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Zhang Shuguang stared blankly at the pottery pot steaming away, his eyes vacant and unfocused.

“Young Master, can’t you show a little self-control? When you were little, you used to bleed yourself frequently to treat little animals’ injuries. I’ve told you this many times—how can you be so forgetful!”

“I just took a nap, and you went and drew blood again! Don’t you know how special your blood is?”

“It’s fine to be kind, but you can’t let your kindness put yourself in danger. What you’re doing now isn’t kindness—it’s reckless!”

“You don’t even have the ability to protect yourself right now. You’re exactly what they mean by ‘walking meat for Tang Seng.’ Can’t you take care of yourself first before worrying about others!”

“That little brat was destined to die. Now that you’ve forcibly brought him back to life, do you have any idea how much this will change things?”

Zhang Shuguang let it ramble on in his head for quite a while, chattering away incessantly.

Hearing this, he finally couldn’t help but snap back, “But I can’t just stand by and watch him die.”

“Why not! He’s got absolutely nothing to do with you—why did you have to save him? Last time you cut your own flesh to bleed for others, you said they were acquaintances from the tribe, and you couldn’t bear to see them die—I’ll give you that.”

“Does this kid have anything to do with you? Did you really have to bleed yourself? Once wasn’t enough—you did it several times!”

Zhang Shuguang: “That’s because he didn’t drink much the first time.”

“He’s been drained of his vital blood—it’s not the same as those people you saved before! Do you even know how much blood you’d have to let out to bring him back?”

Zhang Shuguang: “…I don’t know… You never told me.”

“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d turn yourself into a walking blood bank! Young Master, can’t you use a little common sense? Can’t you stop being so self-sacrificing for the sake of others? Is that all your ‘so-called socialism’ taught you—selfless devotion?”

Zhang Shuguang: “……” I couldn’t even think of a single counterargument. I’m defeated, I’m defeated.

He hung his head. “Go ahead and rant all you want—I can’t argue with you, so I’ll just listen.”

“God said your personality has flaws. I don’t think it’s a flaw—it’s just that you’re too self-sacrificing!”

“What if one day you wear yourself to death trying to save others by bleeding and cutting into your own flesh? What am I supposed to do then? What about Mang Jiu? What about God?”

“Young Master, can’t you take some advice? Can’t you be selfish first before thinking of others?”

“Can you stop acting like some holy father? Did you just unlock a divine skill or something? God said to love yourself first, then love others!”

“If you don’t even love yourself, who else can you love?”

“Say something! You’re usually so talkative—why aren’t you saying anything now!”

Zhang Shuguang: “I saw you calling out to me from the cliff’s edge the other day—with antlers on your head, a horse’s face, and round eyes.”

The flustered Main System instantly fell silent.

Zhang Shuguang raised his hand and rubbed his face vigorously, reflecting on his actions with sincere contrition.

“I was wrong, really. I’ve deeply realized my mistake. I shouldn’t have risked my life like that. I’ll definitely never do that again—no, wait, there won’t be a next time!”

“I’d have to be a fool to believe you—you’ve said that before!”

Zhang Shuguang: “What’s wrong with before?”

“Ever since you found out your blood was special, you’ve been giving a few drops to every blade of dry grass you see by the roadside. You’ve been saving injured little animals and even big wild beasts—whatever you see, you have to save it. God said that sooner or later, you’d bleed yourself dry…”

Zhang Shuguang blinked. Was he really that compassionate?

All right, that was stupid.

He sighed, and a flood of fragmented images filled his mind.

A little boy was crouched by the roadside, chattering away to the flowers and grass.

There was no one else there—not even that man.

Behind the flowers and plants were all sorts of little animals—squirrels, rabbits, and small snakes—all gathered around him.

The little boy still had a baby-fat face, but he had shot up quite a bit, and even his once chubby figure had slimmed down considerably.

He had grown from a chubby, round-faced toddler into a young boy.

The young boy had no friends his own age and had never seen anyone other than the gods; only flowers, plants, trees, and all kinds of animals kept him company.

Day after day, year after year.

