The chieftain hurried to meet the shaman, reaching out to support his arm as they entered the cave.

By the firelight, Zhang Shuguang clearly saw the mark between the shaman’s eyebrows—a hexagram pattern, its color indistinguishable.

It dawned on him—no wonder Mang Jiu had insisted he wasn’t a Shaman. It turned out that Shaman, like beastmen, bore distinct markings.

After that came sheer relief. Thankfully, he’d known better than to make reckless claims. Had he said he was a Shaman, Mang Jiu would likely have torn him apart for fraud.

Zhang Shuguang sniffed back a sob. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mang Jiu lower the wooden staff in his hand and approach the shaman.

It was clear the tribe held this elder shaman in deep respect.

After entering the cave, the shaman gazed warmly at the fire pit before lifting his head to look at Zhang Shuguang. His eyes brimmed with kindness as he beckoned with a wave. “Come here. Let me take a look at you.”

Zhang Shuguang blinked, glanced at Mang Jiu, and only after seeing him nod did he step forward to stand before the shaman.

The old man tilted his face upward, his eyes fixed intently on Zhang Shuguang, who offered him a faint smile.

No one spoke. Only the crackling of the fire and the faint, lingering scent of roasted potatoes filled the air.

Zhang Shuguang felt slightly uncomfortable under the old man’s gaze, yet he didn’t know how to break the awkward silence.

“What’s your name?” Shaman reached out with his wrinkled hand and grasped Zhang Shuguang’s wrist. His hand was thin and bony, much like the man himself—lean and lacking flesh.

His hand was also cold, the palm rough—the hands of an old man who had done much hard labor.

Zhang Shuguang remained composed as he replied, “My name is Shuguang.”

Wu Ming nodded gently. “I am Wu Ming.”

Zhang Shuguang couldn’t quite gauge the old shaman’s attitude toward him. He felt something off—after all, he was an outsider who had taught Wu Ming’s own skills to others. By normal standards, this old shaman should have been suspicious and scrutinizing of him.

But that wasn’t the case. Wu Ming’s attitude was peaceful, even giving the impression of treating him as an equal.

Zhang Shuguang sniffed again. Truth be told, even with a fire burning, the cave felt chilly at night, especially near the entrance where they stood.

“Um, how about we sit down to talk? I’m a bit cold.” Not wanting his frail frame to catch a chill, he finished speaking, then covered his mouth with a yawn.

Mang Jiu frowned slightly, gave the others a brief nod, then turned and exited the cave. A moment later, he returned carrying a piece of animal hide, which he handed to Zhang Shuguang.

Zhang Shuguang glanced at him in surprise before accepting it with a thank you.

He huddled by the fire, cradling the now-awake kitten in his arms. Draping the animal skin over himself, he resembled a furry ball.

Everyone gathered around the fire. Elder Wu Ming sat beside Zhang Shuguang, peering down at the furry head poking out from his embrace. He gently tapped it with a finger. “Finding a cub of the Giant Cat Tribe is truly fortunate.”

“We found him by the water pool,” Zhang Shuguang said, pulling the kitten closer and gently squeezing its soft yet slightly coarse paw pads. “Mang Jiu said he might have been born not long ago.”

Wu Ming nodded, his gaze shifting to the potatoes roasting in the fire until they were blackened, curious what they were.

“Those are potatoes. We found a patch of mature potatoes. If stored well, they could last until this time next year,” Zhang Shuguang said, using a stick to pull out two potatoes. The twigs originally stuck on top had already snapped off from the heat. “Once they cool, you can peel and eat them. They’re soft and sticky, with high satiety.”

“Satiety? Does that mean they fill you up?” Wu Ming turned to look at him.

Zhang Shuguang nodded, gesturing toward the large potatoes. “These are huge. If I were eating them, three would be enough to fill me up.” He didn’t know what the local appetite was like, but having seen Mang Jiu devour fish, he could guess that beastmen must have huge appetites, and sub-beastman probably weren’t small either.

A spark of delight flashed in Wu Ming’s eyes. “Really?”

Zhang Shuguang hummed in agreement, testing the temperature before lifting his face to look at Mang Jiu. “Bring me a fishbone. I’ll cut it.” Without a proper knife, a fishbone would do just fine.

Mang Jiu turned and left the cave again, returning with two fish bones, which he handed over.

Zhang Shuguang brushed away the outer layer of dust from the black potato, then used the fish bone to split it in half. The two potatoes were perfectly divided into four quarters.

He’d assumed the potatoes here wouldn’t differ much from Earth’s, but the moment he sliced into them, the aroma caught him off guard. Even the kitten nestled in his arms couldn’t resist meowing softly twice.

Zhang Shuguang used the fishbone to slice another piece, cutting it into smaller chunks. He handed the remainder to Mang Jiu, offering an embarrassed smile.

Mang Jiu didn’t mind sharing his food. Holding the potato, he first lowered his head to sniff it. The scent was wonderfully fragrant and refreshing. He raised an eyebrow, then took a bite.

It was hot, incredibly aromatic, and had a soft, sticky texture. It felt like it was clinging to his tongue, yet it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Delicious!” Hua was the first to speak. She took a small bite with her eyes half-closed, and her eyes lit up. Then, not even bothered by the heat, she blew on it while biting into it. ”This is really delicious! I never knew groundnuts—no, potatoes—potatoes could taste this good.”

Wu Ming slowly chewed his own piece of baked potato. Several of his teeth were missing, making eating usually difficult, but this baked potato required little effort. He could even nibble it slowly with just his lips.

Mang Jiu and Xiong Kui devoured their portions in two bites, nodding in unison. “Delicious.”

