When news of the aggressive birds reached Wu Jiong, he led De Jiang and the others in clearing out a large number of them.
Before long, the He’an Tribe was free of the pesky birds, and it was safe for the cubs to play outside again.
Hearing that most of the birds had been dealt with, Jian Mo breathed a sigh of relief.
He often felt that with reliable beastmen like Wu Jiong around, the younger beastmen in the tribe tended to slack off.
It was undeniable that the tribe’s people were simple and kindhearted, and more than half of this could be attributed to the fact that Wu Jiong and the others shouldered the burdens ahead of them, easing the survival pressure on everyone.
With the birds cleared, Jian Mo seized the opportunity to talk about the benefits of eating cooked food, especially emphasizing that children should avoid eating raw food whenever possible.
Ban Ming, looking aggrieved, said, “Brother Jian Mo, we don’t actually eat raw meat that often.”
Jian Mo glanced at him skeptically.
Ban Ming insisted, “Really! If you don’t believe me, ask Ah Hu. Ah Hu never lies.”
Ah Hu, the beastman who had once injured his backside when his house collapsed and sought Jian Mo’s care, nodded earnestly under Jian Mo’s scrutiny. “We only eat raw meat when we’re tired of cooked food. We slice it into strips and mix it with salt.”
Ban Ming added, “It’s true, Brother Jian Mo. Look at this weather—it’s so cold that the meat freezes into blocks of ice. Even if we wanted to eat it raw, it’d be impossible to chew.”
Jian Mo sighed. “Fine. Just avoid it whenever you can in the future.”
The group eagerly pounded their chests, promising not to eat raw food unless absolutely necessary.
Xilu’s prospective mate, Xuan Yin, asked curiously, “Brother Jian Mo, does your tribe never eat raw meat?”
“Well…” Jian Mo hesitated. “We do, but only sparingly. The meat is inspected beforehand, and those who eat it often take medicine to prevent parasites.”
He took the opportunity to emphasize the dangers of parasites, prompting the beastmen to assure him that they were always careful and never ate meat that showed signs of infestation.
Ban Ming declared confidently, “Our eyes are sharp!”
Wu Jiong’s recent trip yielded metal tools, and the trading tribe was equally interested in the He’an Tribe’s pottery and glassware. Both sides agreed to ramp up production for another exchange soon.
Curious, Jian Mo asked, “Which tribe produced the metal tools? It doesn’t sound like any tribe I know.”
Wu Jiong explained, “A tribe west of the Xiong Ying Tribe called the Jin Tuo Tribe. They don’t have much metal, and if they hadn’t been so impressed by our pottery and glass, they wouldn’t have traded it.”
Jian Mo, who had never even visited the Xiong Ying Tribe, let alone its western neighbors, remarked, “You must’ve traveled incredibly far this time. It must’ve been exhausting.”
Wu Jiong’s expression softened. “Not too bad. We’re used to it.”
With the next trade on the horizon, the tribe busied itself. On the open ground, people worked overtime crafting pottery. Despite the cold, the mountains provided some shelter from the wind, and when the sun was out, sitting outside to shape clay wasn’t unbearable.
However, without the sun, the chill became biting, and prolonged contact with clay left hands chapped and cracked from friction and dryness.
For the first time in his life, Jian Mo experienced winter-induced chapping. Lacking better options, he made a hand balm from beast oil, which everyone could use to soothe their hands while working with clay.
As for whether applying the balm affected the quality of the pottery or its firing success rate, Jian Mo couldn’t be bothered to care.
It’s the primitive era. Industrial standards can take a backseat—health comes first.
While some worked on pottery, others gathered clay, chopped wood, and made charcoal.
The tribe’s new bronze axes significantly increased efficiency. Even though they were only bronze-alloy, they made cutting wood much easier than the old stone axes.
For the stronger beastmen, three swings were enough to cut down a hardwood tree, whereas the old stone axes required at least ten swings and often broke in the process.
With such efficient tools, the beastmen were thrilled. They didn’t just cut wood to make charcoal—many couldn’t resist heading to the forest just to swing their axes for fun.
Jian Mo noticed the surge in tree cutting and grew concerned.
To address this, Wu Jiong organized a reforestation effort. The tribe planted thousands of trees using seeds they had collected themselves or traded from other tribes. Even if only a third of the seeds sprouted, the results would still be significant.
Reassured that the mountains wouldn’t go bald anytime soon, Jian Mo relaxed slightly.
As a Hua Xia native who had spent over a decade in school, the importance of environmental protection was deeply ingrained in him.
