Building a Civilization and Raising Cubs in the Beast World – Chapter 133

Most of the Black Forest Tribe orcs were bewildered by how everything had turned upside down.

Just yesterday, they had been distributing food under the witch doctor’s orders. But after a short rest, they awoke to a world completely changed.

First came the news: all the food and medicine were gone. And it wasn’t just a few sacks—this was their entire stockpile, everything the tribe had accumulated. They didn’t care much about the fine food set aside for outsiders; that wasn’t theirs to eat anyway. What terrified them was the loss of their own rations.

For convenience, all food had been stored together, less than two meters apart, tended by the same group of workers. Then suddenly, a fire had broken out, consuming everything.

Now, the whole tribe had two problems to solve: how to find enough food to survive, and how to withdraw safely from the market.

They had promised, only yesterday, that anyone who came to collect food would receive as much as they could carry, and that every orc would receive their daily share.

But today, only a day later, that promise had been broken.

Even the high-ranking orcs had seen the desperate, hungry expressions of the lower ranks. After just one round of distribution, they knew exactly how many orcs were relying on them. They could not imagine how those same orcs would react when they learned there was nothing left today.

The witch doctor and Wu Ming were even more frightened than the rest. Otherwise, they would not have immediately insisted on returning to the tribe once they saw all the medicine was gone.

The food was not their greatest concern. They could easily send a fast orc to deliver a message home, and fresh supplies would arrive in five or six days. Even when they saw the food burned to ash, they only considered it a problem to be managed. But the destruction of all the medicine—that was what truly shook them.

Wu Ming had handed out what little he had brought to a few Black Forest orcs, then stayed with the witch doctor. As long as they left the market before dawn, they could rush back to the tribe and collect replacements.

This was the quiet consensus among those who knew the real situation.

But the Black Forest contingent was too large. Beyond the low-ranking laborers, there were guards, medicine boys, escorts for the witch doctor, cooks—two to three hundred scattered across the camp. No matter how crucial the witch doctor’s orders, getting so many ready to march at once was no simple matter.

Naturally, the witch doctor and his medicine boy were the first to slip away, unconcerned with the others’ fate. Once their personal attendants were ready, they hastened to leave. Yet when they reached the outskirts of the market, they found no food waiting.

Everything meant for distribution had been moved in the night. The fire had burned it all, even the dried meat turned to fuel, leaving nothing salvageable. Had the site not been chosen well—far from other tribes, in an open space—the blaze could have spread further.

Thankfully, no one had been injured. But food would now have to be begged from others.

The witch doctor arranged to send orcs out to borrow supplies. To avoid suspicion, he chose orcs who were rarely seen outside camp, such as the one he had personally brought.

But before they could gather anything, rumors spread. Someone claimed they were impostors, pretending to be Black Forest orcs. Not just one voice—many. They were of different builds, different animal forms, yet all spoke in unison. Given time, Wu Ming and the witch doctor might have spun a convincing explanation. But the crowd would not allow it. More and more voices joined until the accusation was accepted as truth.

And once such a conviction takes root, it is harder to overturn than it is to prevent in the first place. Those who had no opinion were swept along by the majority.

Before the Black Forest orcs could even respond, their identities had been publicly “exposed.”

Worse, after last night they had no food or medicine to prove otherwise. Even the witch doctor had eaten nothing but a few scraps left by Wu Ming. His own quarters were so filthy that nothing there could be salvaged.

Apart from the witch doctor, the rest were starving. Even the strongest could do little against a furious mob.

The witch doctor had deliberately chosen the day before market, knowing the crowd would be thickest. But now that very crowd had become a trap.

On the Beast God Continent, witch doctors and the great tribes were revered. But when orcs heard that someone was impersonating a Black Forest witch doctor, rage boiled up, especially among those who had eaten the supposed “medicine.”

Gratitude turned to hatred. That “medicine” was poison!

