The Samoyed's four little stubby legs paddled back and forth like oars, soft whimpers escaping his mouth as if he were running at full speed in a dream.
A burst of noise popped his bubble of sleep, yanking Liang Ye abruptly from his dreams back to reality. He blinked open his big, watery eyes, and his body moved before his brain—licking his paw pads to wash his face.
The scruffy little pup licked his paws for a while, but when Shan Cang didn't come to feed him, he finally got up and looked around. Outside the cave, the sky blazed with rosy clouds, and the dusk hour felt especially lonely.
Liang Ye shook his head, self-sufficient and familiar with the routine, and trotted over to where Shan Cang kept the food. A large stone bowl was piled with several colorful fruits.
All of them were ones Liang Ye's stomach could handle, with good palatability.
He stretched out his little stubby arms, digging around for a while, and with all his might managed to pull down a fruit bigger than his own head.
"Heave-ho." Liang Ye panted heavily, plopping down on his bottom and propping up both hind legs to rest.
Today he'd eat the green fruit. One bite—sweet and juicy, a bit like cantaloupe, but with a denser, softer texture.
By the time he'd gnawed through a third of it, Liang Ye was tired. The fruit was too big, and it was especially high in sugar, easily making his throat feel sticky.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a large basin of raw meat, the bloody smell hitting his nose. Liang Ye figured he must be genuinely hungry, because he actually felt a strange craving for it.
But he remembered his glass stomach, and the embarrassing incident last time when he got diarrhea and Shan Cang had to pick him up by the scruff.
Never mind. The fruit was delicious too.
"You're pretty clever, knowing how to find food on your own. Looks like the chief's worry was unnecessary." A beastman with a youthful appearance, sporting a pair of yellowish-brown wolf ears, walked into the cave.
Liang Ye stared intently at his wolf ears, then glanced down at his wolf tail, ignoring the teasing remark. He cut straight to the point: "Can I touch them?"
The young beastman had never heard such a blunt, rude request. His face flushed red as he roared, "No!"
"Don't think you can talk nonsense just because you're young—careful, I'll hit you!"
A beastman's ears and tail were relatively private parts, usually only touchable by one's mate. If the one asking weren't a three-month-old pup, they'd definitely be in for a beating.
Liang Ye didn't understand beastman customs. In his eyes, he still thought of himself as human and them as little animals. What was wrong with touching an ear or stroking a tail?
Wasn't being all fluffy and furry just for people to enjoy?
The Samoyed let out a deep sigh, his eyes mournful, and refused to give up: "Really, absolutely not?"
Those wet, puppy-dog eyes were enough to soften anyone's heart. Heat crept up to the tips of the youth's ears, and he backed away as if facing a formidable enemy. "N-no! I'm a good beastman—only my future mate gets to touch!"
Liang Ye tilted his head, his little black bean eyes full of confusion.
Huh? Letting others touch your ears and tail was a sign of lacking male virtue?
Then he'd been inhaling Black Wolf's scent every day—did that mean Black Wolf's purity was ruined?
At that thought, Liang Ye silently apologized to Black Wolf. But he'd still do it again next time.
Who in their right mind would be jealous of a three-month-old pup?
The noisy commotion drifted into the cave, muffled and buzzing like a swarm of bees, the details impossible to make out.
"Where's the wolf?" Liang Ye figured that with all that ruckus outside, Shan Cang wasn't in the cave—he'd probably gone to deal with it. To find out what was happening, he just needed to ask where Shan Cang had gone.
The youth froze for two seconds before understanding what Liang Ye meant. The whole tribe was made of wolves—how was he supposed to know which specific wolf he was asking about? But then he thought about it: the only wolf connected to the pup was the chief. He must be asking about him.
"Oh, the chief's in the big cave. Tong doesn't look like he's going to make it—everyone's over there discussing it." When he mentioned "Tong," the youth's gaze darted around nervously. If Liang Ye's ears weren't so sharp now, he might have almost missed the word "Tong."
Who was Tong?
Liang Ye hadn't been at the tribe long and didn't recognize many people. The youth before him—he was pretty sure he was seeing him for the first time.
"Tong, who?" Liang Ye's shiny black eyes were innocent and clear.
Meeting such a gaze, the vicious words the youth would normally have blurted out got stuck in his throat, unable to rise or fall.
He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, avoiding Liang Ye's eyes. "A demi-beastman of the tribe. He smothered the Fireseed and was punished by the Beast God. The Witch Doctor says there's no saving him."
Liang Ye's mouth fell slightly open. A demi-beastman—so basically a minor. Because he smothered the fire, he was about to die.
A life, treated so flippantly here.
Whatever punishment from the Beast God—it was most likely a burn infection.
"Take me there." Liang Ye was well-practiced at this point, having trained by climbing all over Shan Cang. In a flash, he scrambled up onto the youth's shoulder.
Caught off guard and used as a tree to climb, the youth was utterly confused. What was happening?
