Chapter 32
To show his gratitude to Bai Tu, Lang Qi brought two types of prey that Bai Tu couldn’t resist—baby animals. Specifically, two calves about three to four months old and two litters of piglets.
While Bai Tu might decline other types of prey (since the previous pig still had plenty left after accounting for Lang Ze’s rations), these were gifts that went straight to his heart.
Raising livestock was more challenging than planting crops, and the biggest difficulty was obtaining young animals.
So far, the only success Bai Tu had with livestock was chickens. Between the three broods, there were over thirty chicks. The oldest ones were already over two weeks old and were scurrying after the hens to catch bugs. Even the youngest, which had hatched about ten days ago, looked strong and healthy. However, chickens, even when fully grown, weighed only a few pounds—barely enough for the beastmen to have two meals.
Large livestock was much better for meeting food demands, but catching young animals was no easy task. Whether it was pigs, cows, sheep, or deer, the young were always closely guarded by adult animals.
This was especially true for cows, where calves were always positioned in the center of the herd, making it nearly impossible to get close. Even when the rabbit tribe encountered herds of cattle, they only dared to target older, neglected cows rather than calves. The only calf they had ever caught was the one they managed to trap some time ago.
Piglets were similarly hard to capture. Sows with piglets were especially vigilant, and snatching a piglet required significant effort. With the rainy season approaching, Bai An had been capturing whatever prey he could find, without the luxury of being selective.
Lang Qi clearly knew that Bai Tu was focusing on raising young animals, so the animals he brought were exactly what Bai Tu needed most. Bai Tu didn’t hesitate to accept the gifts and, in return, gave Lang Qi and Lang Ze a heap of prepared food.
“This is crystal pig trotters. I only made a few, so take these two back and give them a try.”
Lang Qi had brought a pig with him, and along with another caught by the hunting team, Bai Tu had a total of eight trotters.
Instead of preparing them in the usual way, he thoroughly cleaned and cooked them until tender, removed the bones, and wrapped them tightly in clean leaves (used as a substitute for plastic wrap).
He stored them overnight in a cool cave behind the mountain. By the next morning, the skin and meat of the trotters had compressed together. Because of the long cooking time, the trotters turned out translucent and gelatinous, with soft, flavorful meat that was neither greasy nor overly rich. Lang Ze had been eyeing the pot since the day before but hadn’t yet gotten a bite.
In addition to the crystal trotters, Bai Tu also packed a generous amount of pig head meat and braised pork for Lang Ze.
The pig head had been simmered overnight and was practically falling off the bone. When dipped into Bai Tu’s specially made sauce, it was so delicious that one might feel tempted to swallow their own tongue along with it.
The braised pork, on the other hand, needed no introduction. Bai Tu had carefully selected pork belly with just the right balance of lean and fat, cut it into cubes, blanched it, and stir-fried it before braising it for several hours.
The result was pork belly so tender and flavorful that one bite was never enough. The richness of the fat had melted away during cooking, leaving no trace of greasiness.
In Bai Tu’s opinion, the only thing missing was a touch of sugar to make it perfect, but to the other beastmen, it was an unparalleled delicacy unlike anything they had ever tasted.
Lang Ze had arrived carrying one basket, but he left with three full ones of food.
At last, he wasn’t quite as reluctant to leave as he had been at first. With so much food, he figured he could stretch it out over several days!
However, when he returned to his tribe, he quickly realized he’d been far too optimistic. Between his overly strict older brother and the friends eagerly waiting for his return, he wouldn’t be able to hoard the food for long.
Bai Tu, meanwhile, had no idea about the “inhumane abuse” Lang Ze would face upon returning to the wolves. After sending off the wolf brothers, he immediately got to work digging soil pits.
The silkworms he had painstakingly cared for had finally begun spinning cocoons, much to his relief. Bai Tu placed the silkworms that were no longer eating leaves into pre-assembled bamboo boxes and let out a long sigh.
Even with the Ma Tribe’s quick delivery, the mulberry leaves brought to the market had been limited. To preserve them, they had transported entire branches instead of loose leaves. Those branches had barely lasted ten days, and Bai Tu had just run out of food for the silkworms. Thankfully, they stopped eating just in time—any longer, and Bai Tu wouldn’t have been able to feed them.
As soon as he had returned to the tribe, Bai Tu had planted all the remaining branches into the soil. Whether or not they took root was up to fate.
Exactly seven days later, Ma Xin returned with a group of tribesmen carrying mulberry saplings. Along with the saplings, they also brought a box of silkworm cocoons.
Bai Tu immediately found an empty cave and stored the cocoons inside. They were only a few days away from hatching, and leaving them out in the open would have been terrifying.
With the newly delivered silkworm cocoons added to the first batch, Bai Tu estimated that if the male-to-female ratio was favorable, he would have just enough to raise after the rainy season.
