Thanks to Empires for the Kofis. Hope you enjoy the bonus chapters!

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To Zhang Shuguang, Wu Ming was a respected elder in his heart. Though he hadn’t seen many advanced scientific products, he was very wise.

He also had a kind heart; though frail with age, he still looked after the young ones in the tribe and was deeply devoted to the community, keeping nothing hidden. Although he didn’t know him very well, Zhang Shuguang trusted Wu Ming.

He might not hold the same place in his heart as Mang Jiu, but he certainly ranked high on the list. Wu Ming, however, did not treat Zhang Shuguang as a junior, nor did he look down on him.

From the very first moment he laid eyes on this young man, Wu Ming knew that if he wanted to survive, he might have to seek something from him.

It wasn’t until recently, after receiving visions from another world through Zhang Shuguang, that the ancestral Shamanic power—long dormant—began to circulate in his mind, making him feel reborn from the inside out.

He knew full well that all of this was thanks to Zhang Shuguang.

Wu Ming also knew that, regardless of the reason, the relationship between him and Zhang Shuguang had changed ever since he first “saw” the images in the other’s mind.

Moreover, he genuinely liked this young man, Zhang Shuguang, and was therefore more than willing to help him keep the secret.

Zhang Shuguang returned to the cave. Mang Jiu hadn’t come back yet, but Mang Er had already finished cutting the meat.

“Thanks, Second Brother,” he said with a smile, handing one of the fruits in his hand to Mang Er and setting the other aside to save for Mang Jiu. “This one should be sweet.”

Mang Er looked at the green fruit in his hand and took a bite. It was indeed quite sweet, and the flesh was soft and juicy.

He finished the fruit in two bites, wiped his mouth, and said, “It’s pretty tasty. I know where these grow—do you want some? I’ll go pick some for you.”

Zhang Shuguang sniffed and nodded. “If it’s not too far, please pick some for me. Mang Jiu likes sweets.”

Mang Er’s mouth twitched. He had already lifted his butt off the rock he was sitting on, but upon hearing this, he sat back down. Zhang Shuguang tilted his head to look at him. “Second Brother?”

Mang Er rested his elbows on the table, propped his chin in his hands, and yawned lazily. “I’m tired. If he likes it, let him pick it himself.” Zhang Shuguang was speechless for a moment. He poured some clean water into the pot, then rinsed the beef and put it back to simmer.

“When did you first notice that Mang Jiu was different?” Mang Er picked up a potato and asked him while peeling it with a bone knife.

“Just now. I hadn’t really looked closely before.” Zhang Shuguang used a bamboo strainer to scoop the blanched beef out of the pot and into a wooden basin nearby, then switched to a wooden spoon to scoop out the water from the pot and pour it away. “Second Brother, do you know something?”

Mang Er turned his head to look down the mountain. Not far from the outer walls of the Mang Jiu tribe, someone was chiseling away at a rock. Zhang Shuguang turned to look as well, but all he could make out was a tiny black speck.

He sighed. The thought that he might be a Beastman—a suspicion he’d once entertained—was now dismissed by his own mind. With eyes like that, he wasn’t a Beastman—not even a Sub-Beastman. He was just an ordinary human.

As for transforming into a giant beast or something like that, Zhang Shuguang curled his lip—it was just a pipe dream.

Mang Er asked, “You saw my beast form just now. Did you notice how different it is from Mang Jiu’s?”

“I did notice. That’s exactly why I suspected there might be differences between the two of you—that’s why I dragged him to your cave. He wouldn’t believe me, insisting he’s just like you.” Zhang Shuguang wiped the bottom of the stone pot clean with a loofah sponge. Seeing the sponge in his hand, he suddenly remembered he still had loofah seeds left to plant in the field.

Mang Er sighed. “I haven’t seen his beast form in a long time. I remember he looked quite a bit like me when he was a kid.” Zhang Shuguang thought back to the two brothers—from their color to their size—and realized there really wasn’t a single bit of resemblance between them.

But since he was the older brother, he listened to whatever Zhang Shuguang said.

“I asked the Shaman about it. He said Beastmen evolve—he doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t know what they’ll look like when they do.” Zhang Shuguang scooped a spoonful of the beef stew he’d simmered earlier into the pot, then twisted some lemongrass into a bundle beside it. He took out some cinnamon bark and mahogany and placed them nearby, then casually grabbed two green lemons from the thick bamboo tube and set them together.

