Ever since Sam had revealed he knew how to use medicinal herbs, the older members of the tribe had quietly assumed he must be an apprentice to a shaman… or maybe even a shaman himself.
Shaman's knowledge wasn't something just anyone was entitled to learn. Sam's willingness to teach everyone how to identify the three herbs—two of which could save lives—was an act of great kindness. But they *could not* be greedy and covet his other secrets.
Before Xuan had brought Sam back to the tribe, they'd had no shaman at all. The tribespeople worried that if they came across as greedy, it would make Sam unhappy—unhappy enough to leave the tribe. After all, Sam hadn't been born here. If he wanted to leave, neighboring tribes would be *clawing* at the chance to take him in.
Xuan was well aware of all these unspoken thoughts and assumptions floating around the tribe. But he'd chosen not to say anything to Sam about them. He'd just let the speculation simmer, until it had quietly turned into a fact most people accepted as truth.
Ruya flinched at his father's scolding, shrinking his shoulders as he hurried back to his side. But he still snuck glances at Sam every now and then, his curiosity impossible to hide.
It wasn't long before they reached their gathering spot for the day. The thirty-something sub-beastmen scattered, spreading out to focus on foraging for edible plants on the ground.
Sam followed close behind Qiuye. After glancing around to make sure they were alone, Qiuye pulled him over to a quiet corner, then pulled a long, wrapped object out of his hide bag, a mischievous smile on his face.
"Guess what this is?" he asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"What's the big secret?" Sam leaned in, staring at the object wrapped tightly in hide. He couldn't even begin to guess what it was.
Qiuye just grinned, saying nothing as he carefully unwrapped the hide, revealing what was inside.
It was a short sword—fifty centimeters long, double-edged, glinting coldly in the sunlight.
"A sword?" Sam blurted out in shock. Qiuye immediately clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Keep your voice down! So *that's* what you call this thing?"
Sam stared at the weapon in Qiuye's hands, his mind racing. Did that mean they had iron swords in this world already?
"How did you get this?" Sam whispered, his voice urgent. If there were iron swords, that meant there had to be iron ore somewhere.
If he could find an iron mine, the tribe's combat power would skyrocket. All he'd have to do was exchange the system for iron smelting techniques, and then he could focus on developing other areas of the tribe. The system would level up in no time.
"It's not iron," Qiuye said, shaking his head as he held the sword out for Sam to examine. "It's made from the hardest piece of bone from an Ironbone Beast—and Xia coated the blade with blackthorn grass juice."
When he mentioned Xia, his eyes were practically overflowing with happiness.
"Xia said you were the one who figured out that trick with the blackthorn juice. Xuan already made you a weapon too, right? Xia also said that once we gather enough blackthorn grass, he's going to make a weapon like this for *every* sub-beastman in the tribe. Then we're going to line the tribe's perimeter with sharpened wooden stakes, coat them all with the juice, and then… we'll never have to fear another attack again."
A flicker of sadness crossed Qiuye's eyes as he spoke, but he quickly masked it, his expression brightening again.
Sam reached out and patted his shoulder gently.
"We're going to be okay. Better than okay."
"Yeah. We're going to be better than okay." Qiuye smiled softly, his eyes dipping down to hide the lingering sorrow he always masked beneath his gentle demeanor.
"Cheer up! Today's my first time gathering—I've gotta make a good impression." Sam clapped his hands together, jolting Qiuye out of his thoughts. He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, then leaned in and whispered, "Qiuye—can you sneak me a little help? Please?"
"Hahaha—no way! You're on your own. Gather as much as you can by yourself. I'm the clan leader's mate—I've gotta be fair and square."
With that, Qiuye darted off, laughing, leaving Sam standing there with a comically grumpy look on his face.
Watching Qiuye's mood lighten up, Sam let out a quiet sigh. He hoped with all his heart that he could use his knowledge to truly help this tribe—protect it, and guard every single person in it.
He slapped his cheeks lightly. *Seriously? I was just cheering Qiuye up, and now I'm over here moping around feeling sorry for myself?*
Instead of wasting time wallowing, he should be out doing something useful—earning more energy to exchange for things that would help the tribe grow.
Thanks to promoting the three medicinal herbs, he was already earning a steady trickle of energy. Anytime someone used those herbs—directly or indirectly—and it traced back to him, he got a small energy boost. It wasn't much, but it added up over time.
Copying the other sub-beastmen, Sam knelt down and started hunting for the common edible wild greens they usually gathered. His luck was pretty good—he spotted quite a few, and before he knew it, he'd wandered a fair distance away from the main group.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something familiar. He spun around instantly. *Is that… green onions?*
He wasn't sure—he had to get closer to check.
Sam hurried over and knelt down, staring at the plants that looked exactly like green onions, but twice the size of the ones from his world. He plucked one and sniffed it.
