Inside the cave, two large stone pots were set up side by side, positioned just beneath the stone platform where Yang Luo often stood.
The bear meat and wild vegetables in the pots had been simmering for a long time, filling the air with a rich, mouthwatering aroma. Around the stone platform, the tribe had naturally divided into two groups, sitting together as they waited for the meal.
Looking up, one could see large, neatly arranged leaves spread across the platform.
On top of these leaves lay slices of bear meat, marinated piranha fillets, and a variety of cleaned wild fruits and vegetables.
However, the most eye-catching sight wasn’t the food—it was the makeshift wooden rack positioned against the stone wall.
Hanging there, fully intact, was the black bear’s hide, treated with wood ash to help preserve it. The massive pelt, stretched out like an ancient mural, instantly transformed the once-barren stone cave, giving it a new sense of identity.
Standing before the bear skin, Yang Luo faced the group and spoke in his distinct, measured voice:
“Orcs, the time has come—it’s time to build our own tribe!”
His words sent a wave of excitement through the crowd.
Because every single person here knew one undeniable truth—returning to their old tribes was no longer an option.
Yang Luo had once told them that the northern lands were the sacred dwelling place of the Beast God, a forbidden territory that no orc was allowed to set foot in, lest they disturb the Beast God’s slumber.
Of course, Qi Bai didn’t know whether this Beast God truly existed. But one thing was certain—the north had always been a forbidden zone for orcs, a legend passed down through generations in nearly every tribe.
Because of this, when the great flood came, no tribe had migrated north.
In truth, these people had not fled to this place—they had been driven here by the flood.
Some had left their tribes voluntarily, due to old age or disability. Some, like Qi Bai and Foxfire, had been abandoned. And of course, there were also former slaves, who had seized the opportunity to escape in the chaos.
One thing was certain—most of these orcs had lived difficult lives in their former tribes. Perhaps, for them, leaving was the better choice.
However, the orc world was full of dangers. An orc without a tribe was like drifting duckweed, with no protection and little chance of long-term survival.
So when Yang Luo stepped forward and offered to lead them, organizing hunting, gathering, and the foundations of a new tribe, it was exactly what these orcs had been longing for.
Now, hearing Yang Luo formally declare the birth of a new tribe, it felt as if everyone had finally found a place to belong.
No one opposed him.
Everything that followed felt natural, as if it had been destined all along.
Yang Luo became the tribe’s first priest.
Qi Bai watched as Yang Luo carefully lifted a bear bone scepter, holding it before his chest.
For the first time, Qi Bai saw an expression unlike any he had ever seen on Yang Luo’s face—it was a mix of satisfaction, longing, and an almost trance-like daze.
It was as if, in this moment, he had finally obtained something he had always wanted—but at the same time, he felt a strange sense of emptiness.
Houyan was named the first chieftain of the tribe.
Unlike Yang Luo’s calm composure, Houyan was visibly uncomfortable in his new position.
At Yang Luo’s urging, Houyan stepped onto the stone platform. But once there, he stood stiffly, his dark skin flushed red with embarrassment.
After a long silence, he finally mustered up a single sentence:
“Our lives will definitely get better and better.”
That was all.
Yang Luo, watching from the side, felt a tinge of disappointment toward his future partner.
So uncharismatic…
Yet at the same time, he felt a hint of satisfaction.
After all, status was what mattered most to wandering priests like him.
Unlike priests in established tribes, who inherited their positions, outsider priests often struggled for power after joining a tribe, forced to serve under a strong chieftain who might not always listen to them.
They were respected, but rarely truly heeded.
Even so, Yang Luo did not make his choice lightly.
He had carefully observed every potential candidate before deciding.
Unfortunately, among all of them, the one with the greatest potential to lead was Langze—but Langze was a slave.
So, in the end, Yang Luo had been left picking the tallest among the short ones—and barely settling on Houyan.
Houyan had once been an ordinary orc in his previous tribe. He was kind, honest, hardworking, and resilient—all traits of a good warrior.
But he lacked the commanding presence needed to be a true chieftain.
Yang Luo sighed internally, but it didn’t matter.
As long as he was here, he would train Houyan step by step into a proper leader.
And in any case—he had finally become a priest.
Even if their tribe was still small, poor, and had an unreliable chieftain with an even more unreliable group of tribesmen…
One day, he would become a great priest, respected by all.
However, no one paid attention to Yang Luo’s ambitions—because the tribe was currently debating something far more important.