He turned to look at Mang Er. “Second Brother, I’m going to add some garlic. See if you can handle the taste.” He handed the garlic over. Mang Er was a simple soul; as soon as he got it, he shoved it into his mouth, and with one bite, his whole being was transformed.

Zhang Shuguang couldn’t stop him in time and watched helplessly as the garlic made his face contort with the heat. The thick, dark-green snake lay motionless on the ground for a long while.

“Second Brother! Second Brother, are you okay?” Zhang Shuguang frantically dropped the wooden spoon he was holding and rushed over to Mang Er’s side. He didn’t dare touch him, so he just stomped his feet in frustration.

After calling out several times with no response from Mang Er, he could only take a chance. He turned, braced himself against the low wall at the edge of the cliff, took a deep breath, and shouted, “Mang Jiu!!!! Hurry!!! Up!!! Come!!! Home!!!”

He shouted until the veins in his neck bulged and his face turned crimson.

To a Beastman, that single shout was as thunderous as a clap of thunder.

Zhang Shuguang felt dizzy and lightheaded after letting out that shout, as if he were suffocating.

Meanwhile, far away in the tribe, Mang Jiu, who had been breaking stones, suddenly turned his head and saw Zhang Shuguang propping himself up on the low wall with one hand while frantically waving the other. He dropped the stone hammer in his hand and ran back.

Zhang Shuguang could only vaguely make out a figure running up the mountain. Assuming it was Mang Jiu, he glanced back and discovered that Mang Er hadn’t even reacted yet, still lying limp on the ground like a dead snake.

Mang Jiu didn’t take the mountain path at all; he simply scrambled up the cliff face, clinging to each ledge as he went.

“Can you fly or something?” Zhang Shuguang watched as he leaped over the low wall and landed on the other side. He reached out to grab him. “You’re crazy!”

Mang Jiu examined his hand from top to bottom but found nothing wrong. “Did something happen?”

Zhang Shuguang twitched his lips and awkwardly pointed at the snake feigning death on the ground. “Let me explain.” Mang Jiu was also taken aback by the snake-like Mang Er. He walked over and kicked it with his foot, but there was no reaction.

Zhang Shuguang pressed his hand to his forehead. “Could you be a little gentler? I was just about to start stewing the meat,” he said. At that moment, he remembered the oil in the pot and hurried over. Fortunately, the stone pot conducted heat slowly, and the beef fat had just melted. He poured the meat into the pot, stirring it with a wooden spoon as he said to Mang Jiu, “I figured Second Brother might not have ever eaten garlic before, so I wanted him to try the flavor. If he couldn’t handle it, I wasn’t going to add any. But he just bit into half a clove—and he hasn’t spit it out yet,” he scratched his cheek. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Mang Jiu gave him a gentle pat on the head. “It’s okay. He’ll wake up in a little while.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Mang Er shook his big head dazedly and rolled over.

“I…” Mang Er flickered his tongue. “Am I dead?”

Zhang Shuguang was at a loss for words: looking at this snake twisted like a pretzel, he asked, “Second Brother, can you turn back?” Mang Er froze, “I’m not in human form?”

Mang Jiu kicked him with his foot. “They saw your snake belly.”

Zhang Shuguang watched in disbelief as Mang Er did a giant snake sit-up, his upper body rising straight up before going limp and crashing down onto the ground with a thud. The two men, the snake, and Li, who had just run over—all four of them gasping for breath—stared in utter astonishment.

Li burst into laughter from a short distance away; his laughter was just as loud as Zhang Shuguang’s earlier scream.

“Hahahahaha!!!! Hahahahaha!!!!” He laughed without a care for his dignity, crouching there and pounding his thighs.

Zhang Shuguang covered his mouth; he was struggling to hold back his laughter, but he couldn’t just burst out laughing either—after all, the fact that Mang Er had just made such a fool of himself was ultimately his fault.

Mang Jiu let out a soft chuckle—he rarely laughed out loud—his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth curving upward.

Mang Er was dazed from the fall; he rolled over and plopped back down on the ground. “What’s wrong with me?” Shock flashed in his snake-like eyes. “Can’t I turn back?” 

Zhang Shuguang glanced back at the meat in the pot and said to Mang Jiu, “Why don’t you call the Shaman over to take a look? I just feel like something’s not quite right with Second Brother.” The thick, dark-green snake slowly slithered forward, stretching its body. “Shuguang, what did you just feed me?”