*It IS green onions!*
The holy trinity of seasonings—green onions, ginger, garlic. Finally, he'd found one of them! If he could track down the other two, he'd be in heaven.
Was it his lucky day? Or had his desperate desire for ginger and garlic actually moved the gods?
After carefully digging up the entire clump of green onions and storing them in his warehouse, Sam followed the same path—and sure enough, he spotted ginger and garlic growing nearby.
He wasted no time yanking them out of the ground, roots and all, and stashing them away. It was only when he stood up that he realized just how far he'd drifted from the group.
He glanced down at his woven bag. Between hunting for green onions, ginger, and garlic, he'd barely picked any wild greens—his bag looked pretty empty.
Sam made up his mind to head back to the main group and gather some more greens with everyone else.
But before he could take a single step, the system's cold, mechanical voice blared in his head—sharp and urgent, a tone Sam had never heard before.
"Does the host wish to expend additional energy?!"
"Does the host wish to expend additional energy?!"
"Does the host wish to expend additional energy?!"
The system was almost never emotional. The only time Sam had heard a hint of sincerity in its voice was that night when they'd confronted each other, and the system had promised it meant no harm to the tribe or the world. He'd never heard it sound this frantic.
The mechanical voice was so shrill it felt like needles stabbing his skull.
"System—what's going on? Lower your volume! You're making my head hurt!" Sam staggered, dropping to his knees as he clutched his head, gritting his teeth through the pain.
"Does the host wish to expend additional energy?!" The system's volume dropped immediately, no longer painful—but still brimming with urgency.
"Yes! Yes, I do!" Sam shouted without hesitation.
The system was always quiet, practically invisible unless he called for it. It would never be this frantic without a *reason*. It wasn't actually asking for his permission—it was *begging* him to agree. If he didn't use the energy now, something *catastrophic* was about to happen.
"Forty-four roving beastmen are approaching from the south-southeast direction. System analysis indicates these beastmen pose an extreme threat to sub-beastmen. Host must evacuate immediately and return to the tribe!"
"Host must evacuate immediately and return to the tribe!"
"Host must evacuate immediately and return to the tribe!"
"What?!" Sam's blood ran cold. An extreme threat to sub-beastmen? Qiuye and the others were still out here—thirty-seven sub-beastmen in total!
"How long until they get here?!" Sam sprinted toward Qiuye without a second thought. He had to warn him—*now*. Qiuye was the clan leader's mate; only he had the authority to order everyone to turn back immediately.
"Ten minutes. Host must return to the tribe as quickly as possible!"
Sam ignored the system's urging, skidding to a halt beside Qiuye and hauling him to his feet. "Qiuye! What's wrong, Yuqing? You look terrible!" Qiuye stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden movement—but when he saw the sheer panic on Sam's face, he lowered his voice and asked, his tone full of concern.
"Qiuye—gather *everyone* right now! We have to go back to the tribe—*now*! There's danger!" Sam gasped, his words tumbling out in a rush.
"What danger? Yuqing, calm down—there are six beastmen with us! No wild beast would dare attack us here." Qiuye froze, confused. This was the patrol zone—protected territory, with six beastmen standing guard. How could there be any danger?
Sam bit his lip, his heart twisting into a knot. He didn't have time to make up an excuse for how he knew—he didn't have *time* for anything except getting everyone to safety.
"Qiuye—do you trust me?" His voice trembled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears of panic.
Seeing the raw terror on his face, Qiuye's expression turned serious—deadly serious. He stared at Sam for a long moment, then said, his voice steady and unwavering, "Tell me."
"Forty-four roving beastmen are coming this way—from *that* direction!" Sam pointed frantically, his hands balled into tight fists, his eyes blazing with urgency. "They're extremely dangerous to sub-beastmen! We have to leave *now*—they'll be here any second! I don't care how I know—you have to believe me!"
To Sam's shock, Qiuye didn't ask any questions. His face paled instantly, his blood draining from his cheeks as if he'd just remembered something horrific. Without a word, he raised his voice to a shout, his tone sharp and commanding—filled with an authority Sam had never heard from him before.
"EVERYONE! Drop what you're holding RIGHT NOW and return to the tribe at once! Fei—fly to the patrol team *immediately* and tell them to come here to meet us! You have TEN HEARTBEATS to gather in front of me! Anyone not here in time loses their food rations for three days!"
His expression was grim, his voice brooking no argument.
"EVERYONE GATHER UP NOW!" The beastmen with them echoed his order, their voices booming across the clearing.
No one understood what was going on—but Qiuye was the clan leader's mate, and he had every right to give orders like this. He just never *did*. Not until now.
The sub-beastmen were scattered, but not too far apart. At the sound of his voice, they all dropped their gathering bags and sprinted toward him as fast as they could—confused, but not daring to disobey.
The second Qiuye had given the order, Fei had shifted into his beast form—a massive eagle—and taken off into the sky, soaring toward the patrol team at breakneck speed.
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