No one had expected Mang Jiu’s actions.

Zhang Shuguang’s legs went weak at the sight of the snake skin—which took up an extraordinary amount of space even when rolled up—and his face instantly turned pale.

When he had seen Mang Er bring over the shed skin earlier, he had already steeled himself for it, yet he had still been startled.

Mang Jiu tossed the snake skin right at his feet; the cold, rough yet somewhat supple skin pressed directly against his calf.

And!

This skin was truly a massive, wide roll—at least a foot wider than Mang Er’s!

Even though he’d imagined that Mang Jiu, the tribe’s greatest warrior, would be massive in his beast form, and even though he’d mentally prepared himself countless times ever since learning Mang Jiu belonged to the Giant Python Clan, he never could have imagined that the other party would pull a “skin from out of nowhere” stunt on him without so much as a word of warning!

Should he even thank Mang Jiu for having the sense to roll up such a massive snake skin in advance, rather than smacking it right across his face!

Right now, he just wanted to pass out.

Seeing Zhang Shuguang’s deathly pale face, Mang Jiu furrowed his brow and asked, “Don’t you like it?” If he didn’t like it, why would he use Meng Er’s skin as a rope!

Zhang Shuguang glared at him through gritted teeth. “Did you go out just to find a shed skin?” He clearly remembered Meng Er saying that Mang Jiu’s shed skin had been thrown away.

“No,” Mang Jiu shook his head. His previous shed skin had long since been picked up by someone else; this was the skin he’d just shed. He didn’t want to give the other guy an old one either. “It’s new.”

“New?” Zhang Shuguang looked utterly stunned. “Don’t you only shed your skin once every ten years?”

Mang Jiu’s lips curled into a faint smile, his tone indifferent: “That’s true for others.”

Even so, the way he looked, spoke, and carried himself—it sounded and seemed like he was showing off, with a hint of “I shed whenever I want” about it. He was just asking for a punch.

Zhang Shuguang gave a half-hearted nod and praised him, “You’re amazing.”

Mang Jiu puffed out his chest and lifted his head, his gaze sweeping back and forth over Mang Er’s shed skin. Finally, he couldn’t help but speak up: “I’ll swapped out my skin—mine works better.”

Without waiting for Zhang Shuguang to react, he bent down to pick up the snake skin and walked over to the stone wall. First, he yanked off Meng Er’s skin, then began tearing at his own shed skin.

The rustling sound sent shivers down Zhang Shuguang’s spine, layer by layer. Not only was he uncomfortable, but even A-Si and Li felt particularly uneasy.

A-Si shifted closer to Zhang Shuguang, stole a quick glance at Mang Jiu—who was tying the snake skin to a bamboo pole—and whispered, “He’s upset, isn’t he?”

Zhang Shuguang raised his right eyebrow in confusion. What did she mean?

A-Si gave him a look, gesturing for him to watch what Mang Jiu was doing right now.

“You used Meng Er’s snake skin, and he wasn’t happy about it, so he replaced it with his own.”

Zhang Shuguang: “Huh… huh?”

“Are you saying he shed his skin because he was upset?”

A Si: “Why are you so fixated on whether he shed his skin or not? Didn’t you understand what I said?”

“I get it. He was upset that I used Mang Er’s snake skin, so he shed his own skin to replace Mang Er’s.” Zhang Shuguang flipped through the branches, making small cuts on the duck’s body with his fishbone knife. “What part didn’t I get?”

A-Si pressed his hand to his chest and cast a sympathetic glance at Mang Jiu’s retreating figure.

The man finally found a Sub-Beastman he liked, and it turns out he’s a slowpoke.

I can’t handle him, can’t handle him.

Zhang Shuguang really wasn’t trying to twist the meaning on purpose; it was just that he hadn’t considered the possibility that Mang Jiu might be jealous.

After all, that snake skin belonged to Mang Jiu’s second-oldest brother. The rope made from it was tied by Meng Er himself, and it was also torn open by Meng Er. He had merely given it a very, very light touch with his fingertips when he first saw it—that was truly all.

So he assumed that if Mang Jiu was upset, it was because he was upset that Mang Er’s skin had been used by him, not because he had used Mang Er’s skin.

A-Si shook his head slightly, made a few cuts on the duck with his fishbone knife, and decisively dropped the subject. “How long will it take to roast?”