“Garlic,” Zhang Shuguang picked up the half-clove of garlic he’d left behind. “Just this. It’s a… um… ingredient.”

Mang Jiu reached out, took the half clove of garlic, and sniffed it. “We’ve eaten it many times before, and nothing happened.”

Mang Er lay there, sulking. Garlic is fine—could it be me? I’m your own brother! And you’re implying something about me.

Zhang Shuguang tossed the ingredients into the meat to stir-fry, then nudged Mang Jiu with his elbow. “Go invite the Shaman. I’ve got some meat stewing here—have him come over and join us for a meal.” 

Mang Jiu didn’t seem to mind; he nodded. “Alright, I’ll go find the Shaman. I’m almost done with the stone too—I’ll bring that back with me.”

This startled Mang Er so much that Zhang Shuguang almost forgot Mang Jiu had been chipping away at a stone just moments ago.

Li was moved to tears. He walked over and patted Mang Er’s big head; the smooth scales felt cool and refreshing to the touch. He stroked it a few times and asked with a smile, “Mang Er, you weren’t stung by the garlic fumes, were you?”

Mang Er lay there listlessly, not moving a muscle. Aside from his body shifting slightly now and then, only the flickering of his tongue indicated that he was still conscious.

Zhang Shuguang shook his head with a smile and turned to Li, saying, “Come help me.”

Li let go, stood up, and walked over to Zhang Shuguang’s side. He placed a hand on his shoulder and chuckled softly, “That really had me in stitches just now. My stomach hurts.”

“Calm down a bit—the guy’s got some pride, you know.” Zhang Shuguang thought back to the scene and felt a laugh rising, but he held it in. Li nodded with a smile. “I’ll stop laughing. Hahaha… Mmmph!”

Just as he burst out laughing, Zhang Shuguang raised his hand to cover Li’s mouth and glared at him. “Laugh again, and you won’t get any meat!” Li immediately nodded vigorously.

Zhang Shuguang let go and asked, “Where’s Qi? Weren’t you two together?”

“You said you were going back to the cave. What can I do to help?” Li peered into the pot of beef, his face lighting up with anticipation as he took in the aroma. “It smells so good. Last time I tried copying you and put in a lot of ingredients, but the flavor just wasn’t right. That bark really overpowers the dish.”

“You can’t use too much cinnamon bark; if you use too much, it ruins the flavor of the meat,” Zhang Shuguang handed him the wooden spoon. “You take over. Stir-fry the meat until it changes color and turns slightly golden.”

“How can I be sure I didn’t use too much bark?” Li took the wooden spoon and began stir-frying.

Don’t let his appearance as a sub-beastman fool you—he was much stronger than Zhang Shuguang. Stir-frying that huge pot of meat was a breeze for him, one stir at a time. Unlike Zhang Shuguang, who had to stop and rest after just a couple of stirs, or else his arms would start to ache.

Zhang Shuguang rinsed the potato chunks that Mang Er had just cut, set them aside to be added to the pot later, then turned and went into the cave to fetch some dried bamboo shoots and wild greens. With so many people, he couldn’t just make beef stew—he needed to add a few side dishes.

Li had just brought some eggs, so he planned to stir-fry the wild greens with eggs and then stir-fry the dried bamboo shoots with salted pork.

“Add the seasonings by feel. Once you get used to their flavors, you’ll know just how much to use,” he said, soaking the dried bamboo shoots and salted pork in a basin of water, and turning to Li.

“I’m going down to pick some greens. You start stir-frying first, and make sure to mix everything evenly.”

Li patted his chest and promised, “Don’t worry, it definitely won’t burn.”

Zhang Shuguang turned to leave, but paused, then turned back to say, “If Mang Jiu gets here before me, tell him to set up the oven over there in the open space—don’t put it in the middle blocking the path.”

Li didn’t know what an oven was, but he obediently nodded. “Okay.”

Zhang Shuguang walked briskly down the mountain, thinking to himself that he should pick some cabbage leaves. If the sweet potato leaves had sprouted as well, he could pick some of those too and stir-fry them with garlic. But a meal of just vegetables wouldn’t do—he’d have to make some soup as well.

