Chapter 20: The Shaman’s Endorsement

Chapter 20: The Shaman's Endorsement

Mao Lu’s chest heaved, his breathing growing increasingly ragged. He pushed through the crowd and stumbled toward Mao Ke, his voice trembling as he pleaded, “Chieftain, I’m still useful! I can still hunt! The tribe cannot abandon me! You cannot abandon me! Please, I beg you, don’t cast me aside! I’ll hunt with all my might! Even if I can’t hunt, I can still gather plants. Please don’t drive me out of the tribe. I only need a little beast meat—just a tiny bit… I don’t eat much; a small portion will suffice…”

Mao Lu’s desperate pleas were hoarse, his neck flushed crimson, and spittle flew from his mouth, splattering Mao Ke’s face.

Mao Ke’s expression was grim. Right under his nose, Lang Zhi had dared to harm a tribesman. Even a dog’s owner deserves respect—Lang Zhi clearly held no regard for him as chieftain!

Frustration etched across Mao Ke’s face. He shot Mao Lu a look of disgust. But Mao Lu had incurred the wrath of the entire tribe; Mao Yin was just a cub, and no matter the circumstances, Mao Lu—a grown male beastman—should never have laid hands on a youth. In the beastmen world, all beastmen cherished and protected their young.

Mao Ke shoved Mao Lu away, his tone merciless: “The tribe does not shelter the useless!”

Desperate, Mao Lu turned to beg his mate, Mao Yue. Seeing his agitated state, on the verge of losing control and erupting in anger, she refused to stand near him. She stepped several paces back, casting him a look of contempt without uttering a word.

That look of disgust cut Mao Lu deeply. Limping, he staggered backward, letting out a despairing, beast-like roar. Then he lunged forward, gripping Mao Yue’s arm to prevent her escape, and demanded, his voice thick with anguish, “Wasn’t it you who told me to kill Mao Yin? Why is it that after everything went wrong, I—the crippled beastman—am cast out of the tribe to die, while you remain untouched?”

“You took it upon yourself to kill a cub—and now you’re trying to blame me? I must have been blind to ever allow a male beastman like you into my den!”

Mao Yue looked at him scornfully, her words sharp and piercing. “And let me tell you—the reason I remain unharmed is because I am a female! I am of noble status! You are nothing but a lowly male beastman—inferior and worthless! I can have as many male beastmen as I want—losing you means nothing!”

She even pointed an accusing finger at him and cursed, “Why didn’t the pack beast finish you off? It would have spared us the shame of your returning to the tribe!”

Mao Yue then publicly announced she was expelling Mao Lu from her den!

Mao Lu’s face was a mask of despair, which soon twisted into furious rage.

The veins on his forehead bulged as he crouched low, emitting feral growls. Seeing him ready to lash out violently, the male beastmen behind Mao Yue quickly shielded her, stepping back protectively with expressionless faces.

Mao Yue looked triumphantly at Mao Lu, her face smug and taunting—as if daring him to act—a look so arrogant it made everyone’s blood boil.

Trembling with rage, Mao Lu finally broke. Overwhelmed, he clutched his head and wept bitterly, collapsing to the ground. Pointing at Mao Yue, he alternated between sobbing and cursing, using the foulest language imaginable. After exhausting every vile epithet against Mao Yue, he turned his fury on Mao Ke, Hu Xiu, Lang Zhi—and eventually cursed every single person in the tribe!

Wen Ran watched Mao Lu’s wretched state, feeling a surge of vicious satisfaction.

At the same time, he clearly saw the ugly nature of females in this beastmen tribe. Most females in the beast world were spoiled and willful, emboldened by the indulgence of beastmen—they showed no respect for male beastmen and lacked basic conscience, especially Hu Lai and Mao Yue.

These two females: one, right in front of her mate, constantly sought affairs and cuckolded him; the other sold out her mate without hesitation, turning on him heartlessly and without humanity.

These two females solidified Wen Ran’s resolve never to seek a partner in this beast world. He had no desire to become some female’s pitiful lapdog—a groveling, obsequious creature who licked and licked only to end up with nothing.

Hu Xiu observed the drama coldly. After a moment of contemplation, a glint of shrewdness flashed in his cloudy eyes. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Wen Ran, I agree to your terms—but you must also accept one condition of mine.”

“What condition?”

“Whenever a beastman is injured, you must do your utmost to provide unconditional healing. You must also share your wisdom to help the tribe thrive. Can you agree to this?”

“Certainly.”

Wen Ran had never cared much about such things. If he had, he wouldn’t have agreed to let Lang Zhi share the method of making lard-preserved meat with Mao Shi in the first place.

Wen Ran turned to Mao Ke and asked, “What about the Chieftain?”

The Chieftain’s status was not as high as the Ritual Shaman’s. Seeing that Shaman Hu Xiu had already agreed, Mao Ke had little choice but to nod in consent—though his expression toward Lang Zhi and Wen Ran remained dark.

“Good—it’s settled!”

Hu Xiu declared, “We swear this oath to the Beast God. Any beastman who breaks this vow shall be punished by the Beast God with thunder and lightning beasts!”

“No problem!”

It was just a blood oath; Wen Ran was unconcerned. He didn’t even believe there were gods in this world, let alone some wild deity like the Beast God that he’d never even heard of.

“How can you prove your shamanic medicine is powerful?”

“Are there any live beasts in the tribe?”

