The witch doctor's lips twitched as he prepared to speak and stop them, but a single indifferent glance from Shan Cang cowed him into silence. His hands clenched into fists, his shoulders trembling.
The Fireseed descended from the heavens, bestowed by the Beast God. No one in the world could conjure it out of thin air—unless they were the Beast God himself.
But a three-month-old wild cub? Absolutely impossible.
Let him mess around if he wanted. It was nothing but a bid for attention anyway. When it all came to nothing, Shan Cang would learn who he should be listening to.
The witch doctor's stifled mood improved. He crossed his arms and settled in to watch from the sidelines.
Liang Ye paid no heed to the crowd's contemptuous attitude. He perched proudly on Shan Cang's shoulder, issuing orders. "Wood plank. Wood stick."
His speech was often disjointed, but fortunately Shan Cang could mostly grasp his meaning. The two worked together in tacit understanding.
The Breeding Season that the Beastmen spoke of was essentially equivalent to spring on Earth—when all things revived and grass grew and birds sang. However, the Breeding Season's climate was drier and hotter, with large temperature differences between day and night. Daytime temperatures reached roughly twenty to thirty degrees, so collecting the materials needed for friction fire-making went especially smoothly.
A fire board, a wooden stick, and tinder—the tinder typically being loose, fluffy fibers. And all of these materials had to be dry.
Through a combination of words and gestures, Liang Ye managed to get Shan Cang to round off the end of the stick.
Shan Cang held a board in his left hand and a stick in his right. Even someone as composed as him couldn't help but feel a flicker of doubt. Was he being too presumptuous?
Could a three-month-old cub really conjure fire?
He lowered his gaze and met the cub's serious, earnest little eyes. The hesitation in his heart dissipated like smoke.
Shan Cang's keen hearing picked up the whispers of his tribesmen, accusing him of indulging the cub's nonsense at such a critical moment.
Some even began to feel relieved that he had no cubs of his own. If he spoiled an outsider's cub like this, with a biological child he'd probably dote on them beyond all reason.
Liang Ye's small ears twitched, catching the gossip about Shan Cang. He puffed up with anger, eyes wide.
You people just wait!
Liang Ye brought his two little paws together and rubbed them back and forth, then commanded Shan Cang with fierce energy. "Rub!"
Though the Beastmen didn't understand friction fire-making, they already had handmade rope, all twisted by hand. Shan Cang was familiar with this kind of demonstration motion. The stick spun rapidly in the man's hands.
This kind of laborious work really did require a Beastman—thick-skinned, tough, and strong. If Liang Ye tried it himself, he'd rub his paws raw and still might not produce a spark. Why was he so self-aware about this?
Naturally, because he'd practiced it out in the fields as a child. Not a single one of his group of friends had succeeded. Friction fire-making wasn't just about brute strength—it was a skill.
If Liang Ye were doing it himself, he'd have chosen the "bow drill method," or simply gone looking for flint stones. But now he had neither the dexterous fingers of a human nor the ability to speak much. He could only make do with forcing Shan Cang to use the most primitive method of starting a fire.
In the brief moment his attention wandered, Shan Cang had already ground out a small pile of black powder on the board. Liang Ye immediately pressed his paw over Shan Cang's hand, carefully tipping the black powder from the board into the pile of fatwood shavings he'd had Shan Cang prepare earlier.
They'd gotten incredibly lucky in finding fatwood. Rich in resin, it was excellent for catching sparks and providing light—great material for making torches.
"Whoo—" Liang Ye barely dared to breathe, blowing small, careful puffs of air onto the fatwood pile.
Thin wisps of smoke rose. Under the gaze of the crowd, with a sharp crackling sound, sparks leaped, and orange-red flames burst forth with the force of a wildfire.
Liang Ye quickly shoved the flames into the prepared pile of firewood. In the blink of an eye, the fire blazed fiercely, illuminating every stunned and shaken face.
"Fire…"
"It's fire!"
"It really is fire!"
One voice, then another, from all directions—exclamations of astonishment came one after another, reaching Liang Ye's ears.
He lifted his short snout proudly.
Hmph, now you know how awesome Ye is. See if you dare look down on Ye again.
"Im… impossible!" The witch doctor's features twisted grotesquely, pupils filled with horror.
The Fireseed was a gift from the Beast God. How could anyone possibly create it out of thin air!
Could it be that this cub's mother was a Messenger of the Beast God?
Overwhelming terror loomed like a great beast baring its fangs, opening its maw to swallow him whole.
When the cub grew up, would he take his position?
Fei knew full well how unqualified he was as a witch doctor. That accident years ago had forced him to cut his studies short under his teacher. He was only a half-baked witch doctor. But the Wolf Moon Tribe had no other choice besides him, so for a long time he'd acted with impunity, going through the motions.
Until today.
So his position wasn't as secure as he'd imagined.
"Thank you! Thank you for bestowing fire upon us!" Li wept tears of joy, stumbling over to Liang Ye and dropping to her knees with a thud.
Liang Ye nearly jumped out of his skin.
Don't kneel to me! I'm afraid I'll lose years off my life!
But Li's action was like a signal. One by one, the Beastmen in the cave bowed and knelt before him.
"Thank you for not holding our rudeness against us, and for graciously bestowing fire upon us." Zhu led the others in sincere gratitude toward Liang Ye.
Those who had mocked Liang Ye moments before wore expressions of guilt, lowering their heads in shame to admit their wrongs.
"We're sorry. Please forgive our ignorance."
"I'm sorry, we shouldn't have accused you without cause."
"I'm sorry, we shouldn't have suspected you of being an Omen of Misfortune."
Apologies poured into Liang Ye's mind like streams converging into the sea.
Liang Ye's little tail wagged cheerfully, brushing against Shan Cang's ankle, tickling him.
He puffed up his furry puppy face and said sternly, "Apologize to Shan Cang."
The few who had secretly spoken ill of the chief stiffened, their faces flushing crimson, legs trembling uncontrollably as they shuffled forward, prostrating themselves and knocking their heads against the ground.
"I'm sorry, Chief, I was wrong! I'll never speak ill of you again."
"Chief, I'm sorry, I was spouting nonsense."
One wept bitterly, another slapped himself wildly, and the third, seeing this, hurriedly began slapping himself too.
Liang Ye couldn't help but laugh, revealing two rows of little teeth.
The cold ice in Shan Cang's eyes melted, and the daylight outside the cave draped him in a warm glow.
The little one knew to defend him—raising him hadn't been in vain.
With the Fireseed matter resolved smoothly, Shan Cang dismissed everyone and ordered Qing to distribute the food.
"Zhu, Bo, this time was indeed your negligence. I'm deducting three days of your food. Any objections?"
For such a grave mistake as the Fireseed going out, only a three-day food deduction? It felt like a dream. They'd thought they'd be banished from the tribe.
"Chief, isn't three days too little?" Bo's face burned with shame.
Zhu nodded in agreement and suggested, "Make it ten days, Chief."
Liang Ye stood nearby, dumbfounded. He'd seen people beg for lighter punishments, but never someone volunteering to have more deducted from their rations.
Had it been any other young Beastman, Shan Cang wouldn't have stopped at just three days. Zhu and Bo were the tribe's only two elder Beastmen. Back when disaster struck, they'd led the group of cubs and sub-adults through desperate survival—their contributions were immense.
Many Beastmen had learned hunting skills from Zhu that their fathers never got the chance to teach, and Bo was like a mother to them all. Now that they were old and couldn't hunt for themselves, they relied entirely on the tribe's distribution. If their rations were cut for ten days or half a month, they'd likely starve to death.
"Three days it is." Shan Cang's word was final, then he shifted the topic. "Bo, pick someone to help care for the cubs."
She hadn't reacted much to the food deduction, but when Shan Cang mentioned finding someone to take over the cubs, visible panic spread across Bo's face. "Chief, I can handle it alone, really! I can do it!"
What Beastmen feared most was losing their value to the tribe. Bo misunderstood, thinking Shan Cang was forbidding her from continuing to watch over the cubs—stripping away the only contribution she could still make.
Tears welled up in her clouded eyes, streaming down her aged face.
A flicker of bewilderment crossed Shan Cang's gaze, his body freezing like a statue.
Why was Bo crying?
It certainly couldn't be from gratitude.
Then what was it?
Liang Ye had seen too many elders like Bo back in the countryside—old people who worried that once they were useless, they'd become a burden to their children.
Even with white hair and hunched backs, they'd still carry hoes to the fields. No amount of persuasion worked. They weren't looking for trouble or deliberately making things difficult for their children—they were simply afraid. Afraid of losing their worth.
Yeye trotted over to Bo on his short little legs, patting her leg, sticking out his tongue, and flashing an angelic smile.
Through her tear-blurred eyes, a warmth suddenly spread through Bo's chest. The little cub nuzzled her with his fluffy head, as if comforting her.
Realizing this, Bo nearly burst into tears again.
Her withered hand gently stroked the cub's back.
Seeing her emotions settle, Liang Ye spoke up to explain for Shan Cang: "Help, not, don't want you."
Bo froze, and Shan Cang felt a sudden clarity.
Zhu let out an unkind chuckle, tousling the cub's little head. "Our little one's the clever one."
Yeye puffed out his chest proudly.
Shan Cang pressed a hand to his forehead—in this regard, he truly couldn't match the cub.
"Cubs have boundless energy. You can't manage them alone. Find someone to share the load."
