“Qiu, get some sleep.” Lang An brought over the fish meat distributed by the tribe that morning. It was already roasted and ready to eat.

Lin Qiu took a small piece and shook his head.

Lang An looked at his slightly darkened skin and ran his hand across his arm, leaving a gray smudge.

Lin Qiu glanced at it, his voice light and airy, like morning mist. Having stayed up all night by the kiln, he lacked energy. “A quick wash will clean it up.”

Lang An smiled, gazing at the blazing fire, thinking to himself: This clay cooking pot really isn’t that easy to make.

‌‌He went to deliver meat to Lang Mo.

The entire first squad of the guard unit was here; everyone had been on watch since yesterday afternoon and had barely slept a wink.

The pile of firewood beside them, once as high as a small hill, was now more than half gone. The Black Beastman’s head was covered in dust, blending in with the Gray Beastman’s hair.

Lin Qiu hadn’t eaten much yesterday, though he’d drunk plenty of water. Feeling no hunger, he slowly nibbled on a piece of roasted fish, staring intently at the fire.

Lang Mo was still crouched on guard, while Lang Xi and the other two beastmen sat on the firewood, their eyes vacant.

Whatever Lang An handed them, the beastmen shoved straight into their mouths, chewing and swallowing, their eyes never leaving the fiery red flames.

“We can let the fire die down slowly, bit by bit.”

Lang Mo: “Woof.” His throat was parched and hoarse from the kiln fire.

After serving the food, Lang An poured another round of water for the beastmen. Lin Qiu took two sips, and his eyelids began to droop.

He forced himself to stay awake, washed his face by the stream, and returned to keep watch. 

They kept watch until the sun rose and the morning mist over the great river dispersed. The beastmen returned, but stood farther away, none of them speaking.

As the time for the fire to die out drew nearer, the beastmen still remaining on Wolf Mountain began to leave one after another.

The priest stood at the front and felt that even before they had approached, this side of the mountain seemed as if it were about to burn.

The beastmen were all somewhat tense, their breathing growing lighter.

Lin Qiu: “It’s almost time.”

Lang Mo and Lang Shi immediately extinguished their fires, threw themselves to the ground, and fell into a deep sleep.

At the priest’s signal, the beastmen immediately moved the members of the first guard squad away from the kiln entrance.

Lin Qiu turned to look at the crowd of beastmen surrounding him, his reaction somewhat sluggish.

He could fall asleep the moment he closed his eyes now.

“Priest, we can’t open it yet. It’ll take two days,” Lin Qiu said.

The old priest replied, “I know. An, help Qiu back to bed.”

Qiu’s body swayed unsteadily; if Lang An hadn’t caught him, he would have bowed his head right in front of the beastmen behind him.

After sitting all night, his legs were numb.

“Lang Mu will stay here with two squads of beastmen to guard the area; the rest of the beastmen will return to Wolf Mountain.”

As Lin Qiu listened to the priest’s instructions, it felt as though a thin membrane had been placed between them, a buzzing sound, making every word and phrase somewhat indistinct.

Passing by the stream, he stopped. 

Lang An: “Let’s go back and get some sleep first.”

Lin Qiu: “I’m fine, An. Go ahead with your duties. I’ll wash up and then sleep.”

Lang An let go and soon returned with Lang Guo.

Lin Qiu sat on a rock by the stream and quickly rinsed his exposed hands and feet. The moment he closed his eyes, his head lolled into the stream.

Lang Guo and Lang An immediately took him by the arms, one on each side, and carried Lin Qiu into the cave.

Lin Qiu was so exhausted his mind was a complete blur, and his eyelids felt like lead. He collapsed into the grass nest; once covered with animal skins, he didn’t even notice when the cubs crawled into the nest and stepped on him.

Lang Guo and Lang An carried the cubs away, and the cave fell silent.

Lang Mo and the others were also brought back to Wolf Mountain. Once tossed onto the ground, they shifted back into their beast forms and slept even more soundly.

Their snoring sounded like thunder. The beastmen had planned to bring them into the cave, but decided against it so they wouldn’t disturb Lin Qiu.

The setting sun sank behind the mountains, its afterglow like a red mist shrouding half the sky.