Panic spread like wildfire. Their bodies seemed fine, but the thought itself was enough—every twinge, every ache became proof of poisoning.

Yesterday, those who sought medicine had all been injured. They would have felt pain anyway. But now every pang was blamed on the medicine.

The witch doctor trembled with fury at the accusations. “Impossible! I gave you medicine only for wounds! I am the Black Forest Tribe’s witch doctor, Wu Jiu!”

On the Beast God Continent, witch doctors held exalted status. Most refused to hear their names spoken at all; “witch doctor” alone was title enough, reserved only for them.

If a tribe had several, the highest-ranking would be called simply “the Witch Doctor,” while the others would be addressed by name—for example, Wu Jiu’s disciple, Witch Doctor Jiulun. But outside their own tribe, with no rivals present, even Wu Jiu’s apprentices were simply called “Witch Doctor.”

Wu Jiu himself detested hearing his given name, even from the tribal leader. The title was his alone.

And everyone knew it. Everyone knew the Black Forest witch doctor was Wu Jiu.

So after he spoke, he waited grimly for apologies. None who slandered him would escape punishment.

But instead, silence fell—until an orc shouted, “Nonsense! A real witch doctor never says his own name! If you said it, you’re obviously a fake!”

Wu Jiu nearly coughed blood.

He despised his name, “Nine,” a casual afterthought given because he was the ninth child. He had hated it since youth, mocked wherever he went. Only when he changed it to Wu Jiu, and became a medicine boy, had the mockery turned to respect.

He had clawed his way up ever since, never content until he alone stood at the top. It was he who had renamed the Leopard Tribe the Black Forest Tribe, binding its identity to his own. He had crushed rival witch doctors, monopolized the continent, and ruled as the greatest power of the east.

To him, none were worthy of his name. And so, over time, even the most ignorant orc had learned never to utter it in his presence.

Thus, when he broke his own rule, it stunned the crowd. But once someone cried “fake,” everyone seized on it.

That’s right. The true Wu Jiu would never speak his own name.

Wu Jiu was trapped in a cruel paradox: declare his identity and be dismissed as false, or stay silent and still be branded an imposter.

And if Wu Jiu was in such a bind, how much worse for the medicine boys. They had always relied on the witch doctor’s reputation, rarely giving their real names. Now they could offer no proof at all.

The crowd realized the truth no longer mattered. With so many voices calling them fakes, they could only be fakes.

The guards moved to transform and protect their master—but someone shouted about the orcs killed by the Black Forest Tribe the previous day when they transformed.

Many had witnessed that bloodshed. Some had fled immediately, losing their chance at food or medicine. Others had stayed and received aid—but they remembered the violence.

Yesterday, with food and medicine in hand, the Black Forest Tribe had seemed untouchable. But now, hemmed in on all sides, even the meekest orcs found their courage.

All at once, Wu Jiu, the medicine boys, and the guards around them were condemned.

Ever since becoming a witch doctor, Wu Jiu had always been revered wherever he went. Now, for the first time, he was surrounded by hostility. The pressure left him both anxious and furious. His age didn’t help—dizziness overcame him as the shouts rang in his ears. He lifted his hand to speak, but before he could get a word out, he collapsed to the ground.

For a moment, the accusations stopped. Then the uproar returned, louder than ever.

“See? He fainted! How could a real witch doctor be so frail? He’s obviously a fraud!”

Wu Ming was the first to rush forward, shaking Wu Jiu frantically to wake him.

Several tribes quickly stepped forward, announcing they would capture these people and parade them through the market—both to warn other orcs and to prevent further scams.

The surrounding orcs nodded in agreement. These swindlers had nearly deceived them all. Those who had eaten the “medicine” or food yesterday were even more terrified. Would they die?

At that moment, the same orcs who had first exposed the Black Forest group spoke again.

