Shan Cang moved swiftly, his keen eyes and quick hands flicking the writhing insects away with the tip of his blade. They traced white arcs through the air before landing with a splat on the ground, dead before they could even struggle.
One, two, three—Shan Cang picked out every insect from Tong's arm, checking repeatedly until he was certain none remained before stopping.
Liang Ye let out a long breath. Thank goodness Shan Cang was fast; his poor heart couldn't take much more of that.
With the insects cleared away, Tong's arm remained a horrifying sight, riddled with rotting flesh.
As a beastman who had been through something similar, Zhu spoke with a grave expression. "Cut off the arm. It might save his life."
Liang Ye was stunned speechless. Was that really the call to make?
Surely it hadn't come to amputation.
Shan Cang understood what Zhu meant. He had seen too many beastmen lose their lives to worsening wounds. Sometimes, cutting off an injured arm or leg was the very thing that saved them.
Back then, Zhu's injury had started on his calf. If he had decisively cut off his lower leg at the onset, he would never have been forced to lose the entire leg later.
As someone who had been through it, even if it pained him deeply, he had to make this suggestion. An arm versus a life—the weight of each needed no explanation.
Shan Cang was about to agree when a small paw suddenly appeared before his eyes.
"Wait!" Liang Ye believed the child could still be saved.
Tong was so young. Even in the safety of the modern world, losing an arm would make survival difficult—let alone in a primitive society where the strong devoured the weak.
"Let me try." Liang Ye's dark, glistening eyes gazed seriously at the man.
The refusal that was on the tip of Shan Cang's tongue turned into a single word before those lake-clear eyes: "Alright."
Though the cub had gifted them the Fireseed, that didn't mean the cub knew the Healing Art. This was a matter of life and death, hanging by a thread—not something to be experimented with casually. Zhu urged anxiously, "Chief, Tong doesn't have time to wait!"
Shan Cang's gaze was calm and steady. Something about being looked at by him inexplicably inspired conviction. Zhu's mouth opened and closed, then after a moment he let out a heavy sigh and retreated to his original position.
The Witch Doctor nearly choked on his breath when he saw this. He had thought Zhu would argue his case and stop the chief from indulging the cub's absurd behavior—but instead, Zhu had backed down?
His head spun dizzily, and only with Cai's support did he keep from collapsing entirely.
Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck the Witch Doctor. If the cub killed Tong through his treatment, the tribe would place all the blame on the cub's head, and even condemn the chief. Either way, no one would blame him.
Wouldn't that play right into his hands?
Joy bloomed like spring flowers, opening one after another, filling his chest.
But—what if the cub actually healed him…
No. That wouldn't happen. Impossible. With Tong in that state, even if the teacher himself came, he couldn't save him.
The heart that had begun to rise settled back down securely.
The Witch Doctor curled the corner of his mouth, ready to watch the show.
Liang Ye had no idea what schemes were crackling away in the Witch Doctor's mind. He first had Shan Cang wash the bone knife in boiling water, then hold it over the fire—doing his utmost to sterilize and disinfect.
"Rotting flesh. Cut it away." Liang Ye pointed at the corrupted parts of Tong's arm and instructed.
Shan Cang nodded, waiting for the cub's further directions. Liang Ye racked his brain for what else was needed when a good idea suddenly jumped into his mind. "Honey!"
Shan Cang had no idea what he wanted honey for, but he still ordered someone to fetch it from his cave.
No antibiotics. No alcohol. Not even gauze.
Forced to make do with what was available, Liang Ye knew that honey had extremely strong water-absorbing properties—it would suck the moisture out of bacterial cells, making it impossible for bacteria to survive in honey.
Shan Cang called over two burly beastmen to hold Tong down. The child was already unconscious, but without anesthetic, cutting flesh was something even adult beastmen would struggle to endure—let alone a sub-adult.
Liang Ye had Bo stuff a soft wooden stick into Tong's mouth to keep him from biting his tongue.