Zhang Shuguang pressed his lips tightly together, feeling deeply uneasy.

“Young Master, the God is lonely.”

“I know,” Zhang Shuguang exhaled slowly, deciding to skip the topic of saving someone with his blood to prevent the main system from launching into its nonstop chatter again. He stirred the contents of the pottery pot with a wooden spoon. “Does Xiao Cai have a storage function?”

“Yes, but you need to activate it with points. My energy is low, so I can’t do it on my own.”

“You’re low on energy, yet you still came out to yell at me,” Zhang Shuguang grumbled. After all, this whole situation was partly his own fault for being too self-sacrificing. He scratched his head and muttered, “I was just in such a rush. If that half-worm had been with me, I definitely wouldn’t have had to bleed myself.”

“Just turn on the storage function. Keep the earthworms in there—you can just feed them some vegetable leaves from time to time,” the Main System said, then suddenly asked, “Why did the earthworms mutate? Logically speaking, your blood shouldn’t have that ability.”

Zhang Shuguang: “……” Mang Jiu’s blood is even more special than mine. Can I tell you? No, I can’t.

“How am I supposed to know? You said it mutated—it could have been caused by a variety of factors.”

The Main System was silent for a while; he didn’t know what it was up to.

Zhang Shuguang poured the pink broth from the pot and leaned in to sniff it. There was no metallic, bloody smell—instead, there was a faint hint of fruitiness.

He furrowed his brow in confusion and leaned in to sniff more closely.

“Mang Jiu, come here, come here.” He waved to the man standing nearby, who was talking to Mang Er.

Mang Jiu said goodbye to Mang Er, turned, and walked over. “What’s up?”

He glanced at the soup in the bowl and furrowed his brow in confusion. “Did you put that red fruit you brought back from the others in here?”

“…It’s just my blood,” Zhang Shuguang said, pouring him a bowl. “I only added some dried bamboo shoots and wild greens—I didn’t even put in any mushrooms. I just feel like the flavor isn’t quite right.”

Mang Jiu took the bowl, examined it, and sniffed it carefully. He couldn’t detect the slightest hint of bamboo shoots; instead, there was a light, sweet, fruity aroma—he couldn’t identify the fruit, but it smelled wonderful.

He took a sip of the soup and paused for a moment.

“It’s sweet?”

“Sweet?” Zhang Shuguang looked at him in surprise. “Is it really sweet?”

Mang Jiu said nothing; he simply handed the bowl over, gesturing for him to take a sip himself.

Zhang Shuguang followed his lead and took a sip.

“Why is it sweet?” He looked up at Mang Jiu and saw the same confusion in the man’s eyes.

Mang Jiu said, “Instead of asking me, why don’t you ask your main system?”

Zhang Shuguang nodded. “You’re right.”

“Little System, come out, come out—I have a question for you.”

Main System: “No matter how many lifetimes you’ve reincarnated, you’re still hopeless at naming things.”

Zhang Shuguang gladly accepted its criticism, seeing nothing wrong with it.

“Little System, why is my blood sweet?”

Main System: “How should I know? I’ve never tasted your blood.”

Zhang Shuguang: “……” That was a perfect excuse.

Main System: “So it’s sweet, huh? No wonder those animals with even the tiniest scrapes all come running to you for a drink of your blood. They must think your blood tastes good.”

Zhang Shuguang: “……”

Main System: “If you have nothing else, Little Master, I’m going into hibernation. My energy consumption is too high.”

Zhang Shuguang: “Oh, okay. Bye.”

Main System: “Don’t bleed yourself anymore, or I’ll really lose my temper!”

“Shuguang, it’s bad—that kid’s dead!” Li’s voice suddenly rang out from the distance, filled with panic.

Zhang Shuguang froze for a moment, then whipped his head around to look at him. “What?”

Li ran up beside him and stopped, panting heavily. “He’s dead—that kid’s dead!”

Zhang Shuguang took off running, and after a moment’s hesitation, Mang Jiu quickly followed suit.

“What happened?”

