Chapter 160
No one had expected that when Shi Su said he was going to “borrow something,” he actually meant borrowing tools for digging underground tunnels.
While the others were still arguing about who arrived first, Shi Su had already moved on to solving the real problem—getting the tools. With the right tools, wouldn’t he be the first to finish digging?
Lu Hui glanced at Shi Su before turning to Lu Ming and the chief of the Yellow Deer Tribe. Suddenly, she spoke up: “Tu, our tribe’s land borders both the Brown Deer Tribe and the Yellow Deer Tribe. We only need to dig one tunnel for all three.”
Even if they lost the race to the Yellow Lion Tribe, a combined effort would be much faster. As for security concerns, she was familiar with the Yellow Deer Tribe, and although the Brown Deer Tribe had past conflicts with them, now that Lu Ming was chief, it wasn’t an issue.
Lu Ming and the Yellow Deer Tribe’s chief, Lu Ci, both immediately agreed. Although Lu Hui’s proposal had come suddenly, they recognized that following the Flower Deer Tribe’s lead would be far more efficient than trying to negotiate separately with Bai Tu.
The Flower Deer Tribe, Yellow Lion Tribe, White Lion Tribe, and White Bear Tribe all had farming and livestock areas. Meanwhile, the Brown Deer and Brown Lion Tribes had nothing yet. Choosing the right allies was crucial.
Shi Lin quickly realized this joint effort was a better plan than digging alone, so he immediately formed an alliance with the Brown Lion Tribe.
Of the seven tribal chiefs present, five tribes opted to cooperate. Since the Yellow Lion Tribe was the first to request tools, that left only the White Bear Tribe—with no partners and no head start.
Xiong Liao had been stunned ever since Lu Hui spoke. So that’s an option?!
But his tribe was too close to the Snow Rabbit Tribe to justify digging with anyone else. Now, he was frantically scratching his head, trying to think of a way to catch up.
Lu Hui’s proposal sparked an idea in Bai Tu. Not every tribe needed to dig separate tunnels. Instead, they could dig one main underground route in the same direction and then create branches leading to different tribes.
This would save a significant amount of time.
However, this method had one major risk—if any tribe developed bad intentions or was coerced by invaders, they could use the tunnel system to threaten the others.
Bai Tu studied the tribal leaders in front of him. So far, only the Brown Lion Tribe and Brown Deer Tribe were relatively new allies—the others had already worked with him multiple times.
After thinking for a moment, he decided to speak with each leader separately in another room.
Key Discussion Points
There were two main concerns Bai Tu wanted to address:
1. Did their tribe’s beastmen approve of the tunnel project?
There was no doubt about this. If their tribes weren’t on board, these leaders wouldn’t have come in the first place.
2. Had they chosen the beastmen responsible for digging the tunnels?
The Yellow Lion Tribe was the most prepared. Shi Su had already begun making arrangements as soon as he received the wolf tribe’s message. His tribe had several members waiting for his signal, and the chosen diggers were all experienced and reliable elders. Meanwhile, the other tribes hadn’t selected their diggers yet, but they assured Bai Tu they would be ready as soon as they returned.
Bai Tu emphasized that they needed to choose their most trustworthy beastmen for the task.
Transport & Access Control
Even after the tunnels were dug, not just anyone would be allowed to enter freely.
The Snow Rabbit Tribe would deliver resources to the entrance of each tribe’s tunnel. Each receiving tribe would then handle transporting the supplies the rest of the way.
Essentially, the middle of the tunnels would serve as a transfer station rather than a direct passageway for people to come and go as they pleased.
All the chiefs agreed—this plan protected all the tribes.
Each tribe would only send people to the middle of the tunnel, rather than enter another tribe’s territory. They wouldn’t have to worry about outsiders sneaking into their land.
The only challenge left was communication.
To address this, Bai Tu proposed a fixed meeting schedule at the central transfer points, allowing the tribes to exchange updates and stay informed about any developments outside their territory.
Everyone agreed with Bai Tu’s proposal. Even if an attack on one tribe didn’t immediately affect another, there was no guarantee that a victorious enemy wouldn’t move on to loot the next tribe—just like the Mad Lion Tribe had done before.
Even if they didn’t fully grasp the concept of “if the lips perish, the teeth grow cold”, they understood that when a neighboring tribe was in danger, their own safety was also at risk.
However, the leaders had one common request.
“Tu, let’s build the meeting point in your tribe’s territory,” Lu Hui suggested.