As for the soup… He was so deep in thought that he lost his footing for a moment and nearly slipped. He frantically grabbed the mountainside for support, but a sudden image flashed through his mind.

He stood there in shock, looked down, then turned his head to examine the hand gripping the mountainside.

“Xiao Cai!”

Xiao Cai: “Master, I’m here.”

Zhang Shuguang: “I just saw the little cannon fodder!”

Xiao Cai: “Master, it’s only natural that you have his memories.” 

Zhang Shuguang: “No, I saw him get pushed off the cliff.”

Xiao Cai: “…Master, could you just say what you mean?”

Zhang Shuguang: “It was just a flashback. He was crouching at the edge of the cliff, digging for something, when a pair of hands pushed him from behind.” 

Xiao Cai: “Master… according to the book, he died after his life force was drained from his body.”

Zhang Shuguang frowned, looked down at his slightly sore ankle, wiggled his foot, and, finding it wasn’t seriously injured, slowly made his way down the mountain. He kept replaying the scene he’d just seen in his mind, feeling that something just wasn’t quite right.

He had always believed that the minor character was him, but the theory of “two worlds, two selves” was based on the assumption that their bodies were identical—an assumption with no evidence to support it, and thus untenable.

Furthermore, the minor character was pushed off the cliff—not because Aila had drained his life force, as in the original story, nor because he died saving Aila, as in the fan fiction spin-off.

This was a third way of dying. Which one was the real one?

A knot formed between his eyebrows, and he didn’t even notice Mang Qiqi running past him. Mang Qiqi turned to look at him, raised a hand to say hello, but was ignored.

He watched Zhang Shuguang’s retreating figure with confusion, lowered his hand, and looked utterly bewildered. What’s wrong with Uncle Shuguang?

Unable to figure it out, he lifted his foot and started walking up the mountain.

Zhang Shuguang’s mind was filled with the image of the little cannon fodder being pushed down the mountain. He suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked down at his leather shorts and leather vest.

“Xiao Cai.”

Xiao Cai: “Master, what did you see this time?”

Zhang Shuguang: “In the vision I saw, the little cannon fodder was wearing clothes—not these animal-skin garments, but cloth ones, like a long robe.” 

Xiao Cai: “? Cloth clothes? Isn’t he a Sub-Beastman from the Outskirts Tribe?”

Zhang Shuguang: “You’ve kept so many things from me, and yet you actually claim he’s a sub-beastman from a marginal tribe?”

Xiao Cai: “Waaah, Master, I really haven’t kept much from you—you’re practically skinning me alive.” Zhang Shuguang paid no heed to its words, instead recalling the image of the little cannon fodder.

The mountain was very high, and the wild vegetables on the ground were unlike any he had ever seen. Moreover, though the little cannon fodder was just cannon fodder, he wasn’t particularly frail; on the contrary, he seemed well-fed, with chubby cheeks, and appeared to be a teenager.

Zhang Shuguang had already reached the edge of his experimental field. He stared at the tender green sprouts in the field and furrowed his brow slightly. He closed his eyes, trying hard to recall the memory of the little cannon fodder’s death.

If the little cannon fodder had truly been drained of his life force and killed by his companion, Aila, then his emotions at the time should have been a mix of shock, rage, and fear. With such intense feelings, how could he possibly have no memory of it at all?

But there was nothing. No matter how hard he tried to recall it, he couldn’t find a single image of the little cannon fodder’s death.

“Xiao Cai.”

Xiao Cai was already on the verge of being scared out of his wits by that cold tone. Whenever the host called him like that, nothing good ever came of it! Xiao Cai: “Master?”

Zhang Shuguang bent down and ran his hand over the cabbage leaves. Although they had only just sprouted, they were growing well; the leaves were already longer than his palm.

He picked a few leaves from the larger plants, then went to the sweet potato field to harvest some sweet potato leaves.

The sweet potatoes were growing quite well; the green stems had broken through the soil, and there were plenty of tender young leaves growing on top. He picked them one by one and soon had a large bunch.

The leaves weren’t very big; if he stir-fried them, they’d probably shrink to nothing. It would be better to just make a pot of vegetable soup—it would help cut through the richness of the meal.

“I just went through the memories in my head that belong to the minor character.”

Xiao Cai listened silently; he felt that now was really not the time to speak up.

Zhang Shuguang turned and walked back. “I didn’t see any scenes of him dying. Or rather, aside from his life being very simple, there were no scenes of sadness or grief in his memories. Can you tell me why?”

