Building a Civilization and Raising Cubs in the Beast World – Chapter 145

“They said they wanted to follow their leader.”
Bai Qi’s voice grew increasingly sharp. The plan had been simple—take Xiong Liao and the White Bear orcs who’d arrived earlier and go back. But not only had they stayed, now they wanted to bring even more along.

Maybe it was because of yesterday’s misunderstanding, but Xiong Liao’s spirits were soaring. Last night he had been parading his five cubs around for everyone to see, bragging until every unmarried orc in sight turned green with envy.

For Bai Qi, it was one blow after another. Every time he crossed paths with Xiong Liao, his irritation deepened. So when a few White Bear orcs appeared today, Bai Qi had felt a spark of hope—finally, he thought, someone would take the guy off their hands.
Who could have guessed those messengers would fall for one meal and decide to stay?

A meal!
Couldn’t they have just a little more ambition?

Because of Xiong Liao, Bai Qi couldn’t even appreciate how beneficial the White Bear orcs’ arrival might be for the tribe. All he wanted was for them to pack up and leave—preferably taking Xiong Liao with them. But things, of course, never went his way. Seething, he stomped off to report the situation to Bai Tu.

Bai Tu immediately understood. Bai Qi was simply provoked. He considered sending someone to remind Ying Mian to keep an eye on Xiong Liao.
No one could really blame Xiong Liao—after years of brooding, discovering he had five cubs would make anyone giddy. His joy was understandable. Still, if he didn’t tone down the bragging, someone was bound to beat him sooner or later.

As for the new White Bear arrivals, Bai Tu could only sigh.
“Go tell the leader to handle them the same way as the other White Bear orcs,” he instructed. “They can be assigned to guard duty. Their sense of smell’s useful—it’ll strengthen our patrols.”

Bai Tu himself had no strong feelings about whether the White Bear orcs stayed or left. If they wanted to return home, fine; if they wanted to join, that was fine too. Everything depended on whether they could adapt to life in the Snow Rabbit Tribe.

That said, it wouldn’t be up to them alone. Any outsider who refused to follow tribal rules simply wouldn’t be allowed to stay.

Once Bai Qi left, Bai Tu sat down to think. Maybe it was time to establish formal rules for how orcs from other tribes could join—so they wouldn’t have to hold a full council meeting every single time this happened.

It was nearing the end of the rainy season; the workload had lightened, and both Bai An and Bai Tu finally had the time for this sort of planning. Once the busy season started again, there would be no chance.

A set of clear regulations would make life easier. Orcs wishing to join would first complete a trial period of work. Afterward, both sides could decide whether to proceed with full membership.
Basically, it was an internship system—a term only Bai Tu understood. During that time, interns could still earn points, though fewer than official members.

Easier said than done. When Bai Tu began drafting the rules, he quickly realized just how many details there were.

Food and lodging had to be standardized.
Assignments needed to reflect physical differences between species.
And point rewards had to remain balanced between tribes.

It would take time. Thankfully, the current applicants were only the White Bear orcs, so he could refine the system slowly. The real challenge was writing it all down—the words wouldn’t fit neatly onto the wooden board.

Just yesterday, Lang Qi had been updating the defense map. He tried to scrape off as little as possible, since carving and re-carving wood eventually ruined it. Bai Tu calculated the time: the materials he’d set aside for papermaking should be ready.

Papermaking required patience—and a lot of ingredients. He’d used fast-growing bamboo and rice straw, soaked in limewater for months. They were finally ready to rinse.

From start to finish, paper took five to six months to produce—sometimes half a year. Bai Tu assigned a few people to wash and pulp a small test batch while leaving the rest to soak longer in the river.

They mixed the bamboo pulp with other plant saps to make a smooth slurry, then scooped it out with bamboo screens. The first sheets were uneven—thin here, holey there—but after several trials, they got the hang of it.
When the sheets were stacked, pressed, laid flat on smooth boards, and dried over a fire, the result was far better than Bai Tu had dared to hope—strong enough not to tear.

One of the carpenters blinked at the sheet in confusion. “Tu, what is this thing?”

The papermaking team was borrowed from the carpentry workshop. They were used to shaping wood, not this strange soft material.
It looked nothing like a tool—surely it would crumble under force?

“Paper,” Bai Tu explained. “For writing.”