Her tribe had the lowest combat strength among all the involved tribes. Any of the other tribes could overpower them. Although they could escape quickly if needed, traveling to another tribe’s land was far more dangerous than heading to the Snow Rabbit or Blood Wolf Tribe.
Bai Tu thought for a moment before agreeing.
“Alright.”
Since the main tunnel and branch routes would now be connected, placing the intersection beneath the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s land made sense.
Once Bai Tu agreed, the tribes wasted no time. That same day, they gathered their tools and prepared to return home.
Because the digging method had changed, the tribes would now be working together, so they split the tools evenly.
However, Shi Su still had priority access to materials, since his tribe was the first to request tools.
No one objected to this. Since they were all digging at the same pace, waiting an extra day or two for supplies wasn’t an issue.
The largest tunnel intersection was set to be within the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s land, near their former settlement area.
This location had another advantage—there was already a complex network of tunnels beneath the mountain where they used to live. If danger arose, they could retreat there immediately.
From the first intersection, three main tunnels would branch out: One leading to the deer tribes, one leading to the White Bear Tribe, and one leading to the lion tribes.
The paths to the deer and lion tribes would split at a second joint intersection, with small individual tunnels leading to each specific tribe; The path to the White Bear Tribe would remain a single-use tunnel for now.
With this arrangement, each tribe’s responsibility was clear.
The tribal leaders watched as Bai Tu sketched out the map, already envisioning their future connections and trade routes.
Each tribe would first dig the portion of the tunnel within their own land, then work on the shared sections.
Meanwhile, the Snow Rabbit and Blood Wolf Tribes would only dig within their own land.
Originally, the shared sections were supposed to be a collaborative effort, but Bai Tu didn’t want anyone knowing the exact layout of their internal tunnel system. The rabbit tribe’s digging skills far surpassed the other tribes, so they could handle the task themselves.
By the time everything was settled, it was already midnight.
As Bai Tu escorted the leaders out, he stretched and sighed, exhausted to the point of dizziness.
Just as everyone was about to leave, Xiong Liao hesitated at the gate, clearly reluctant to go.
“Tu, can I go see Mian?” he asked.
Bai Tu paused mid-stretch and sighed, feeling a little exasperated.
“Didn’t you just visit two days ago?”
Xiong Liao rubbed his hands together excitedly and argued, “But now I’m already here! And the tribe isn’t hunting today.”
The White Bear, Yellow Lion, White Lion, and Flower Deer Tribes had only started building their breeding grounds after the rainy season, so even the earliest one—White Bear Tribe—didn’t have enough livestock yet.
After all, the Snow Rabbit and Blood Wolf Tribes couldn’t give away all their young prey animals.
They had already hatched as many chickens, ducks, and geese as possible, since these animals had short breeding cycles and could multiply quickly.
But pigs, cows, and sheep were much harder to manage—it would take three to four months or even longer before they could see results.
Since their breeding areas weren’t fully stocked yet, these tribes still needed to hunt.
Recently, Xiong Liao had been hunting in the afternoons or evenings and coming to visit Ying Mian in the early mornings.
Mian had told him to come no more than once every two days.
Since he had just visited two days ago, he technically wasn’t allowed back yet.
But if Bai Tu agreed, it would be a different story.
Then he could say, “Bai Tu let me in.”
Xiong Liao didn’t get many chances to scheme, and Bai Tu even suspected that whatever few brain cells he had were all spent on this. Thinking about those eggs, which were probably going to hatch in the next few days, he nodded and said, “Go ahead.”
Xiong Liao was instantly overjoyed and headed straight for Ying Mian’s residence as soon as he stepped out the door.
Bai Tu: “……”
If he remembered correctly, this was actually Xiong Liao’s first time coming to the conference room. Although Bai Tu had set up an office area from the very beginning, with only two or three people discussing matters before, there had never been a need to use it.
Yet despite it being his first time here, Xiong Liao walked out and chose the correct direction without hesitation. It seemed that since entering the tribe, he had done quite a bit of preparation—he had probably already inquired about the layout before coming over.
Ignoring Xiong Liao, Bai Tu glanced at Bai Chen and waved his hand. “You should go rest too. We’ll need to arrange work tomorrow.”
Bai An, once he saw the salt, became completely indifferent to everything else. Recently, he had been frantically tracking down the beastmen who frequently went out in the past to discuss which tribes were the safest to trade with. Unless something more important than salt came up, it was impossible to get him to budge. That meant Bai Chen had to take charge of organizing the beastmen’s work.