Now that they had established a tribe—what should they name it?
“I think we should be called the Piranha Tribe,” suggested Leopard Moon, Leopard Star’s sister.
At this moment, she was already drooling at the smell of grilled fish, and it was clear that food was her biggest priority.
“How can we call it the Piranha Tribe?! Black bear meat tastes way better!”
Hu Meng was the first to object, jumping up immediately.
Clearly, as a member of the feline family, Hu Meng had a greater appreciation for black bear meat.
“Then we should name it the Licao Tribe!” someone else argued. “Licao was the first food we gathered!”
And just like that, the conversation spiraled into a full-blown debate.
At this point, the discussion was no longer about naming the tribe—it had devolved into an argument about which food was the most delicious.
In the end, the Black Mountain Tribe won by a narrow margin. The reasoning was simple—since they had never heard of a tribe named after food, and because they lived on a black stone mountain, calling themselves the Black Mountain Tribe made perfect sense. This way, whenever they told others the name of their tribe, people would immediately know where they were located. Primitive tribes had always named things in a straightforward and practical manner, so the decision was settled with little dispute.
When Qi Bai heard the name, he couldn’t help but laugh quietly. Langze, who didn’t particularly care about the tribe’s name, glanced at him in confusion upon hearing his laughter. Qi Bai leaned closer to Langze’s ear and whispered mysteriously, “There’s an old monster on Black Mountain. Doesn’t that make us little monsters now?” He chuckled at his own joke, though Langze simply twitched his ears, unsure of what Qi Bai meant by “monster.” But one thing was clear—Qi Bai looked genuinely happy.
From this moment on, the “Dark City” that orcs would one day long for and admire had unknowingly begun its first chapter in history. Of course, no one present could have imagined how enviable their tribe would become in the future. Right now, all that mattered was one thing—dinner.
By the time the tribe had settled on a name, the broth and grilled fish in the stone pots had finished cooking. Yang Luo raised his bear bone scepter and announced in a grand voice, “Black Mountain Tribe, dinner is ready!” The bear meat had been slow-cooked until tender, falling off the bone with just a light pull. When cracked open, the bones revealed milky-white marrow, smooth and elastic, its rich aroma filling the air. The grilled piranha, marinated with red fruit, had crispy golden skin and soft, succulent flesh, blending the fragrance of the fruit with the freshness of the fish, without any hint of bitterness or fishiness.
For the newly formed Black Mountain Tribe, eating such a feast—being able to bite into large chunks of meat and savor delicious grilled fish—felt like the greatest luxury in the world. It was impossible to imagine life being any better than this.
Qi Bai felt like his quality of life had skyrocketed. Just two days ago, he had been eating raw wild vegetables, the next day he was drinking meat broth and eating grilled fish, and today, he was actually eating meat in large mouthfuls. It was as if his life had jumped several levels overnight.
Once everyone had eaten to their heart’s content, they remained in their seats, following Yang Luo’s instructions. Orcs had no need to wash bowls or dishes, as not a single drop of soup or scrap of meat was wasted. Even the young cubs, despite being full, could be seen licking their stone bowls from time to time, unwilling to let any flavor go to waste.
Despite the joyful atmosphere and renewed hope for the future, there was still an important issue that the tribe had to face—one that was crucial for survival.
Salt.
As soon as the word “salt” was mentioned, the lively atmosphere quieted down. No further explanation was needed—everyone understood the severity of the situation.
Yang Luo spoke solemnly, “Salt is the most essential resource for our tribe. Without it, our warriors will grow weaker and weaker. Without it, we cannot preserve enough food for the winter. If that happens, our people will suffer from hunger—perhaps even death.”
He then lifted a leather pouch, shaking it slightly before continuing, “This is the last of our tribe’s salt.”
The next moment, his actions sent a shockwave through the crowd. Several orcs in the front row lunged forward, trying to catch whatever was about to fall.
But nothing fell.
Yang Luo turned the pouch upside down—it was empty.
The Black Mountain Tribe had no salt left.
The younger cubs didn’t fully understand what this meant, but seeing the serious expressions on the adults’ faces, they instinctively curled into their parents’ arms, sensing the fear and tension in the air.
Qi Bai knew that salt wasn’t the only way to preserve food, but Yang Luo was absolutely right about one thing—the orcs couldn’t survive without salt. In the short term, a lack of salt wouldn’t have an immediate impact, but over time, it would lead to electrolyte imbalances, causing muscle weakness, bone deterioration, blood disorders, and severe organ damage.