He hadn’t mentioned the idea earlier, afraid of failure and unnecessary excitement. But now that it worked, there was no reason to hide it. He laid a sheet on the table. “Go ahead. Try touching it.”

The orcs hesitated at first, then one by one reached out.
“It’s smoother than a wooden board!” one exclaimed, eyes wide.

Wood was rough, even after sanding. But this—this was soft and pliant, with only a few rough spots. The curiosity in the room was palpable.

“This is just the first batch,” Bai Tu said. “We’ll start mass-producing it in two months. Make sure to gather more bamboo and straw for soaking.”

He picked out the flattest sheets for writing, leaving the imperfect ones for the others to handle. “You can look at them,” he warned, “but don’t throw anything away. These are the first samples.”

Hearing that, the carpenters immediately handled the pages like rare treasures. No one dared breathe too hard.

Satisfied, Bai Tu took the better pages home and began writing again—laying out the Guidelines for External Orc Integration.

1. Selection of personnel:
   Applicants must have clean records. Orcs from the Black Forest or Red Eagle tribes won’t be accepted directly—they’ll undergo extra vetting to ensure they were coerced rather than complicit. Known criminals, such as Wu Jiu, are banned entirely. Those cleared may begin an internship period.
2. Work assignments:
   Every race has different traits—bears and lions are large; rabbits and deer are small; monkeys excel at fine toolwork. Tasks will be assigned accordingly. The “White Map” will categorize jobs by size and agility:
   – Large but slow orcs handle pure strength work.
   – Large and nimble orcs do heavy movement tasks.
   – Adjustments will be made per individual.
   Difficult jobs earn higher points and shorten the trial; easy ones earn fewer and lengthen it.
3. Housing and meals:
   Since many interns won’t stay permanently, they won’t receive private courtyards. Instead, they’ll live in dormitories—six rooms in a row, each with two bunk beds for four occupants, twenty-four total.
   Dormitories have no kitchens; meals are taken at the cafeteria. Judging from the Bears’ enthusiasm for free food, this won’t be a problem. Other amenities, such as private baths, remain the same—though everyone still fetches water daily.

Whether an orc can stay depends on both his attitude and the tribe’s evaluation of his performance. Those who cause trouble will be expelled. Those who work hard may become full members.

Newcomers won’t be exploited like in the Black Forest Tribe, but neither will they enjoy all veteran benefits immediately. The current members had built this place with their own hands; their effort deserved recognition.

Points for daily labor stay the same—the difference lies in discounts for goods.
Tribe members can redeem items like blankets at half price; new orcs receive no discount the first year, half discount the second, three-quarters the third, and full benefits from the fourth year onward.

This also prevented reselling. Bai Tu had seen such schemes before—people buying cheap essentials, hoarding them, and then reselling at inflated prices when supplies ran low. That sort of profiteering had to be stamped out.

Two pages later, Bai Tu flexed his stiff fingers and looked at his brush. Now that they had paper, perhaps it was time to change the writing tool as well.

A quill, perhaps? He’d never made one before, but paper was far more suited to it than wood or bamboo.

With that thought, Bai Tu headed to the warehouse in search of large feathers—but found none.

“Only the small down feathers are kept for duvets,” the storekeeper explained. “We tossed the big ones. Otherwise, with how much chicken and duck we eat these days, feathers would pile up like a mountain.”

Bai Tu nodded. “Then I’ll head to the cafeteria.”

The tribe raised thousands of chickens and ducks, so feathers were plentiful. He just hadn’t told anyone they were useful before, so everyone assumed they were trash.

Even after living in the tribe this long, Bai Tu still couldn’t handle the smell of blood. Instead of entering the kitchen himself, he found Tu Mu and asked,
“Could you find me a few long feathers? Tail feathers, if possible.”

“I’ll get them,” Tu Mu said briskly and turned away before Bai Tu could add, “Four or five is enough—”

The words died in his throat.

Bai Tu sighed. Forget it. Even if there are extras, I’ll just take a few.

Moments later, Tu Mu reappeared—empty-handed.

Seeing that, Bai Tu relaxed. Good, at least he didn’t bring a sackful.

But then Tu Mu smiled and said,
“Tu, go home. I’ll have someone send them to your house.”

Bai Tu: “???”

“How many did you get?” Bai Tu asked carefully.

“Not much, just one bag.”
Tu Mu waved a hand as if it were nothing. “Next time, just have someone come tell us. You don’t need to go in person.”