Everything was ready. Shan Cang began cutting away the rotting flesh. His hands were steady—a clear testament to his composure.
Tong, who had been unconscious from the high fever, was indeed jolted awake by the pain. His eyes fluttered open groggily to find someone cutting at his flesh, and terror seized him instantly. His whole body trembled violently as he struggled with all his might.
The two adult beastmen held him down with ease. Against their overwhelming strength, fear and despair enveloped Tong completely. He shook his head, whimpering through his mouth, tears and snot streaming down his face.
Suddenly, a fluffy white ball of fur came close to him. Soft, downy fur gently brushed against his cheek. The warm, tender sensation gradually calmed his emotions, which had spiraled out of control from pain and terror.
"Don't be afraid." The little one's voice was soft and sweet, like a sugary candy.
For the first time, someone had drawn so close to him with such intimacy—neither disgusted by him nor afraid of him.
Tong's eyelashes trembled, shaking loose a trail of tears.
Only now did Liang Ye get a clear look—beneath those eyelids were a pair of heterochromatic eyes.
His eyes flew wide open. Tong immediately turned his head away, avoiding his gaze.
So it wasn't that he wasn't afraid—it was that he hadn't seen his eyes clearly.
Tong's tongue tasted bitter. What had he been expecting? How ridiculous. A beastman cursed by the Beast God had no right to receive kindness from others.
"Wow, so cool!" The white ball of fluff's exclamation sounded by his ear.
Even though he couldn't understand what "cool" meant, Tong, who had lived under the weight of others' malice for so long, was extremely sensitive to emotion.
He could tell—the white ball of fluff was praising him.
Praising him?
Impossible. He must be dreaming.
"Eyes, beautiful!"
"Gems, gorgeous!"
Praise came one after another, blunt and fervent, flustering Tong's fever-addled mind until it practically steamed, his thoughts scattered and hazy.
Liang Ye had no idea that his heartfelt admiration had stirred an uproar among those around him.
Blue-green heterochromatic eyes—how cool were those? Beautiful as two natural gems, dazzling and radiant. With eyes like those, posted online, he could easily become a child model.
However, in this era where civilization had yet to awaken, being different meant being abnormal, meant being dangerous.
And since Tong had lost both parents at a young age, his strange eyes instantly became a symbol of ill omen.
They were the mark the Beast God had left upon him—a curse, warning Beastmen to stay away, that approaching him meant approaching calamity.
The Wolf Moon Tribe followed the custom of respecting elders and cherishing the young. The tribesmen would not abandon Tong, but neither would they grow close to him. They kept their distance, and children, being keen readers of social cues, naturally made Tong the target of bullying among his peers.
"Waaah—" Tong writhed in agony, cold sweat pouring off him as if he'd just been dragged out of water.
Shan Cang made his final cut, and Tong could no longer hold onto consciousness, plummeting into an unfathomable darkness.
The Witch Doctor, who had been quiet for a while, heard the cub tell Shan Cang to apply honey to the wound and immediately grew restless, admonishing earnestly: "Chieftain, honey is so precious. To use it on a Beastman about to return to the Beast God's embrace—what if it doesn't work? Wouldn't that be a waste?"
The other tribesmen, though equally reluctant to part with the honey, remembered the miraculous feat of making fire by friction. They held hope for Liang Ye—if he could truly save Tong's life, then using it was acceptable.
But at the Witch Doctor's words, they began to hesitate.
Indeed, honey was precious and hard to come by. Most ordinary Beastmen lived their entire lives without ever tasting it. If it went to waste, that would truly be a pity.
Liang Ye wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him, because how else could he be hearing such an outrageous statement?
The tribe had no concept of private property yet—all prey caught belonged to the tribe and had to be distributed by it. Of course, rules were rules, but people were flexible. It wasn't as if every scrap had to be handed over. If someone caught small game on their own, no one would object to them having a little treat.
However, for precious things like honey, it had to be offered to the chieftain upon discovery. Whether the finder got a share was entirely up to the chieftain's generosity.
Shan Cang's gaze pierced the Witch Doctor like an ice shard. "In your eyes, a tribesman's life is worth less than a bit of honey?"
Such a heavy accusation nearly bent the Witch Doctor's spine. He waved his hands frantically in denial. "No, Chieftain, that's not what I meant."
"I just worried—the honey would be gone, and the boy still wouldn't be saved."
Shan Cang opened the bamboo tube lid right in front of him, pouring the honey with a hand that didn't tremble in the slightest, causing the Witch Doctor's heart to ache with every drop.
Shan Cang didn't bother replying to the Witch Doctor any further. His actions were answer enough.
A thin layer of honey was applied, and soft, breathable beast hide was chosen as a substitute for gauze to wrap the arm, keeping dust and insects out of the wound.
Once everything was properly handled, Liang Ye told Bo to cook some soft, easily edible meat for Tong. Illness required plenty of energy to support the body's recovery—how could he get better without eating his fill?
A Demi-Beastman stepped forward to help cook the meat broth, and Li volunteered to wipe Tong's body to bring down his fever. Shan Cang handed her the beast hide.
Under everyone's concerted care, Tong, whose face had been ashen, gradually began to improve. The high fever slowly subsided, his convulsing, trembling body calmed, and the shadow of death that had loomed over him quietly receded.
"By the heavens! How incredible!"
"He's not burning anymore! Tong's forehead isn't burning!"
Exclamations rose one after another. As dawn broke and the first rays of morning light spilled across the land, the Beastmen who had been tense all night finally relaxed, cheering wildly, clapping with joy, and embracing one another in celebration.
"You must be the Divine Envoy sent by the Beast God to save the Wolf Moon Tribe!"
"Divine Envoy! Divine Envoy!"
The shouts crashed like waves against the shore. Liang Ye shuddered, stumbled, and landed flat on his rear.
His round, dark eyes were filled with bewilderment.
What the heck?
He was not about to inherit his grandmother's legacy!
Shan Cang's gray-blue eyes were like a deep, silent sea beneath the night sky—bottomless, fearsome, yet alluring to explore.
He watched the cub with a meaningful gaze, as if trying to see through the surface to the essence.
But aside from being adorable, Ye had nothing else to offer.
Liang Ye shook his head like a rattle, rejecting with every fiber of his being. "No! Me not!"
In his panic, his accent slipped out.
The crowd's kneeling motions halted. Zhu mused thoughtfully, "I've heard that a Divine Envoy walking among mortals cannot easily reveal their identity."
That single sentence brought sudden realization to everyone present, and they nodded repeatedly.
Right, right, right! They absolutely must not reveal that the Divine Envoy was in their tribe—what if other tribes came to snatch him away?
Even if they didn't understand the principle of "an innocent man with a jade is a crime," instinct told them precious things had to be hidden well.
Liang Ye looked up at the sky in speechlessness. Throughout it all, only Shan Cang truly took his reaction to heart.
The cub didn't seem to want to be the Divine Envoy. Why?
Anyone else, even under a misunderstanding, would gladly accept the title, wouldn't they? After all, that name could bring immeasurable benefits.
Perhaps there weren't that many reasons behind it. The cub was simply too young to understand all the scheming and intrigue.
He was simply being honest, refusing everything that didn't belong to him.
The Golden Crow dipped toward the west, dusk settled in, and weary birds returned to the forest. Tong woke up, ate some meat broth, and then fell back into a deep sleep.
"Being able to eat is a good sign." Bo wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with relief.
After all, he was a child she had raised. Even if their bond wasn't particularly strong, spending day and night together had fostered some attachment. She was glad Tong was recovering.
The only one in the tribe who couldn't be happy was the Witch Doctor, gnashing his teeth in frustration. Who would have thought that this cub of unknown origins would actually have the ability to save Tong's life?
A great crisis was closing in on him. He had a feeling that if the cub stayed in the tribe any longer, his own position would soon be in jeopardy.
He had to find a way to drive the cub away!