Chapter 56

Chapter 56: The Battle Axe

Wen Ran examined the axe—it must have been something the system had snatched from another high-level dimension. Its craftsmanship and sharpness were rare even on Ancient Earth—definitely a top-tier item.

But the axe was too heavy. Wen Ran could barely lift it; his arm muscles trembled with the strain.

It wasn’t suitable for him—he still preferred his electroshock baton.

He sat up, woke Lang Zhi, and handed him the axe with both hands, speaking solemnly: “Zhi, this is a battle axe. It can chop wood—or enemies. It’s extremely sharp and ranks among the finest weapons in the Beast World. Its weight favors strong beastmen, giving them an edge in unarmed combat and enabling them to better protect themselves and their companions. Zhi, I’m giving this axe to you.”

Lang Zhi’s gaze shifted from Wen Ran’s face to the axe—and with just one glance, he was utterly captivated. Eagerly, he took it, testing its weight with practice swings and checking its edge. His eyes sparkled with joy and excitement, already envisioning how swiftly he could hunt with it.

“This axe is incredibly valuable. Are you really giving it to me?”

“Yes.”

Lang Zhi held it carefully, studying the intricate patterns etched into the blade, then took a piece of hide and lovingly wiped it again and again.

From Lang Zhi’s actions alone, Wen Ran knew he’d made the right choice—the battle axe had found its perfect owner.

Lang Zhi looked at Wen Ran with quiet intensity and said, “Thank you, Wen Ran.”

“Don’t mention it. A fine axe deserves a hero—and this battle axe suits you best.”

“Yes—I’ll use it to protect you!”

Facing Big Black Wolf’s unwavering, earnest gaze and hearing his vow-like promise, Wen Ran scratched his head, feeling slightly embarrassed—yet deeply pleased.

Meanwhile, on Mao Ke’s side, beneath the scorching fireballs, the desert sand burned unbearably hot, radiating blistering heat waves as if the entire expanse had transformed into a colossal steamer—threatening to roast every beastman migrating across it.

......

The male beastmen had long shifted into their heat-resistant forms, walking anxiously while flicking their tails back and forth. Their fur was drenched in sweat and coated with fine, stubborn sand clinging to their backs and bellies—making them profoundly uncomfortable.

They shook their bodies, trying to dislodge the grit—but due to their dense fur, almost none of it fell away.

Gasping for air, tongues lolling weakly, their eyes filled with exhaustion and helplessness, they had trudged across endless yellow dunes for days, already drained—and now, weighed down by layers of sand, they felt suffocated.

The Sand Fox Beastmen—once swift and agile—moved ever more slowly. Their russet and gray fur had lost its sheen, matted and tangled with coarse sand, clumping into stiff patches.

Their once-vibrant fox eyes dulled by heat and dehydration, they kept licking cracked lips, desperate for even a taste of cool water—unfortunately, their water supplies had run dry that very morning.

Their eyes, strained from relentless exposure to the desert’s blinding glare, ached fiercely. They squinted, finding it harder and harder to lift their feet—slowing, inching forward with increasing difficulty.

Some of the more delicate females, overwhelmed by the heat, pressed close to their Alpha Males and mates, crying loudly, seeking comfort in their reassurances.

The entire migration group—over a hundred beastmen—was engulfed in drought and searing heat. With nothing but yellow sand stretching endlessly in every direction—not a trace of greenery—their hearts grew cold, sinking into bottomless despair.

The grueling trek continued until nightfall—when the beastmen’s emotional endurance finally shattered. Desperate weeping and hushed complaints rose from the crowd. Some sobbed: “We should’ve listened to Wen Ran and stayed in the tribe! Then we wouldn’t be dying of thirst in this desert!”

“Yeah—I don’t want to die! My cub is still so young!”

“Will we even reach the zebra tribe alive? I’m so thirsty…”

“Cub! Cub! Wake up! Don’t scare me, Mama!”

One female, cradling her cub, broke down completely. Her cub’s beastman father—who had been patrolling—rushed over upon hearing her cries.

Seeing the cub had fainted from thirst, he immediately bit his own wrist with sharp teeth, letting his blood drip into the cub’s mouth.

The unconscious cub, tasting the warm liquid, instinctively began to swallow—then, as if ravenous, grabbed the male beastman’s arm and sucked desperately at the bleeding wound.

After a while, the cub stirred groggily awake—seeing his weeping mother and his pale, weakened father—and, tasting blood in his mouth, understood everything. He burst into tears, clutching his father’s wrist.

The cub cried. The female cried. And gradually, the entire migration group dissolved into soft, hopeless sobs—as if swallowed whole by despair.

One male beastman stepped forward and asked, “Chief—how much farther to the zebra tribe?”

Mao Ke’s resolute face was sunburned and peeling badly; his lips were parched and cracked. He moved his mouth—but no words came out. He didn’t know. They seemed lost in the desert.

He glanced at Mao Yue—wilted and listless from the heat—and lacked even the energy to reprimand her. Had she not insisted on this migration, they could’ve been preparing for the dry season safely in their dens—far better off than this.

Everyone was parched, burning with feverish heat, too exhausted to move. One by one, more and more beastmen collapsed—leaving long trails in the sand. Despair and death loomed ever closer.

Hu Ya, lying limply in Mao Ke’s arms, looked up at him and whispered weakly, “Alpha Male… are we all going to die…?”