That said, Bai An was indeed getting on in years. Bai Tu and Bai Chen had no intention of bothering him further. After some discussion, the two of them had more or less settled everything.
Just as Bai Tu stepped out of the office area and walked only a few steps, he spotted Lang Qi.
Lately, Lang Qi had been handling more work than ever. Ever since the decision to dig an underground passage was made, defense had to be taken even more seriously. At the very least, they had to ensure that during the excavation process, no unauthorized beastmen—whether from other tribes or even their own—could approach the area.
Since the passage would be crucial for sending messages and transporting supplies in the future, the fewer people who knew about it, the safer it would be.
Bai Tu was already exhausted, and Lang Qi was undoubtedly working even harder than him. Seeing this, Bai Tu quickly walked over and took the cubs from Lang Qi’s arms.
During the day, Lang Sui and Lang Ying went to the nursery, while the other three little ones were left in Lang Ya’s care. After all, Lang Qi had to move around constantly, and Bai Tu had been in contact with too many people these past two days, making him unsuitable to carry the cubs himself.
Bai Tu wasn’t sure if wolf cubs experienced stress reactions, but he figured it was better to be cautious.
The cubs hadn’t seen Bai Tu for a whole day, and the moment they spotted him, they became excited. Before Bai Tu could even reach out, they were already trying to leap into his arms. If not for Lang Qi holding them tightly, they might have actually succeeded.
Bai Tu caught them, rubbing each one in turn to soothe them before turning to Lang Qi and saying, “Everything has been arranged. We can start digging the transport tunnel tomorrow.”
Both tasks were important, so they had to be carried out simultaneously. The goal was to finish before winter set in.
Lang Qi nodded and asked, “Are we going to the market this year?”
Bai Tu hesitated. Logically speaking, their tribe had enough food and supplies, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the warning about a harsher winter shouldn’t be ignored.
If they could give the other tribes an early hint—without directly revealing information about the extended winter—just mentioning that food and salt would become scarcer might be enough to prompt them to make some preparations.
If the information was true, these tribes would have a better chance of surviving the later part of winter.
It was certainly better than them being caught off guard by an unexpectedly long cold season. Even if there were no changes to this winter, their tribe had enough stored food to get through the period between winter’s end and the rainy season more comfortably. After all, judging by how quickly prey was decreasing, next summer would definitely be even more difficult than this year.
Bai Tu explained these two matters and then, recalling Bai An’s ongoing research into potential tribal alliances, suddenly asked, “How about having Chief Bai An take some salt to trade for supplies soon? He can also drop a hint that food prices are about to rise.”
A rise in food prices was inevitable. Even in regions where no one had heard about the warning, prey was becoming scarcer. In recent market trips, the amount of meat they could trade for a single basket of salt had noticeably decreased.
Many tribes had begun to take notice, but most were still heavily reliant on hunting and hadn’t yet realized the gravity of the situation. Even Bai Tu himself had only tried to persuade the tribes he knew to stockpile food whenever possible. It was the information from Xiong Chong that made him decide to expand the warning.
By the time the next market gathering took place, it would be too late. Last year, when they returned from the winter trade, some places had already started freezing over. Once the ice set in, the available food supply would drop drastically.
Right now, it was mid-autumn. The temperature had already fallen slightly from summer, and many crops were ripening. This was the best season to stockpile food. If they missed this window, they’d have to wait until next summer. After all, food that could be found during winter was extremely limited.
“What’s your plan?” Lang Qi asked.
Bai Tu thought about the tribe’s stored seeds and food supplies. When he got home, he shared his thoughts with Lang Qi. Simply telling everyone that this winter would be unusually cold might not convince them. Even if they did believe it, there was only so much they could do to prepare.
Bai Tu planned to take a different approach.
The next day, Bai Tu discussed the matter with Bai An.
Hearing that Bai Tu was considering trading salt for supplies, Bai An immediately dropped everything and came over. However, as he listened to Bai Tu’s plan, his expression grew increasingly complicated.
“Tu, why are you doing this?”
Bai Tu actually wanted to buy food at prices even higher than those in the market. On top of that, he was promising that in the future, food would be able to trade for even more salt. Bai An couldn’t understand.
If food was going to get more expensive, shouldn’t they be stockpiling as much as possible right now?