Birds formed long lines, flying through the glow toward the distant horizon.

The hunting and gathering parties returned.

The returning beastmen didn’t rush to lie down; instead, they hurried over like a flock of birds to gather around the kiln.

Even though the kiln’s entrance was sealed and there was nothing to see, they remained eager.

Langmu stood guard in front of the kiln. Seeing the beastmen still crowding forward, he held out the wooden stick in his hand to block their path.

“Stand back. It’s not ready yet.”

“Not ready yet? Then when will it be ready?”

“Lin Qiu said it’ll take two days.”

The beastmen scattered once more, returning to the foot of Wolf Mountain, where they sprawled haphazardly on the ground and closed their eyes to rest.

He glanced inside Lang Yan’s cave.

Lin Qiu was still sleeping, soundly, half his face buried beneath the animal hide; his raven-black eyelashes and hair were visible.

The sky was gradually darkening, and the cave grew dim.

Lang Guo was outside preparing food for the cubs. Now, little colored heads were peeking out from the corner of the cave entrance, one piled on top of another, sneaking around as if up to no good.

Lang Yan didn’t move, his entire body blending into the darkness.

The cubs chattered among themselves, then ran toward Qiu’s nest. Lang Yan strode closer; the cubs startled and turned to run back in a panic.

Lang Yan stoked the fire, and the cave grew a little brighter.

He sat with his back to the side where Lin Qiu’s grass nest was, the firelight blocked; Lin Qiu slept peacefully in the shadows.

Lang Yan watched the farthest corner of the cave; there was a rustling sound, but it soon fell silent.

He stood up and walked over to the cub.

This cave, large enough to accommodate the entire tribe of beastmen, was originally a natural formation that had been modified by the beastmen to make it more comfortable to live in.

Just past a slight bend, the interior remained spacious.

In addition to a huge grass nest in the center where the cub could play and rest, they had dug several storage chambers.

Some were for storing animal hides, others for winter food supplies, and still others for salt.

The cave entrances were usually sealed off to keep the cubs out.

Lang Yan glanced at the entrances; all showed signs of having been scratched by little paws. His gaze grew somber as he stared at the cub lying in the grass nest—pretending to sleep, though his eyelids twitched constantly.

“Qiu is very tired. Don’t disturb him.”

Cub: “Snore, snore…”

Lang Yan: “Lang Xue, you’re not allowed to climb into Qiu’s grass nest tonight either.”

Lang Xue’s ears twitched.

Lang Yan stood by the grass nest. After a while, when Lang Guo returned carrying a clay cooking pot, Lang Yan finally left.

Lin Qiu slept straight through until the next morning.

Sunlight streamed into the cave, momentarily blinding him when he opened his eyes. He propped himself up against the grass nest and felt a wave of dizziness.

He was starving, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him once more.

Spotting the food wrapped in large leaves by the grass nest, Lin Qiu grabbed it without a second thought and began to eat.

Lang Guo had finished feeding the cubs and came over upon hearing the noise.

“Qiu! You’re awake!”

Leaning against the grass nest, slowly nodded and continued munching on the jerky.

“Did you put this here?” He held up the item in his hand.

“No, Wang did,” Lang Guo said.

Lin Qiu: “My share?”

“Mm-hmm.” Lang Guo nodded. “Wang said you’d definitely be hungry, so he roasted your meat too.”

Lin Qiu relaxed completely, leaning against the edge of the grass nest, his eyelids drooping as he ate the jerky to regain his strength.

He hadn’t eaten for a day and a night; he was truly starving.

After nibbling a bit and feeling somewhat better, Lin Qiu left the grass nest and sat outside the cave, still holding the jerky.

Lang Guo followed him out, carrying the empty clay cooking pot.

“Qiu, do you want anything else to eat? I’ll cook it for you.”

Lin Qiu: “No, thanks.”

Lang Guo: “Alright.” 

He headed to the stream to wash the clay cooking pot.

The sunlight was lovely, warming him so thoroughly that even the laziness in his bones seemed to melt away. Lin Qiu found a patch of grass to sit on, finished the jerky, and lay down again.

Before long, he sensed several pairs of eyes on him and opened his eyes.

