Lin Qiu slept for a while, then, feeling mostly awake, went to the stream to cup water and wash his face.

In just half a day, the beastmen had cleared a vast swath of land, stretching all the way from the western foot of Wolf Mountain—a vast expanse of pitch black. The wolves collapsed from exhaustion, their chests, bellies, and paws caked in soot.

Meanwhile, on the other side, a dozen or so beastmen, dripping wet and carrying plump fish, were approaching Wolf Mountain.

Each fish was nearly a meter long—some even over a meter—and weighed dozens of pounds. In his previous life, such fish could only be found in rivers and streams that had been off-limits to fishing for many years.

Doesn’t that mean there’s meat to eat?

The beastmen still preferred to grill their fish. Lang Mo, shivering on his four pitch-black legs, asked, “Qiu, do you want fresh fish or grilled?”

Lin Qiu: “I’ll grill it myself.”

Lang Mo nodded dejectedly and shuffled back. Lin Qiu simply followed him to fetch the supplies himself.

Beastmen gut fish just as they do wild beasts: they slit open the belly, scrape off the scales, but leave the gills intact. The innards inside the fish are too fishy; the beastmen would vomit if they ate them, so they only discard them when they simply can’t stomach them.

Lin Qiu once again cut off a palm-sized piece of fish meat. He took it to the stream and rinsed it several times, cleaning it thoroughly inside and out. The fish looked excellent—pale pink in color, with translucent flesh.

Lin Qiu first pan-fried half of it to make fish soup, and grilled the other half directly.

The small knife given to him by Lang Yan sliced through the fish as easily as tofu, and Lin Qiu handled it with ease. The fish was sliced paper-thin, and within moments, the aroma of frying filled the air.

While the fish soup simmered on the stove, Lin Qiu tore off pieces of the fish—crisp on the outside and tender on the inside—to eat. The flesh was delicate and tender, with a distinct fibrous texture and a slight springy texture.

Even with just a few grains of salt, the fish had no fishy smell—only the aroma of firewood.

“It’s so delicious. If there are plenty in the river, we could catch more.” The thought crossed Lin Qiu’s mind.

He finished the grilled fish in no time, watching from a distance as the beastmen took a bite and spat it out twice, their faces contorted with effort, while others coughed violently after getting fish bones stuck in their throats. Eating a fish was like facing a major enemy for them.

Soon, a few clever ones made their way over to Qiu. Seeing that he had cleaned his plate of grilled fish and glancing at the milky-white fish broth in his pot, their eyes widened in astonishment.

Lang Mo clutched the fish he hadn’t even bothered to grill and asked hesitantly, “Qiu, how did you do that? Could you teach us?” It was a fair trade—he could exchange the meat from his next meal for the lesson.

Lang Xi had his arm draped over Lang Mo’s shoulder, his legs dangling limply, and he nodded eagerly as well. Four or five beastmen were gathered around them.

In the distance, he spotted a few more sneaking their way over.

Lin Qiu: “Sure.”

Grilling fish isn’t difficult, but beastmen are careless about it—they just toss the meat into the fire and wait until they think it’s cooked through before pulling it out.

As a result, a large portion of the meat they grill ends up charred.

As for why they don’t stay to watch it cook, it’s because they’re so sleepy, hungry, and exhausted that they’ll sit by the fire for a moment, then close their eyes and nod off—it’s very common for them to get singed by the flames without even noticing.

Lin Qiu told them to skewer the fish with sticks and roast it around his small fire.

When the fish skin curled up and began sizzling with oil, they flipped it over.

This was a hassle for the beastmen; after holding the skewers for just a moment, they’d be tempted to shove the fish right into the fire. 

Lin Qiu: “It’s going to burn—flip it over.”

The beastmen flipped the fish in unison. Just as they were getting bored and their eyelids were drooping, they suddenly caught a whiff of a savory, charred aroma. They sniffed the air a few times, and several wolf-beastmen began to swallow hard.

Lin Qiu: “Sprinkle some salt—evenly. Too much will make it salty.”

The beastmen looked at each other—none of them had brought any.

Lin Qiu simply pulled out his own small packet.

Some of the beastmen grabbed a handful, but Lin Qiu pressed his stick against the back of their hands. “That’s too much.” When the sub-beastman was serious, his expression turned slightly cold, like a snowy day, radiating a chill. For some reason, the beastmen obediently followed his instructions.