“The medicine they gave you was poisonous,” one declared, “but not deadly. The first time you take it, you’ll feel sick for a day or two, and the symptoms may come back from time to time. But as long as you endure it, you’ll recover. If you take it a second time, the poison will be stronger, and the suffering worse.”

Others chimed in: “Don’t eat food given by strangers! If you must, make sure they eat it themselves. Think about yesterday—did these people touch the food or medicine they handed out?”

That reminder made everyone pause. Indeed, these orcs had only distributed food and medicine—they hadn’t consumed any themselves. Their own meals had been kept separate.

Had Wu Jiu been awake, he would have raged again. Why should he eat the same rations as common orcs? But unconscious, he could not defend himself. The medicine boys clustered anxiously around him, but to no avail. Even after a group of disciplined orcs dispersed the crowd, Wu Jiu remained unconscious.

The so-called impostors were treated more harshly. To prevent them from escaping or being rescued by accomplices, their captors tied their hands and feet tightly and covered their heads with fresh animal skins.

“What if their allies come looking for them?” one of the guards asked.

The suggestion was quickly adopted. Soon the bound orcs were dragged into the heart of the market, their faces hidden, while their captors began loudly preaching lessons about fraud.

“There’s no such thing as free food,” one orc lectured. “If someone offers you food, it’s not kindness—they’re after you! Be careful when joining another tribe, too. They may be tricking you into working as slaves!”

The audience listened intently. Even orcs who had only wanted to trade salt for food stopped to hear, thinking these warnings were valuable knowledge to take back home.

Meanwhile, the gagged, bound “frauds” struggled in silence. Every few sentences, their captors would slip in pointed remarks—accusing “certain tribes with bad intentions.” They never named the Black Forest Tribe outright, but the message was clear.

Even orcs who normally revered the Black Forest Tribe didn’t realize the hints were directed at them.

Among the crowd was Bai Meng. She recognized the animal skins covering many of the captured orcs—they had been part of her group earlier that day. She also heard the accusations being spread. But there was no way for her to speak up.

Everyone was convinced they were impostors. If she tried to defend them, she would be branded an accomplice and seized herself.

And honestly, she couldn’t explain away the “evidence.” The food had been burned, the medicine destroyed—such coincidences were too damning.

Regret gnawed at her for lingering so long near the market. But regret was useless. Now she was trapped, unable to even find Wu Jiu or Wu Ming.

The witch doctor and Wu Ming, though, had not vanished—they were simply lying unconscious, hated and helpless. Finally, a few orcs volunteered to carry them off and lock them away.

No one objected. The others were busy spreading word of the “scam” and waiting nervously for the supposed poison to take effect.

Quite a few orcs had indeed taken medicine the day before. Most of the early arrivals—the injured ones—had used it. Only those who had left quickly, wary of the beast-like guards, or those who had spotted inconsistencies, had avoided it.

When the leaders reassured the crowd that the poison wasn’t fatal, only uncomfortable, the orcs felt a mixture of relief and dread. Relief that they wouldn’t die—but dread of the suffering to come.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Wu Jiu and Wu Ming had already been carried away. The rest of the Black Forest entourage left shortly afterward. And just then, a group of lower-ranking orcs suddenly collapsed, writhing with sickness.

Their guards recognized the symptoms immediately. The afflicted orcs had suffered such episodes before and had always relied on Wu Ming’s medicine to recover. Now, with Wu Ming gone, they could only wait it out.

The guards dared not abandon them. They had already failed in their duty by letting the witch doctor retreat early and by neglecting the food supply. If they also failed to care for these orcs, punishment would be certain—even with the leader’s protection.

But they underestimated the chaos. In the confusion, several sick orcs managed to escape.

This was disastrous. The whole point of delaying their departure had been to avoid drawing attention with these low-ranked orcs in tow. The tribe wouldn’t have cared if they had died—outsiders were eager enough to join that replacements were plentiful. But escape was different. Escaped orcs could expose their secrets.

Panic set in. Some guards tried to chase after them, but their hesitation only gave the rest of the sick more chances to flee.

Soon, dozens had broken free, staggering toward the market.

The remaining guards looked at one another in horror. They knew what it meant: run.

They couldn’t return to the tribe now. Letting a low-ranking orc escape was far worse than killing one. Kill a worker, and the tribe lost only labor—easily replaced. But let one escape, and the tribe had to waste countless resources hunting them down.

Normally, the guards might have risked pursuit. But here, so close to the market, the fugitives’ pace was unnaturally fast despite their condition. If caught, they would have already reached the market. And once they cried out the truth—that the Black Forest Tribe had mistreated them—the guards would be doomed.

Even if the crowd didn’t attack them outright, rumors would spread, and the tribe leader would execute them for failure.

Their only chance was to flee. They were far from home, not yet seen with the medicine boys—if they vanished now, they might survive.

But some hesitated. Their families were still back in the tribe. If they ran, they might never see them again.

“If you don’t run, you’ll die—and then you’ll never see your families anyway!” one guard shouted. Without waiting, he transformed into beast form and bolted in the opposite direction of the market.

Others quickly followed. The sight of their comrades fleeing left the hesitant ones no choice. One by one, they broke and ran too, until only a handful remained.

The last of them thought grimly: returning with so few would be even worse. The leader’s wrath would fall heavily on them. Better to vanish than face certain execution.

In the end, they all ran.

The escaped low-ranked orcs, meanwhile, stumbled onward, minds clouded. Some shifted into beast form, others stayed human, but all were senseless. Any onlooker could tell something was deeply wrong.

They reached the market’s edge, where many orcs lingered. Seeing so many unstable figures approaching, the first instinct was to block them. If such a mob charged into the market, chaos would erupt.

Several resting orcs rose to intercept them. Others, who had been watching the commotion inside, joined in. Those who had eaten medicine the previous day stayed back, wary, while the injured who could not move far remained under the trees.

A few uninjured orcs tried to restrain the sick ones, and even some with minor wounds stepped forward to help.

Then suddenly, a voice rang out over the crowd:

“These are the ones who’ve been poisoned for a long time.”

The orcs who had just taken the “poison” yesterday turned in shock to stare at the speaker.

“What did you say?”

“These are the orcs who consumed the poison those people gave out.”

The speaker was Yingquan. He had seen these same orcs collapse yesterday—no matter the time of day, he couldn’t have mistaken them.

It was true that most orcs lived with food shortages, but few were forced to do back-breaking work while underfed. Most lived in caves, spending their days hunting and eating. When food was plentiful, they might strain their shoulders or backs carrying it. When food was scarce, the monotony of endless walking while searching for prey left them exhausted. Thin, yes—but their bodies did not twist and warp the way these orcs’ bones had.

Their deformities were unmistakable. These were orcs enslaved by the Black Forest Tribe.

Bai Tu had already explained to Yingquan that these orcs had been fed poison for a long time, until they grew dependent on it. Each attack only drove them to crave more.

So this time, Yingquan skipped over any talk of impostor witch doctors. He directly exposed the truth: these were victims of the Black Forest Tribe. He knew that once these survivors regained their senses, they would tell the truth themselves. Yesterday, he and the others had avoided naming Wu Jiu and Wu Ming outright only because the moment wasn’t ripe. But now, there was no need to hide.

The Black Forest Tribe had always been held in high esteem. Even if some tribes knew better, none dared openly denounce them. If anyone claimed they were evil, countless orcs who admired them would leap to their defense before the Black Forest even had to respond.

That was before. Now, the testimony of those who had actually suffered inside the Black Forest Tribe carried a weight no outsider’s words ever could.

In truth, the Black Forest Tribe rarely interacted with other tribes except when recruiting. They painted glowing pictures of their life to entice newcomers, and those fortunate enough to be invited spread the word, boasting of their good fortune even before they arrived.

This cycle built a reputation gilded with exaggeration and lies. Those inside could not contradict it. Those outside grew more envious with each story.

But now, the orcs who had joined were themselves exposing what life was really like inside.

As Yingquan directed others to restrain the sick orcs, he couldn’t help but admire Bai Tu. Not only had he predicted these recurring seizures, but he had also prepared a plan for when they happened. Yingquan had traveled far and wide with his leader and his spouse, but even he was astonished at how much Bai Tu knew.

The orcs pressed into service to hold down the writhing victims looked stricken. They knew—they were seeing their own future selves.

Why had they ever taken that medicine?

Meanwhile, Bai Tu, after ensuring Bai Meng had been captured, turned his attention to the market.

He had placed eloquent orcs, including Bai Qi, to spread the word. Orcs were easily duped—they lived isolated lives, their knowledge carried only by word of mouth. When one was deceived, few lived to spread warnings to other tribes.

So now Bai Qi, following Bai Tu’s plan, wove a string of cautionary tales into his anti-fraud lecture.

For example: last year, a “friend” met a beautiful orc who offered marriage—but only if he joined her tribe. Enchanted, he agreed, only to find she already had two partners. He was nothing more than another worker, forced to hunt daily and feed all four.

Another tale: two years ago, a “friend” met a frail orc who claimed to be the chief’s lost child. Promising cows and sheep as thanks, he lured him back—only for the friend to discover an isolated tribe full of tricked orcs forced into servitude. To earn the same rations as native-born members, one had to lure ten more victims. Only by pretending to recruit others was the friend finally able to escape.

And yet another: a “friend” shared a meal with a new acquaintance at the market. After dinner, he blacked out and awoke bound, traded away for a basket of meat, branded a low-ranking orc in a strange tribe.

Drawing on the Black Forest Tribe’s true methods and mixing them with invented details, Bai Tu successfully planted suspicion in the crowd.

The orcs, unacquainted with such schemes, were enthralled. They whispered and laughed, teasing Bai Qi about how unlucky his many “friends” were.

Bai Qi could only sigh. “They were too foolish.”

Heads nodded all around. Yes, far too foolish.

It wasn’t long before someone connected the dots.

“Those people who gave us food yesterday—it’s the same trick! They planned to feed us for one day, then claim supplies had run out and lure us back to their tribe. Once there, we’d be locked up and forced to work, just like the others!”

The bound orcs of the Black Forest Tribe silently howled, No! The food was real—it was only burned!

But no one could hear their thoughts. The crowd, convinced, began piecing everything together.

“The medicine too! First they fed us two meals, then slipped us drugs to make us faint. Once we woke up, they would already have captured us!”

The anti-fraud campaign quickly devolved into a frenzy of accusations and storytelling.

Then, suddenly, someone cried out:

“Wait! Isn’t that an orc from the Black Forest Tribe?”

The crowd froze.

The speaker pointed. “Last year, our chief was injured, and we went to the Black Forest Tribe for a witch doctor. I’ve seen this one there!”

The orcs who had been happily trading scam stories stopped in shock. Could these really be Black Forest orcs—not impostors after all?

Wu Zong, who had finally torn the hide from his head, exhaled in relief. At last! Someone had recognized him. Once the truth came out, everything would be set right.

But the outcome was nothing like he imagined.

Before the crowd could process this revelation, another shout came from outside the market:

“Come and see! These are orcs who joined the Black Forest Tribe!”

The impact of that declaration dwarfed the first. Even if the bound captives were real, the orcs outside—thin, sickly, broken—were undeniable.

The crowd surged to look.

The Black Forest Tribe was supposed to be the epitome of strength and power. Yet here were orcs thinner and weaker than themselves.

Someone remembered the warning about what awaited those who joined the Black Forest.

And then one of the gaunt orcs wiped the grime from his face and cried out for all to hear:

“I am Hu Wan—I was deceived into joining the Black Forest Tribe!”