Lang Mo, Lang Shi, Lang Xi, and the wolf-beastman from the first squad of the guard unit who was in charge of tending the fire had all gathered around, still in their beast forms.

Lang Mo: “Qiu, are you okay?”

Lin Qiu sat up, still looking a bit listless. “Yeah. Is something up?”

The black and gray wolves shook their heads, their tails wagging happily.

The scene looked a bit like a dog being trained.

Lin Qiu tugged at the corner of his mouth, then lay back down. “We’re opening the kiln tomorrow. Don’t touch that area for now.”

Lang Mo nodded solemnly.

Lang Shi: “Lang Mu is guarding that area.”

“Mm.” Lin Qiu rested his arm across his eyes. Even after catching up on sleep following a late night, he still felt like his muscles had been drained, his whole body aching with lethargy.

Seeing that Lin Qiu had slept for too long, Lang Shi and the others came over.

They’d scatter whenever they felt like it, then find another spot to lie down.

The weather was fine, but the sun was unbearable after a while. Lin Qiu sat up, looked around, and saw Lang An and Lang Yu working in the fields again. He strolled over at a leisurely pace.

Although the grass was growing fast now, the beastmen pulled it frequently, so there was hardly any left in the fields.

Lin Qiu looked out and saw that the tail grass they’d planted was already as tall as a palm.

However, some areas were dense while others were sparse; there wasn’t much grass left to pull, yet the beastmen were still searching for it among the seedlings.

“Qiu.” Lang An walked over from the field.

Lin Qiu casually pulled the straw hat, woven from grass leaves, over his head and glanced at the field through the gaps between the leaves: “When will the tail grass be ready for harvest?”

“After the rainy season.”

Lang An’s fingernails were caked with mud, and he was clutching a freshly pulled weed—it was still quite tender.

Mentioning the rainy season, a hint of worry flashed in his eyes.

“The tail grass is growing so well now. It’s a pity the rainy season is so long. It’s the time for it to form ears, so we’ll have to harvest less.”

Lin Qiu: “Tail grass is native to this land; it should be well-adapted to the environment.”

Lang An shook his head. “We brought tail grass over from the Central Continent. It was the previous High Priest who led our people in cultivating it.”

If we were still on the Central Continent, the tail grass would likely thrive. Although they have a rainy season there too, it isn’t as long as here, and the climate is drier.

But the tribes on the Central Continent were too large, the competition too fierce, and the game there was the first to dwindle. They had no choice but to move out.

Lin Qiu: “Without looking too far ahead, these seedlings might need to be transplanted.”

Lang An turned to look at the field.

They had noticed it long ago: in some places, the tail grass grew as thick as a meadow, while in others it was sparse and patchy—all because the seeds hadn’t been sown properly back then.

“Can’t we just move them?”

Lin Qiu: “We’ll wait for a cloudy day. As long as they’re not exposed to the sun, they’ll be fine. We can take care of the drainage while we’re at it.”

Lin Qiu hadn’t experienced the rainy season yet, but he figured that with months of continuous rain, the fields would inevitably flood.

To plant grain, one must first make ridges, then sow the seeds, and finally cover them with soil.

At the time, having just joined the tribe, he observed the beastmen’s farming methods—they had their own expertise. Besides, trust hadn’t been established yet, so it wasn’t appropriate to speak up. 

According to An, the tail grass’s ear-forming period coincides with the rainy season. This is a domesticated native plant, different from the grain he’d seen in his previous life, so the impact shouldn’t be too severe.

But the rainy season in the east is too long; if water pools around the roots for too long, they’re prone to rotting. It looks like they’ll still have to plant them that way…

However, since the seedlings are already this big, making ridges won’t work, so it’s best to dig drainage ditches.

Also, they’ll soon enter the peak growth period. If they can apply fertilizer to boost yields, it’ll be worth it to offset some of the losses.

Lin Qiu explained the situation to Lang An in broad terms, and the more the beastman listened, the more he found it made sense.

‌The weeds in his hand were already clenched into a tight ball.

Lang An tossed the weeds far away and said, “Qiu, come with me to find the priest. We’ll talk to him about this.”