Zhang Shuguang smiled, taking a bite himself. It was indeed tasty—more fragrant and starchy than any baked potato he’d ever had.

“Meow!” The kitten pawed at Zhang Shuguang’s hand, pushing its mouth forward. “Meow meow meow!!”

Zhang Shuguang glanced down. Seeing how desperately hungry it was, he broke off a small piece and placed it in his palm. “Good boy, take your time.”

He wasn’t sure how beastman cubs were raised around here, but he recalled that kittens shouldn’t eat such things. Still, since it had already eaten the grilled fish, the baked potato should be fine too, right?

“He can eat it. Once the little one grows teeth, he can eat anything.” Seeing how carefully Zhang Shuguang was feeding him, Wu Ming offered, “Are you going to raise him? This is a male cub.”

A male cub meant a boy. Zhang Shuguang instantly understood the implication.

“Yeah, I found him, so I’ll raise him,” Zhang Shuguang smiled at Wu Ming, breaking the potato into small pieces and feeding them to the kitten from his palm. The little cat ate with a satisfied purring, making soft slurping sounds—clearly enjoying the taste.

Wu Ming hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze toward Zhang Shuguang softening with affection.

Mang Jiu added some branches to the fire and remarked, “I found you, so I’ll raise you.”

Zhang Shuguang cleared his throat and lowered his head, unable to meet his gaze.

Mang Jiu stared at the top of his head, unconcerned by his silence. He stepped out of the cave for the third time, returning with five more potatoes.

One each for them, the rest to be saved for later.

Wu Ming ate half a potato and drank a little water.

Seeing him drink cold water, Zhang Shuguang reminded him, “You should really drink boiled water. Cold water can make you sick. Young children and the elderly have sensitive stomachs and are prone to stomachaches and diarrhea.“

Wu Ming nodded, his gaze fixed on Zhang Shuguang. Suddenly, he asked, ”Where are you from?”

Zhang Shuguang opened his mouth, wishing he could slap himself.

Why did you have to talk so much?

“I’m from the Wanshan Tribe,” he said, his eyes lowered to the kitten in his lap.

Wu Ming nodded again without responding. Instead, Hua turned her face to look at Zhang Shuguang, asking him in confusion, “Where is the Wanshan Tribe? None of the tribes near us is called Wanshan.”

Zhang Shuguang scratched his face and shook his head. “Somewhere far away, I think. I fell off a cliff. When I woke up, Mang Jiu had already rescued me.”

“Then do you want to go back?” Hua felt quite fond of Shuguang for helping them find edible food. After all, this person didn’t look big, but he was quite capable.

He could start fires. He could find potatoes.

Truthfully, Zhang Shuguang hadn’t considered returning to Wanshan Tribe. First, he didn’t even know its exact location. Second, he wasn’t the original “Little Cannon Fodder” anymore, so he felt no real sense of belonging there. Third, Little Cannon Fodder had no blood relatives in the Wanshan Tribe; the only people he knew well were a few Sub-Beastmen he’d gone gathering with.

The little cannon fodder had fallen off a cliff trying to save someone. They surely believed him dead. So whether he returned or not really didn’t matter.

He shook his head. Under their gaze, he stated, “I’m not going back. So I hope the Cliffside Tribe will accept me and let me stay.”

Mang Jiu withdrew his gaze, tossed the potatoes into the fire, then sat down beside Zhang Shuguang.

This was the sub-beastman he’d rescued. He wouldn’t let him leave.

Zhang Shuguang didn’t know what Mang Jiu was thinking, and even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. Mang Jiu’s logic was as straight as an arrow.

Xiong Kui glanced at Mang Jiu, then at Wu Ming, finally settling his gaze on Zhang Shuguang.

He had no objection to the tribe gaining another member, especially one who could clearly improve their lives. He was delighted to welcome him.

“The Cliffside Tribe welcomes you. You are now one of us. You may choose a cave to live in down the mountain, or you may live with the others.”

Before Zhang Shuguang could speak, Mang Jiu interjected, “He’ll live with me, and we’ll raise the kid ourselves.“

Xiong Kui raised an eyebrow and chuckled, ”What about the Sub-Beastmen you’ve picked up before? Why didn’t you let them live with you?”

Zhang Shuguang stared at Mang Jiu in surprise. What was this guy’s deal? How did he keep finding people?

Mang Jiu replied indifferently, “I don’t want them.”

“Why do you always find people?” Zhang Shuguang inquired.

“He likes to go swimming in the sea and always brings people back from the shore. Besides you, there are three others,” Xiong Kui explained from the side.

Wu Ming stirred the fire with a wooden stick, changing the subject to ask Zhang Shuguang, “How did you start this fire? With shamanic power, too?”

“Shamanic power?” Zhang Shuguang pulled his attention back from Mang Jiu’s peculiar habit of finding people. “I’m not a shaman. I don’t have shamanic power.”

Wu Ming furrowed his brow slightly. He could sense some mysterious power in Zhang Shuguang; he felt very subtle fluctuations. He had assumed the other was a shaman who had just awakened.

Zhang Shuguang pointed to the wooden stick in his hand, demonstrating a rubbing motion with both hands. “This is called drilling wood to make fire. It’s not done with Shaman powers. May I ask how you started your fire?”

Wu Ming had Mang Jiu fetch some dry grass for him. He cupped it in his hands, closed his eyes, and chanted a series of incomprehensible words. The hexagram mark between his brows emitted a faint glow, and soon, smoke began to rise from the dry grass in his hands.

Zhang Shuguang’s eyes widened, and the hairs on his arms stood on end.

This was truly… magical!