Li ran back alongside Zhang Shuguang, panting heavily. “I—I was afraid he was wrapped too tightly and couldn’t breathe. He was gasping for air, so I—I pulled the hide off. His face was so pale—pale as a sheet. You—you should go take a look. He looks completely different from when you first brought him back.”

Zhang Shuguang ran to the hammock. Mang Er had already lifted the boy down and placed him on the ground. The frail child lay on the animal hide, completely still, showing no signs of breathing.

“You did your best,” Mang Er said, grabbing Zhang Shuguang’s wrist with a firm grip. “You brought him back—you’ve done all you could.”

Zhang Shuguang nodded slightly, his lips pressed into a straight line.

“Main System.”

Main System: “Young Master, I’ve told you before—his life force has been completely drained. Even if you’d fed him divine blood, it wouldn’t have helped. By giving him your blood, you merely delayed his death.”

“Blood isn’t a cure-all,” Zhang Shuguang murmured.

Main System: “There’s only one way to save him: you must replenish exactly as much life force as was drained from him.”

Zhang Shuguang exhaled and waved his hand. “Just bury him.”

Mang Er glanced at Mang Jiu, who gave him a subtle nod, then pulled Zhang Shuguang aside.

“Young Master, you’re very sad.”

“Right now, I’m too drained to feel anything more than sadness,” Zhang Shuguang said, looking up at Mang Jiu. “I didn’t save him just out of pity; I also wanted to study Aila’s abilities through him. Now I realize I’ve failed.”

“You brought him back—you just didn’t expect him to be unable to pull through on his own.” Mang Jiu pulled him into an embrace, kissing his forehead as he comforted him in a deep voice, “Now you know that not just anyone can be saved by your blood, don’t you?”

Zhang Shuguang grunted, “Got it. I’ll never give blood again—it’s a waste.”

Main System: “Young Master, that’s what you call getting a reality check. You tried to look cool but ended up in a mess.”

Zhang Shuguang: “Shut up and go to sleep!”

Main System: “Okay, good night.”

Zhang Shuguang rested his head on Mang Jiu’s chest to calm his frustrated mood. After a while, he muttered, “I’ll set up a storage warehouse in Xiao Cai and keep the earthworms in there.”

“Can you store living things?” Mang Jiu was curious about Xiao Cai’s storage capabilities. “If you put them in there, can you guarantee they’ll still be alive when you take them out?”

Zhang Shuguang let out an “uh…” “I’ll ask.”

“Xiao Cai?”

Xiao Cai: “Master, I’m here. I’ve already enabled the storage function for you—three slots.”

Zhang Shuguang: “How many credits are three slots?”

Xiao Cai: “Five hundred points per slot. You’ve opened three, so you have 631 points remaining.”

Zhang Shuguang: “Do the earthworms take up three slots?”

Xiao Cai: “One species takes up one slot. The main system said to open three for you so you can store the leaves of the Divine Blood Tree in there as well. Don’t worry—my storage warehouse’s preservation function works perfectly. Whatever goes in stays exactly the same when you take it out. All you need to do is pay an extra 5% of your daily power consumption.”

Zhang Shuguang thought to himself, “So they’re waiting for me here.” He had known it wouldn’t be that easy to get his hands on such a massive portable refrigerator.

“All right, then. Help me put the Divine Blood Tree leaves and the earthworms inside.”

Xiao Cai: “Master, I can’t put them in without your touch, and since they’re so far away, I can’t reach them either.”

Zhang Shuguang: “…You can carry several boxes of seeds for me—how come you can’t just put a bug in there!”

Xiao Cai: “Sorry, Master, that was done by the main system.”

Zhang Shuguang looked up at Mang Jiu. “Did Brother Ying Liu go get the earthworms?”

“I told him to bring half of one right over.” Mang Jiu seemed to know exactly what he was going to ask and cut straight to the point: “I was originally planning to cut up some extra meat for all of you to replenish your strength, but now you can just take care of that yourself.”

Zhang Shuguang looked over at the cub wrapped in animal hide and licked his chapped lips. “Aila…”

“You want to rescue him?” Mang Jiu tugged him toward the hearth.