Xiao Cai: “……” If I don’t say anything, can I avoid answering this kind of question?

Obviously not. Its host’s imagination was top-notch, and every time he filled in the blanks, it felt like the little guy was hit by a system virus—pure agony!

Zhang Shuguang: “My guess is that either the minor character has a ‘Saint Mother’ personality—in his eyes, nothing is bad, and he can find a reasonable explanation for everything—so he doesn’t feel sad or distressed.”

Xiao Cai：“……”

Zhang Shuguang: “Or, you dishonest vegetable-seed app blocked the little cannon fodder’s memories, so I can’t see the suffering and hardships he’s endured.”

Xiao Cai: “No! The system can’t block anything!” It answered too hastily, its emotions running high.

Zhang Shuguang paused in his tracks and asked doubtfully, “Are you really a system, or something else?” 

Xiao Cai: “……”

Seeing it turn into a silent gourd once again, Zhang Shuguang didn’t press the matter further. But the doubt in his heart only grew deeper.

Zhang Shuguang: “Go into hibernation. Don’t forget to accept today’s mission.”

Xiao Cai: “Oh, okay, Master.”

Zhang Shuguang returned to the fourth level, washed the vegetable leaves in his hand by the stone basin, then went back to the cave entrance.

Mang Jiu had already brought the Shaman up. Right now, the Shaman was sitting next to Mang Er with a stone in hand, running it over Mang Er’s scales stroke by stroke.

Mang Er had coiled up from the long, stretched-out form he’d been in earlier; he was now coiled into a massive heap, taking up quite a bit of space.

Zhang Shuguang placed the leaves into a coarse bamboo bowl, glanced at the meat sizzling in the pot, and said, “Alright, add water and let it simmer. Once the meat can be pierced with a thick twig, add the potatoes and salt. Cover it with the lid, simmer over high heat, and be careful not to let the water boil dry.”

Li listened intently to his instructions, then asked nervously, “You want me to do it?”

Zhang Shuguang looked at him in bewilderment. “Haven’t you already done it? And you did a great job just now—not a single piece of meat was burnt. When adding salt, you must taste it first; don’t put too much in at once. Salt these days is different from the salt we used to eat.”

Li quickly nodded. “I know. My father brought back some of this new salt—it’s really delicious! Just a tiny bit is incredibly salty, and it doesn’t have any strange aftertaste or bitterness.”

Zhang Shuguang chuckled. “How about if everyone in our tribe starts eating this new salt from now on?”

Li’s eyes lit up. “Can we really keep eating this kind of salt? That’s wonderful! My mom loves it, but Dad only brought back a tiny bit, and we’ve been too reluctant to use it.”

Zhang Shuguang paused for a moment. Before he could ask, Wu Ming said, “The chief gave the salt to the elders so they could taste the briny flavor of sea salt first.”

“I’ll make some vegetable soup later. Mr. Wu, you’re getting on in years—don’t eat too much meat; it’s hard on the digestion.” He pointed to his stomach. “You know what I mean, right?”

Wu Ming nodded with a smile. “I know.”

Zhang Shuguang gestured toward Mang Er. “What’s going on with Second Brother? He wasn’t really fainted by that half clove of garlic, was he?”

Wu Ming shook his head. “He seems fine. If you’re worried, you can call Ying Cao over to ask, but I don’t think he’d know either.”

Zhang Shuguang nodded, then turned to Mang Qiqi and said, “Qi, go get Uncle Ying Cao. Tell him I’m treating him to some braised meat.”

Mang Qiqi stared at the covered stone pot and swallowed hard.

He sniffed longingly, then set off down the mountain, glancing back at every step. Zhang Shuguang chuckled, “Hurry up. I’ll give you a few extra pieces of meat when you get back.”

As soon as he heard that, Mang Qiqi took off running.

“Slow down!”

“Got it!”

Zhang Shuguang walked over to Mang Jiu and saw that he had already set up the smooth stone slab. He reached out and touched it. “Did you polish it?”

The stone slab wasn’t rough at all; it felt smooth to the touch and was quite thin, so it would surely conduct heat very well.

Not only that, but Mang Jiu had even thoughtfully propped up a few stone rods underneath to reinforce the slab’s load-bearing capacity.