“Brush on the brine I made.” Zhang Shuguang handed them both small brushes made from prickly grass, taking one for himself as well. He used the sharp spines to poke, poke, poke, poke, poke into the meat. After poking countless tiny holes, he dipped a feather from a cleaned duck wing into the brine and brushed it evenly over the meat, coat after coat.

“Is that enough? The aroma is already quite strong.” Li’s eyes were wide with focus as he stared intently at the two ducks he was roasting, afraid that if he wasn’t careful, he might not flip them properly and burn them.

Zhang Shuguang cut a small piece of meat from the breast to taste it. The saltiness was just right, and the meat was so tender! It had none of the tough, stringy texture typical of breast meat.

He then used a bone knife to make a small incision deeper into the meat, scooped out a bit to taste, and found that although the salt hadn’t fully penetrated, it was already cooked through.

“Mine’s done. You guys should try yours too. If it’s not cooked, just roast it a bit longer.” After speaking, he stood up and walked toward the cliff edge, holding a branch. Mang Jiu was sitting there, watching the kitten playing with the giant boar beast at his feet.

Hearing his footsteps, Mang Jiu turned to look at him and pointed at Nai Dou, “It’s fat.”

Zhang Shuguang chuckled, pulled the lemongrass and innards out of the duck’s belly, tore a thigh off the duck and placed it in Nai Dou’s stone bowl, then tore another one for himself, giving the rest to Mang Jiu. “Eating three meals a day—either fish or hog beast meat—is bound to make him fat. I’ve named him Nai Dou.”

Mang Jiu took the branch, blew on the roasted duck—which gave off a distinctive aroma—then lowered his head and took a bite. “Delicious.”

Zhang Shuguang particularly loved watching him eat the food he’d prepared. His movements weren’t rough, yet he ate quickly, looking thoroughly satisfied. It made anyone watching him eat instinctively take a few extra bites themselves.

To put it simply, it was the kind of food that goes down a treat.

“Meow~” Nai Dou found the duck leg too hot, circled around it once, then ran into the cave.

Seeing him bolt, Zhang Shuguang knew exactly what he was up to without even thinking about it. He quickly called out, “Nai Dou, stop right there! Don’t you dare drag your little sister out!”

Mang Jiu, who had been gnawing on meat, looked up. Little sister?

A slightly ingratiating smile played at the corners of Zhang Shuguang’s mouth. He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “Go ahead.”

“This morning, when we went to catch ducks, um, Nai Dou found a young Phoenix Clan chick in the bushes over there and brought it back. It’s a little girl. Well, Nai Dou is a boy—that’s how we call him around here; it sounds better than ‘with or without a testicle.’” Zhang Shuguang stole a glance at Mang Jiu’s expression. Seeing no change, he hesitated before speaking: “She’s so tiny, she won’t take up much space. Why don’t we raise her?”

Mang Jiu popped a duck breast directly into his mouth, chewing the meat and bone until it crunched loudly.

Zhang Shuguang watched his mouth move, listened to the crunching sounds, and felt a slight breeze on his skin; the cold made him shiver.

Mang Jiu swallowed the meat in his mouth and gave a soft “mm-hmm.”

Zhang Shuguang thought he’d misheard, so he shifted forward and leaned in closer. “You agreed, didn’t you? You just said ‘mm-hmm’?”

Mang Jiu was amused by the unmasked (☆▽☆) look of anticipation on his face. The corner of his grease-smeared mouth curled up slightly. “Mm.”

“I’ll show you. She’s really pretty.” Zhang Shuguang grabbed a duck leg and ran into the cave. When he came out, he was holding the little red bird in his other hand; its black beady eyes were both curious and wary.

Mang Jiu turned to look, and the little red bird’s body trembled. It froze stiffly, then toppled over!

Zhang Shuguang jumped in surprise. “Kid?! What’s wrong?!”

Li and A-Si had been watching them from the side. Seeing the little red bird collapse the moment Mang Jiu glanced at it, they simply couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

Li covered his mouth and laughed so hard his whole body shook, while A-Si choked on a piece of meat and pounded his chest twice. He nearly choked to death.

“Meow, meow!!” Nai Dou stopped gnawing on the duck leg and rushed over, meowing anxiously nonstop.

Mang Jiu said, “It got scared.”

Zhang Shuguang looked at him. “Huh?”