Bo's aged face flushed red. So it wasn't that he was letting her go—he was finding her help.
The big cave had long housed three cubs. Strictly speaking, one was already thirteen—a sub-adult—but he was frail and sickly, not much different from a cub. Unlike other sub-adults who had some hunting ability and needed little care, he required constant attention.
They were all orphans, raised collectively by the big cave—the entire tribe. The tribe also had three other cubs whose parents were still alive. Since Beastmen and Demi-Beastmen had to go out hunting and gathering, they'd send their cubs to the big cave when no one was home.
Counting Liang Ye, Bo now had to care for seven cubs alone. With her advancing age, she was gradually losing the strength to keep up—she truly needed help.
Cubs on Earth could drive you up the wall with their mischief; cubs in the Beastmen world were ten times worse.
A candidate flashed through Bo's mind. "Let me ask him first."
Shan Cang nodded, then noticed the cub dozing off in Bo's arms after just a few exchanges. He reached over and took him, thinking—after traveling back and forth all night, the little one needed to catch up on sleep in his cave.
Liang Ye had no idea that while he slept sprawled out every which way, Shan Cang had caught up on rest and gone to the Witch Doctor's to check on the cubs injured in the fight.
There were actually three of them fighting—the three cubs from the big cave. The main conflict was between Tong and Chi, with the third one acting as a rabble-rouser cheering from the sidelines.
Chi came out of the fight with Tong bearing only minor scrapes, but Tong's condition was far more severe. Half his body had been pressed into the fire. Beastmen's upper garments were mostly sleeveless vests, leaving their arms bare, and his flesh had been burned directly by the flames, raising a long string of blisters.
When Shan Cang went to visit him, Tong was breathing more out than in, his lips cracked and dry, his skin taking on an unnatural crimson flush. Even though the Witch Doctor had sealed the wounds on his arm with mud, a foul stench still wafted out, impossible to mask.
Shan Cang arrived just in time to see the Witch Doctor grimacing in disgust and ordering people to move Tong outside, as if afraid Tong would defile his territory.
"Where are you moving him to?"
It was rare for Shan Cang to come to him on his own initiative, and the Witch Doctor's eyes lit up as he feigned coyness, asking, "Shan Cang, did you come looking for me?"
"He's done for. I've ordered them to send him outside the tribe, so we don't spread the curse to everyone."
His tone was matter-of-fact, as if discussing what to have for dinner rather than the life or death of a tribesman.
Shan Cang stared at him with disgust. "You are unworthy of being the Witch Doctor of the Wolf Moon Tribe."
Everyone present was utterly horrified, nearly popping their eyes out of their sockets. Their skin and flesh tensed, and their calves cramped with fear.
The Witch Doctor was struck as if by lightning, like someone had shoved him into a frozen wasteland. His lips trembled for a long time without producing a single word.
"Take him to the big cave."
After being swept by Shan Cang's cold gaze, the few men felt their scalps prickle and dared not disobey. They hastily carried the barely-breathing Tong away.
The Witch Doctor snapped back to his senses and reached out to grab Shan Cang, but the man coldly sidestepped him.
"Shan Cang, Tong was always a sinner of the tribe. He was the one who smothered the Fireseed and brought disaster upon us. I already did everything in my power to save him out of consideration for him being a tribesman, but he has been cursed by the Beast God. The Beast God refuses to forgive his sins. If we let him stay in the tribe, what if the curse spreads to the others?"
His eyes brimmed with tears, and the look he gave Shan Cang was like a woman gazing at a faithless lover. He choked out, "I devote myself wholeheartedly to the tribe's welfare, yet you say I'm unworthy of being its Witch Doctor. Shan Cang, how cruel your heart is!"
Anyone else hearing these words might have been shamed into wishing the ground would swallow them, regretting that they had wrongly accused the Witch Doctor.
However, Shan Cang's gray-blue eyes were like a mirror that reflected the ugly truth of all things in the world, and none of the Witch Doctor's honeyed words could escape their scrutiny.
"Didn't you say the disaster was brought by the cubs? Now suddenly it's Tong. Is there a single truthful word in your mouth?"
The Witch Doctor felt as if he had fallen into an icy abyss, his blood frozen throughout his body, his fingertips losing all sensation, his heart seeming to stop. His eyes darted about frantically left and right, but he dared not meet Shan Cang's gaze.
"If there's a next time, you won't be Witch Doctor anymore."
Shan Cang's words landed with heavy force, like a sharp sword piercing Fei's chest, sending him collapsing to the ground in utter despair.
"Chieftain, it's bad! Tong, Tong is about to die!" A nimble-footed Beastman came running with sweat pouring down his face.
Shan Cang's brow furrowed tightly. He grabbed the limp Witch Doctor by the scruff and sprinted toward the big cave.