“It’s fine—it’s not far.” Bai Tu could still walk that much.
On his way back, he stopped by the cafeteria to pick up some snacks he’d forgotten about yesterday. He’d meant to ask Lang Qi to get them, but when he saw Lang Qi playing happily with the cubs, he didn’t have the heart to interrupt.

During the rainy season, most orcs cooked at home, so the cafeteria staff had some free time. Lately, they’d begun preparing snacks again.

Bai Tu exchanged points for honey-egg-milk buns—small, finger-sized pastries made from milk, honey, and eggs. The dough was kneaded until smooth, left to rise, and then steamed until soft and golden. The sweet aroma of honey mingled with the creamy scent of milk—utterly irresistible.
Despite the name, they were nothing like ordinary steamed buns, either in size or flavor.

They were also expensive. Because the process was time-consuming, the cafeteria required a high number of points to exchange for even a small batch. Orc appetites were large, and a handful of tiny buns couldn’t fill anyone up. Most adults saved points for several days just to get a few as treats for their cubs.

Bai Tu, however, had plenty of points—his own, plus Lang Qi’s share, and sometimes even a few from Lang Ya passed down to Lang Sui and Lang Ying. Between the adults and the cubs, there was never a shortage of sweets in their household.

He exchanged enough points for five portions of buns and asked the cafeteria to pack them neatly into a food box.

The tribe had recently made special wooden containers for takeout—simple boxes that saved everyone the hassle of running back and forth. You just returned them once you finished the food.

“Tu, your cubs are really eating more these days,” Tu Mu said with a chuckle.
He wasn’t wrong. Bai Tu’s family had five cubs—two just over three years old and three born this spring. Cubs that young usually didn’t eat much, but Bai Tu never held back. Most parents split one small bun among two or three cubs. Bai Tu gave each cub a full serving—ten buns per plate.

Tu Mu also knew Bai Tu never let his cubs eat just one type of food. The buns were a treat, not the whole meal, which meant each cub ate as much as two or three others combined.

Bai Tu only smiled. “Yes, they’re growing.”

After a bit more small talk, he carried the box home himself. The buns were light—barely any weight at all.

When he entered the house, he found Lang Qi and the cubs in the hallway, curiously poking at a hide bag propped in the corner.

“The honey-egg-milk buns are here,” Bai Tu announced.

The cubs might not speak much, but they certainly understood food. The moment they heard those words, they yanked their claws back from the bag and scampered toward him like little arrows.

Bai Tu let them run wild—he and Lang Qi kept the house spotless, even the corridor, so the cubs could play barefoot safely. The only risk was stepping on a wandering paw.

Seeing them swarm around, Bai Tu handed the food box to Lang Qi and bent down to scoop up the smallest cubs.

Lang Qi carried the box to the table while Bai Tu set the little ones on stools and wiped their tiny feet clean. Since they changed shoes at the door, the cubs’ soles were barely dusty.

Lang Qi had already laid out the cubs’ tableware—miniature bowls and plates lined up from smallest to largest. The three youngest each received three buns, and the two older cubs got five. Altogether, that was two full portions. The rest went onto a larger plate for the adults.

Lang Qi picked one up and handed it to Bai Tu first.

Bai Tu wasn’t very hungry; he ate two and stopped. Lang Qi, however, sat down right in front of the cubs and began eating from the large plate.

The cubs looked from their three or five buns to the heaping pile in front of their father. They couldn’t count, but even they could tell something was unfair.

“Children eat small portions. Adults eat big ones,” Bai Tu explained patiently.

The cubs didn’t seem convinced. They drooped their ears, looking as pitiful as possible—but Bai Tu stayed firm. These were snacks, not lunch. A few were fine, too many weren’t.

When they realized their father’s plate was almost empty and he still hadn’t stolen theirs, the cubs panicked and started eating fast, afraid he might suddenly change his mind and take some.

Lang Qi gave them a calm, sidelong glance and kept eating. If he had wanted their food, no amount of guarding would’ve stopped him anyway.

The cubs didn’t know that, but Bai Tu did. He sighed.
“Are you still a child?” he muttered. “You’re their father, yet you compete with them every day.”

Lang Qi looked up, unbothered, and before Bai Tu could step back, he caught him by the wrist, popped the last bun into Bai Tu’s mouth, and said, “What do you want for lunch? I’ll cook.”