“You’re really… amazing.” He didn’t know what words to use to describe Mang Jiu anymore; this man was truly good at surprising him.

Mang Jiu said, “I was afraid the lid would collapse if I put it on.” He pointed to the semicircular stone behind him. “You go cook; I can handle this myself.” Zhang Shuguang nodded repeatedly, then couldn’t resist reaching out to pinch his earlobe. “Thank you.”

Mang Jiu’s body stiffened at the pinch, but before he could react, Zhang Shuguang withdrew his hand and turned to start cooking. 

Ying Cao was led out of the cave by Mang Qiqi, trotting along the path.

Startled, thinking someone was in mortal danger, he quickly spread his wings, grabbed Mang Qiqi, and soared upward. “Where are we going?” 

“To my Uncle Jiu’s cave. Uncle Shuguang said he wants to treat you to some stewed meat.” Held in his arms, Mang Qiqi replied obediently.

Ying Cao’s flapping rhythm was nearly thrown off by her words; his body swayed slightly before he continued flying upward. “Why are you in such a hurry to eat stewed meat?”

“The meat smells so good! Hurry up, hurry up! Wait, something’s wrong with Second Uncle. I just saw him moving in a serpentine pattern, and the Shaman was there too.”

By the time they reached the fourth level, Qiqi had been so captivated by the aroma of the meat that he’d nearly lost his mind; it was no small feat that he’d even noticed his Second Uncle coiled on the ground.

Ying Cao shook his head, set him down at the edge of the fourth-level cliff, and folded his own wings. “It does smell pretty good. How was this meat stewed?”

Zhang Shuguang was cracking eggs into a bamboo tube. Hearing his voice, he turned his head and said with a sigh, “Why don’t any of you like to take the path? Just now, Mang Jiu also came straight up from over there. Maybe I should weave a vine ladder and hang it on the cliff.”

Ying Cao glanced at Mang Jiu with a smile and asked, “What were you running from just now?” Mang Jiu tilted his chin, gesturing for him to look at Mang Er.

Zhang Shuguang explained, “I fed Second Brother a clove of garlic, and now he can’t turn back into human form. I was worried, so I shouted for Mang Jiu to hurry back.” He beat the eggs, then added the soaked ground-cover greens and a pinch of salt. “Li, next time you go out and see this kind of ground-cover green, dig up some extra for me, and I’ll trade you some jerky for them.”

“Okay! Teach me how to make jerky later—I want to make some too!” Li nodded.

“The key to making jerky is air-drying and roasting it. Just marinate the meat at home, then come over and roast it in the oven. Just be careful not to overcook or burn it.” Zhang Shuguang set down the bamboo tube, reached into the water, and squeezed the soaked bamboo shoots. Finding them still a bit hard, he left them be and turned to the large wooden basin holding the strips of meat.

Ying Cao gave Mang Er a thorough once-over from head to toe, then straightened up and said, “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s very strong.”

Zhang Shuguang added salt to the basin, then glanced back. “Why can’t Second Brother turn into human form if there’s nothing wrong?” He stuffed the thick bamboo tube with plenty of cinnamon bark and Sichuan peppercorns, turned, and handed it to Mang Qiqi. “Here, hit it hard—smash everything inside to pieces.”

Mang Qiqi obediently took it, holding a wooden stick in one hand and the thick bamboo tube in the other, and began pounding away with a clang-clang-clang, his eyes fixed on the pot of stewing meat, his focus unwavering.

Zhang Shuguang couldn’t help himself; he tapped Mang Qiqi on the forehead with his finger. “You just ate so much duck meat—are you hungry again already?” Mang Qiqi swallowed hard. “It’s not that I’m hungry—it just smells so good, I can’t help but want to eat it.”

“The way you put it, it sounds like your mom never cooks for you,” Zhang Shuguang chuckled.

He’d only meant it as a casual remark, but to his surprise, Mang Qiqi nodded earnestly. “My dad isn’t very good at cooking. Back in the cave, he’d just boil meat for me. He said eating too much boiled meat would slow my growth, so he told me to go out and find my own food.”

Zhang Shuguang’s mouth twitched. “Go out and eat…” meaning to just gobble it down raw—no effort required, and it fills you up.

He sighed. He’d originally wanted to reach out and ruffle the boy’s hair, but his hands were damp, so he said, “Then go get your father. Let’s have a meal together. He’s probably never had good braised meat before, which is why he doesn’t know how to make it. Have him come learn—once he’s got the hang of it, he can go back and cook for you.”