Mang Jiu continued eating his meat, his tone flat. “I’m not a picky eater.”

Zhang Shuguang stared at him wide-eyed. Not picky? He meant it the way Zhang Shuguang understood it—so unpicky that he’d eat anything edible.

“You, you, you, you wouldn’t…” He swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t actually try to swallow this little bird whole, would you?”

Mang Jiu paused, his eyes filled with exasperation. “I don’t eat people.”

“But you said you’re not picky!” Zhang Shuguang held the duck leg up to the little red bird’s beak and looked at Mang Jiu. “We’ve got plenty to eat here. Don’t scare her—she’s still just a baby!”

Even though the little red bird was frightened, it didn’t forget to open its beak for food. It took small pecks, eating several bites before shaking itself and standing up again.

Zhang Shuguang let out a sigh of relief and said to Mang Jiu, “Be gentle. This is going to be our little one from now on!”

Mang Jiu: “……” He couldn’t actually give birth to such a red little one, but those words made him feel inexplicably happy inside.

Zhang Shuguang didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d said; since they were living together and raising the chick, it was naturally their child.

Li, standing nearby, widened his eyes and slowly turned to look at A-Si.

A-Si raised an eyebrow at him. Yes, it means exactly what you’re thinking.

Li’s eyes grew even wider.

Seeing that the little red bird’s body wasn’t as stiff as before, Zhang Shuguang set her down by the stove and placed the duck leg in the large seashell for the two little ones to eat.

He sat down by the fire to continue roasting the duck, his eyes fixed on the few scales that Xiong Bai had just brought over.

Earlier, having suddenly discovered a problem with himself, he’d been too furious and shocked to give the game brought back by Mang Jiu and the others a second glance. So he didn’t know exactly what was there—he only vaguely remembered seeing a large object surrounded by a group of people.

Now, seeing these pieces of scaly armor, his curiosity was piqued.

He turned to ask Mang Jiu, “What kind of beast is this from?”

“A terror bird,” Mang Jiu replied tersely. “It’s huge.”

Zhang Shuguang nodded, thinking to himself that it was indeed huge—and not only large, but likely quite hard as well.

He stood up and walked over to tap them. To his surprise, they didn’t feel as hard as he’d expected; instead, they had a certain flexibility to them and felt cool to the touch.

He narrowed his eyes, glanced at the fire, then fetched a thick, burning branch. He pressed the flaming end against the scale plate and found the fire went out almost immediately.

“Fire-resistant?”

Mang Jiu hummed in acknowledgment. “It doesn’t burn.” After saying this, he seemed to remember something, got up, and went down the mountain. When he returned, he was holding the sharp spike he’d pulled from the terror bird’s tail.

Someone had borrowed this spike to examine it when he’d first come up the mountain. The others in the tribe hadn’t seen it before and were quite curious, but he’d only just now remembered to ask for it back.

“Here, take this.” He handed the spike to Zhang Shuguang.

“It’s so heavy.” Zhang Shuguang reached out to take it with one hand but nearly dropped it. He quickly cradled it in both hands and examined it closely, noticing that the spike didn’t feel like bone but had a slightly metallic texture. “Is this also from the terror bird?”

“Right, a spike from its tail—just this one.” Mang Jiu sat back down and leisurely ate the last two bites of duck meat.

Zhang Shuguang gave a soft “Oh.” The spike was as long as his arm, with a razor-sharp tip and a smooth, conical shaft.

“What’s it good for?” He felt the weight of the thing was a burden to him; it wasn’t suitable to carry around as a weapon, not nearly as convenient as his collection of fishbone knives of various lengths.

A-Si finished eating, wiped his hands, and walked over. He picked it up with one hand and swung it a couple of times. “I’ve seen weapons made from spikes like this,” he gestured, “with a wooden shaft attached to extend it.”

Zhang Shuguang raised an eyebrow. Adding a wooden shaft did make it resemble a spear, but he wasn’t very familiar with how to use spears. Besides, multiple wooden shafts would make it heavier, which would be a struggle for a Sub-Beastman to wield, though it might work for a full-blooded Beastman. However, since Beastmen usually went out in beast form to hunt, a spear would actually be a useless burden to them.

He thought for a moment, then carried the spiked stick over to the section of scale armor that had been struck by the fire stick earlier. He stood it upright and let go.