Yang Luo sighed, then said firmly, “Our most urgent task now is to find salt.”
Glancing at Houyan, he continued, “I’ve discussed this with the chieftain. Whoever can bring enough salt to sustain our tribe through the winter will be rewarded with a piece of animal skin—their own private property.”
He then pointed toward the bear hide hanging on the wall, followed by the rabbit and rat skins nearby, emphasizing the precious nature of the reward.
Hearing this, even Qi Bai couldn’t help but swallow hard.
From Mao Bai’s inherited memories, he had already sensed that this year’s weather was unusual.
The prolonged and widespread storms were unlike anything from previous years, and the temperature was colder than it should be for this season. Perhaps the global climate was changing, or maybe they had unknowingly fled north to a much colder region.
Regardless of the reason, one thing was certain—winter would come early and last longer this year.
And even though orcs had beast forms, not everyone had thick fur to protect against the cold. In human form, their fur only covered essential areas, leaving them only slightly better than being naked. Those few scraps of animal hide weren’t enough to keep them warm through a harsh winter.
A large piece of animal skin—even one a quarter the size of a bear hide—would be enough to help Qi Bai endure the cold season.
Seeing the eager expressions on the orcs’ faces, Yang Luo added, “Even if you don’t know exactly where to find salt, any useful information that helps the tribe locate it will also be rewarded.”
His ability to motivate people was truly remarkable, and soon, voices from the crowd began responding eagerly.
One orc stepped forward and said, “There’s salt in an underground cave. My old tribe used to harvest salt from it—it forms on the cave walls like stone. But… it takes over thirty days and nights to travel there from my original tribe.”** He hesitated, lowering his head. “And I don’t even know if my tribe still exists.”
The orc was likely referring to a salt mine, though his uncertainty about its exact location was understandable. As a former slave who had been sold multiple times, he had long since forgotten the exact location of his birthplace.
“There is salt on the barren land,” a sub-orc suddenly spoke up. “The elders of my tribe once said that when our people were migrating, we passed through a dry wasteland covered in vast stretches of salt. But orcs couldn’t survive there, so they moved on and never saw such a place again.”
What he was describing was likely saline-alkali land—areas where the salt concentration in the soil was so high that no plants could grow.
One by one, others began offering their ideas, mentioning things like salt fruits, salt trees, and even salt stones.
Yet, no one brought up the sea.
Qi Bai searched through Mao Bai’s inherited memories and quickly realized why—the place where they had lived was deep in the heart of the continent, far from any coastline. It made sense that none of these orcs had even heard of the sea.
But for someone like Qi Bai, a modern man, the most abundant source of salt was seawater. Without hesitation, he spoke up, “The ocean holds endless salt. If we can find the sea, we’ll never have to worry about salt shortages again.”
“What is the sea? I’ve never heard of it,” Leopard Star asked, eyes filled with curiosity.
Qi Bai explained, “The sea is an endless body of water. The water is blue, and it tastes salty and bitter…”
Before he could finish, a young orc suddenly interrupted, his voice filled with urgency, “Are you saying the sea has that much salt?”
Qi Bai was briefly stunned by the intensity of the question, but quickly regained his composure. Seeing how serious the young orc looked, he nodded firmly, “Yes. The salt in seawater won’t just be enough to last through winter—it would mean our tribe would never have to worry about salt ever again.”
The young orc leaped up in excitement, but before he could say anything more, the orc next to him grabbed him by the arm, holding him back.
These two were brothers—the younger one was called Ma Ling, and the older one was Ma Shu.
They had escaped from slavery during the chaos of the floods, and as a result, Ma Shu was extremely cautious about everything, fearing that Ma Ling might say or do something reckless.
Ma Ling, however, couldn’t contain his excitement and whispered urgently to his brother, “Brother, don’t you remember that ‘man-eating water’ we saw before we found this tribe?”
Ma Shu’s expression changed.
Realization dawned in his eyes, quickly followed by fear. His face turned pale, and he shook his head violently, saying, “No! There was a massive beast in that water! Any animal or orc that got close was swallowed whole! And the water—it wasn’t drinkable at all! Drinking it only made us thirstier!”
Ma Ling finally realized the danger and felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He swallowed hard, regretting his impulsiveness.
But what he didn’t expect was that Qi Bai—rather than showing fear—suddenly looked overjoyed.
Eyes wide with excitement, Qi Bai sprang to his feet and exclaimed, “That’s the sea!”