Mao Ke tried to raise his hand—to comfort her, to urge her to hold on just a little longer—but before he could speak, his vision blurred and he slumped unconscious. Faintly, he heard his mate’s raw, desperate cries—echoing as if from a distant horizon…

Just before total unconsciousness claimed him, he heard joyful voices echoing: *“It’s raining!”*

*“It’s raining—the Chief is saved!”*

*“Thank the gods—it’s finally raining!”*

......

*“We won’t die of thirst now! Beast God, have mercy!”*

......

More and more voices reached his ears—and he felt cool droplets on his face. Mao Ke lifted his gaze to the rain-swept sky, his taut heart finally easing. It *was* raining. With this rain, his people would survive. He longed to savor the coolness a moment longer—but couldn’t hold on. He slipped fully into unconsciousness.

Big Black Wolf was still practicing his axe swings when—*BOOM!*—a thunderclap exploded overhead. Even the three cubs jolted awake, huddling under animal hides, faces twisted in fear.

“Don’t be afraid—I’ll go see what’s happening.” Lang Zhi placed the battle axe beside Wen Ran, who hugged the frightened cubs and told him to be careful.

Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled across the sky. A searing bolt struck a giant tree—splitting it cleanly in two. One half crashed to the ground, smoking; the other half stood precariously upright—still intact, like a colossal beastman engulfed in flames.

At the sight, beastmen dropped to their knees in terror, pointing at the towering, fiery silhouette and shrieking: *“Look—it’s a fire giant! This is Beast God’s punishment! Beast God is punishing us!”*

Others instantly followed—kneeling, faces contorted with despair.

The tree’s chaotic, flaming branches writhed like whips of fire—terrifying the beastmen, making them shudder and tremble. Their eyes brimmed with hopelessness; bone and stone knives slipped from numb fingers—some collapsed outright; others fled wildly in all directions. Chaos erupted.

Mao Shi, battling his own fear, tried to calm the panicked crowd—unaware that the rain had already ceased.

Under the starry night, Lang Zhi’s emerald-green eyes watched the burning tree calmly—utterly unshaken. Wen Ran had said he was Beast God’s Messenger—if Beast God truly issued any decree, *he* would know first.

He trusted Wen Ran.

If this *were* Beast God’s punishment, Wen Ran would have known before anyone else.

So this tree catching fire was *not* Beast God’s punishment—though he couldn’t explain why it had happened.

After Big Black Wolf left, Wen Ran grew restless—his heart unsettled. He paced the cave den, waiting—waiting—but Big Black Wolf didn’t return.

Normally, Big Black Wolf scouted swiftly. Worried, Wen Ran turned to Round Cat: “Round Cat—take care of your younger brothers. Don’t leave the cave den. I’m going out to check on Zhi. After I leave, remember to bolt the iron door from inside. Don’t go out until we return.”

Round Cat nodded seriously, patting its chest with a tiny paw. “Go ahead, Wen Ran. I’ll handle things here.”

Wen Ran ruffled its furry head, pulled on his shoes, wrapped himself in animal hide, and stepped out into the night.

Seeing the apocalyptic scene—beastmen paralyzed by terror—Wen Ran knew coming was the right decision. He frowned deeply at the sight of these terrified big cats and foxes.

Beneath the starlit sky, Wen Ran emerged from the firelight—surrounded by shimmering motes of light—as if Beast God Himself had descended. In Lang Zhi’s imagination, Beast God *should* look like Wen Ran—omniscient, omnipotent, radiating warmth. Just standing beside him made one feel enveloped in gentle, comforting heat. Lang Zhi brushed aside his thoughts and bounded toward Wen Ran on powerful limbs—just as he always did—to welcome his deity.

Looking up reverently, he said, "What brings you here?"

Wen Ran rubbed Big Black Wolf's head and said with a slight smile, "I was worried about you all, so I came to check."

"Climb on."

Seeing Big Black Wolf crouch down on all fours in front of him, he nodded with a smile and climbed onto the wolf's back. The broad back was covered in fine, dense fur, so it didn't hurt to sit on.

Grabbing hold of the fur on Lang Zhi's scruff, Wen Ran leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Let's go, take me closer to that burning giant tree."

He refused to believe it was some kind of punishment from the Beast God.

Lang Zhi nodded his massive wolf head.

Seeing Wen Ran arrive, the beastmen stopped panicking, quietly picking up their weapons from the ground.

Without realizing it, Wen Ran had long become the pillar of the group. With him there, they felt reassured. They believed Wen Ran could lead them through any difficulty, just as he had once guided them to harvest vines from the fierce Maneating Vine.

Hearing that he intended to approach the burning giant tree—a dangerous move—they all urged him not to go.

Ignoring the well-meaning warnings of the beastmen, Wen Ran patted Lang Zhi, who took off like a shot, arriving at the giant tree in the blink of an eye.

Upon closer inspection, Wen Ran realized this was no fire giant—it was simply a powerful lightning bolt that had hit an isolated tree!

The powerful electrical current from the lightning traveled from the treetop down the trunk to the roots, splitting the tree in half and generating extreme heat that ignited the dry branches.

The reason the beastmen mistook it for a fire giant was because the tree was exceptionally tall and thick, with burning branches that waved wildly like claws. Combined with the desert's unique swirling winds, from a distance, it looked like a towering, flaming giant brandishing a fiery whip, charging toward the beastmen.

Still, the tree was strange—it burned much more easily than other trees. A lone tree engulfed in flames in the pitch-black night did seem eerie and frightening.