With a thud, the spike pierced through the scale armor and sank firmly into the ground.

His eyes lit up. “I know how to use this!”

Everyone looked at him.

Zhang Shuguang chuckled. “Just stick it straight into the ground with the tip pointing up. It’ll make it much easier for me to poke holes in things whenever I need to.”

He had plenty of projects to tackle, and he’d always need to poke holes to thread ropes through for fastening. Sometimes, when dealing with thicker hides, using his fishbone knife required quite a bit of effort—but this would certainly make things easier.

With that in mind, he went into the cave and fetched a piece of shark skin left over from making straw sandals. Turning to Mang Jiu, he said, “Can you help me drive this into the rock? Point it upward.”

Mang Jiu nodded, stood up, and pulled the spike out. He then found a relatively flat rock and swung his fist, driving the base of the spike directly into the stone.

No one knew how he managed it, but the spike stood upright in the stone—and the stone didn’t even shatter.

Zhang Shuguang gave him a thumbs-up. “Impressive, strongman.”

He walked over holding the shark skin. Though the skin was quite thin, it was exceptionally tough; earlier, when he’d tried piercing it with the fishbone knife, it had taken a lot of force.

He stretched the skin open with both hands, then placed it over the spike and pressed down gently.

With a soft hissing sound, a small, perfectly round hole instantly appeared in the skin—much neater than the one he’d made with the bone knife! And it required absolutely no effort!

“Huh? Can I poke a hole in wood, too?” Li picked up a small wooden board, raised his hand, and slammed it down against the spike. With a soft thud, a hole appeared instantly. He picked up the board and examined it. “If I use a little more force, the hole will be bigger.” After saying that, he struck it again, creating a larger hole right next to the small one.

The hole made by the spike was surprisingly smooth, with hardly any rough edges. Zhang Shuguang touched it curiously and found it wasn’t particularly prickly.

“It works pretty well.” He looked up at Mang Jiu and smiled. “Thanks.”

Mang Jiu raised an eyebrow slightly. “You eat. I’ll handle the grilling.”

He wasn’t one for words; even if he wanted to say something, he wouldn’t know how. Seeing that Zhang Shuguang had been busy for a while but had only taken a couple of bites, he took the initiative to sit down in front of the makeshift grill. He’d watched for a moment earlier to see how to rotate the branches, and he’d picked it up.

Zhang Shuguang carried the stones into the cave and placed them against the cave wall. Just then, A-Si and Li came over to say goodbye to him.

“Shuguang, what are you going to do tomorrow?” Li asked as he was leaving.

Zhang Shuguang nodded toward the bamboo lying on the ground. “I’m going to use this bamboo to weave baskets and lids. Didn’t you say you wanted to learn how to weave straw sandals? If you don’t go out to gather materials, you can come over.” He reached back, picked up a large conch shell, scooped a few spoonfuls of congealed hog beast meat from the wooden basin with a stone spoon, placed it inside, and handed it to A-Si. “We’ll need to water the experimental field first thing tomorrow morning.”

A-Si reached out to take it and said, “Thanks. Got it. Should I wake you up tomorrow?”

“No need,” Zhang Shuguang waved his hand. “I’ll just go over there. If you’re heading that way early, wait for me. Pull out any weeds in the vegetable patches.”

“Alright, I have a small stone bucket I can use,” A-Si replied, patting Li’s shoulder. “Let’s go. I’m heading back first.”

Li waved to Zhang Shuguang and left with A-Si.

Zhang Shuguang returned to sit beside Mang Jiu. He glanced at the two little ones, whose bellies were already round from eating, and reached out to scoop them both into his arms.

Nai Dou was sprawled across his lap, and the little red bird was perched on Nai Dou’s furry head. With its golden eyes and tiny black beak, it stared intently at Zhang Shuguang.

He chuckled softly, running his fingers through the two little ones’ fur. “Let’s give the little sister a name!”

Mang Jiu twirled the twig in his hand and turned his head at the suggestion. “Hmm?”

“Let’s call her Tang Dou,” Zhang Shuguang said with a smile, gently patting the little red bird’s head. “Brother is Nai Dou, and sister is Tang Dou—both sweet as candy.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “Whatever you decide is fine.”

Zhang Shuguang’s eyes crinkled with amusement. He liked the way the other let him make all the decisions. “Are you going hunting again tomorrow?”

“No,” Mang Jiu said, running his bone knife over the duck meat a couple of times. “The meat we brought back will feed the tribe for a few days.”

“You brought back that much meat, and it’ll only last a few days?” Zhang Shuguang was taken aback.

Even if he hadn’t seen exactly how much they’d brought back, he could tell from those ten scales just how massive the body of that beast—the so-called “Terror Bird”—must have been. That much meat… and the game Xiong Hui had sent back had only just been distributed; there was no way they’d finish it that quickly.

“If we don’t eat it quickly, it’ll go bad.” Mang Jiu sighed helplessly. There was no way to preserve the meat for long; to prevent it from spoiling, they had to eat as much as they could. When he’d gone down to retrieve the spines earlier, he’d seen quite a few Beastmen carrying meat out of the tribe—they were planning to shift into beast form and devour it all at once.

Zhang Shuguang scratched his chin, lifted the two cubs he was holding, and placed them on Mang Jiu’s lap. He paid no mind to the fact that both the older and younger cubs had instantly gone stiff, but instead said to Mang Jiu, “Wait a moment. I’ll get something to show you.”

Mang Jiu lowered his gaze to the cubs in his arms. Tang Dou was so nervous she couldn’t even tremble, while Nai Dou was a bit better—he was twitching his whiskers and tilting his little furry head back. Tang Dou on top of his head rolled right off his furry head.

No one had anticipated this turn of events. Tang Dou was startled and immediately flapped her tiny wings, but since she was now half-crippled, her flapping was of little use.

Nai Dou let out a meow. Mang Jiu reached out to catch Tang Dou and gently placed her back on Nai Dou’s back.

The two little ones looked at Mang Jiu, one meowing, the other chirping.

Mang Jiu raised an eyebrow and gently poked each of their soft, plump bellies with his fingers. “You’ve eaten quite a bit.”

Nai Dou swished his big tail and stuck out his little tongue to lick Mang Jiu’s fingertip in a bid to please him.

Dad doesn’t seem so scary after all!

Mang Jiu had no idea that, in Nai Dou’s mind, he had already taken on the role of a father! Anyone who’s with Mom is Dad!

Zhang Shuguang quickly produced a conch shell. It wasn’t very large—about the size of two palms—and was considerably smaller than the ones he’d used before, but it was perfect for holding salt; the shell was smooth and wouldn’t tip over.

“Take a look at this.” He handed the conch shell to Mang Jiu.

Mang Jiu gestured for him to take the two cubs away. Zhang Shuguang chuckled softly, reached out to pick the cubs up from his lap, and then used his fishbone knife to cut a piece of duck meat to eat.

Mang Jiu pinched a bit of fine salt from the conch shell. He examined it in the firelight, paused in surprise, rubbed it between his fingers, sniffed it, and then licked it.

“Salt?” Unlike the slightly bitter salt they usually ate, this salt was very salty and had a distinct taste of seawater.

“Made from seawater?”

Zhang Shuguang praised his sharpness. “No wonder—someone who’s always out by the sea is different. He really knows the taste of seawater inside out.”

He smiled and pointed. “I boiled seawater into salt blocks, then crushed them to make this fine salt. But there are still impurities in it, and the concentration isn’t quite right. If you filter it a few more times, the salt will be saltier and more refreshing.” He couldn’t say there was any harm in eating this unfiltered salt directly—after all, the people here ate salt blocks every day and were in great health.

“Does the Chief know?” Mang Jiu pinched a bit of salt and sprinkled it on the roasted duck, then turned to look at Zhang Shuguang. “Did you go to the beach with the Chief?”

“Yeah, along with Shaman Wu and Xi San. The four of us went together. We boiled two stone tubs of seawater and only got this one block of salt,” Zhang Shuguang gestured with both hands. “Boiling salt is too slow. I figured if we could lay rocks from the hot cave on the ground, then boil them while letting them dry in the sun, we could get salt much faster on a good day. Plus, we can filter the seawater with grass—filtering it a few times makes the seawater more concentrated, which means the salt will taste better.”

He spoke and gestured at the same time, hoping Mang Jiu would understand.

Mang Jiu got it. He’d been to the hot rock cave; the temperature there was extremely high, and the rocks were scorching to the touch. Using them to evaporate seawater was indeed a good idea.

“When do you want to go to the hot rock cave?”

