took a small bite. The egg, fried and simmered in soy sauce, was still hot, but the flavor was even richer.
It had been a long time since he had eaten soy sauce—let alone homemade soy sauce. Even mass-produced soy sauce hadn’t been available to him in ages. The long absence made him appreciate it even more, and he ended up eating two eggs in a row before stopping.
Seeing that no one else was moving, Bai Tu waved them over. “Everyone, try it. Tiger Skin Eggs are best eaten while hot.”
The dish tasted better when warm, and since he had fried the eggs in lard, they wouldn’t solidify in this weather, but they would become greasy if left to cool. It was best to eat them fresh.
The next morning, the tribe announced two things:
- They had officially decided to hatch a large number of chicks. The eggs used for hatching were fertilized eggs, different from the ones served in the kitchen. So, there was no need for people to cut back on eating eggs—otherwise, they would just go to waste.
- If anyone had suggestions, they should consult Bai An or Bai Tu instead of making assumptions. While the number of wild prey had decreased, there was no need for extreme rationing. Eating less was fine, but completely abstaining from food was unnecessary.
Once the tribe learned that the eggs in the kitchen were not the same as the hatching eggs, many beastmen rushed back to the dining hall, heading straight for the egg station. They had grown used to eating eggs, and after not having them for several days, they felt the absence.
But when they arrived, they discovered something unexpected. The eggs were there, but they looked different. The shells were gone, and instead of the usual smooth, pale surface, they were slightly black and red.
Most importantly, eggs were now rationed. Each person could only take one per day—no exceptions.
The beastmen exchanged glances. This unfamiliar dish left them with a dilemma—should they eat it or not?
Just as they were hesitating, a group of young wolf cubs stormed into the dining hall.
The beastmen who had been indecisive immediately stopped hesitating—they quickly grabbed an egg and left.
The wolf cubs were many in number, and whenever they arrived, food would disappear in no time. Although the kitchen would replenish supplies later, that meant waiting. And for some reason, the food they missed always seemed to taste the best. Every time they missed out on a dish, they would regret it afterward.
Not knowing the saying “food tastes better when you fight for it”, the beastmen hurriedly grabbed eggs and sat down at their tables. As soon as they took a big bite, they were blown away by the new flavor.
No wonder they were only allowed to take one egg—if there had been no limit, the entire dish would have been gone in minutes. Never underestimate people’s love for delicious food.
The wolf cubs also ate the eggs, but they were always fast eaters. They could finish an egg in just two bites, swallowing it before they even had a chance to savor the flavor. All that remained in their mouths was a lingering umami from the sauce.
They wanted more. That was the thought running through every wolf cub’s mind. But it wasn’t possible—over the next few days, the kitchen needed to save eggs for hatching, meaning there would be fewer available for meals.
Disheartened, the wolf cubs asked when Tiger Skin Eggs would be made again. Meanwhile, Bai Tu was busy organizing the heated kang beds.
Some beastmen had moved down the mountain after finding mates, leaving many caves vacant. Bai Tu took the opportunity to consolidate living spaces, moving those without roommates together, freeing up several caves in the process.
He planned to use these heated kang beds to hatch chicks.
After making an incubator, he had conducted two experiments. The first involved transferring partially incubated eggs from hens to the incubator. The second was a controlled test. From these, he determined the optimal temperature and humidity for hatching eggs. Now, he planned to use the kang beds to maintain that ideal temperature and hatch the chicks efficiently.
A single heated bed could hold thousands of eggs, making it far more efficient than using hens. When a hen brooded, she would stop laying eggs, wasting valuable time. Large-scale hatching also required extra care to ensure the chicks were well-fed.
By using heated kang beds, these issues were eliminated. Two people could take turns monitoring the eggs, flipping them regularly, ensuring an efficient and controlled hatching process.
After setting up the incubators, Bai Tu discussed the situation with Hei Xiao. They were both puzzled—why were those tribes capturing so many animals?
Bai Tu wasn’t particularly worried about food scarcity in his own tribe. This year, he had planted a powerful staple crop—sweet potatoes. The yield was astonishing, with hundreds of kilos harvested per acre. Even without fertilizer, the large fields he had planted could sustain a lot of people. He had deliberately refrained from eating them, prioritizing propagation. While one less egg might not necessarily mean one more chicken, planting one more sweet potato vine definitely meant a larger future harvest.
And sweet potatoes weren’t the only crops in the tribe. Wheat, corn, rice, and various beans had all been cultivated this year. Bai Tu had planted nearly every edible crop he had encountered.
The Blood Wolf Tribe closely followed the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s lead. Whatever was done here, the wolves would adopt within half a day. The Leopard Tribe took a little longer but still made an effort to keep up.
Even the relatively familiar tribes, like the Yellow Lion, White Lion, and Flower Deer Tribes, occasionally borrowed seeds and learned planting techniques. These tribes had seen how well the Snow Rabbit Tribe had fared during winter. They knew their own tribes wouldn’t be able to transform overnight, but making preparations now would reduce future hardships.