If they spread this information, the tribes that had food would likely hold onto it instead of trading, especially grains. Unlike meat, grains had a long shelf life, were a staple food, and were less commonly stored. When given the choice, most tribes preferred to trade for meat. But Bai Tu was offering to buy grains at half the price of meat.
At the market, a single basket of meat could trade for multiple baskets of other food. Bai Tu’s offer was so generous that it was unheard of—not just in their tribe, but across the entire Beast God Continent.
“Chief,” Bai Tu said, noticing how agitated Bai An was. Instead of answering directly, he asked, “Does our tribe lack food?”
Bai An froze, then instinctively smacked his own forehead. How could I forget?
Their tribe had more food than they could eat, and the second harvest of corn was about to be collected.
All of it was stored in their tribal warehouses, with each type of food stockpiled in large quantities—especially corn and sweet potatoes, which were overflowing to the point that storage space was running out.
Trading for even more food seemed pointless. After all, their main goal was to ensure everyone had enough to eat, and right now, everyone was more than well-fed.
“This winter might be harsher than usual,” Bai Tu continued. “When that happens, every tribe will go hungry. We can trade salt for more food now, and next year we’ll replenish our supplies. Are we really going to just sit on all this extra food and watch others starve?”
Bai An hesitated.
In the past, he wouldn’t have cared about the other tribes. The Rabbit Tribe had always been weak and barely managed to feed itself. They didn’t have the luxury of worrying about others.
But things were different now.
Their food supply was abundant, more than enough to sustain their beastmen. They no longer needed to trade for survival.
Even so, Bai An let out a deep sigh. “So we’re just going to give them our salt for practically nothing?”
From what Bai Tu was saying, he had no plans to demand extra food from the other tribes. But thinking about how hard their tribe had worked to produce this salt, only to trade it away at such low prices, Bai An couldn’t help but feel distressed.
“Of course not,” Bai Tu shook his head.
If something was given for free, people would take it for granted. His goal was simply to help everyone get through this year a little easier, not to provide unconditional aid to all.
Bai Tu understood the principle of giving a liter of rice earns gratitude, but giving a bushel earns resentment.
If they gave salt away for free or at an excessively low price this year, it would be impossible to return to normal pricing in the future. Furthermore, such low prices would significantly impact the coastal tribes. Once news spread that salt here was cheap, someone would inevitably trade food for salt at low prices and resell it elsewhere for a profit.
To avoid this, Bai Tu decided that Bai An should only visit tribes located between the Eastern and Western Continents. Those areas were far from the major markets on either side, making it inconvenient for them to trade food for salt. Some tribes even had to ration their salt over a day or two.
This was something Bai Tu had heard from the Western Continent tribes before, and he hadn’t forgotten.
“We can’t just trade salt at low prices freely. A tribe of 200 people can exchange for at most one basket of salt. Also, they must collect certain plants, and next year, we’ll only trade with the tribes that have gathered more of these plants,” Bai Tu explained. “If a tribe runs low on food or encounters extreme weather that wipes out their supplies, they can take out a debt note.”
Naturally, the plants he wanted were edible ones. Once this requirement was introduced, most tribes would start gathering them. If things got desperate during the winter, these plants would become essential survival food.
The debt notes were also meant to prevent tribes from hoarding food out of fear. With this safety net in place, they would have the reassurance to eat when necessary, making this winter slightly easier than previous years.
“What’s a debt note?” Bai An asked, confused.
“It’s a written record stating which tribe owes us how much salt or food. If they can’t repay within two years, they’ll have to come work for our tribe,” Bai Tu explained.
Their tribe had plenty of work opportunities. If these people truly couldn’t grow their own crops, they could come here to labor. Of course, they wouldn’t be assigned the relatively easy jobs that the tribe’s own beastmen did—their tasks would be much tougher.
“Also, be sure to give these tribes some wheat seeds and tell them that next year, they can trade wheat for food and salt,” Bai Tu added.
The wheat on the Beast God Continent had strong cold resistance. Last winter, even after months of freezing temperatures, the wheat resumed growth as soon as spring arrived.
Bai Tu wasn’t sure what this year’s conditions would be like, but he was willing to experiment. After all, even if the entire crop failed, they would only lose some seeds—a negligible loss for their now-wealthy tribe.
Since it was already autumn, their planting options were limited. However, when spring came, they could send these tribes more summer crops and easily transportable young livestock. With these measures in place, most tribes should be able to repay their debts within two years—and even have surplus food left over.