Bai Tu had been out since morning; of course he wanted to stay home now. The heat had dulled his appetite, so after thinking for a moment, he said, “Cold noodles. Something cool for the weather.”

“Cold noodles?” Lang Qi repeated. He understood the words, but not the concept.

“Boil the noodles and the meat first, and blanch some vegetables. I’ll handle the rest.”
It was refreshing and quick—perfect for a hot day.

“Alright.” Lang Qi nodded and went to prepare the ingredients.

Meanwhile, Bai Tu washed his hands and started making the sauce—because with cold noodles, the sauce was everything.

Thanks to recent trades with other tribes, their pantry was now well stocked. They even had soy sauce and vinegar—luxuries in this world. With salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and chili oil, Bai Tu could make almost any dish he wanted.

He mixed the seasonings carefully, preparing a mild version for the cubs by adding boiled water instead of chili oil.
Because of the heat, the household always kept several pots of boiled water ready—it cooled quickly and was safe for the little ones.

When the noodles and meat were cooked, Bai Tu rinsed the noodles in the warm water, shredded the meat, and tossed everything with the sauces. The cubs’ bowls were non-spicy; the adults’ had a fiery kick.

The cubs usually preferred their food warm, but today, with the weather so hot, they perked up immediately at the cool noodles.
Bai Tu set the bowls in front of them. The two older cubs ate by themselves; for the younger ones, Bai Tu cut the noodles short and fed them with a spoon.

At first, they were cautious. Then they realized the noodles were pleasantly cold, and their eyes lit up. They nudged Bai Tu eagerly for more.

Seeing their enthusiasm, Bai Tu smiled and fed them faster. Two rounds later, Lang Qi came over, took the bowl from his hands, and said, “I’ll feed them. You eat first.”

“Noodles shouldn’t sit too long,” Bai Tu said out of habit. “They’ll get sticky.”

“These won’t,” Lang Qi replied firmly. “Now, eat.”

Knowing it was useless to argue, Bai Tu obediently took his own bowl. He ate slowly, savoring the taste, while Lang Qi finished feeding the cubs, wiped their faces, and tucked them into their cribs.

Even though Lang Qi had started late, they both finished eating around the same time. After a bit of play, the cubs soon drifted into their afternoon nap.

From noon until late afternoon was their quiet time. Originally, both adults had workstations in the communal area, but they preferred staying home unless absolutely necessary.

Lang Qi had spent the morning with the cubs. That afternoon, he needed to check on the Wolf Clan’s construction site.

Before leaving, he lingered by Bai Tu’s side for quite a while until Bai Tu finally laughed and shooed him off.
“I’m not going anywhere this afternoon. I’ll be home the whole time. You’ll be back before dinner.”

To Bai Tu, the morning had flown by—but to Lang Qi and the cubs, any time apart felt long.

After sending him off, Bai Tu patted the white cub pretending to be asleep. This little one was the cleverest of the bunch.

“Daddy’s home,” Bai Tu whispered, amused. “Why are you just like your father?”
He had only gone out to handle something simple, yet both father and son acted as if he’d vanished for days.

Hearing his words, the cub finally relaxed, eyes closing for real this time. Cubs slept far longer than adults—hours at a stretch.

Only when they were all asleep did Bai Tu quietly leave the room to check the feathers Tu Mu had delivered.

He found the hide bag in the hallway and froze. It was huge.
A bad feeling crept up his spine.

Could this be the “one bag” Tu Mu mentioned? Did he really need that many?

Sure enough—it was exactly what he feared. The bag was more than half his height, stuffed with what must’ve been dozens of kilograms of feathers.

Bai Tu: “…”

It was far too much, but Tu Mu had meant well. Bai Tu sighed, opened the bag, and inspected the contents.

Thankfully, the feathers were fairly clean—Tu Mu must’ve known about his aversion to blood. Bai Tu picked out a handful of the sturdiest ones and brought them to the kitchen for processing.

First, he boiled them to strip away the fat, then rinsed them clean and set them over the fire to dry.
Once dry, he took a pot not used for food, filled it with sand, and placed it on the fire. When the sand grew hot, he buried the cleaned feathers in it, quills facing downward…

The quill, now white, was trimmed down. Bai Tu used scissors to cut off the lower end, shaping it into a sharp tip.

Once the tip was done, he hollowed out a small ink groove, and just like that, a simple quill pen was complete.