A sudden pat on the back of his head. "Go."
The youth didn't dare to be angry, though he was fuming inside. He suppressed his irritation and carried Liang Ye to the big cave.
The chief personally cared for this pup and had even gifted them the Fireseed—he wouldn't dare offend it even with ten times his courage.
One person and one Samoyed arrived at the big cave. Even with the crowd and the mix of scents, Liang Ye could smell the foul stench.
"Chief, the Beast God refuses to forgive Tong's sins. Let him return to the Beast God's embrace." The Witch Doctor pressed his palms together, his expression sorrowful.
The more emotional demi-beastmen wiped the dampness from the corners of their eyes. The beastmen sighed silently, clasping their hands together in prayer for Tong.
"Compassionate Beast God, please forgive Tong's sins. He did not extinguish the Fireseed intentionally." Bo knelt beside the stone bed, muttering prayers.
Just like his grandmother burning incense and offering sacrifices to ancestors during Qingming Festival.
Liang Ye: "…"
His attention immediately fell on the child lying on the stone bed. Mud was smeared thickly over the child's arm, already dried and cracked from the child's writhing in pain, flaking off like old plaster from a wall.
This wasn't a question of whether the Beast God would forgive the child—this was a quack doctor killing his patient!
Shan Cang stared coldly at the Witch Doctor. "Is it that the Beast God refuses to forgive him, or that you're too incompetent to heal him?"
Cold sweat broke out across the Witch Doctor's back in an instant. A chill crept through his entire body, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. The fake smile on his face could no longer hold, twisting and melting like a candle.
A broad hand gripped the Witch Doctor's thin, trembling shoulder. He's brows furrowed, his gaze sharp. "Shan Cang, Fei is a Witch Doctor, not the Beast God. You have no right to demand he be all-powerful."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice in accusation: "Even if you don't like him, you shouldn't target him."
Shan Cang stared deeply at He, his eyes shifting between light and shadow. He couldn't decipher the hidden meaning within.
Shan Cang made no comment on He's words, nor did he offer any explanation. He walked around the two of them to the stone bed, bent down, and lifted Tong into his arms. "I'm taking him to the Witch Doctor of the Golden Mane Tribe."
He had met the Golden Mane Tribe's Witch Doctor before—a kind and wise elder. Even if he ultimately couldn't save Tong, at least he would have tried his best.
"No, you can't!" Fei shot up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, bristling as he jumped out from He's arms to block Shan Cang.
If the tribe had its own Witch Doctor, yet he took a sick tribesman to another tribe's Witch Doctor, wasn't that slapping his own face in public!?
From then on, all the surrounding tribes would know how incompetent the Wolf Moon Tribe's Witch Doctor was.
It would utterly disgrace him.
The tribesmen also didn't want to lose Tong, but Shan Cang's approach was indeed rash and reckless.
In a world where the strong preyed on the weak, unless there was no other choice, Beastmen wouldn't easily seek help from other tribes. Showing weakness meant inviting attack, telling others you were soft and easy to bully.
Shan Cang could clearly feel the abnormal heat of Tong's body in his arms. Impatiently, he let out a low growl from deep in his throat: "Get out of my way!"
The Wolf King's pressure—let alone a Demi-Beastman, even Beastmen couldn't withstand it. Fei's legs trembled, his whole body going limp. He's forehead beaded with sweat as he reached out to steady him.
The others fell silent as cicadas in winter, prostrating themselves in a wave of submission. The youngest cubs, terrified, shifted back into their beast forms.
Liang Ye had fallen from the sky, landing hard on his rear. He glanced at the boy who had suddenly turned into a little wolf cub and shook his head. Useless.
Completely forgetting how he himself had trembled like a quail when he first met Black Wolf.
Yeye padded over to Shan Cang, raising a paw to pat his calf. "Let me take a look."
The thunder about to strike turned into overcast clouds. Shan Cang suppressed his temper to coax the cub. "Look when I get back."
Liang Ye didn't trust the medical skills of the Beast World at all. By the time you get back, the cub might be gone.
It wasn't so much medicine as it was sorcery. Witch doctors and healers were one and the same—sacrifice, prayer, and treatment were all the Witch Doctor's duties. In this era, healing was a side task; the main responsibility was still communicating with heaven and earth.
Liang Ye slapped Shan Cang's calf twice, leaving behind plum-blossom paw prints.
"Save him!"
Shan Cang understood he wasn't calling for help—he was saying… the cub could save Tong's life?
The moment the thought surfaced, Shan Cang's mind and spirit shook. He looked at the cub in disbelief.
He met a pair of clear, bright black eyes.
His throat bobbed painfully. If this cub could do something as absurd as making fire, then maybe this time he could save Tong too?
His mind raced, but Shan Cang wasn't one to hesitate or waver. He immediately set Tong down, picked up the cub, and placed him on the stone bed for a closer look at Tong's condition.