After all, the Beast God Continent was vast and sparsely populated. Once tribes shifted from pure hunting and gathering to organized farming and breeding, food production would increase significantly—more than enough to meet their needs.
“This…” Bai An glanced at Bai Tu. “What if some people deliberately come to work for us?”
Their tribe was already highly coveted by many others. Not because they wanted to attack, but because they wanted to join.
Bai Tu fell silent for a moment. That was indeed a concern. The White Bear Tribe’s beastmen had almost been absorbed into their tribe before, and if they hadn’t intervened in time, they might have already had to dig one less underground passage.
“Any beastman who delays repaying their debt for over two years will be subjected to forced labor. Moreover, starting from the day they clear their debt, they won’t be allowed to join the tribe for the next three years,” Bai Tu decided.
If someone tried to exploit the rules to get in, this restriction would stop them. Being forced to work off a debt was one thing, but being barred from officially joining for years would deter those looking to game the system.
Bai An understood and found the plan reasonable. He nodded in agreement. “Alright, we’ll do it this way.”
The debt notes would clearly record which tribe owed what. Unless an entire tribe uprooted and moved away, they would eventually have to settle their debts.
Bai An simply didn’t want to give away salt for free. Since they would eventually be compensated, even if it took a bit longer, he could accept that. As long as they weren’t just handing out salt with no return, he had no objections. After all, their tribe had plenty of food—if repayment was delayed by a year or two, it wouldn’t be a problem.
“If there are beastmen who want to come and learn, they can come before winter,” Bai Tu added.
Relying solely on word of mouth had its limitations; some things could only be learned by doing. However, there had to be a limit on the number of people. After thinking it over, he finally set a ratio: “A tribe of 100 people can send two beastmen to learn, a tribe of 200 can send four, and so on following this method.”
Bai An wasn’t highly literate, but he understood numbers well enough. He agreed and then brought up the topic of the market.
In the past, trading for salt had been the most important event for their entire tribe. But now, they had no shortage of salt, so attending the market was no longer a necessity. Still, Bai An wanted to hear Bai Tu’s opinion.
“After this market gathering, I should step down as chief,” Bai An said.
He had been busy arranging salt trades for days, but it wasn’t for the sake of his own position in the tribe. On the contrary, he wanted to step down as soon as possible and let Bai Tu take over as the new chief.
He had brought this up countless times, slipping it into conversation whenever an opportunity arose, but Bai Tu had never agreed.
As expected, Bai Tu immediately refused again. “Bai Chen is the perfect choice for chief.”
It had nothing to do with birth or background—Bai Chen was simply better suited for handling tribal affairs. He had been by Bai An’s side for years and was deeply familiar with every beastman in the tribe. If anything happened, he could resolve it instantly without needing to ask around.
Bai Tu, on the other hand, would be completely different. He’d probably have to spend half a day just figuring out who was who.
Thinking about this, Bai Tu made a mental note to create a relationship chart for the tribe to help himself identify everyone more easily.
Even so, he still had no intention of taking the chief’s position. The role involved far more than just organizing the underground passage project—it also meant dealing with trivial disputes, like who argued with whom or who mysteriously lost their beast hide.
For example, once, two beastmen had fought because one was talking to himself and the other mistakenly thought he was being insulted. Another time, someone had lost their beast hide, only to later realize they had misplaced it themselves.
Situations like these happened almost daily. Bai Tu had no interest in handling such matters, especially since beastmen were loud and often escalated conflicts into physical fights in their beast forms. Given his own beast form… it was best if he stayed out of those situations entirely.
At first, people had come to him with these petty problems. But after he sent Lang Qi to handle them three times, everyone became wary. No one wanted to risk inviting Lang Qi to mediate, so from then on, all disputes were brought to Bai An and Bai Chen instead. Bai Tu was quite pleased with this outcome—another reason why he had no desire to become chief.
Hearing Bai Tu’s reasoning, Bai An was deeply frustrated. “If you don’t become chief, how are you going to do the things you want to do in the future? Who, besides me, would go along with your ideas so easily?”
Bai An was genuinely distressed. Bai Tu’s ideas were often unconventional—like using debt notes to provide other tribes with salt and seeds. Bai An had never even heard of such a thing before, but he agreed to it purely because he trusted Bai Tu.
Would a new chief trust Bai Tu the same way?
Once their two tribes merged, even a single leader’s doubts could hinder progress. But if Bai Tu himself was chief, everything would be much easier.
Bai An had personally witnessed how their tribe had transformed from struggling with hunger and cold to thriving. He didn’t want anyone restricting Bai Tu’s actions in the future.
As for the extra responsibilities of being chief? So what if there was more work? Once Bai Tu was in charge, who would dare disobey him?
Bai An clenched his teeth, already imagining how he’d handle anyone who caused trouble—he’d just punish them by making them clean the breeding pens!
“Tu, be the chief,” Bai An urged earnestly. “What if someone opposes you in the future?”
Who else would protect Bai Tu like he did?
The more he thought about it, the more sorrowful he felt. He could already picture Bai Tu, unprotected and bullied once Bai An was no longer chief. The image became even sadder when he recalled that sub-beastmen’s beast forms were only about the size of a palm.
A tiny little rabbit, being oppressed by the new chief—how pitiful!
“No way!” Bai An slammed his thigh, his heart aching at the thought. I won’t let the new chief bully Bai Tu!
Bai Tu, unaware of Bai An’s rapidly escalating imagination, was about to tell him to lower his voice—but it was already too late.
“Awuu?”
From the small bed beside them, a drowsy little black wolf cub groggily crawled out from under the blankets, trying to see if someone was bullying his dad.
Bai An, who had been feeling both emotional and distressed, turned toward the sound, and his words abruptly cut off.
Uh… Bai Tu actually did have someone protecting him.
How could he forget that Lang Qi was still here? He himself was getting older, but Lang Qi was a good twenty to thirty years younger and could continue as chief for another two or three decades. Even after the two tribes merged, as the wolf tribe’s leader, Lang Qi would naturally have greater authority than the new chief of their tribe.
With that realization, Bai An finally felt at ease. He patted Bai Tu’s shoulder and said, “Forget it. If you don’t want to do it, then don’t.”
Though Bai Tu didn’t know why Bai An had suddenly changed his mind, he was relieved that the persuasion had finally stopped.
Leadership was a matter of perspective—some believed it was necessary to be chief to accomplish things, while others didn’t. Bai Tu was better suited for technical guidance. If he became chief, he wouldn’t have as much time to focus on his innovations.
Still, regarding the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s new chief…
“Aren’t you choosing Chen as the new chief?” Bai Tu asked. Given the current situation, Bai Chen seemed like the natural choice.
“He’s competing with Xun and Zhou. Whoever wins will be chief,” Bai An replied.
If Bai Tu were willing to take the position, there wouldn’t be any competition at all. Everyone could clearly see the changes he had brought to the tribe, and by sheer contribution alone, Bai Tu was unquestionably the most deserving. No one would dare challenge his claim.
But Bai Chen was different. As one of the younger generation in the tribe, his contributions weren’t necessarily greater than the others. That meant a fair competition was needed—whoever won would become chief.
Bai An, as the current leader, naturally had his preferred successor. However, he wouldn’t block other beastmen from challenging the chosen successor. If someone managed to defeat Bai Chen, it would prove that they were the stronger candidate, fully capable of leading the tribe.
“I see…” Bai Tu sighed softly.
As expected, when it came to choosing the next chief, Bai An wasn’t using his authority to force a decision. Even though he favored Bai Chen, he still gave others a fair chance.
Originally, Tu Cheng had also been a contender for the competition, but he had sealed his own fate.
Bai An also thought of Tu Cheng, who was still desperately trying to escape, and shook his head without saying anything. That one was beyond saving.
The new chief’s competition would take place after winter, once everyone’s work was finished. The announcement of the merged tribe’s new name would also happen after the Snow Rabbit Tribe chose its new leader. At the same time, they would also finalize the division of power and responsibilities.
Since winter’s low temperatures made it difficult to carry out many tasks, it was an ideal time for handling such matters. For now, the tribe’s focus was on the newly born prey animals and the crops ready for harvest.
Previously, they had distributed several young prey animals to other tribes, but the ones being born now would be raised for themselves—after all, it would take several months before they were weaned.
Wild prey usually gave birth in the summer, but due to the controlled temperature of the breeding area and the abundance of food, their domesticated animals were also giving birth in the autumn.
However, animals born in this season required more attention, especially at night when temperatures dropped. The same level of care was also needed for the newborns in the tribe.
Tu Cai had become highly skilled in delivering babies. With the tribe’s abundant food supply, pregnant beastmen would return to their caves to rest during the later stages of pregnancy while still receiving full benefits. This ensured that they remained in peak condition before giving birth, and as a result, the newborns were healthier than ever before.