Bai Tu made five quills in total. One broke midway due to too much force, but the remaining four turned out quite well.

The good thing about quill pens was that they didn’t need to be dipped in ink as often as brushes. The bad thing was that if they were cut unevenly, they tended to snag on the paper.

Still, Bai Tu didn’t plan to use them for long passages — just to jot down a few recent ideas and reorganize the rules and notes he hadn’t yet written down.

Papermaking was still a crude craft, and the quill was a temporary substitute. The result was… uneven — some areas soaked in dark ink until the words bled together, while others were so faint they were barely legible.

The dark spots couldn’t be fixed, so Bai Tu went over the pale ones again, only to realize that maybe the problem wasn’t the quill, but his handwriting itself. With a sigh, he decided to keep the paper but set aside the quills, making a mental note to try crafting a few charcoal pencils next time.

He finished all his writing for the day. The text wasn’t perfect, but it was neat enough. With the White Bear Tribe being the only new group to join, there wasn’t any rush — he could always revise or rewrite later.

As for the quills, another broke while he was writing, leaving him with three. Bai Tu cleaned the ink off, dried them, and put them away carefully.

After washing his hands, he stepped back into the courtyard and glanced at the large bag of feathers left over. Though it had arrived quickly, Bai Tu could tell they weren’t just random scraps — each had been carefully chosen. He didn’t want to waste Tu Mu’s good intentions. Even if the feathers weren’t suitable for pens, they could still be used for something else.

He rummaged through the storage room until he found some twine and a few wooden sticks. He dumped out a portion of feathers, cleaned them, and laid them out under the sun to dry.

After the long rainy season, the sun’s heat had returned in full. Sitting on the porch, Bai Tu squinted in the golden light as he waited for the feathers to dry.

There were not just pheasant feathers but also duck and goose feathers — white, black, red, and gray. Bai Tu sorted them by color, bundled five of each together, tied them with hemp rope, and fastened them to wooden sticks. A simple toy was done.

Compared to the quills, this was easy work — five quills had taken him more than two hours, while over a dozen toys were finished in just half an hour.

But when he looked at them, he felt something was missing. After shaking one, it struck him — a bell!

Although the blacksmith team had plenty of tools, small bells weren’t easy to make, and making one just for a toy seemed wasteful. Instead, Bai Tu picked a few smooth pebbles that made a pleasant sound when struck. He planned to ask Lang Qi to drill holes through them later.

He brought the toys indoors, left two near the cubs’ beds, and put the rest away. Stretching, Bai Tu glanced at the leftover feathers and decided to let someone else deal with them tomorrow.

Lang Qi hadn’t been to the wolf pack’s work area for several days — they must be busy. Checking the time, Bai Tu realized it was getting late and went to prepare dinner.

In the evening, the cubs woke up one by one. Not seeing their beloved father, they were about to cry out — until they spotted something nearby.

The little gray wolf cub was the first to rush over. He grabbed the strange object, sniffed it, and immediately recognized his father’s scent. Wagging his tail, he carried it back proudly.

The older gray cub followed, grabbing the other toy. Soon, both were surrounded by their siblings, all unsure what to do with these new treasures.

When Bai Tu returned after refilling the water pot, he saw them gathered around the toys. Smiling, he patted the cubs’ heads and gently said, “Those aren’t really for little wolves.”

“I’ll make you new ones tomorrow,” he promised. He remembered seeing some balls of cotton earlier while searching for twine — perfect for cub toys.

The cubs purred softly at his touch, then kicked the feather toys away, clearly unimpressed.

Seeing that none of them liked the toys, Bai Tu set them aside. After dinner, he asked Lang Qi to help him string the pebbles together.

Lang Qi didn’t quite understand what Bai Tu was making, but he didn’t ask — he simply did as told.

When the toys were finished, Bai Tu decided to send them to Tu Cai the next day to see if the other cubs liked them better.

But early the next morning, before Bai Tu could head out, he heard knocking at the door.

He and Lang Qi exchanged a look — they’d just finished breakfast and hadn’t even opened the door yet. Why was Bai Qi here so early?

Bai Qi usually came only when something important happened during patrol — last time it was the White Bear Tribe. Could it be them again?

“The Calabash Brothers back already?” Bai Tu asked offhandedly as he opened the door.

“What cubs?” Bai Qi blinked, puzzled.