After all, there were only twenty mulberry trees, and the leaves they could produce were limited. He couldn’t strip all the leaves off and risk killing the trees.
The Ma Tribe’s primary need was salt, so Bai Tu didn’t trade for anything else. He carefully wrapped several layers of leaves around the salt and handed it to them. With the rainy season now underway, the next delivery of silkworms wouldn’t be until after the rains had passed.
“If this happens again, just boil them in a pot for a while,” Bai Tu instructed. Silkworms break out of their cocoons about ten days after spinning them. If they aren’t boiled in time, the emerging silkworm moths will lay eggs during the rainy season.
However, very few silkworms can survive the rainy season unless they’re manually kept in a cave.
The mulberry leaves during the rainy season are soaked with water, which makes them unsuitable for raising silkworms. Since the Ma Tribe didn’t have cool caves to store silkworm eggs, the most efficient way for them to utilize the cocoons was to extract silk immediately.
After Ma Xin and the others left, Bai Tu wasted no time. He led the harvesting team to plant the newly arrived mulberry trees and cut off strong branches for propagation.
The mulberry branches used to feed the silkworms during the journey had wilted after enduring over ten days of travel. Yet, when they were planted in the soil, they miraculously took root. After two days of rainfall, they appeared even more vibrant than when they were first planted. This small success made Bai Tu even more excited about the future of silk production.
In the tribe, not a single beastman was idle. Even the seven- or eight-year-old children carried small stone knives to cut grass or collect branches.
Although preparations had been underway for more than half a month, everyone still felt like they didn’t have enough supplies. After all, this year was very different from the past!
Not only had the number of prey in the mountains behind the tribe more than doubled compared to previous years, but the way they ate had also changed dramatically.
In the past, they would simply cut a piece of meat, roast it over a fire, and eat it as soon as it was cooked. A single fire pit would usually serve several people, keeping wood consumption minimal. Combined with the scarcity of food, they rarely ran out of firewood—if anything, there would always be plenty left after the rainy season.
This year, however, Bai Tu had taught them several new cooking methods. With the addition of ginger, scallions, and other seasonings that had grown well, the flavors of their meals had become irresistible.
The downside was that they were now spending much more time on food preparation. While they used to focus their efforts on hunting, now they were thinking about how to cook their food. Longer cooking times meant the food was tastier, but it also required more firewood.
With such delicious meals on the line, no one needed Bai Tu to remind them to gather firewood. The younger children, full of energy, used to finish their tasks and then play or rest. Now, they voluntarily went out to collect branches. The tribe’s stockpile of firewood was growing visibly larger every day.
However, the increased firewood came with another potential danger. That evening, as everyone was preparing to divide up the meat, Bai Tu issued a reminder: “Keep the fire pits far away from the firewood.
Whether it’s raining or not, when lighting fires in the caves, make sure not to block the entrance—always leave a vent for airflow.”
The first piece of advice was because most of the collected firewood was being stored in the caves.
Firewood left outside would get soaked by the rain, making it harder to ignite and producing more smoke. However, if the fire pits were too close to the dry wood, a stray spark could easily start a fire.
Incidents of beastmen accidentally causing massive fires weren’t unheard of. The charred remains of a nearby mountain, still visible from the road, served as a grim reminder.
While property damage from fires was secondary, the real concern was safety. Adults could escape quickly in the event of a fire, but children were at much greater risk.
The tribe’s cubs were small, covered in soft and dense fur, and could easily ignite from even a tiny spark. At best, they might lose their fur and end up bald.
The second warning, about not blocking the cave entrance, was to prevent carbon monoxide poisoning.
The rabbit tribe’s caves were deep and got cooler the further in you went. Occasionally, some beastmen would block the entrances to keep out rain while cooking inside. While convenient, this was incredibly dangerous. Lighting fires in a sealed environment could have deadly consequences if an accident occurred.
After giving these two warnings, Bai Tu finally allowed Bai Qi and the others to distribute food.
Recently, Bai Tu had discovered that any instructions given before distributing food were remembered most clearly.
If he waited until after the food was handed out, at least a quarter of the people would already have run off. Even those who stayed would be too distracted by thoughts of how to eat their food to listen properly.
By the time the light, cool drizzle turned into a heavy downpour, the tribe had already prepared enough food to last through the rainy season. While it wouldn’t be enough for them to feast every day, it was certainly enough to meet their usual needs.
Recently, the tribe had been busy planting crops and fruits, so any hunted prey was divided up and stored in the caves to keep fresh. Now that the rain made hunting and foraging impossible, it was the perfect time to process these stored supplies.
Inside the cave were three pigs, two cows, and one antelope. One of the pigs and one of the cows had been indirectly provided by the wolves, who had driven prey toward the rabbit tribe’s traps.
The tribe had dug a few traps along the edges of their territory. The first instance of this cooperation happened when a panicked cow, fleeing from the wolves, fell into one of the traps.
Lang Ze immediately ran over to report the incident, which was practically the same as delivering prey to their doorstep.
To thank him, Bai Tu sent over a pot of stir-fried beef. Lang Ze had paraded the dish around his tribe like a child showing off candy.
The next day, Bai An returned with news that several wolves had been lingering near the border between the two territories. While hunting, they were also driving other prey into the rabbit tribe’s traps.
Bai Tu: “…”
The wolf tribe sure went to great lengths for food.
However, the prey near the edge of the territory was limited. Once the animals were scared off, the wolves could no longer assist and had to leave.
Just yesterday, while a beastman was wandering near the traps, they encountered a wild boar and drove it straight into one of the pits—once again unintentionally helping the rabbit tribe.
Animals that had been long hunted by both tribes had developed the habit of fleeing in the opposite direction when startled.
When pursued by the wolves, they often ran straight toward the rabbit tribe’s territory. In the past, the two tribes’ hunting schedules didn’t overlap, so this wasn’t an issue. Prey running into another tribe’s territory usually meant the hunt was a failure.
Now that Bai Tu had realized this pattern, he began to think about how they could make use of it after the rainy season.
If one tribe chased while the other blocked off the escape route with traps, the chances of success would be much higher.
Although beastmen often worked together to hunt in the same area, the terrain limited how spread out they could be. If prey broke through the encirclement, they would have to chase it, and at best, they might catch one or two animals. Bringing back more than that was nearly impossible due to the difficulty of transporting the catch.
But if traps were strategically placed in the directions prey tended to flee, it would be a different story. The proximity of the traps would save time, and smaller animals caught in the traps could be raised rather than immediately consumed.
As Bai Tu mulled over these ideas, his hands didn’t stop moving. He meticulously rubbed salt onto the inside and outside of the prepared fish.
If there was one thing he considered a failure in their food preparations, it was the fish pond they had dug in the cave. Bai Tu had underestimated everyone’s enthusiasm for fishing, especially since fish baskets made it so easy to catch them. Nearly twenty fish were being brought back every day.
Initially, Bai Tu had the beastmen dig a small pond only two meters square, which was fine for raising a few dozen fish. But once the number of fish exceeded a hundred, problems began to arise. Small fish weren’t too bad, but as the number of large fish increased, a new issue appeared—oxygen depletion.
The water in the cave didn’t circulate, so the oxygen levels were limited. As the fish density grew, more and more fish began floating belly-up.
Fortunately, Bai Dong and the others reacted quickly, scooping out the dying fish and keeping them separately. Those that couldn’t be saved were cleaned and stored in the cool caves.
Before Bai Tu’s return, any fish that turned belly-up were either roasted or fried and eaten immediately. After he came back, those that died were salted and preserved for stewing later. The fish he was working on now were from today’s catch.
Outside, the heavy rain continued to pour. After salting the fish, Bai Tu moved to the innermost part of the cave, which connected to another cave where prey was being kept alive.
To make travel easier during the rainy and snowy seasons, the rabbit tribe had dug hidden tunnels connecting various storage and livestock caves. This allowed them to move between these caves without stepping outside. However, the tunnels didn’t connect to their living quarters, so returning to their sleeping caves still required a bit of walking.
Bai Tu had no plans to go back just yet. His mind was still preoccupied with the fish pond.
How could he get the water to circulate—without relying on manual labor? Bai Tu frowned.
Redirecting spring water wasn’t a good idea. The water used for raising fish wasn’t potable, and if it were mixed with the spring water, they’d need another method to channel it out. It would be time-consuming and labor-intensive. Worse, if small fish or eggs escaped with the outflow, it would be a waste of resources.
The key was to make the water in the pond circulate automatically. Bai Tu thought hard.
The first step would be to create a height difference so that water could flow downward. That part was simple—they could just dig a stepped pond. But this would require a constant supply of water from above.
In his past life, he’d seen fish tanks that used electric pumps to circulate water, but that wasn’t an option here. He needed to think further back—how did people move water before electricity?
A waterwheel!
Bai Tu’s eyes lit up, not just because he’d found a solution for the fish pond, but because a waterwheel had so many other uses!
The weather on the Beast God Continent was extreme—rainfall was concentrated entirely within one month during the rainy season. After the rainy season and until winter arrived, there would be very little rain.
Similarly, after winter and before the next rainy season, rain would again be scarce. Unfortunately, crops needed irrigation the most during these dry periods. Relying on manual labor to haul water was exhausting and time-consuming.
But with a waterwheel, everything would be different. A waterwheel could easily solve the problem of insufficient water pressure and save both time and effort.
If he could successfully build a waterwheel, irrigating the fields near the river would be effortless. Even distant plots of land could be managed, allowing them to plant crops wherever they wanted without being limited by access to water.