Seeing the growing number of healthy cubs in the tribe, everyone’s faces were filled with smiles.
Tu Cai, having witnessed too many infant deaths over the past decade, was particularly emotional.
Most of those tragedies had been due to food shortages—some newborns had starved to death simply because there wasn’t enough to go around. Others, lacking proper nutrition, had been forced to eat beast hides and other indigestible food, causing their bellies to swell until they ultimately perished…
Now, seeing how happy and well-fed the cubs were, she practically wanted to worship Bai Tu as the Beast God himself.
But Bai Tu was far from enjoying any divine treatment—at the moment, he was helping Ying Mian care for his eggs.
Ying Mian’s eggs had been laid a few days after Hei Xiao’s, so naturally, they were hatching later as well.
Ever since Hei Xiao’s chicks had hatched, Ying Mian had been eagerly anticipating his own. Every time he saw Hei Xiao’s little ones, his eyes were filled with envy.
After all, feather species had a notoriously low hatching success rate. Until the very last moment, no one could say for sure how many chicks would successfully emerge from the eggs.
Now, the long-awaited day had finally arrived—the day the hatchlings began pecking at their shells.
Ying Mian was both excited and nervous. He was looking forward to their birth, but at the same time, he was worried.
Out of all these eggs, how many would successfully hatch?
After all, cases like Hei Xiao’s—where every egg hatched successfully—were exceedingly rare. In his entire life, Ying Mian had only ever seen one other instance where three sibling eaglets had all survived.
Because he was so nervous, the moment Ying Mian heard the sound of a chick pecking at its shell, he immediately called Bai Tu over—he felt uneasy if Bai Tu wasn’t around.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” Bai Tu reassured him. “You’ve already done an excellent job.”
After all, Ying Mian had been caring for five eggs, mostly on his own. From the start of incubation to now—three, almost four months—it had been an exhausting process. And yet, he had persisted.
Just for this alone, Ying Mian was already a great father.
As for how many of these five eggs would successfully hatch, no amount of anxiety could change the outcome. He should try to relax.
Besides, based on Bai Tu’s experience hatching chicks, he was confident that at least three of these eggs would hatch successfully.
Bai Tu’s words had a calming effect. Ying Mian slowly sat down, no longer pacing anxiously.
This was one of the downsides of using an incubator—feather beastmen who incubated their eggs in their beast form had no choice but to stay put, no matter how anxious they were. But now, with the eggs in the incubator instead, he had nothing to do but wait, which only made him more restless.
Bai Tu gently picked up one of the eggs and listened carefully. He could hear the faint chirping from inside, along with the occasional tapping of a beak against the shell.
Hatchlings pecked at their shells intermittently, stopping to rest in between. Every time there was a pause, Ying Mian became even more anxious, just like a nervous parent checking to make sure their baby was still breathing.
“They’re fine,” Bai Tu continued to reassure him. “Xiao’s chicks did the same thing.”
“Really?” Ying Mian’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly.
Knowing that Hei Xiao’s three healthy eaglets had also pecked and rested before hatching reassured him. As long as the chicks were okay, nothing else mattered.
“Of course it’s true. Why would I lie to you?” Bai Tu retorted.
Then, he turned to Xiong Liao, who was standing at the door. “Go find two sub-beastmen to help.”
When Hei Xiao’s eggs hatched, there had been three chicks, and Bai Tu, Hei Xiao, and Hei Yan had managed to care for them just fine. But now, with only him and Ying Mian in the room, they didn’t have enough hands.
As for Xiong Liao—since he was a male beastman and a bear tribe member—Ying Mian had kicked him out into the courtyard without hesitation.
Male beastmen were naturally dangerous to newborns, and for unhatched feather beastmen, they were an even greater risk. They simply didn’t understand how fragile unhatched eggs were. That was precisely why Ying Mian had never let Xiong Liao care for the eggs—at most, he could take a look, but touching them was absolutely out of the question.
Xiong Liao sprinted all the way to the sub-beastmen’s living quarters—only to nearly get beaten up.
Even though the sub-beastmen had lived in the Snow Rabbit Tribe for a long time, they still had a natural wariness toward male beastmen, fearing they might be harmed. That wasn’t something that could be changed overnight.
And Xiong Liao had come running toward them, breathless, and before even explaining anything, he immediately demanded two sub-beastmen. Who wouldn’t want to punch him?!