Zhang Shuguang followed with his head bowed. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I don’t know. I have this strange feeling about him.”

In the Lion-Tiger Tribe, after Hu Fei exchanged greetings with Hu Gui, he led a group of people away on his own. Shi Quan stood on Yan Mountain, looking down on them from above.

At that moment, it wasn’t just the Golden Tiger Clan who were worried about what Shi Quan might do to them—even some of the elder beastmen of the Golden Lion Clan were deeply concerned.

They gathered in private, each one deeply troubled.

“What on earth is he up to!”

“If the tribe really harbors such a massive monster that feeds on human life force, won’t we all end up being devoured!”

“That’s just how Shi Quan operates. Why didn’t he kill the brat outright? What’s the point of keeping it around?”

“I told you so—sooner or later, he’d provoke the Golden Tiger Clan. And now look—they’ve moved their entire clan away! After living together for all these years, they just got up and left without a second thought—not a shred of consideration!”

“If you were the one they had their sights set on to feed to a monster, wouldn’t you leave too?”

“If I could leave, I’d leave too! Shi Quan’s had it in for us old-timers for ages. If he really sets his sights on us, we’ll all die one by one.”

The group exchanged glances and sighed in unison.

Shi Quan’s eyes were filled with coldness. He snorted repeatedly, then turned to Shi Yan, who was standing beside him, and said, “Go check on Aila. If he’s still that useless, don’t keep him around.”

Shi Yan nodded and entered the cave.

Aila had already woken up and was sitting on the ground with his head bowed, lost in thought.

Hearing footsteps, he lifted his head, and a smile blossomed on his face, which had previously been filled with fear and timidity.

Shi Yan paused in his tracks, a look of confusion in his eyes.

Aila curved the corners of his mouth and raised his hand to greet him. “Shi Yan, you’re here.”

Shi Yan furrowed his brow. “You… Aila?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Aila nodded, his eyes crinkling in a smile as he looked at him. “Why are you standing so far away from me? I haven’t seen you in such a long time.”

Shi Yan stared at Aila’s face for a long moment before asking, “Why aren’t you crying?”

“Why should I cry?” Aila snorted derisively, glancing down at his bound hands and feet before realizing, “Oh, oh, oh—you mean this? It’s fine. You’ll let me go sooner or later, just like you used to.”

The sense of something being off grew even stronger.

Shi Yan hesitantly circled him once. Aila looked up at him, the smile never leaving the corners of his mouth.

“Father told you to hurry up and produce some food.” Shi Yan didn’t want to say much to him; he simply relayed Shi Quan’s message clearly. “You didn’t eat that little brat just now—he’s been taken away.”

Aila gave a noncommittal “Oh” and held out his hand. “Give me the seeds.”

“Aren’t you going to ask about that little one?” Shi Yan tossed a small leather pouch to him. “The people from the Cliffside Tribe took the little one away—and he’s still alive!”

Aila’s hand paused as she opened the small leather pouch, and she looked up at him. “Alive? He’s not dead?”

“At least he wasn’t dead when we left here.” Shi Yan stared at him coldly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “It’s all because of your dithering—you couldn’t even finish sucking it dry.”

Holding the seed in his hand, Aila let a white light flare up. The seed immediately sprouted and shot upward, growing into a small sapling in his hand before he tossed it to the ground. Then, his glowing hand pressed against the slender trunk.

His movements were practiced and leisurely, as if he were savoring the moment.

“You said he was still alive when he was taken out of the tribe,” Aila said, raising his eyes to the branches where flowers had already bloomed and fallen. He watched as tender leaves sprouted, turned emerald green, and as the fruit slowly grew.

He reached out, plucked a red fruit, tossed it to Shi Yan, and asked, “Whether he’s still alive now is another matter entirely, heh heh heh. Who took him away?”

“The sub-beastmen of the Cliffside Tribe!” Shi Yan looked at the plump, red fruit in his hand, sniffed it, took a bite—it was sweet and crisp—“Why are you acting a little different now than you used to?”

Aila smiled at him and wiggled her legs. “Untie me. I won’t run away. I’ll help you get lots and lots of food.”