Realizing he’d spoken his thoughts aloud, Bai Tu waved a hand dismissively and got to the point. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, right!” Bai Qi said quickly. “Someone’s here looking for their tribe’s cubs!”

“What tribe?” Bai Tu frowned. It had been over half a year since they rescued those cubs from the Red Eagle Tribe. Coming this late was… quite impolite.

Back in winter, the Black Eagle Tribe had already sent notices to the affected tribes. Even distant ones had plenty of time between winter and the rainy season to send people — so why only now?

“The White Cat Tribe,” Bai Qi replied. “They rarely interact with others.”

“The White Cat Tribe?” Bai Tu’s voice softened.

Bai Qi nodded. “About half their orcs are white-furred.” He knew Bai Tu had a soft spot for white-furred beasts.

“How many came? Are they still outside?” Bai Tu asked as he walked back inside. He took out the bamboo slips recording all cubs’ information. On one side was the number per tribe; on the other, details about each cub.

There were nine cat cubs total. Three had already been reclaimed before the rainy season, leaving six still with them.

“Thirteen came,” Bai Qi confirmed. “They said it’s just the first group — more will follow.”

Bai Tu’s mood lifted slightly. The number of people who came said a lot about a tribe’s attitude. Those who didn’t value their cubs sent one or two; those who did often sent half the tribe — both to show sincerity and ensure safety on the way home.

Of course, distance mattered too. Closer tribes sent fewer people, mostly to avoid causing a stir.

At times like this, what mattered most was who came. For instance, when Shi Su personally brought members of the Lion Tribe to retrieve their cubs, that showed genuine importance. Most tribe leaders wouldn’t risk entering another tribe’s territory otherwise.

Then there were tribes like the Flower Bear Tribe — who simply brought everyone along.

Bai Tu didn’t know how big the White Cat Tribe was, but judging from the turnout, they clearly cared deeply. Unlike those who merely handed food to the parents and let them fend for themselves, these orcs had come in force.

“Shall I bring them in?” Bai Qi asked.

Bai Tu nodded. “You and Ze come with me.” Cat orcs were nimble and quick; he’d feel better if Lang Ze came along for support.

“Got it,” Bai Qi said, heading next door to find Ze.

“Can you watch the cubs?” Bai Tu asked Lang Qi. He had to confirm the visitors’ story himself.

Lang Qi nodded. “Go ahead.”

Bai Tu was about to leave but paused halfway, remembering something — he grabbed the toys he’d made the day before.

“I’ll have Cai send someone later to move those feathers,” he added. The feathers weren’t heavy, but the bag was bulky. Two orcs would handle it easily.

By the time Bai Tu arrived, Bai Qi had already escorted the White Cat Tribe over. From afar, Bai Tu realized Bai Qi hadn’t been entirely accurate — it wasn’t thirteen adults, but ten adults and three cubs.

He smiled faintly to himself. If he’d known they’d brought cubs, he wouldn’t have worried about safety. Orcs might be fierce, but they almost never traveled with cubs unless it was safe.

Before Bai Tu could speak, one of the cat orcs noticed him and exclaimed, “Is that the witch doctor?”

“This is Bai Tu from our tribe,” Tu Cai explained. “You can just call him Tu. He’ll help you with your cubs.”

Something felt off in the way they spoke, so Bai Tu walked closer and asked, “What’s going on?”

“The cubs in their tribe are sick,” Tu Cai said.

Bai Qi had rushed off too fast earlier and hadn’t heard the full story. The White Cat Tribe lived far from others and hadn’t known about the rescued cubs. Their real purpose for coming wasn’t to reclaim cubs at all — they’d come seeking help for a sick one. Only on the way did they hear rumors that the Snow Rabbit Tribe had saved several cubs.

The messenger had told Bai Qi both things, but in his hurry, Bai Qi only caught the first half — and ran straight to Bai Tu.

“Next time, listen properly,” Bai Tu sighed, a bit exasperated, before asking, “Which cub is sick?”

Just as he finished speaking, something brushed against his leg. Startled but used to being jumped on by cubs, Bai Tu looked down — and saw two white kittens clinging to his trousers, trying to climb up toward the toy in his hand.

The cat orc across from him hesitated and said, “They’re just… not as lively as usual.”

But even as he said that, he fell silent, staring at the two cubs now happily climbing onto Bai Tu’s lap.