Day by day, the tribe’s work progressed: shaping clay into pottery, glazing it, and letting the glaze dry before firing it in kilns.
Inspired by the clay boxes used for firing glass, Jian Mo decided to try them for pottery as well, hoping they would increase the success rate of the firing process.
Whether this was wishful thinking or not, he would find out when they opened the kiln.
Kiln-opening days always filled Jian Mo with anticipation, and today was no different. Like the rest of the tribe, he woke early and joined the others as they gathered by the river to open the kiln.
While the tribe had been firing pottery regularly, it had been a while since Jian Mo participated in a kiln opening, and he was eager to see the results.
Standing by the kiln, he could still feel the residual heat radiating from it. “I wonder how this batch turned out.”
Firing pottery and glass required different temperatures and couldn’t be done simultaneously, so this kiln was dedicated to pottery.
Qing Kuo, watching closely, reassured him, “There shouldn’t be any issues. We made excellent clay forms, and the firing temperature was well-controlled yesterday. The pottery inside should be great.”
Jian Mo, full of anticipation, asked, “Shall we open it now?”
Qing Kuo nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Together, Jian Mo and Qing Kuo pried off the first block of clay sealing the kiln. As the seal broke, the smoky, earthy aroma wafted out—a familiar and comforting scent.
Jian Mo inhaled deeply, then quickened his pace. The others joined in, all working together to peel away the kiln’s clay seal.
With the kiln fully opened, the mingling smells of charcoal and earth intensified.
Qing Kuo reached into the kiln to check the temperature. “It’s cool enough now.”
Everyone bent down and entered the kiln to retrieve the pottery boxes one by one.
The boxes varied in size, each unique in its own way. From the outside, they appeared to have been fired thoroughly.
Unable to contain his curiosity, Jian Mo examined the growing pile of pottery boxes on the ground. He reached for a few and began opening them to see what lay inside.
Jian Mo opened six pottery boxes in total. Four contained intact pottery, one had a piece with minor cracks, and another had shattered into several fragments.
He silently calculated the success rate of using pottery boxes for firing—much better than stacking pieces directly in the kiln. Not only was the success rate higher, but the resulting pottery was of better quality, with a glaze that appeared smoother and more lustrous.
As Jian Mo pondered this, Zhou Fu leaned in to take a look. “These turned out so pretty! We even got blue pottery this time!”
They had experimented with several glazes for this batch. Most of the pottery emerged in earthy brown tones, but one particular cup had a faint blue hue.
Jian Mo took one glance and remembered immediately. “That’s from the glaze we made by grinding soil from that cave.”
He wasn’t sure what compounds were in the cave soil, but the result was beautiful.
Zhou Fu picked up the cup to examine it closely. “It’s gorgeous. Next time, let’s try to make more blue pottery, okay?”
Jian Mo agreed easily. “Sure, let’s see if we can replicate it in the next batch.”
Hearing about the blue pottery, Qing Kuo came over to take a look. After inspecting it, he remarked, “I’ve never heard of any tribe producing blue pottery. This could fetch us a lot more in trade.”
Jian Mo asked, “Metal tools?”
Qing Kuo laughed. “You’ve really got your heart set on metal, don’t you? Why don’t you come with us next time?”
Jian Mo’s eyes lit up. “Definitely! I’m coming along for sure.”
The kiln still had several pottery boxes left to unload, so after chatting for a bit, they returned to their work. To improve ventilation, they opened the kiln’s top vents, letting the morning light stream in and brighten the interior.
After a few trips in and out, Jian Mo became accustomed to the kiln’s environment.
While carrying another load, Jian Mo noticed a pile of white powder under one of the stone pillars supporting the kiln roof.
The powder seemed oddly familiar.
Curious, he nudged it with his foot. It felt fine and soft.
As Qing Kuo entered with another box, he noticed Jian Mo examining the powder. “What are you doing?”
“What’s this white powder? Why would the kiln produce it?” Jian Mo asked.
Qing Kuo, who had been present throughout the firing, glanced down and replied, “The stones probably burned and turned to powder.”
“Burned stones?” Jian Mo frowned, feeling something was off.
“Yeah. When the fire’s too strong, some stones can’t withstand it. This happened before, and we had to replace the burned ones with new stones from the river.”
Jian Mo touched the stone pillar and found that several of its blocks had indeed crumbled into powder.
Watching the transformation, his heart raced with excitement. Swallowing hard, he muttered, “This powder might be—”
Qing Kuo interrupted, “Be careful. Don’t touch it directly—it stings.”
It stings?