His smile carried a hint of seduction. Shi Yan couldn’t help but reach out, but just as his hand was about to touch the vines binding her legs, Aila grabbed his wrist.

Shi Yan froze for a moment and instinctively struggled.

Aila tilted his head back with a smile and pressed his lips against his. “I’ll definitely make you the greatest tribe.”

Shi Yan was stunned by the kiss.

As Shi Quan entered the cave, this was the scene he witnessed. He froze for a moment, then roared angrily, “What are you two doing?!”

Aila looked up at Shi Quan, a mocking smile curving her lips.

What an old, stupid fool!

He quickly hid his expression and burrowed into Shi Yan’s embrace as if afraid.

Aila remained silent, only stealing timid glances at Shi Quan.

Shi Yan looked down at Aila, then turned to look at Shi Quan, and tentatively said, “Father, Aila said he’d help us get plenty of food. Please don’t hold what happened earlier against him.”

“Did he tell you that?” Shi Quan’s face darkened, his slightly cloudy eyes fixed intently on Aila.

Aila looked at Shi Quan with a pitiful expression, her fingers clutching Shi Yan’s arm tightly.

“It’s true. I’m not lying.”

Shi Yan looked down at Aila. Seeing his red-rimmed eyes and tightly pursed lips, his heart involuntarily tightened.

“Father, I believe him. And look—this is the fruit tree Aila helped bring to life.” He pointed to a tree nearby that, though not very tall, was laden with red fruit. “He’s never done anything like this before.”

Aila nodded vigorously. “That’s right. I’ll definitely be obedient from now on,” he said, raising his eyes to look at Shi Quan, his gaze brimming with a mocking smile. “As long as you give me enough energy, I’ll give you as much food as you want.”

A flicker of emotion stirred within Shi Quan; his previously somber expression slowly softened, and a smile spread across his face.

“All right, you’d better keep your word.”

Aila pursed his lips, smiling in a way that seemed timid but was actually brimming with sarcasm.

Hu Fei led most of her clan members to the Cliffside Tribe’s stall; at a glance, there were over a hundred of them.

Mang Er didn’t keep them there long, but instead had Xiong Bai, Mang Ba, and Ying Wu—three of them—accompany them back to the Cliffside Tribe first.

Hu Fei didn’t see the little one; when she asked, she learned that the child had died.

She opened her mouth, but in the end, she didn’t ask the question she’d been thinking of.

Zhang Shuguang came to find her just as she was about to leave.

The two walked to a spot away from the crowd, and Hu Fei finally voiced the question on her mind: “Your blood is very special. Why is that?”

Zhang Shuguang scratched his head and said, “I’ve been scolded for a long time for not knowing how to protect myself, but I think you can trust me.” He looked up at Hu Fei and, seeing her staring at him with such seriousness, spread his hands. “What do you think?”

“Divine Son.” Hu Fei’s expression turned serious as she coldly uttered those two words.

Zhang Shuguang blinked in surprise, looking at her in astonishment. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’d noticed before that the Giant Beast Clan treated you very differently. Then, when you sacrificed your own blood to save that kid, I started to have my suspicions. My father once said that the Divine Son would undergo trials on the continent—that the Divine Son is compassionate and kind, and would never stand by and watch his people suffer and endure pain right before his eyes.”

Zhang Shuguang felt completely flustered under the gaze of her sincere eyes; he was so embarrassed he didn’t know how to respond.

“You really are the Divine Son, aren’t you?” Hu Fei took a step forward, staring at him nervously. “Are you?”

Zhang Shuguang tugged at the corner of his mouth and laughed dryly. “Yes, I am. Don’t stand so close—Mang Jiu is watching over there.”

But Hu Fei didn’t back away; instead, he took another step forward, closing the distance between them even further. “I have something here that I might need you to take a look at.”

“Huh?” Zhang Shuguang looked bewildered. “What is it?”

Hu Fei handed him the bead he’d been clutching in his hand. “My father gave it to me.”