Mang Qiqi looked at him in surprise. “Is that okay?”

“Of course. You’ve helped me so much, and I want to thank you. Go on, go get your father.”

Mang Qiqi set down the bamboo tube in his hand and ran off. He was moving much faster than when he’d gone down the mountain to find Ying Cao earlier.

Zhang Shuguang picked up the bamboo tube, walked over to the table, sat down, and began cracking it open while asking Ying Cao, “Uncle Ying Cao, do you have ginger among your herbs?” 

“Ginger?” Ying Cao asked, puzzled. “What does it look like?”

Zhang Shuguang tried to describe it to him. “It’s dug out of the ground, like this,” he said, not really knowing how to explain it, so he traced a shape on the table with his finger. “It has a pungent, spicy smell. When steeped in water, it drives out the cold—the kind that warms your whole body.”

Ying Cao was so taken aback by his description that he stared at the mark on the table for a long moment before looking up. “I’m not eating anymore. I’m going to dig up some ginger!”

He stood up to leave, but Wu Ming grabbed him by the arm. “What’s the rush? Finish your meal first. It’s not like it’s going to run away on its own.” 

Ying Cao said, “I never knew you could actually dig up medicine from the ground!”

Zhang Shuguang gave a dry laugh and pointed to the tree bark and bamboo tubes he had laid out to dry. “Lots of things can be used for medicine—it’s not just about leaves and herbs.”

Ying Cao looked at him in surprise. “You know about this stuff, too?”

Zhang Shuguang thought to himself, I may not know much, but I definitely know more than you do. 

Yet he shook his head. “I don’t know much—just a few things. Uncle Ying Cao, when I have time, I’ll draw some pictures of the herbs I know so you can look for them when you go out.”

Ying Cao nodded. “Great, great, that’s wonderful.”

Zhang Shuguang glanced at the fragments in the bamboo tube and frowned in dissatisfaction. Ying Cao reached out. “Give it to me. I’ll help you. I’m used to pounding these things to a pulp.”

Zhang Shuguang thanked him and handed it over. He then went to the stove, lifted the lid to take a look, asked Li to add some water, and poured the potatoes into the pot. “It feels like we have quite a few people eating today. Why don’t we grill some more meat skewers?”

Li turned to look at him. “What do you mean by ‘meat skewers’?”

Zhang Shuguang looked at the ingredients he had on hand and decided that grilled meat skewers would actually work.

He turned to Mang Jiu with excitement and said, “Mang Jiu, first set up a grill for me—two rows of stones spaced this far apart.” Mang Jiu nodded and came over to help him build the grill.

Zhang Shuguang cut the beef he’d saved for breakfast the next morning into chunks, then handed them to Li. “Skewer them all with twigs. We’ll grill them on this rack later. Grill some potatoes too—I’ll make a dipping sauce.”

“Okay,” Li nodded. “I’ll go find some branches. Should they be a little thicker?”

“They don’t have to be particularly thick—just thick enough to pierce the meat without breaking and to prevent them from burning while grilling.” He picked through the bamboo chopsticks. “This thick.”

Li: “Alright, I’ll go get them.”

Actually, Zhang Shuguang had his eye on the trunk of that stripped cinnamon tree. When he had some free time, he could carve some chisels or make some chopsticks from it. It seemed a bit of a waste to just use it as firewood.

Mang Jiu had arranged the stones as Zhang Shuguang had requested, leaving a gap in the center. He looked up at him. “What are you planning to do?”

Zhang Shuguang used a thick stick to pull some of the burning wood from the hearth and place it in the gap. “We can use this to grill meat, though the flames can burn things easily. You guys can grill it yourselves later—eat as you go. I’ll take care of the dipping sauce.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “I’ll go set up the grill.” Zhang Shuguang hummed in acknowledgment and turned to prepare the dipping sauces.

He planned to make two kinds: one salty and sour, and one with Sichuan peppercorns and garlic. Spotting the green fruit he’d set aside for Mang Jiu, he paused for a moment, then picked one up and handed it to him. “Try this. It’s from the Shaman.”

Mang Jiu’s hands were covered in soot. He opened his mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Zhang Shuguang looked at the fruit in his hand, then at Mang Jiu’s mouth. 

Well, I’m not about to feed you!

Mang Jiu looked up at him and opened his mouth. “Ah.”

Zhang Shuguang took a quiet, deep breath, then reached forward and shoved the whole fruit straight into Mang Jiu’s mouth. Luckily, the fruit wasn’t very big; otherwise, Mang Jiu might have choked on it.

After feeding him the fruit, Zhang Shuguang immediately turned and went back to the stove. He washed the remaining fruit, placed it in a bamboo tube, and pounded it together with the green lemon. Then he added some salt and water and stirred it.

Not sure how it would taste, he dipped a twig into the mixture and licked it, then licked his lips—it tasted pretty good. It was sweet and sour with a hint of saltiness.

The garlic and Sichuan pepper sauce was easy to make. After crushing the ingredients, he heated some oil and poured it into the bamboo tube. With a sizzling sound, he added some water, stirred it, sprinkled in some salt, and tasted it—the numbing sensation made him shudder.

He noticed that both the Sichuan peppercorns and the garlic had a much stronger flavor than anything he’d tasted before. He’d thought the garlic would lose some of its heat once cooked, but the flavor hadn’t changed much at all.

He set the two bamboo tubes aside, then lifted the lid to check on the beef stewing in the pot. He picked up a piece to taste it. He had a knack for salting—it was just right. The meat was tender, and the potatoes were soft and creamy. Delicious!

He scooped the beef into a wooden bowl nearby, set it on the table, and covered it.

“Uncle Shuguang!” Mang Qiqi ran over, his mouth watering. “Can I have a piece? I’m dying of hunger.”

Zhang Shuguang couldn’t stop laughing. He scooped a small bowlful for himself with a bamboo ladle. “Here you go. Be careful, it’s hot.” Mang Qiqi nodded repeatedly, took the bowl, and even said thank you.

Ever since Zhang Shuguang had arrived, everyone in the tribe who had interacted with him had started to speak like him, and the biggest change was that they were becoming increasingly polite. Following Mang Qiqi was a young male Sub-Beastman. He wasn’t particularly striking in appearance and gave off a rather reserved vibe.

He walked over and said to Zhang Shuguang, “I’m Mang Qiqi’s father, Wei.” Zhang Shuguang smiled at him. “Just call me Shuguang.”

Wei nodded and asked, “How can I help you? Mang Qiqi asked me to come over and learn from you how to cook delicious food.”

“Could you help skewer the meat first?” Zhang Shuguang pointed to Li, who had already gathered quite a few branches and was in the process of skewering the meat. “Join Li.”

Wei nodded, picked up a stone, and sat down next to Li. He reached out to grab a piece of meat, but Li stopped him. “You need to wash your hands first. Shuguang is very particular about cleanliness.” Wei paused for a moment, went to wash his hands, then sat back down, holding a piece of meat in one hand and a twig in the other. After watching Li skewer two pieces of meat, he followed suit.

Li glanced at him and said, “Shuguang is going to marinate the meat later. You should learn how to do it too.”

“Yeah, Mang Da told me, and Mang Qiqi said I should learn how to cook meat from Shuguang. He said mine doesn’t taste good.” Wei said, sounding a bit discouraged. “I put a lot of effort into it, but I don’t know why it just doesn’t taste right.”

Li said with a grin, “I know exactly how you feel. Last time I tried to make Shuguang’s braised meat, I ended up putting in too many seasonings. The taste was so bad—it was harder to swallow than raw meat.”

The two of them chatted quietly over there, while Zhang Shuguang had already washed the pot, heated the oil, and was getting ready to stir-fry.

Over on the other side, Mang Er had finally shifted back into human form. He wasn’t even wearing his leather skirt; he just sat there on the ground, looking completely dazed.

“Do you even know what just happened?” Ying Cao tossed him the leather skirt. “Hurry up and put it on—who wants to see you naked!”

Mang Er wrapped the leather skirt around his waist but refused to move his butt. “I feel like I’ve died once.”

No sooner had he said this than Zhang Shuguang placed the bamboo tube filled with dipping sauce on the table. As Mang Er caught the pungent whiff of garlic, his eyes rolled back.

Zhang Shuguang urged him, “The braised beef is ready. If you pass out, you’ll miss it!”

Mang Er braced himself against the table with both hands and took a deep breath. “I can hold it off. I’ll pass out after I finish eating!”