Building a Civilization and Raising Cubs in the Beast World – Chapter 154

Bai Qi grumbled nonstop as he dragged Lu Hui along to look for Bai Tu. Meanwhile, Bai Tu instructed Lang Qi to bring Shi Lin—the chief of the White Lion Tribe—over.

Although their tribes weren’t particularly close, they were still neighbors. Leaving someone waiting outside the residential area would be rude.

Lang Qi went out, found a wolf to escort Shi Lin in, and then returned to the room.

“Aren’t you going to check on the canteen?” Bai Tu asked when he saw Lang Qi come back. He knew Lang Qi had already arranged for someone to handle it, but he hadn’t expected Lang Qi to stay instead of working.

“No.” Lang Qi shook his head. Something felt off today, and he wanted to stay and keep watch.

Seeing that Lang Qi wasn’t joking, Bai Tu let it be. Once Lang Qi set his mind on something, he rarely changed it.

But Bai Tu was a little puzzled. Why did Lang Qi refuse to go out now of all times?

That question quickly faded, because something even more bewildering happened.

Lu Hui arrived too.

If not for the fact that all three showed genuine surprise, Bai Tu might have thought they’d deliberately arranged this.

Shi Lin stared at Bai Tu, his eyes filled with conflict.

Lu Hui glanced at Shi Su, wondering just what kind of plea he had made.

Seeing the three beastmen standing there stiffly, Bai Tu asked, puzzled, “Hui, Lin—did you come because you need something from me?”

It was peak hunting season. Every day mattered, and Bai Tu couldn’t bear watching them twist themselves in knots, so he cut straight to the point.

Since they were clearly here for the same reason, and since all three tribal leaders had already gathered, they might as well settle everything at once. It would save time.

Hearing Bai Tu’s direct question, Shi Lin hesitated. He glanced nervously at Lang Qi, then cautiously asked, “Tu… could we perhaps try a different method?”

He was genuinely worried Lang Qi would kill him before the negotiation even began.

“Huh?” Bai Tu was confused. Weren’t they here to discuss building a breeding area and a canteen? What “different method”?

Lu Hui finally gave up trying to get answers out of Shi Su. Her expression was full of anxiety. “Chief Lang Qi is right here… it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to cling to his thigh, would it?”
She could endure crying, but hanging onto someone’s thigh? That was the kind of thing that could get a person killed. Especially with Lang Qi.

Lang Qi glanced at Bai Tu. Clearly, staying here today had been a wise decision.

Bai Tu nearly exploded. “What nonsense did the White Bear tribe tell you?!”

He knew it. The White Bear tribe was never that simple. He shouldn’t have trusted them.

Bai Tu emphasized seriously: they didn’t need to beg, cry, or fawn over anyone. All he needed was the number of people in their tribes—because he had to calculate the canteen size based on population. Asking Shi Su to return in two days wasn’t only to let the workers rest; he needed time to design the layout and choose the best location.

Shi Lin, watching Bai Tu already requesting population numbers, felt completely thrown off. So… everything the White Bear tribe said about crying and groveling was fake?

He thought back to how he had agonized over this for half a day, only coming after being pushed by his tribesmen. He fell silent.

Lu Hui was the same—embarrassed and speechless. She’d known Bai Tu for so long, yet she had still believed the White Bear beastmen’s nonsense. Who knew they could lie with such confidence?

Shi Su didn’t speak, silently relieved that he remembered Lang Qi’s personality and had resisted getting too close to Bai Tu. Otherwise… well, it was better not to imagine.

In short, all three had been thoroughly misled by the White Bear messenger. Only Shi Su, who understood Lang Qi, had avoided nearly following that ridiculous advice.

Bai Tu calculated briefly based on the three tribes’ populations. “We definitely can’t finish building all three canteens and breeding areas before winter. We simply don’t have enough manpower.”

Breeding areas took far more work than they looked. Beastmen ate too much—small structures wouldn’t support the number of prey they needed to raise. And even though these tribes currently had few prey, they still had to prepare storage for hay, firewood, and other supplies.