Zhang Shuguang took it. The bead was slightly smaller than a night pearl, fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand. He turned it over in his fingers, examining the smooth, round sphere. He held it up to the moonlight and discovered that something seemed to be moving inside it.

He furrowed his brow slightly and placed the sphere back in the palm of his hand to examine it more closely.

It was dark blue and felt like some kind of stone to the touch.

“Didn’t your father say what this was?”

“It’s an energy crystal needed for beastmen to evolve.” Hu Fei reached out and took it, then, right in front of him, rubbed the sphere with both hands—over and over and over.

Zhang Shuguang looked at her in confusion. What was she doing?

“Look.” Hu Fei placed the sphere in his palm. Zhang Shuguang could clearly feel its temperature gradually rising, and he noticed that a faint orange glow was seeping out from inside the originally black-and-blue sphere.

“Is that energy inside?” Zhang Shuguang was genuinely curious about the things in this world, but upon reflection, it made sense. After all, while beastmen’s evolution followed no set pattern, if they had an aid, that evolution would likely become much more stable.

Thinking of the Golden Tiger clan member with lumps on his back that Hu Fei had mentioned, he asked, “Was it your father who had a problem with his evolution?”

“Yeah, he grew two lumps on his back. I watched them burst open—my father literally died in agony.” Hu Fei turned around and gestured toward her shoulder blades. “I’ve got them, too.”

Zhang Shuguang had been examining the little ball in his hand, but upon hearing this, he paused and looked up. “Where?”

“Here,” Hu Fei said, feeling around with her hand behind her back. “It’s very small, but it feels a little swollen when I press on it.”

Zhang Shuguang squinted to get a closer look, but the moonlight wasn’t bright enough for him to see clearly.

Besides, he couldn’t just reach out and touch it himself, so he raised his hand and beckoned to Mang Jiu. “Pass me a flame.”

Mang Jiu walked over holding a burning stick. Seeing Zhang Shuguang staring at Hu Fei’s back, he glanced over and furrowed his brow slightly. “What’s that growing on you?”

“I don’t know what it is—probably some kind of evolutionary mutation. My father once suffered terribly because of these two ‘meat buns.’” Hu Fei pointed at the ball in Zhang Shuguang’s hand. “When I first saw this ball, it was about this big.” She raised her hand and shook her fist.

Zhang Shuguang looked at her clenched fist and then at the ball—they were clearly not in the same league.

“Was it absorbed?” He looked at Hu Fei in confusion.

Hu Fei shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Mang Jiu reached out and took the ball into his hand. Just then, the faint orange thread that had been at the ball’s center suddenly shot up like a flame with a whoosh. Then, with a crack, the once-round ball actually split open, and the flickering orange thread landed in Mang Jiu’s palm.

As the three of them stared in stunned silence, the orange light traced a circle along the lines of Mang Jiu’s palm before disappearing at his wrist.

“What’s going on? Is this thing alive?” Zhang Shuguang grabbed Mang Jiu’s hand, turning it over and over, rubbing and feeling it, then looked up at him. “How does it feel?”

Mang Jiu said nothing. He crouched down, raised his hand, and gave the ground a light slap.

Boom!

Hu Fei and Zhang Shuguang were startled, and both looked down at the ground.

The spot where Mang Jiu had slapped the ground caved in with a loud rumble. Although the hole wasn’t very deep, it was still quite unexpected.

Zhang Shuguang looked at the ground, then at Mang Jiu. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t use much force—it was basically the same pressure I use when I ruffle your hair.” Mang Jiu didn’t know what had happened either; he just felt his body suddenly fill with power. “I need to process this.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he instantly transformed into a serpent right where he stood and slithered away swiftly in an S-shaped pattern.

Zhang Shuguang stared at the cold gleam of its scales as they flashed in the moonlight, then turned to Hu Fei. “You’ve been holding it for so long—didn’t you notice it could crack open?”

“No,” Hu Fei shook her head. She didn’t really see anything wrong with having an energy crystal snatched from her and said nonchalantly, “Guess it wasn’t meant for me.”

Zhang Shuguang rubbed his chin, thought for a moment, then said, “I’d guess this kind of energy crystal is a mineral crystal.”

Hu Fei shrugged. “As long as it’s useful, that’s fine. Once I find one that belongs to me, maybe I’ll be able to absorb it too.”

Zhang Shuguang raised a hand to scratch his head and apologized to her, “I’m sorry—Mang Jiu used the thing your father left for you.”

“It’s fine. It wouldn’t have been of any use to me anyway. Besides, it seems my father didn’t use the right method—I suspect he just chewed it up.” Hu Fei pointed to the cracked stones scattered on the ground, which glistened beautifully in the moonlight.

Zhang Shuguang crouched down, picked up all the fragments, and placed them in the palm of his hand. He tried piecing them together—and to his surprise, they actually formed a spherical shape.

“What on earth is this thing?”

He looked up at Hu Fei, whose indifferent expression wasn’t an act—she genuinely didn’t care about losing this little sphere.

But even if Hu Fei didn’t care, he couldn’t help but care—after all, this thing didn’t belong to them; it belonged to Hu Fei.

He thought for a moment and asked, “Let’s say I trade this for something from you. What do you want?”

Hu Fei sighed, turned to look at the clan members waiting nearby, then turned back to him: “I want a piece of land of our own.”

“Sure, that’s fine. You can have it,” Zhang Shuguang said after a moment’s thought, pointing to the shard in his palm. “I’m trading with you personally—not on behalf of the tribe.”

Hu Fei ran her fingers through her long hair a couple of times, then waved her hand dismissively. “There’s nothing I want to trade for it. Hu Gui doesn’t even know about this thing—if you guys use it, so be it. It’s no big deal.”

“All right then. Once you get to the tribe, make a note of anything you need, and I’ll see if I can help you out when I get back,” Zhang Shuguang said after a moment’s thought. “I’ll think about what you guys can do, and we can work together on it then.”

“Do what?” Hu Fei wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

Zhang Shuguang chuckled. “We’ll talk about it once we get there.”

Hu Fei smiled at him and gave his shoulder a light pat. “Don’t worry about the kid. I didn’t tell anyone how he survived. Even though he died in the end, you did your best—he’ll be grateful to you.”

Zhang Shuguang sighed, shook his head, and said somewhat dejectedly, “I used to think I was all-powerful, but now it seems I was just being too naive. There’s always someone better out there, and the sky’s the limit.”

Hu Fei thought to herself, “No wonder he’s the Son of the Gods—I can barely understand a word he says.”

But even if she didn’t understand, she didn’t say anything!

“We’ll be heading out now. There are still a few tribal elders packing up their remaining belongings—they’re taking all those tattered hides with them, afraid they won’t have a place to stay once they get there.”

Zhang Shuguang waved his hand and smiled. “Don’t worry about that. Ying Wu will notify the tribe in advance so they can prepare a place for you to stay. It might not be as well-ventilated as your thatched huts, but our caves are quite comfortable. When you see Chief Xiong Kui, discuss with him where you’d like to settle. Judging by your clan’s habits, several of the forests near our tribe would be quite suitable for you.”

“It’d be best if we could be close to the Black Bear Clan,” Hu Fei said with a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling as if she’d thought of something that would make her happy. “Their tribe is beautiful—full of flowers in all kinds of colors.”

“Hmm, their honey mainly comes from those flowers. If they really plan to relocate, I’d suggest they gather plenty of flowers and plants to take with them.” Zhang Shuguang looked at Hu Fei’s joyful face, then glanced at the clearly anxious crowd not far away, and couldn’t help but ask, “Chieftain Hu Fei, aren’t you worried? About going to an unfamiliar place?”

“Not at all,” Hu Fei raised an eyebrow at him and said nonchalantly, “Ever since Shi Quan became chief, I’ve wanted to live separately from them many times, but the tribal elders wouldn’t agree. Last time Shi Quan led his people to trade for salt, he came back and told us that the Salt Mountain Tribe had increased the amount of fresh meat they required for the exchange, so they didn’t bring back much.”

Hu Fei snorted derisively. “We’d already prepared far more fresh meat for them to take than usual. The salt blocks he brought back for us? Hah—just a single animal-skin bag.”