Still, they had to adjust their salt several times, afraid of using too little. No wonder the charred meat chunks they’d eaten earlier were sometimes extremely salty and sometimes bland.

The fish cooked quickly. As soon as Lin Qiu gave the signal, the beastmen immediately withdrew their sticks. They blew on the fish a couple of times, then opened their mouths and scrambled to take a bite.

The sound of the fish crunching was crisp and pleasing to the ear. Mmm!

Delicious, so delicious!

Lin Qiu saw that it was almost ready and turned off the heat under his fish soup. He turned his head to find several heads peering over.

“Slurp…” Lang Mo swallowed the excess saliva.

Lin Qiu noticed their sticks were bare, and the beastman was still gnawing on the last bit of meat clinging to his stick. “Finished?” he asked. Such a large chunk of meat—he’d swallowed it whole, as if he hadn’t even chewed it.

“We’re done,” Lang Mo said.

The beastmen nodded.

Their eyes were fixed solely on Lin Qiu’s stone cooking pot, looking innocent and a bit dim-witted.

The aroma of grilled fish lingered in their mouths, and the beastmen couldn’t help but lick their lips, savoring the memory—they hadn’t had enough. They hadn’t even had a chance to taste it before the fish was gone.

And the bones didn’t prick their tongues—it was so crispy!

Lin Qiu looked at their shining eyes and said, “There’s no more.”

Disappointed, the beastmen’s footsteps felt as if they were weighed down with lead; they left, each step heavy. Lin Qiu let out a soft sigh.

He poured half the fish broth from his pot into a small wooden bucket the size of his palm—this was his meal—and handed the rest to Lang Guo. 

Lang Guo: “The cubs have something to eat.”

Lin Qiu: “I can’t finish it all.”

Lang Guo took it without a peep, unsure how to face Lin Qiu, and hurried off to feed the cubs. With a pot in each hand, Lang Guo carried them with surprising ease.

The soup sloshed inside the pots. Compared to the fishy-smelling meat paste in his own clay cooking pot, Qiu’s white fish soup smelled exceptionally fragrant and looked delicious. Lang Guo had also seen the beastmen surrounding Qiu earlier, and he was curious to know how it was made.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

The seeds had barely been planted when it started raining again that night.

The sun was out during the day, and the temperature was just right, but the wind made it cold at night. The cave entrance wasn’t sealed, so the wind blew straight in. Even with Lang Yan blocking the side, it was still a bit chilly.

Lin Qiu curled up tighter and tighter, constantly backing away.

The two nests were side by side, and as Lang Yan retreated, his massive frame—already towering over the nest—pressed Lin Qiu’s back directly against his own. Its thick fur felt like the warmest blanket, yet Lin Qiu still felt a chill on his back. In a daze, he reached behind him, grabbed something, and draped it over himself. Lang Yan’s tail stiffened, the fur along its spine bristled, and its ears pricked up.

His entire body went rigid, and his tail snapped back.

Lin Qiu rolled over and tumbled into the grass nest. Dazed, he sat up and found himself staring eye-to-eye with Lang Yan. Lang Yan’s eyes didn’t move.

Lin Qiu closed his eyes, flopped back into the grass nest, and fell into a deep sleep, clutching the animal hide.

Lang Yan’s ears twitched violently. He wagged his tail, rolled over, and drifted off to sleep at the edge of the grassy hollow. His limbs hung over the edge, just a bit.

After a long while, the wolf’s ears twitched again.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

He slept until dawn.

The cave was quiet, with dust motes dancing in the beam of light. The beastmen had gone out hunting again.

The fish from yesterday were gone, and the jerky had been given to the cubs, so Lin Qiu had no choice but to go hungry until the beastmen returned. He worked as usual in the morning, though this time there were at least half as many plants to process.

Just as he was beginning to feel a sense of relief, the priest called him over to eat the medicinal paste.

Lin Qiu pursed his lips, pulled his neck back, and found himself pressed against the wooden frame with nowhere to retreat.

“Can’t I just not eat it?”

He felt perfectly fine.

The old priest: “Do you want me to call your father to the tribe?” 

Lin Qiu: “I still have a father?”