Under normal circumstances, he could have just explained the situation and avoided the misunderstanding.
Unfortunately, this time, his brain hadn’t short-circuited—but he was so overwhelmed with excitement about the imminent birth of the eaglets that he couldn’t even catch his breath. His heavy panting only made him look even less like someone with good intentions.
He wasn’t from the familiar Rabbit Tribe or Wolf Tribe, and he showed up in this state? The more hot-tempered sub-beastmen were already looking for weapons.
Luckily, Bai Chi heard the commotion and came outside. Recognizing Xiong Liao as Ying Mian’s mate, he asked if Ying Mian needed help, finally clearing up the misunderstanding. Bai Chi then brought along a feather sub-beastman to assist.
When the feather sub-beastman saw the eggs inside the incubator, he was astonished.
“So many?”
Feather beastmen typically laid multiple eggs at a time, and in rare cases, some could lay dozens. However, it was common for many of those eggs to turn out to be infertile or die during incubation. If those dead eggs weren’t removed in time, they could affect the surviving ones.
Because of this, the incubation process often involved constantly discarding dead eggs. By the time hatching finally occurred, only a few were usually left.
For eagle beastmen, it was common to end up with just one or two surviving eaglets. Some first-time parents, unfamiliar with the process, even accidentally crushed a few of their own eggs. So, if a first clutch resulted in more than two surviving hatchlings, it was nothing short of a miracle.
Seeing so many eggs still intact, the feather sub-beastman’s first assumption was that Ying Mian, being a first-time parent, had been too reluctant to throw away the bad eggs.
He had heard of cases like that before—some feather beastmen couldn’t bear to discard eggs they thought might still hatch. They held onto them, hoping for a miracle, only for all of the eggs to die before hatching. Like an illness spreading, the dead eggs would also affect the healthy ones.
Ying Mian was a first-time parent, and he still had this many eggs left. The feather sub-beastman immediately suspected that he had kept the dead ones.
He glanced at Ying Mian but didn’t voice his suspicion. Instead, he carefully picked up the eggs and listened for signs of life.
There was a sound.
Another one.
And another.
Alive. Alive. Alive!
The more he listened, the more astonished he became. Out of the five eggs, four had clear movement inside. Even if the last one turned out to be a dud, the other four hadn’t been affected at all!
This was an extremely rare occurrence. The feather sub-beastman carefully placed the eggs back in order. When he reached the last one, he hesitated for a moment before putting it back in its original spot.
The eggs were already at the hatching stage, so even if this one was lifeless, it wouldn’t affect the others anymore. Today was likely its final day. Even though there were no signs of movement inside, the avian sub-beastman couldn’t bring himself to discard it just yet.
This was exactly why some feather beastmen made mistakes. Everyone understood the logic, but when faced with an egg in real life, how could they truly remain indifferent and just throw away an egg that wasn’t making a sound? There was always that lingering hope—maybe it was still alive, maybe it just needed more time…
The four of them waited in the room for nearly an entire day.
Finally, the egg in the very center developed a crack, and the chick’s cries became clearer as they filtered through the small gap.
Then the second egg, the third…
By the time they finished dinner, four eggs had visible cracks. The first three eaglets were on the verge of breaking free, while the fourth was a little slower.
Bai Tu held several colored cords in his hand, prepared well in advance. The colors were different from the ones used for Hei Jian’s chicks—green, cyan, blue, purple, and white. As soon as the eaglets emerged, the first thing he would do was tie the cords around their legs for easy identification.
Just as he had expected, Ying Mian’s eaglets looked exactly the same—after all, both he and Xiong Liao were pure white.
One after another, the four eaglets successfully hatched. Only the last egg remained silent.
The feather sub-beastman picked it up and listened carefully, then shook his head. “It’s a dead egg.”
With that, he handed it to Ying Mian.
Even if it was a dead egg, it had to be disposed of by its parents—no one else had the right to do so.
Ying Mian stared at the egg, feeling a deep sadness. It had nothing to do with numbers—despite already having four healthy chicks, knowing that one hadn’t made it still made his heart ache.
As for discarding it or even smashing it… he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Give it to me,” Bai Tu said, noticing Ying Mian’s distress.
He understood that this was a tradition among feather beastmen, but expecting someone to personally throw away their own egg was cruel.
There were other ways—he could find a quiet place to lay it to rest, keeping it as a final remembrance.
Thank you for the chapter!
Thank you for the chapter ^^