“Fresh meat is hard to preserve; there’s no point in bringing too much,” Zhang Shuguang said, looking at her in confusion. “Could it be that he took it for them to eat along the way, so they’d have more time to hunt and catch game to trade for salt?”

“Exactly. That’s how all the tribes do it,” Hu Fei nodded. “Shi Quan came back and told me that the Salt Mountain Tribe suddenly raised the number of animals they demanded. Then, while they were hunting, they ran into people from many other tribes also hunting, so they caught far fewer live animals, and the number of salt blocks they traded for was much lower.”

When she finished speaking, her expression was unmistakably one of derision. “Shi Quan gave us a bag of salt blocks, saying that was all we were getting. If we wanted more, we’d have to trade with him.”

Zhang Shuguang sighed. He clearly remembered that back when Mang Da brought his men back, the tribe’s people had traded for salt blocks at the original price—it hadn’t gone up just because prices were higher over there, especially since they hadn’t even started sun-drying sea salt at that time.

“There are many other factors as well. If the chieftain of the Golden Lion Clan—or rather, the tribal leader—were replaced by another beastman from the Golden Lion Clan, I might not have agreed so readily to your proposal to relocate the clan.”

Zhang Shuguang chuckled softly. “Then I really have to thank him.”

“Shi Quan is far too arrogant. He thinks that just because he’s the leader, he can do whatever he wants. You know, our two clans combined number only about thirty sub-beastmen. Not only do they treat the sub-beastmen poorly, but they actually abuse them. Some of the older sub-beastmen can’t even get enough to eat. They work so hard yet still go hungry—they’d be worn out and starved to death long before the snow season even arrives.”

Hu Fei thought of that elderly sub-beastman who’d been beaten to death right before her eyes, and her lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m afraid one day I won’t be able to hold back, and I’ll bite Shi Quan to death.”

“Your thoughts don’t represent those of your clan,” Zhang Shuguang said cautiously. “Earlier, when you mentioned that Shi Quan was hiding a potential problem, a young beastman from your clan glanced at me—no, he glanced at the kid. He must have known about Aila’s situation.”

“You mean Hu Ming,” Hu Fei snorted with a laugh, waving her hand. “There are plenty of young beastmen in the clan who are quite shrewd. Don’t let their usually dazed expressions fool you—when it comes to their own interests, they’re sharper than anyone. You don’t need to worry about your identity being exposed; I’ll pretend I didn’t see a thing. As for the rest, I’m sure you have your own story to tell the outside world.”

Zhang Shuguang clasped his hands together and gave her a nod. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Hu Fei mimicked his gesture, grinning as she made the same gesture. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. If you hadn’t come this time, I’d probably still be putting up with Shi Quan’s nonsense!”

Everything in life requires the right opportunity; whether you can seize it depends on yourself.

Zhang Shuguang was actually still a bit worried that the Golden Tiger Clan might face internal conflicts once they settled in their new home, but judging by Hu Fei’s demeanor, she didn’t seem to think such disagreements were a big deal.

Hu Fei waved at him: “By the time you guys get back, we might have already set up our tribal lands. You’re welcome to come visit us then.”

“Of course, we’ll see each other again soon.” Zhang Shuguang held out his hand. Hu Fei looked at it, then extended her own; they clasped hands and gave them a gentle shake.

“Have a safe journey.”

After Hu Fei left, Zhang Shuguang glanced at the soup in the pottery pot, which had already grown cold.

Adhering to the principle of not wasting food, he simply drank it himself.

Drinking his own blood would also give him a little nourishment.

Sipping the sweet, fruity soup and chewing on dried bamboo shoots, Zhang Shuguang fell into deep thought.

“Why does my blood taste sweet after it’s been boiled?”

How could human blood possibly be sweet!

Even divine blood shouldn’t be sweet!

Why is it sweet?

Could it be that I’ve mutated too?

He furrowed his brow and drained the last bit of broth from the bowl.

He wiped his mouth. It really was sweet—it tasted almost like canned apples cooked in water.