“Eat it!” The priest was so furious that the stones on his wooden staff jingled.

He didn’t even know if he had a father anymore!

Fearing he might provoke the old beastman into a rage, Lin Qiu could only pinch his nose and force the food down. The priest watched as he ate every last bite.

Now his hungry stomach was suddenly full.

Lin Qiu lay half-dead, leaning against a wooden frame with his eyes closed.

The priest couldn’t stand to watch him like that, so he shoved a leaf into his mouth and told him to chew it to a pulp. 

Lin Qiu: “I can’t…”

Gag!

The priest shoved it straight into his mouth. 

Lin Qiu: “It’s sweet?”

He chewed it up and swallowed, “Is there any more?” 

Priest: “That’s all.”

As if he could eat just any old weed!

He’s been an adult for two years now—does he still think he’s a cub?!

He took his usual nap at noon, all thanks to that huge bowl of medicinal paste the priest had given him. By the time Lin Qiu woke up, still feeling groggy, it was already dark. The back of his head throbbed, and he had to rest for a while before he could get up.

The beastmen who had gone out had returned.

They’d caught plenty of prey today, though the animals were small—somewhat like chickens or birds—and Lin Qiu was given a single leg. The gathering party had brought back a good variety of edible plants as usual, and to his delight, there were even berries.

About the size of a fingertip, Lin Qiu tasted one—tart and sweet, with a crisp texture. The flavor was similar to that of blueberries.

There wasn’t much meat, so the beastmen didn’t gather around to watch him prepare it. They just chewed it whole, took a few bites of grass, and hurried back to the cave to sleep. Lin Qiu stripped the meat from the leg, cut it into small pieces, and stewed it directly into soup.

The longer it simmered, the stronger the chicken-soup-like aroma became.

The scent was even more overpowering than that of roasted fish. When a gust of wind carried it into the cave, the beastmen inside perked up their ears instantly, their eyes glowing in green light.

“So good, so good, so good…”

Lang Mo covered his nose with his paw, but finding it wasn’t enough, he buried his face in Lang Xi’s fur. A muffled voice came from within, “It’s definitely Qiu.”

“A bite-sized piece of meat—how did you make it smell so good? Woof… If only we had a big clay cooking pot, we could cook all the meat together. I’d even be happy just to drink the broth!”

Lang Xi, overcome with hunger, took a bite out of Lang Mo’s ear. “No, only the Qiu Shan tribe on the Central Continent knows how to make it.” The tribe’s clay cooking pots were traded for back when their ancestors were still on the Central Continent.

“King! Why don’t we dig a big stone cooking pot like Qiu did? Let’s dig a few of them.” A beastman called out from inside the cave. “The King isn’t in the cave.”

After finishing his dinner, Lin Qiu glanced at Lang Yan, who had just emerged from the Priest’s Cave, and slowly made his way toward the main cavern. Lang Yan, with his long legs and stride, caught up to Lin Qiu in no time.

Just as Lin Qiu thought he was about to pass him, he noticed Lang Yan had slowed his pace, staying at a distance neither too close nor too far.

“Qiu.” His voice cut through the still night, sounding abrupt.  “Hmm?” Lin Qiu turned his head instinctively.

Lang Yan studied his face as if examining something. After a moment, he walked past him and left. Lin Qiu remained where he was, lowering his eyelashes.

Does he suspect me?

Lin Qiu’s heartbeat quickened slightly. He followed Lang Yan into the cave, curled up in the grass nest, and kept an eye on the beastman out of the corner of his eye.

Lang Yan was incredibly perceptive.

He instantly shifted into wolf form, his ears twitching.

Lin Qiu frowned, pulled the animal hide tighter, and buried himself deeper in the grass nest.

“You can go near the river, or you can go into the woods.” After saying this, Lang Yan shifted to the other side of the grass nest, closed his eyes, and fell silent.

Lin Qiu: “Alright.”

No suspicion, and he was free again.

This was the outcome of the priest’s discussion with Lang Yan: Qiu still needed to spend half a day at the priest’s place every day, but his range of movement had been expanded. However, beastmen would continue to keep an eye on him.

The old priest said that keeping Qiu confined was not good for him and was hindering his physical recovery.

Lang Yan thought about it for a moment and agreed.