Chapter 196: Let’s Run, Fox (XII)

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Chapter 196: Let’s Run, Fox (XII)

After the last encounter with the Deathfrost Vortex, the lion tribe officially stopped hunting and no longer ventured outside without good reason.

After resting for several days, Shang Ke finally recovered some strength. Mutu, however, remained deeply worried. Every day he wrapped Shang Ke tightly in thick furs, and every night he warmed his hands, feet, and bed. He pampered the fox like a priceless treasure, with absolutely no restraint.

Since the “dog whistle” had proven so useful, Mutu proceeded to make Shang Ke an assortment of bells—handbells, wind chimes, hanging bells, anything capable of making noise. He not only hung them on Shang Ke, but scattered plenty around the house as well. Whenever the wind blew, a cheerful series of chimes rang out from every direction.

At first, Shang Ke watched the growing collection with amusement. He soon realized the problem. One night he forgot to remove the bell at his neck before they had sex. The clear chime seemed to excite Mutu tremendously; the lion began thrusting harder, repeatedly driving his cock as deep as it would go simply to make the bell ring.

The bell itself sounded pleasant enough. The problem was that beastfolk had exceptionally sharp hearing. Even a faint chime carried clearly, and from the rhythm and intensity of the ringing alone, everyone could tell exactly how vigorous the sex had been.

By the next day, practically the entire tribe knew how many rounds they had gone, how fast, and for how long.

Quite a few beastfolk praised him sincerely. “As expected of our chief. He really is formidable!”

As for Shang Ke, he received nothing but endless envy.

Shang Ke could only pretend not to notice and repeatedly remind himself: This is a primitive society. This is a shameless world where people can have sex outdoors while others openly watch. Compared with that, merely listening through the walls is practically conservative.

No matter how much he tried to comfort himself, Shang Ke afterward insisted that every object on his body or bed capable of making noise be removed before Mutu was allowed to touch him. Otherwise, who knew how far this idiot might take it? In a burst of lustful inspiration, he might drag home a giant bronze bell.

Mutu muttered under his breath, “Those wolf beastfolk howl every time they do it, and nobody says anything about them.”

One glare from Shang Ke shut him up immediately.

After Shang Ke fell deeply asleep, however, Mutu would sometimes secretly fasten a bell onto him, then take advantage of the fox’s drowsy half-awake state to fuck him a few times. The ringing was softer, less frequent, and shorter-lived, so the other beastfolk began privately wondering whether their Lion King was losing his prowess.

From then on, clear little chimes could often be heard through the tribal nights, rising and falling like an oddly plaintive song…

The lion tribe had no tradition resembling a New Year celebration. They held major festivities only for coming-of-age ceremonies or the succession of a new Lion King. With almost no other entertainment, the long cold season could feel rather bleak.

Shang Ke, however, was not bored at all. During the day he tended the garden, experimented with primitive-era recipes, and taught the others practical skills. One of those lessons was how to recognize crude oil.

No one in this era actively extracted petroleum. In some places raw oil seeped naturally to the surface, and most people regarded it simply as a poisonous substance. The Avani must have discovered its flammability by chance. After suffering so badly from it, the lions understandably feared the substance. Shang Ke had no intention of teaching them to exploit it; he only wanted them to understand what it was so they would never be caught unprepared again.

Of all Shang Ke’s skills, cooking was the one that inspired the lions most. Naturally, what interested them was not cooking the food but eating it. By now, everyone in the tribe had tasted Shang Ke’s food at least once, and every single one had been thoroughly won over.

Whenever Shang Ke needed help, the promise of a meal was enough to summon a crowd—often more effectively than an order from Mutu. By halfway through the cold season, Shang Ke had practically surpassed Mutu to become the most popular person in the tribe.

Later, he had Mutu help make several game boards and polish dozens upon dozens of playing pieces. Whenever they had time, Shang Ke dragged him into a game. He avoided brain-burning games such as Go or shogi and instead taught him simpler recreational games like Chinese checkers, five-in-a-row, Aeroplane Chess, and Monopoly.

Shang Ke had another reason for introducing the games: he used them to teach Mutu arithmetic. Ever since discovering that many beastfolk had to count the hairs on their own bodies once they ran out of fingers, Shang Ke had found the tribe’s numerical ability almost painful to contemplate.

Compared with most beastfolk, Mutu was exceptionally quick-minded. Despite having no foundation at all, he soon mastered basic addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, and could recite the calculation tables fluently.

Shang Ke also compiled a register of every member of the lion tribe, recording details such as date of birth, sex, species, talents, and family relationships. Because the tribe’s writing system was still rudimentary, he used pictograms whenever possible. A skilled archer received a bow-and-arrow symbol beside his talents; a smith was marked with flame and hammer symbols.

Before this, the tribe’s labor system had been extremely crude. Every male was expected to hunt, and a person’s worth was measured mainly by how much prey he brought back and how strong he was in battle. Yet some males were naturally less robust and far better suited to weaving or other delicate crafts. When food was plentiful enough, there was no reason people could not be assigned work that actually suited their abilities.

Shang Ke had no intention of taking over the tribe’s administration himself. He left actual decisions to Mutu and merely provided basic methods of organization. Even so, the stone register would prove enormously important to the development of primitive beastfolk society. Later generations would treat it as the foundation of population and resource management, preserving and refining the system over time.