Zhang Shuguang hadn’t expected him to be so direct; he was a bit taken aback.

Mang Jiu said matter-of-factly, “I’ve been gone for a few days, and you’ve made so much of this stuff—there probably isn’t much salt left, is there?”

Zhang Shuguang pursed his lips. It wasn’t just that there wasn’t much left—if he hadn’t wanted to show Mang Jiu the sea salt he’d made, there wouldn’t have been a single grain left.

Mang Jiu reached out and ruffled his messy hair, his tone tinged with a smile. “I’ll help you water the fields after sunrise. Let’s go right after we eat.”

Zhang Shuguang waved his hand. “No need to rush. I still have to weave bamboo baskets tomorrow, and these bamboo stalks are just blocking the way here. Besides, the chieftain has already sent the tribe’s Beastmen to the coast to boil salt.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “Alright, just let me know when you want to go.”

Zhang Shuguang smiled broadly, his mood clearly lifted. “You’re just taking my word for it? What if I can’t produce any more salt?”

“You won’t fail,” Mang Jiu said, noticing the dimple that appeared on his cheek as he smiled. He couldn’t resist reaching out to poke it. “You can do it.”

Zhang Shuguang quickly stopped smiling and covered his face. “Don’t poke my dimple.”

Whenever he laughed, a faint dimple would appear on his left cheek. It rarely showed up during polite smiles, but when he laughed heartily, openly, and sincerely, the little dimple would emerge. Those who knew him well understood that whenever Zhang Shuguang’s dimple appeared, it meant his smile was genuine—not just a fake, forced mask.

Mang Jiu didn’t know what the dimple meant; he just thought that little indentation was especially cute. “It’s really pretty.”

Zhang Shuguang blinked, a rush of heat rising to his face, turning it crimson in an instant.

“You, you, you—don’t say things like that!”

Mang Jiu tilted his head. “Hm?”

Zhang Shuguang took a deep breath, hugged the two little ones in his arms, stood up, and headed toward the cave. “Time for bed. I’m so sleepy!”

Mang Jiu glanced at the roasted duck hanging from a branch and sighed. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

Zhang Shuguang stopped in his tracks, turned his head, and shouted in frustration and embarrassment, “I said the kids are going to sleep!”

After shouting, he turned and ran; the distance of just a few steps had him sprinting at a hundred-meter dash pace.

He placed Nai Dou and Tang Dou in the nest made from a giant conch shell, then exhaled deeply and patted his flushed face.

What a nutcase—why on earth was he getting embarrassed?

He paced around the cave several times until the heat had subsided considerably before going out to eat the roasted duck.

Mang Jiu had already extinguished the fire and cleaned up the embers. He was holding two roasted ducks, waiting for Zhang Shuguang to come eat.

“Go wash up and go to bed. I’ll eat this myself.” Zhang Shuguang snatched the two ducks from his hands. “Go on, go on.”

Mang Jiu wasn’t sure why he’d suddenly gotten annoyed, but he was obedient. He stood up to wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he used to live alone, he didn’t have this habit at all, but after seeing Zhang Shuguang do this twice—both before bed and upon waking—he’d picked it up too.

Zhang Shuguang exhaled as he watched him leave.

He’d eaten just one roast duck and was already stuffed to the brim; he placed the remaining one in the stone pot, then lifted a scale plate to cover it and keep the dust out.

Not having a lid was really inconvenient. He absolutely had to make one tomorrow; even if he couldn’t weave, he could just wrap some vines around it.

He didn’t feel like turning on his phone to watch videos and learn how to weave bamboo crafts. Since the phone’s battery would last a while, he might as well turn it off for some peace and quiet.

Just thinking about the strange things that had happened to him made him feel down again.

If it weren’t for the videos and photos of his family still on the phone, he’d really want to drain the battery completely!

“Aren’t you going to sleep yet?” Mang Jiu stood beside him, holding a wooden basin filled with clean water. “Wash up here.”

Zhang Shuguang thanked him, then suddenly recalled the legend of the Beast God from the prologue of the original book and asked, “Do you believe in the existence of the Beast God?” Although he had witnessed Wu Ming using his magical power to start a fire, he didn’t rule out the possibility of psychics existing in this world; after all, he had seen people in modern society capable of doing things others couldn’t. like moving objects from a distance with their minds, or the way they handled the steel spoon.