The stench was indeed coming from the child's arm.
Liang Ye twitched his nose, certain that something else had been mixed into the mud. He couldn't imagine for the moment what that arrogant Witch Doctor had ground up as medicine and applied to the child.
Medieval doctors could use the skulls of hanged criminals as medicine, so it was only natural for a Beast World Witch Doctor to use all sorts of strange things as remedies.
The child was burning with fever, completely unconscious—clearly in a state of wound infection. His temperature needed to be brought down immediately, or even if he didn't die from the festering wound, the fever would cook his brain first.
But where in this primitive world could he find fever-reducing, anti-inflammatory medicine?
He racked his brain while commanding Shan Cang, "Boil water. Bubble bubble."
Worried they wouldn't understand what boiling water meant, Liang Ye described the water's state instead.
Shan Cang understood immediately and ordered Bo to boil water. Bo hesitated for a moment, then remembered the cub's miraculous feat of gifting them the Fireseed, and hurried off.
First, he needed to clean the wound to prevent bacteria from continuing to grow.
The Beastmen used stone pots for cooking soup. Liang Ye trotted over anxiously to inspect it and was met with one shock after another.
The pot's rim was caked with unwashed grease. Bo didn't notice anything wrong at all, grabbing the greasy pot to scoop water from the river to boil.
Liang Ye looked around and spotted plant ash by the fire. He pointed at it for Bo. "Grab a handful. Scrub it clean."
Bo was skeptical. Black ash could clean a stone pot?
And besides, his pot wasn't even dirty.
Upon closer inspection, he noticed the sheen—this was good stuff, fragrant and not dirty at all.
The little wolf face was serious and earnest. "Wash, clean."
Bo felt a bit uneasy under his attitude. "Fine, fine, fine, I promise I'll wash it clean."
With that, he grabbed a handful of plant ash and tossed it into the stone pot, then hurried toward the river.
"Can black ash really wash off the grease? I don't believe it." A demi-beastman who had witnessed the whole thing looked dubious.
Another chimed in agreement. "That's ridiculous. I've never heard of black ash cleaning a stone pot before."
Li said with certainty, "If the cub says it can, then it can. He can even start a fire—what can't he do?"
The others around began to waver at his words.
After a while, Bo came running into the cave, ecstatic, holding the stone pot. "It's clean! It's really clean!"
"What? The cub was telling the truth!?"
"It can really be cleaned?"
One after another, eager to see the spectacle, they snatched the stone pot from Bo's hands and examined it closely. In the past, no matter how many times a stone pot that had cooked meat was washed, grease always remained, leaving it slick to the touch. The less particular beastmen didn't care, but the few demi-beastmen who valued cleanliness had always been troubled by it.
The stone pot in their hands held clear water, as clean as the river, with not a trace of oil floating on the surface.
"Goodness, it really is clean!"
The demi-beastmen nearly spilled the water in the pot, but Shan Cang grabbed it in time and handed it back to Bo. "Hurry up and boil it."
They had forgotten—Tong was still waiting for hot water to save his life.
The group hung their heads in shame. "We're sorry, Chief. We were wrong."
Everyone had assumed the water just needed to be boiled to be usable, but the cub said the hot water had to cool down first. So what was the point of boiling it?
Not just them—even Shan Cang didn't understand the cub's reasoning.
Liang Ye couldn't explain to them that the water contained countless invisible microorganisms and bacteria. He responded with silence, since his speech was halting anyway, and no matter how much they asked, they wouldn't get a clear answer.
Once the boiled water had cooled to lukewarm, Liang Ye directed Shan Cang to soak a soft animal hide in it and wipe down the child's neck, armpits, and other areas to bring down the fever physically.
He also used the cooled warm water to rinse away the dirt on the surface of the wound.
Normally, burns and scalds would form blisters on the skin, and one must never pop them—they should be left for the body to absorb naturally, as they were a protective layer. But the child's arm was a bloody mess, ulcerated and oozing pus, a horrifying sight.
The beastmen watching covered their noses and stepped back.
Liang Ye turned and shot the witch doctor a fierce glare. "You popped the blisters?"
The witch doctor, facing a mere three-month-old cub, inexplicably felt a pang of guilt and shortness of breath. He cleared his throat and said with self-righteousness, "Of course. The poison inside had to be drained, or his whole body would have festered."
Liang Ye laughed in exasperation. Ignorance and foolishness were truly terrifying.
In truth, given the beastmen's hardy constitution, Tong shouldn't have been on the brink of death so quickly. It was purely his bad luck to have encountered a quack doctor whose treatments only made things worse.
If the wound had been left alone, the condition might not have progressed so rapidly—it might even have healed on its own.
Liang Ye had no time to argue with the witch doctor. The priority was saving the child.
The moment he turned back, Liang Ye's pupils dilated in shock. He thought he saw fat, pale maggots wriggling inside Tong's wound.
Damn! Maggots!