“My male caught a live rabbit for the little one to practice hunting. It’s not dead yet. I’ll go back to the den to get it!”

Wen Ran glanced at the female who spoke—the same one who had been weeping earlier, saying that if he had come sooner, her primary male, Mao Yan, might not have died.

Mao Fei quietly leaned close to Wen Ran’s ear and said, “This is Mao Zhi, a good female, just unlucky in life. Her first primary male, Mao Yan, died in the last dry season. During the hottest part of the dry season, when food and water were scarce, Mao Zhi gave birth to three little cubs for him. Seeing the three cubs on the verge of starvation and thirst, Mao Yan went out under the blazing sun to hunt a Grunting Beast. He was gored through the belly by the beast’s tusks, his intestines spilling out. By the time other beastmen carried him back to the tribe, he only had time to take one look at Mao Zhi and the three little cubs before he breathed his last and joined the Beast God.”

Mao Fei added regretfully, “Originally, Mao Zhi and I had similar ideas—she only wanted to form a den with one male beastman and had no plans to bring in others. Besides, Mao Zhi and Mao Yan had a very strong bond; they were each other’s first male and female.”

“But after Mao Yan died, she couldn’t hunt alone or support the three cubs and herself. To survive and keep the cubs alive, several male beastmen have since joined her den.”

“Oh, and I’ll tell you secretly—originally, there were two hunting teams in the tribe. One Hunting Captain was Mao Shi, and the other was Mao Yan.”

“Cat Tooth only became a Hunting Captain after Mao Yan died. That nasty female Hu Lai compared him to me for a long time over this. It’s enough to make other beastmen laugh their heads off—what does Cat Tooth have to compare with my Alpha Male?”

As Wen Ran listened to Mao Fei’s gossip about the tribe, he glanced sideways at Mao Zhi.

Mao Zhi had tied her gray hair into a ponytail with a beast tendon, pinned neatly at the back of her head, looking clean and efficient. Her gray eyes were clear and bright, very lively—clearly a passionate and straightforward girl.

Mao Zhi turned and quickly ran back to the cave. When she returned, she was followed by three young kittens. She held the rabbit by its ears and handed the lively creature to Wen Ran: “Here you go.”

Wen Ran carefully examined the rabbit from head to toe, confirming it was healthy and unharmed. Then he had Lang Zhi draw the bone knife tucked at his waist. Grabbing the rabbit by its hind legs, he made a light cut. Blood instantly gushed out, and the rabbit squealed in pain.

Wen Ran held the rabbit still and applied the blood-red Dragon Blood Tree sap to the wound. Soon, the bleeding stopped, and the rabbit calmed down again.

Wen Ran said, “This red sap is from the Dragon Blood Tree. In our tribe, it’s also called ‘Qilin Jie.’ The first to discover the blood-stanching and pain-relieving effects of Dragon Blood Tree sap were wild beasts, not beastmen.”

Wen Ran slowly explained, sharing the knowledge and origins of the Dragon Blood Tree with the beastmen of this world: “Our tribe is large, and many beastmen make a living by hunting and herding, traveling daily between cliffs and primeval forests. So, injuries and bleeding among people and livestock are common.”

“Once, a beastman from our tribe was herding…”

Wen Ran paused, thinking that according to beastmen’s understanding, cows might be called Cow Beasts. He continued, “He was herding Cow Beasts when one Cow Beast misstepped and fell off a cliff, bleeding heavily. The beastman noticed that the Cow Beast had accidentally broken a tree trunk, and blood-red sap was flowing out. The injured Cow Beast licked and applied the sap to its wound, and soon the bleeding stopped.”

“The beastman also noticed that the Cow Beast chewed on the leaves. Not long after, the Cow Beast miraculously stood up again. The beastman scrambled to the blood-red sap and, imitating the Cow Beast, applied it to his own hands and feet, which had been cut and bleeding from sharp rocks on the cliffs. The effect was the same—the bleeding stopped shortly after.”

“Since then, Dragon Blood Tree sap has been regarded by the beastmen of our tribe as a gift from the Beast God, and they call it ‘Qilin Jie.’”

“Look, the wound on the rabbit’s hind leg has stopped bleeding. It can even stand up and hop around, feeling no pain in its leg. This is the pain-relieving effect of Dragon Blood Tree sap.”

“In the future, if beastmen get injured, they can collect Dragon Blood Tree sap themselves and apply it to the wound. You know the Dragon Blood Tree, right? It grows in the desert. I’ll draw a rough sketch of it. If you come across one, you can simply cut the bark to collect the sap.”

The Sand Cat Tribe members were surprised and moved that Wen Ran didn’t hold back at all—he even shared the origin of Dragon Blood Tree sap with them.

Shamanic medicine is precious and highly secretive. Those who can use it are called Ritual Shamans, symbolizing a certain status and position in the tribe.

To protect their standing, most shamans don’t selflessly share their knowledge of how to use shamanic medicine. Only when a Ritual Shaman senses they are nearing the end of their life and will soon meet the Beast God do they take on two talented apprentices, teaching them about shamanic medicine and the ceremonial dance used to communicate with the Beast God.

As for how much these apprentices learn, that’s hard to say.

Some tribes have even lost their shamanic knowledge and the ceremonial dance to communicate with the Beast God because the Ritual Shaman took too long to choose satisfactory apprentices or taught too late, resulting in the tribe having no shaman. When beastmen get injured during hunts, they can only leave it to chance.

Author’s Note: