Building a Civilization and Raising Cubs in the Beast World – Chapter 134

Hu Wan then began recounting the story of how he had been deceived into joining the Black Forest Tribe.

As his name suggested, Hu Wan came from the Yellow Tiger Tribe. With his tall, powerful frame, life in his home tribe had been fairly comfortable. He hadn’t lived in complete freedom, but at least he had never gone hungry.

Unlike most who ended up in the Black Forest Tribe, the Yellow Tiger Tribe hadn’t been lured by food or tricked into joining. They had been invited.

When word spread that the famous Black Forest Tribe had extended them an invitation, the entire tribe was ecstatic.

Of course, joining another tribe meant losing some independence. But which orc didn’t dream of being chosen by the Black Forest Tribe? At the time, the Black Forest only invited strong tribes, and receiving such an invitation was widely seen as proof of strength and prestige.

For a while, the Yellow Tigers were overjoyed. They were so caught up in the honor of it all that they never once thought to ask how those who had joined earlier were faring.

They believed they were stepping into a life others could only envy. On the night before departure, they feasted on all the food left in their stores, full of anticipation for the future.

That turned out to be their last full meal for the next two years.

On their first day in the Black Forest Tribe, everything seemed perfect. The food provided was scant, but no one complained—after all, they were guests in a new tribe, and adjustments were normal.

For half a month, their workload was light. Though the food barely filled their bellies, the Yellow Tigers remained satisfied. What’s more, the meals tasted unusually good—though they were made from the same meats and herbs the Tigers had always eaten, the flavor was somehow richer.

Kept in a separate area, they occasionally saw orcs who looked nothing like the proud and imposing Black Forest warriors they’d met before. When they asked, they were told those individuals had committed serious mistakes. Normally, such offenders would have been executed or cast out, but the merciful chief had spared them, assigning them hard labor as punishment instead.

This explanation sounded plausible. After all, even in the Yellow Tiger Tribe, mistakes were punished. The Tigers nodded, dismissing their earlier sympathy. Little did they realize those pitiable orcs would one day be them.

It wasn’t exactly the glorious life they had imagined, but it was still tolerable. Their only disappointment was not being assigned to hunt. Strong and eager, the Tigers longed to prove their worth. But when they asked, they were told to be patient—rest first, hunt later. That only made them believe all the more that the Black Forest Tribe was considerate and wise.

Two weeks later, the chance finally came. They were led on a hunt within Black Forest territory.

The Tigers had been waiting eagerly for this moment. Yet strangely, their usual power seemed to abandon them. Again and again, prey slipped through their grasp.

They failed once, twice, three times… countless times. By evening, exhausted and empty-handed, they trudged back in shame—only to be met with scorn from the Black Forest orcs.

The Tigers blamed themselves. They didn’t know the failure had been engineered.

But the Black Forest orcs gave them “another chance”—they would be forgiven if they caught two prey the next day.

Desperate to redeem themselves, the Tigers agreed. For several days, they hunted relentlessly, determined to show their worth. Their efforts made the Black Forest orcs visibly happier, but the food they were given remained the same: meager scraps, barely enough to survive.

At first, they rationalized it. They hadn’t worked before, so of course the food had been light. But now they were providing prey every day. Any normal tribe would have rewarded them. The Black Forest gave them nothing.

Frustration boiled over. The hot-blooded Tigers demanded more, but their complaints were ignored. That night, food wasn’t even delivered. Still, they weren’t worried. They thought: Fine. Tomorrow we’ll keep some prey for ourselves.

But in the middle of the night, something strange happened. Orcs woke with aching bodies, gnawing hunger, and a desperate craving for food. It wasn’t just one or two—it spread through the whole tribe.

The feeling was unlike ordinary starvation. A missed meal had never tormented them like this.

Just as the agony reached its peak, the Black Forest orcs appeared—with food.

The Tigers had never smelled anything so tantalizing. They wanted nothing more than to seize it and devour it whole. But surrounded by armed Black Forest warriors, they didn’t dare resist.

The orcs announced their terms: if the Tigers could continue to deliver two prey each day, they would be fed.

Some of the weakest, already delirious, snatched at the food and agreed. The rest didn’t hold out long. Hunger they could endure—but the piercing, unrelenting pain stripped away every shred of pride and reason.

From that moment, everything changed.

Now, food was no longer given freely. To eat, they had to toil endlessly, hunting and hauling until their bodies broke. The food itself was often scraps of meat or half-cooked hides.

Yet compared to the nightly torment of withdrawal, even such foul food was a blessing.

Some tried to resist by refusing food, but when night came, the agony drove them to their knees, begging for a single bite while their captors laughed at their misery.

Within half a year, the combination of endless labor, meager rations, and poisonous dependence killed many of them.

The Black Forest orcs dragged away the corpses without emotion. The Yellow Tigers were left to grieve, powerless.

They had entered over a hundred strong. Within a year, only thirty or forty survived, barely twenty of them fit for hunting.

The survivors were then merged with another broken tribe, who had suffered the same fate. From the very first day, they were forced to hunt as one.

Life continued in this grim cycle, until one by one they dwindled away.

Hu Wan, young and strong, managed to endure for more than two years. Eventually, his resilience earned him a spot on the supply team.

He had already discovered a way to survive: rationing his food carefully, eating half at a time, and gradually reducing his dependence on the medicine. Though uncomfortable at first, he grew stronger over time.

He shared this secret with only a handful of trusted companions. If word leaked, the guards would surely learn of it, and their lives would be forfeit.

A few managed to follow his method, growing healthier and sturdier than the rest. That was why they were chosen to carry supplies to the market.

Two companions once tried to flee under cover of night, but a fellow captive betrayed them. The pair collapsed mid-escape, their bodies wracked with craving, and were dragged back to be executed.

Hu Wan never forgot that sight. He knew this trip to the market was his only chance. Within the Black Forest territory, escape was impossible.

This time, fortune favored him. Because of an unexpected incident, the witch doctor decided to cut the stay short and return early. The suddenness of the decision threw their guards into disarray.

Even the medicine boys were bewildered. They had expected to remain at the market for six or seven days, yet on the second day, they were already preparing to leave. The abrupt announcement roused the entire camp into chaos.

If the Black Forest chief had been present, the chaos would have ended in an instant. He would have taken charge, reorganized the confused orcs, and reassigned every group to their duties.

But the leader wasn’t there. Instead, it was Wu Jiu—a selfish witch doctor who thought only of himself. Under his watch, the neat formation from their arrival quickly dissolved into disorder.

Hu Wan bided his time. Finally, when several of the guards were distracted, he and a few companions who had already made preparations slipped away.

The journey itself was already grueling. If they returned, they knew they wouldn’t last much longer. They would simply end up like the others who had already collapsed and died.

Unwilling to accept that fate, Hu Wan chose to run. Perhaps he would be caught, but if he stayed, he was certain to die. He had to take the risk.

Luck was with them. Too many captives tried to escape at once, all scattering toward the market. With no leader present, and the witch doctor unable to command, the Black Forest Tribe fell into confusion. Pursuit was slow to begin.

That brief window of freedom was all they needed. But exhilaration proved costly—several orcs soon fell ill from withdrawal.

Hu Wan was the last to collapse and the quickest to recover. Once he regained his strength, he resolved to reveal the Black Forest Tribe’s cruelty to everyone.

What he didn’t expect was the sea of shocked stares the moment he began speaking.

After Hu Wan finished telling his tale, other escaped orcs stood up to share theirs. Their stories were eerily similar. Many had been invited by Black Forest orcs they’d met at markets or elsewhere, promised a life of luxury—only to discover it was all a trap.

Others had been lured in with promises: “Bring us two prey animals, and you may join.” Believing such an incredible offer, they prepared the food, only to find themselves deceived.

“So it’s all true?”

“There really is such a tribe?”

“But the Black Forest Tribe is supposed to have so much food! How could they starve their own people?” Skepticism lingered among the crowd. The Black Forest’s reputation was one of abundance—so much so that others had once accused impersonators of being fake simply because they lacked food.

Hu Wan answered bluntly: “Don’t we catch every piece of food they eat?”

The Black Forest had plenty of prey, far more than enough. But none of it was meant for the low-ranking orcs. Those like Hu Wan were fed only scraps—bones, sinew, or half-cooked hides, food barely better than dirt.

The questioner froze. Of course—if the slaves didn’t hunt, where did all the Black Forest’s food come from?

The truth became clear: the orcs they once envied were living a lie. High-ranking Black Forest orcs feasted while new recruits were reduced to starving laborers.

Once the illusion cracked, memories came rushing back. Orcs remembered friends and kin who had joined the Black Forest Tribe, never to be seen again.

A monkey orc whispered, “My best friend joined them… He was a wolf, a big gray wolf. But after he left, there was no word. I never saw him—or his people—again.”

Another spoke up: “I also knew an orc who joined. He never came back either…”

In the past, envy had silenced such questions. People assumed Black Forest members simply had stricter rules, different from the smaller tribes that had to appear at markets regularly.

But hearing so many vanishings laid bare at once, fear spread through the crowd.

The Black Forest Tribe wasn’t the glorious clan they had believed—it was a vicious one, fattening itself on the labor and lives of others.

Most orcs struggled to accept it. After all, the Black Forest was the largest tribe in the region. Yet the scars and sunken faces of the survivors told their own story. One by one, they showed their wounds, each testimony darker than the last. Even the most soft-hearted couldn’t help but pity them.

Hu Wan himself bore a deep knife scar on his leg. It had come from a so-called “challenge.”

In the Black Forest, young orcs often challenged older ones to prove their strength. But this was no honorable duel. The challenger had been born to high status, the son of powerful parents. He fought in human form with a sword, while low-ranked orcs like Hu Wan had nothing but their bare hands.

It was no challenge at all—just sanctioned slaughter. The low-rankers could only dodge desperately, terrified of hurting him, yet equally unable to defend themselves.

Hu Wan had been stabbed in the leg, bleeding heavily. He survived, but barely.

That arrogant orc didn’t live long either. One day he picked on a wolf youth, who lured him outside the tribe under the pretense of needing more space. Once far enough, the wolf transformed and killed him in a single bite. The strike was so swift the onlookers didn’t react until his head was already severed. Not even Wu Jiu could save him.

“What happened then? Did they punish the wolf?” someone asked urgently.

They hated the slain orc, who had tormented so many. In their eyes, he deserved death many times over.

“He escaped,” Hu Wan said. “Took advantage of the chaos and fled. No one knows where he went.”

He himself had wanted to follow, but before he had the chance, he was selected to join the market team.

At Hu Wan’s words, many orcs let out sighs of relief. At least justice had been served.

Dozens of orcs had now spoken, each from a different tribe, each with their own account. One story after another painted the same grim picture. The gathered crowd listened in shock, then began to compare notes, piecing together the truth.

For most, learning that the mighty Black Forest Tribe was built on lies and cruelty was enough to spend an entire night sharing tales with their clans.

A few die-hard admirers tried to defend the Black Forest, but they were drowned out. It was impossible to refute so many voices at once.

Salt trading stopped. Food trading stopped. Supply trading stopped. The entire market buzzed with only one topic: the Black Forest Tribe.

Newcomers who arrived later were bewildered. The market atmosphere was unlike anything they had seen before. When they asked around, they were stunned to hear the horrific stories. Many craned their necks, climbed trees, even stood on others’ shoulders, desperate to see the speakers at the center.

Meanwhile, Wu Jiu’s medicine boys and the Black Forest guards—who had planned to create a distraction to draw attention elsewhere—sat in frozen silence, trying to make themselves invisible.

But it was far too late.

The image of the Black Forest Tribe had already crumbled. Its reputation was sinking by the second. If they revealed themselves now, they would likely be torn apart by the furious crowd.

They tried to shrink back into obscurity, but their position betrayed them. Earlier, Bai Qi and the others had deliberately drawn them into the middle of the market to listen to a “fraud prevention lecture.” Even if new arrivals didn’t recognize them yet, they still stood right at the center.

From the edge of the crowd, orcs who hadn’t caught the full story pointed at the oddly dressed figures in the middle and asked loudly, “What’s with those people?”

The orcs who had been trading stories about the Black Forest Tribe snapped back to reality. They immediately turned to Hu Wan and the others: “Are those Black Forest orcs?”

“They are.” Hu Wan had only glimpsed a few figures with their heads covered, but when the coverings were torn away, he recognized them immediately.

“They’re the medicine boys—and the orcs assigned to guard the witch doctor and his apprentices.”

As Hu Wan scanned the group, his eyes suddenly landed on Wu Xi. His chest tightened. Instinctively, he turned toward Ying Quan, who had brought him here.

“What is it you want to do?” asked Hei Fan, an orc in their group who was usually too shy to speak but had noticed Hu Wan’s hesitation.

Hu Wan bit his lip before asking tentatively, “This medicine boy… he never bullied the orcs in the tribe. Could you let him go?”

The Black Forest Tribe was massive—thousands strong, with three witch doctors. Unlike other tribes, where a witch doctor might have one or two apprentices, each of the Black Forest’s witch doctors kept several medicine boys. Once a batch matured, another batch would be raised.

These apprentices usually grew into medicine men for other tribes. But to protect his own position, Wu Jiu never passed on his true skills to them. Across the Eastern Continent, medicine men deferred to him, partly because they still relied on him for supplies.

Wu Jiu was accompanied by dozens of medicine men and medicine boys. Of course, he couldn’t possibly teach them all, so most were trained and supervised by Wu Ming.

Because Hu Wan often worked near the herbal plots Wu Jiu cultivated, he had come to know some of these apprentices. Most of the time, he and the other low-rank orcs tried to fade into the background, pretending to be lifeless wood whenever the medicine boys passed by.

To Wu Jiu and his students, they weren’t even people. Which was why no one bothered to send them away—Hu Wan saw more than most realized.

He saw Wu Xi, for instance, constantly bullied. If two boys were assigned a task, Wu Cong would vanish to nap, leaving Wu Xi to finish it alone. Then, right before time was up, Wu Cong would reappear, snatch the gathered herbs, and report that Wu Xi had been lazy.

He saw how Wu Shi, temperamental and favored by Wu Jiu, was resented by many. Sometimes the others “forgot” to notify him of duties, leaving Wu Xi to cover alone. When Wu Shi found out, he lashed out at Wu Xi anyway, accusing him of negligence.

No matter what the problem was—whether Wu Xi was involved or not—blame always landed on him. Wu Jiu never bothered to investigate, and after hearing so many accusations, he routinely punished Wu Xi.

And yet, despite this, Wu Xi remained kind. Quietly, he would prepare medicine for the low-rank orcs who were often injured from grueling labor.

Hu Wan remembered this vividly—because Wu Xi had once saved his life.

That day, Hu Wan had been stabbed by a high-ranking orc during a “challenge.” The wound bled so much he was sure he wouldn’t last the night. His companions bandaged him and stayed silently by his side, but everyone knew that if any Black Forest orc found him, he’d be dumped straight into the corpse pit.

As his consciousness blurred, despair had overtaken him. But then Wu Xi came in secret, staunching the bleeding with ointment he had prepared himself. Over the following days, Wu Xi smuggled him small doses of medicine whenever he could, always cautious, always risking discovery.

Without Wu Xi, Hu Wan would already be dead.

Now, seeing Wu Xi bound alongside the other medicine boys, Hu Wan could not stay silent. He pleaded for his release.

In front of everyone, he told the story—how Wu Xi had risked punishment to save him, how he had provided medicine in secret.

The crowd fell quiet. Their resolve to execute every last Black Forest captive wavered. If even one among them had shown such kindness, could he be considered the same as the rest?

Their eyes all turned toward Bai Qi and his men. After all, Bai Qi had just exposed the Black Forest Tribe’s schemes. To them, he seemed the best judge of who was guilty and who was not.

Bai Qi scratched his head awkwardly. “Uh… I’d better ask.” He had learned everything from Bai Tu. When it came to judging Wu Xi, he wasn’t confident. After all, he had once admired the Black Forest Tribe himself.

“I’ll go,” Ying Quan volunteered, glancing toward the market edge.

Bai Qi blinked, then nodded quickly. With so many eyes on them, he was eager to step back. Digging a hole sounded easier.

Ying Quan flapped his wings, covering the short distance in moments, and relayed everything to Bai Tu.

Bai Tu thought a moment before answering. “Release him—but Hu Wan must take full responsibility. If Wu Xi ever makes a mistake, they will both be held accountable.”

That Hu Wan had managed to escape and reach the market alive already proved his wits. If he still vouched for Wu Xi even after exposing the Black Forest’s crimes, then Wu Xi was worth giving a chance.

Ying Quan returned with the message. Hu Wan immediately agreed, promising to remain in the market until the matter was fully resolved.

And so, Wu Xi was released. The orcs, recalling that he was a medicine boy who had saved lives, began to view him more favorably. If he had once saved Hu Wan, then perhaps he might save others in the future as well.

The decision won unanimous support.

Wu Xi stood free, surrounded by orcs asking if his wrists hurt from the bindings. Nearby, Wu Cong’s eyes bulged with fury, but he could do nothing.

The rest of the medicine boys, however, weren’t so lucky. Everyone knew the cruel things they had done. Wu Cong himself had beaten orcs to death simply because they had handed medicine to Wu Shi first. Wu Ming was the one who distributed the tainted medicine daily. The others, while not as vicious, were still complicit.

They would not be released.

Then, from the crowd outside, an orc suddenly shouted, pointing at one of the medicine boys: “I know him! He saved me when I was bitten by a stray orc!”

Another chimed in quickly, “Me too! When our tribe came here, we were attacked. I was bitten, and he gave me medicine. I didn’t dare speak earlier, but it’s true.” He looked nervous, as if afraid of being accused of siding with the Black Forest.

With those two voices, more followed. Orcs in the outer circle peered in, recognizing faces and stepping forward to say they too had been treated by Black Forest medicine boys.

They had just arrived at the market, late because of their injuries. They knew nothing about the free medicine distribution from the day before—only that their food had been stolen and they had been wounded. The medicine boys had happened upon them and given them aid.

Bai Tu listened, his expression shifting. At first, he wondered if perhaps some of the apprentices truly were kind-hearted. But as more and more orcs came forward, unease grew in his chest.

Was it really such a coincidence—that all these groups had been attacked by strays, only to be rescued by Black Forest medicine boys right afterward?