For now, though, it was simply a tool Shang Ke had created to help Mutu manage the tribe. He had dragged Mutu onto the bed to work on it together. A project that should have taken three days somehow took the two of them a full ten.

Naturally, the process involved plenty of “in-depth” study and more than one climax…

Mutu was like a sponge, greedily absorbing everything Shang Ke taught him.

After leaving the elder’s house, Mutu headed toward Shang Ke’s residence—now the home they shared. It was crude, but warm and comfortable.

“Yanu, Yanu, what’s this?” a childish voice called from ahead.

Mutu looked up and saw a familiar figure seated on a stone stool, drawing on a sand tray with a twig while a group of young beastfolk crowded around him.

A faint smile rested on Shang Ke’s face, white hair falling loosely beside his cheeks and gentleness softening every line of his expression. His large, fluffy tail curled protectively around a toddler who had only just learned to walk, ready to catch him if he fell.

The little beastfolk hugged the tail and leaned contentedly against Shang Ke, eyes narrowed in bliss. The only flaw in the picture was the drool gathering at the corner of his mouth.

Seeing that drool about to land on the precious tail, Mutu’s face darkened. He strode over, plucked the child out of the fluff, and deposited him into his older brother’s arms.

Torn away from the warm fluffy tail, the child immediately looked aggrieved, lower lip trembling on the verge of tears. Shang Ke quickly pulled something from inside his clothes and handed it over, successfully diverting his attention.

Mutu looked closer and saw a small pellet drum. He knew his fox had made all sorts of novel toys for the tribe’s children, often teaching them games and cooking treats for them. Shang Ke never asked for anything in return; he did it simply to see them smile.

Mutu still remembered how, in the past, the mute fox had rarely interacted with anyone and had lived alone and unnoticed. Gradually, Shang Ke had revealed his true nature and won the entire tribe’s affection through his actions. His world seemed different from everyone else’s—silent, yet full of color.

Mutu could not resist bending down to kiss him. After savoring it for a moment, he kissed him again.

Shang Ke: ……?

The children (⊙o⊙): ……!

Ignoring the children’s stares completely, Mutu shamelessly claimed the place beside Shang Ke and slipped both large hands beneath the fox’s clothes to warm them.

This person’s scent made Mutu endlessly reluctant to part from him. This person’s gentleness had transformed the bitter cold season into something full, vivid, and warm.

Half a month before the cold season ended, the tribe’s food began running critically low. Two meals a day were reduced to one. Even so, everyone remained confident they could make it through. In previous years, people had already begun starving to death by this point. Now they needed only endure a short stretch of hunger before the crisis passed.

Hungry beastfolk, however, were easily provoked. Fights began breaking out around the settlement, with winners taking the losers’ food. Some weaker tribesmen had their rations “won” away day after day and were forced to survive on snow and edible twigs.

If this continued, Shang Ke had no idea how long the weaker tribesmen could hold out. His mission was to ensure that not a single lion starved to death. With the cold season almost over, there was no way he would stumble at the final step.

He emptied the pickled vegetables and cured meat from his cellar, then gathered the tribesmen who were most often bullied and asked them to help clear new fields. At the end of each day, he distributed the preserved food to them as payment.

He knew that giving food away outright would invite resentment from others. Even if everyone received a portion, he could not guarantee the weaker people would keep theirs. But as long as they ate on Shang Ke’s property, nobody dared cause trouble.

This arrangement let the weaker beastfolk eat at least half their fill without attracting too much criticism. Many people had seen Shang Ke’s cellar and knew roughly how much food he had stored. Someone quietly calculated that, within a few days, he had given away nearly all of it. At such a desperate time, the gesture deeply affected the tribe, and the constant fighting gradually subsided.

“Fox, here.” Mutu handed Shang Ke his own large piece of dried meat.

Shang Ke looked at him in confusion.

Mutu looked at him worriedly. “You’ve lost a lot of weight lately. Stop holding back and eat. You can have all my food.”

Shang Ke stared silently at the dried meat. If you give me all your food, what are you going to eat?

As though reading the question in his eyes, Mutu thumped his chest. “Don’t worry. I’m not afraid of being hungry!”

The words had barely left his mouth when his stomach let out a thunderous growl.

Mutu: “…That was a fart.”

Shang Ke: “…..”

Holding back his laughter, Shang Ke accepted the dried meat and cut it neatly in half. In truth, he was not particularly hungry; the fruit and vegetables from his garden were enough to keep him fed. But he wanted to share both hardship and comfort with this lion, and that included sharing food.

Mutu hesitated, then finally accepted his half. Looking at Shang Ke with complete seriousness, he said, “Fox, I swear that next cold season, I won’t let you go hungry again.”

Shang Ke’s eyes curved with a smile. Mm. I believe you.

【Completed Additional Mission 1—Make sure no one starves in the lion tribe this winter.】

On the final day of the cold season, Shang Ke received the System’s mission-completion notice. At the same time, he noticed something strange: ever since the previous world, Additional Missions no longer awarded extra stay time. He wondered whether that meant some restriction had been broken. Lately the System had taken to playing dead and almost never answered his questions, as though an artificial intelligence had somehow degraded into a simple program.

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