Jian Mo’s heart skipped a beat. Setting the pottery box aside, he quickly swept a pile of the white powder onto his fur cloak and dashed outside. “I need to test this!”
Everyone stepped aside, baffled by his urgency.
Right next to the kiln was the river. Jian Mo ran to the water, crouched down, and dug a shallow pit with a stone before dumping the white powder into it.
Qing Kuo followed, catching up just as Jian Mo began pounding the frozen river surface with a stone.
Seeing how flushed Jian Mo’s face was, Qing Kuo joined him. “You need water?”
“Yes! I think I know what this white powder is!” Jian Mo exclaimed.
With a loud “thud,” the ice broke, and the stone sank to the riverbed.
Jian Mo wiped his hands on the fur cloak to rid them of as much powder as possible before scooping up a handful of water. Qing Kuo trailed behind as Jian Mo poured the water into the pit with the powder.
The moment water touched the powder, a loud hiss sounded, and bubbles formed, releasing a burst of hot steam.
Qing Kuo jumped back, startled. “Why is it hot?!”
Jian Mo beamed. “It’s releasing heat because it reacts with water! This is lime!”
He mumbled to himself, “How could I forget about lime? Heating calcium carbonate turns it into lime. This is such basic knowledge…”
The others couldn’t make sense of his muttering. Ye Luo, overhearing, asked, “What can lime be used for?”
“Disinfection!” Jian Mo replied enthusiastically.
The group exchanged confused looks.
As a former veterinarian, Jian Mo had frequently used slaked lime for disinfecting. The mention of lime immediately brought this application to mind.
Noticing their puzzled expressions, Jian Mo chuckled. “It’s also great for building houses.”
Qing Kuo raised an eyebrow. “You can use this powder to build houses? Do you mix it with water and dry it into bricks?”
Jian Mo shook his head. “No, no. Lime doesn’t work like clay. Mix it with a little water and sand, and you get lime mortar, which is excellent for holding stones together.”
Though they still didn’t fully understand, Jian Mo was determined to prove its usefulness. “Our stone houses always let in drafts, and repairs with clay don’t hold up well. But if we use lime, it’ll be much sturdier.”
“Really?” Qing Kuo asked skeptically.
“Let me patch something up and show you. I’ll need to figure out the right proportions of sand and water, and how long it takes to dry,” Jian Mo replied confidently.
There wasn’t much lime in the kiln, only enough to fill half a basket. Jian Mo hurried home to grab the basket, collected the lime, and set about experimenting.
After quickly unloading the remaining pottery, everyone gathered to watch Jian Mo work with the lime.
Though not an expert, Jian Mo knew the basic principles. He asked the others to fetch fine sand, then mixed it with the lime and water, stirring with a wooden stick until it formed a paste.
As the lime reacted with water, it released copious amounts of heat, bubbling vigorously. The onlookers were apprehensive, backing away.
Only Qing Kuo and Ye Luo, braver than the rest, dared to step closer and help.
Jian Mo handed each of them a large wooden board and asked them to use it to scoop up the lime mortar and spread it into the gaps in the stone walls. If the clay in the gaps was loose, it needed to be removed before applying the mortar.
By the time the beastmen who had been chopping wood returned, Jian Mo, Qing Kuo, and Ye Luo had already plastered half a wall.
It was only then that Jian Mo realized he had been so excited that he’d forgotten to inform Wu Jiong beforehand.
When Wu Jiong arrived and understood what was happening, he simply said, “It’s fine. Keep going.”
Relieved, Jian Mo nodded, beaming. “This is lime mortar. It’s much better than clay for plastering walls and looks a lot nicer too. Once it dries, I’ll show you the results.”
Wu Jiong took the wooden board from Jian Mo’s hand. “I’ll do it.”
Di Ya and another beastman also took over the boards from Qing Kuo and Ye Luo, quickly taking to the task of plastering the walls.
The experienced sub-beastmen stood by, offering guidance.
Lime mortar was much easier to apply than clay—it adhered well, didn’t fall off easily, and once plastered, looked clean and bright, creating a pleasant effect.
Because there wasn’t much lime mortar, they only managed to cover one wall.
After finishing, Jian Mo led the group inside to assess the results.
The lime mortar proved to seal the wall far better than clay. Standing inside, they could barely feel any wind seeping through the gaps in the stone bricks.
Qing Kuo pressed his hand against the wall. “There’s really no wind.”
Jian Mo grinned. “Right? Lime is much more adhesive than clay. Once it’s dried, it won’t crack as easily, which means less wind gets through.”
Qing Kuo sighed. “It’s a pity we don’t have more lime. If we had enough, that’d be great.”
“No problem,” Jian Mo said cheerfully. “Let’s observe it for a couple of days. If it works well, we can fire another batch.”
Qing Kuo asked, “Is it easy to make?”
Jian Mo nodded. “Very easy—much simpler than firing pottery. You’ll see in a couple of days.”
Everyone looked at the newly plastered lime wall with anticipation.
Building houses in the tribe wasn’t easy. Stone was sturdy, but clay wasn’t. Not only did the walls often need repairs, but heavy rain could soften the clay, making houses prone to collapse.
Since the tribe’s establishment, there have been at least a dozen incidents of homes collapsing and injuring people. The most recent was when Ah Hu and his friends had their house fall on them. If they hadn’t been in their beast forms, Ah Hu’s injury would have been far worse than a bruised tail.
Jian Mo thought of this and reassured everyone, “Houses built with lime mortar are much sturdier than clay. If the mortar holds up well in a couple of days, we can fire more lime and reinforce everyone’s houses.”
No one objected.
Qing Kuo stroked the stone wall. “Then we’ll wait and see.”
Jian Mo, not being well-versed in construction, assumed the lime mortar would take several days to dry.
To his surprise, Wu Jiong informed him the next morning, “The lime mortar outside has already dried.”
“Really? That fast?” Jian Mo blinked in surprise. “I need to see this.”
He went outside and touched the mortar in the wall’s crevices.
It had indeed dried. The lime mortar was hard and firm to the touch, so much so that it pricked his fingers. Even when he tried to pry at it with his hands, it didn’t budge.
The result was just like the mortar he remembered seeing in rural areas as a child.
“This is amazing!” Jian Mo exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. Turning to Wu Jiong, he said, “I’ll call Qing Kuo and the others to check it out. If they agree, we can fire more lime.”
Wu Jiong nodded. “I think it’s good to go.”
Jian Mo grinned. “I think so too. This is such a happy accident. If it weren’t for the stone pillars in the kiln, I wouldn’t have thought of this.”
Wu Jiong smiled. “You might have remembered when we started repairing houses next spring.”
“Wait,” Jian Mo asked, “why would we need to repair houses in the spring?”
“Spring brings heavy rain. Clay softens easily, so we always have to do extra maintenance.”
Jian Mo raised an eyebrow. “Then doesn’t that mean this lime came at just the right time?”
Wu Jiong nodded. “You’re our lucky star.”
Jian Mo laughed, his face glowing with excitement. “I’ll get them over to see.”
He didn’t need to summon everyone individually. Once Zhou Fu called out to the tribe from the central clearing, announcing that the lime mortar had dried and was ready to see, the whole tribe gathered.
Many had already seen the lime mortar the day before and were curious about its effectiveness. Hearing that it had hardened so quickly, nearly everyone came to take a look.
They crowded around the plastered wall of Wu Jiong’s house, inspecting it closely.
Jian Mo glanced at Wu Jiong, who had no objections, and said, “If you’re curious, you can touch it. Lime mortar is very sturdy and won’t be easily damaged.”
Hong Qiu, standing nearby, asked curiously, “What if it does get damaged?”
Jian Mo laughed. “If it gets damaged, we’ll just reapply another layer of lime mortar. Firing lime is simple—you’ll all see in a couple of days.”
De Jiang pinched off a small piece of mortar, held it up to his eyes, and said, “It’s not fully dried yet. Once it’s completely dry, it’ll be even sturdier.”
Jian Mo nodded. “Exactly. It’s only been a day and a night—there’s still some moisture in it.”
De Jiang agreed. “We should start firing more lime now. It’s much better for walls than clay.”
Jian Mo added, “The key is safety. You’ve mentioned how spring rains and wind often cause collapses. With lime mortar, the houses will hold up better, and we won’t need to worry as much about the cubs when they’re home alone.”
While adult beastmen and sub-beastmen were resilient and less likely to be seriously injured in a collapse, cubs were a different story.
Jian Mo glanced at the crowd, his eyes settling on the young ones—little cats, wolves, and foxes who couldn’t yet transform. A trace of concern flickered in his gaze.
The cubs seemed slower to react than the adults. If they ever got hurt, it would be heartbreaking.
Those who had been slightly hesitant immediately agreed, saying, “Forget about pottery and glass for now. Let’s focus on firing lime and fixing the houses as soon as possible.”
Jian Mo nodded. “Alright, we’ll do it in the next couple of days. I’ll check which stones we need to gather for firing lime.”
He turned to Wu Jiong. “What do you think?”
Wu Jiong nodded. “Sounds good.”
A cheer erupted from the group.