Although Wu Ming’s magical power was more extraordinary, it didn’t strike him as entirely unbelievable.

But the Beast God mentioned in the prologue was different, as were the abilities Aila had inexplicably acquired, and the death of the minor character—or rather, his other self.

Mang Jiu stared at him for a moment, then said calmly, “When I pulled you out of the sea, you weren’t breathing.”

Zhang Shuguang was startled. “What?”

Mang Jiu paused to recall the events, then spoke briefly: “Your body wasn’t limp, and you weren’t breathing. I laid you on the sand to dig a grave, but then you suddenly twitched.”

That day, Mang Jiu had actually been startled himself. He’d been swimming comfortably in the sea when, out of nowhere, something fell from the sky into the water—it nearly hit him. Only upon getting a closer look did he realize it was a person. He dragged the man ashore. At the time, Zhang Shuguang’s body was half-rigid, his chest showed no sign of rising or falling, and his face was a pale blue tinged with purple—it was clear he was already dead.

Mang Jiu couldn’t possibly leave the body on the shore to be devoured by wild beasts, so he decided to dig a hole in the woods and bury the body there, giving it a proper resting place.

But the moment he turned around and took just a couple of steps, the body suddenly stirred. A leg shot up and then dropped back down, the chest began to rise and fall, and a faint moan escaped the lips.

To be honest, this was the first time Mang Jiu had encountered such a situation, and for a split second, his scalp prickled with fear.

However, as the man regained his breath, his complexion gradually shifted from a mixture of blue, white, and purple back to a healthy white, so Mang Jiu brought him back.

He took Zhang Shuguang straight back to the cave without letting Ying Cao see him. To his surprise, after just one night, the man had completely returned to normal—not a single trace of abnormality remained, and his once-pale complexion had even gained a hint of color.

Zhang Shuguang’s hair stood on end.

Was he faking his death?

Seeing his expression shift repeatedly, Mang Jiu raised a hand to rest against his cheek. “No one else knows.” If Zhang Shuguang hadn’t asked, he wouldn’t have told a soul.

“…Have you always suspected there was something wrong with me?” Zhang Shuguang knew full well that his every word and deed differed greatly from those of the tribe. Although Mang Jiu hadn’t known him for long, he was intelligent—it was impossible for him not to notice Zhang Shuguang’s uniqueness.

Mang Jiu gave a faint nod. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

He hadn’t answered the question about the Beast God, but Zhang Shuguang sensed that Meng Jiu believed his resurrection must have been a blessing from the Beast God.

He exhaled slowly, lowered his head, and whispered, “Thank you.” This was actually for the best; it spared him the trouble of explaining.

This time, his thanks came from the heart. After all, after learning of the subtle connection between the minor character and himself, Mang Jiu had saved him on a whim—but it was the real, genuine him.

As for why he and the minor character were the same person, there was likely no way to verify that now; to find out, he’d have to follow the original story’s plot.

Since he didn’t feel like dealing with Xiao Cai lately, he put that question on indefinite hold.

As long as he’s alive, that’s all that matters. Everything else can wait.

Having come to terms with it, he took a deep breath and looked up at Mang Jiu. “Let’s go to sleep. We’ll water the fields tomorrow morning!”

A faint smile touched Mang Jiu’s lips. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

Zhang Shuguang smiled in response. “Go ahead and sleep. I’ll tidy up a bit and then turn in too.”

Early the next morning, Zhang Shuguang sat on the stone slab with dark circles under his eyes, cracking his stiff neck.

“I’ve got to get a new pillow!” He’d washed the duck feathers yesterday and hung them out to dry. He’d make a pillowcase out of some animal hide later—it didn’t matter if it got hot; it was better than sleeping on a rock every night.

Mang Jiu came in from outside the cave, holding a large stone axe. “How should I cut up the giant boar beast I brought back yesterday?”

Zhang Shuguang looked at him blankly. It took him a while to process what the other man had said. He yawned, scratched his head, and stepped out of the cave. “I want to keep the hide. Just scrape off all this long fur, save it, wash it clean—it’ll be great for filtering seawater.” The fur on these giant boar beasts was at least a foot long, with each strand distinct. “Use the bone knife to scrape it off; it’ll be easier.”

Mang Jiu said nothing. He traded the large stone axe for the small bone knife and began scraping the fur.