Overall, among all the tribes in the Beast God Continent, the food shortage had the least impact on these groups. However, even so, they still needed to understand the cause of the disappearing prey. If all the tribes eventually ran out of food, their own safety would be at risk.
Another concern was the declining number of beastmen coming to adopt wolf cubs.
It wasn’t that they didn’t want the cubs—it was that capturing prey had become increasingly difficult. With fewer animals around, more people were needed for hunting, leaving little time to travel and pick up cubs. The journey itself took days, and with food supplies running low, they couldn’t afford to waste provisions on the trip.
Bai Tu didn’t mind caring for the cubs a little longer, but this situation couldn’t continue indefinitely. He wanted the cubs to be adopted and raised properly. Even if their parents later reclaimed them, they could still remain in the tribe. What he didn’t want was for external circumstances to force a separation between young cubs and their families.
A cub’s childhood lasted only a few short years—every day that passed was one less day they could spend with their parents. The first half of their lives had already been filled with suffering under Wu Lai’s cruelty. Now, they should be cherished and cared for. Instead, because of the food shortage, they were unable to reunite with their families. The thought alone was heartbreaking.
Bai Tu and Hei Xiao were determined to find out why those tribes were hoarding so much prey. But this time, they couldn’t simply send the Hawk Clan to scout. Last time, they had been discovered. Although the scouts returned safely, the fact that they had been spotted meant that the enemy would be more vigilant.
It was clear that the tribes hunting all the prey were connected and shared information. If one tribe knew they were being watched, it meant all of them did. Sending another scouting team now would be far riskier than before.
After thinking it through, the best time to investigate would be during the next market gathering.
There was a little over a month left before the pre-rainy-season market. Before the gathering, most beastmen from different tribes would go out to trade for food. This would be the perfect opportunity to ask around and observe other tribes. If they were lucky, they might even encounter beastmen who had lost their cubs.
After discussing it, Bai Tu returned to the cave. Seeing the wolf cubs that had been living there for the past few months, he spaced out for a moment before turning to Lang Qi. “Who should we take to the market this time?” Last time, they brought two cubs. This time, they had five—it wouldn’t be easy to manage.
“All of them,” Lang Qi replied. He had accompanied his father to the market since he was old enough to remember, and his cubs should do the same. Besides, traveling to the market before the rainy season was safer than before winter. The temperature wouldn’t drop drastically.
Bai Tu hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright.” If they were bringing them all, so be it. The two of them could handle five cubs between them—each carrying two or three wouldn’t be a problem. The cubs were only about a pound each. Honestly, even if they had fifty, they could manage.
Even though winter had only just passed, the time for the market gathering was already approaching.
The wheat, which everyone had eagerly awaited, was finally ripening. Although it had been planted around the same time, differences in soil fertility and moisture caused it to mature at different rates. The first small batch that started filling out was harvested early and roasted for eating before it could fully mature.
Although wheat had a lower yield than corn, they had planted a lot, so the overall harvest was significant. Once dried and processed, the wheat was stored in baskets, lined up neatly in the warehouse—just looking at it was satisfying.
And this was only the winter wheat. They had planted another batch of spring wheat after winter, which would mature after the rainy season. Starting next winter, the tribe would no longer need to limit how much wheat-based food they ate.
With the wheat harvest complete, there was exactly one month left until the market—including travel time.
A month might sound like a long time, but there was a lot to prepare.
The tribe still had leftover salt from last time, so they wouldn’t need to trade for more. The main goal was to gather information and hopefully reunite some of the cubs with their families. However, even though they weren’t trading for salt, they still had to prepare a large amount of food and snacks.
Some of the food was for the journey. The round trip would take half a month, and if they encountered any delays, it could take even longer. Food supplies had to be sufficient.
Previously, they could rely on hunting along the way, but with prey becoming scarcer, even the beasts in their own territory were hard to catch—let alone those outside. Beyond their territory, even in areas they passed through every year on the way to the market, they couldn’t afford to stray too far from the group. They had to remain constantly alert, making long-distance hunts impractical.
This wasn’t a problem for the tribe. If hunting along the way wasn’t viable, they would simply bring more food. Their current method of capturing prey alive had the added benefit of keeping the food fresh. Since live animals continued to grow while being kept, their food supply was just as Bai Tu had predicted—more than enough.
As they did before winter, the tribe began preparing several popular food items. But when it came to jerky, Bai Tu decided not to make too much. “Let’s keep more live cattle—we can ride them.”
Last time, they hadn’t had this option. When they traveled to the market before winter, most of their captured prey had only just been caught and were still wild. Leading them along the journey would have been too dangerous. Cattle, being large animals, could become uncontrollable if they panicked, potentially injuring people.
But this time was different. After a winter and several more months of training, many of their captured animals had been tamed. The calves they had caught last year had grown into young bulls that were now quite close to humans.
Bai Tu didn’t want to slaughter them. Riding them or using them to carry supplies seemed like a better idea.
It was a solid plan.
But as soon as he finished speaking, Bai Tu noticed that Lang Qi’s expression had turned odd.
What now?
Thanks for the chapter!