He placed the scraped-off long hairs into an empty basin. Zhang Shuguang noticed that the basin was new. He turned his head to look at the spot where a few pieces of wood had been lying earlier; the wood was gone, replaced by three wooden basins stacked on top of each other, with quite a few wood shavings scattered on the ground.

“When did you get up? “That was way too fast—he’d barely finished speaking before Mang Jiu had already dug out the basin!”

Mang Jiu: “I got up at first light. I heard them say you wanted to carve a basin from water-grown wood, so I carved it.”

“Thank you!” Zhang Shuguang clasped his hands together and bowed deeply to Mang Jiu. “You’re a lifesaver—you really are my savior.”

Mang Jiu: “You go cook.”

Zhang Shuguang cheerfully agreed, went into the cave to fetch the bamboo shoots, peeled them, and soaked them in water, then went to peel the potatoes. “Let’s take apart the duck and make soup. I have a leftover roast duck from yesterday.”

“Alright.” Mang Jiu wasn’t hungry. Although the giant boar beast he’d eaten earlier had already been digested, he still felt full, and besides, he’d eaten several roast ducks last night.

Zhang Shuguang cut up the duck, tossing both the meat and bones into the pot to simmer, then added the bamboo shoots and potatoes.

“You’ve never eaten bamboo shoots before, have you?”

“I’ve seen them, but never eaten them.” Mang Jiu worked quickly; he’d already stripped the fur off half the hog beast, though plenty of hair remained stuck to the skin.

After lighting the fire, Zhang Shuguang leaned in to feel the skin. The individual hair roots were quite stiff. “If only there were some glue, I could just pull them right off.”

“Glue?” Mang Jiu looked puzzled.

Zhang Shuguang: “It’s that sticky stuff—it gets hard once it dries.” He pointed to the hair roots on the hide. “Smear it on the hide, let it dry, then peel it off. That should pull all these hair roots right out.”

Mang Jiu thought for a moment and asked, “Is it white?”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Earlier in the coastal forest, on that big leaf you used to wrap the grilled fish—when you cut open the tree trunk, there was a milky-white sap.” Mang Jiu said, “It’s hard to wash off your hands.”

“Really?” Zhang Shuguang exclaimed with delight. “There are banana trees right behind the mountain!”

“Banana trees?” Mang Jiu was quite impressed by his ability to name things; they never gave names to various objects, and sometimes just called them whatever came to mind.

Zhang Shuguang waved his hand. He only knew that rubber trees could be tapped for sap; he had no idea that banana trees could produce it too. It must be another kind of mutant plant. “Let’s go check it out later. If we can get some sap, we’ll be able to make all sorts of things in the future!”

Like the lid he wanted to make!

Mang Jiu nodded, speeding up his work.

Zhang Shuguang put all the ingredients into the pot to simmer, and a simple breakfast was ready.

After eating, Zhang Shuguang picked up the basin of offal, which was already emitting a horrendous stench, and held his breath to keep from gagging.

Seeing this, Meng Jiu reached out to take it. “Let me handle this.”

“No need, the smell is too strong.” He pulled his hand back slightly, but Mang Jiu still managed to take the basin away.

“I’m faster. You just hold onto the other things.” With that, Mang Jiu walked off carrying the basin.

But just as he reached the bottom of the slope, he spotted Tianlu coming up from below.

Seeing the unmistakable look of delight on Mang Jiu’s face, Tianlu ran up in a few strides. Just as he was about to enthusiastically shout “Brother Jiu,” he was hit head-on by the stench wafting toward him.

“Jiu~ Ugh!!”

“It stinks!!”

Zhang Shuguang, following behind Mang Jiu, witnessed this dramatic scene.

That was truly… so rude!

How could he just run off without even saying hello!

He stood before Tianlu with a smile and said, “Sorry about that. That’s the fertilizer I use for farming—it doesn’t smell too great.”

Tianlu’s face turned pale; the stench hitting him head-on made him retch several times, his eyes reddening.

Zhang Shuguang nodded at him and followed Mang Jiu down the mountain. “Take it easy—don’t spill it!”

If it spilled, everyone on the mountain would be so overwhelmed by the stench they wouldn’t be able to eat for days.

Tianlu’s eyes were red as he glared angrily at the two figures walking one in front of the other.

Aaaah, my Brother Jiu!