The rainy season had ended a while ago, and winter was only two months away. The timeframe was too tight, especially since every tribe also needed beastmen to prepare for winter.

Lion Su and the other two exchanged glances. Did this mean… nothing could be built?

But Bai Tu continued, “We don’t need to build the canteen first. Start with the breeding area. Make it bigger from the beginning instead of expanding later.”

They could build a smaller one first and expand after winter—but that meant hauling materials twice, which was a hassle. And since breeding areas needed heated brick beds to keep prey warm, even a “small” one couldn’t truly be built small.

The most reasonable option was to postpone the canteen. By the time it was finished, winter would be close. In cold weather, beastmen preferred cooking in their caves anyway. It wouldn’t be used immediately. Better to build it after winter.

The three leaders all exhaled in relief. After all, the breeding area was their main goal. The canteen was optional—nice to have, not essential.

Their tribes did enjoy good food, but not to the point of abandoning their tribe for it. Postponing the canteen by a season—or even removing the project entirely—would be fine.

Bai Tu then discussed details with them: whether the construction team should go to one tribe first, or whether to work on all three simultaneously. He hadn’t expected everyone to show up today; he’d just promised Shi Su earlier.

So now the choices were: build the Yellow Lion tribe’s first, or split the construction team into three groups.

“Let’s build together,” Shi Su suggested immediately. “Our beastmen can help.”
This would speed up progress.

But… he hesitated, glancing at Bai Tu. Offering help was their idea, but would Bai Tu accept?

After all, the Snow Rabbit construction team knew the technique. His own tribesmen didn’t. Even if he told them not to peek, bringing it up might make it seem like they intended to steal the knowledge.

“Let’s do that,” Bai Tu said, nodding. He didn’t mind at all. In fact, it would be ideal if all tribes learned. Later, they could simply purchase raw materials from the Snow Rabbit tribe.

Bai Tu wasn’t afraid of others learning. Even if their construction team worked day and night, there was no way they could build breeding areas for every tribe in the east.

A region’s prosperity didn’t depend on one wealthy tribe surrounded by starving ones—it depended on everyone thriving.

Seeing their nervous expressions, Bai Tu added directly, “Your tribes’ free beastmen can learn from the construction team. Later, they can build their own canteens and houses.”

Bai Tu had deeper plans he didn’t reveal. Once the continent shifted from hunting to animal husbandry—and it inevitably would—tribes would need many breeding areas. Stone-and-dirt structures couldn’t compare to brick and cement.

If more tribes learned construction, they could help build breeding areas elsewhere in the future.

And while construction was easy to learn by watching, raw materials weren’t. No matter how many completed structures they saw, without the recipe, they couldn’t replicate the materials.

Selling raw materials would be far more profitable—and the Snow Rabbit tribe could process everything at home. Tribes could come transport it themselves.

Bai Tu didn’t share these long-term plans, but the leaders were already overwhelmed with excitement. They had only dared to hope for a breeding area—being taught construction was beyond their imagination.

Bai Tu saw they needed to prepare for hunting season, so after settling everything, he sent them off.

The moment the three left the Snow Rabbit tribe, everything still felt unreal. Bai Tu had agreed so easily—without bargaining at all—and even offered to teach them the construction method.

Looking at the beautiful homes of the Snow Rabbit and Blood Wolf tribes, the three couldn’t help imagining:
Could their own tribe also live like this one day?

Caves were livable, but after seeing these houses… who would want to go back to a cave?

Excited, they hurried to inform their tribesmen.

“Tu said he’ll send the construction team the day after tomorrow!”

“And we need to choose who’ll learn construction in the coming weeks!”

“Learn… what???” an orc asked, stunned. “Chief, did you just say we can learn from the Snow Rabbit tribe’s construction team?”

“Yes,” Lion Su confirmed. He understood the shock. He himself had doubted his own ears earlier.

But it was true—Bai Tu had no intention of hiding the method of building a breeding area.

This was like a shaman sharing all his prescriptions, or a tribe handing over its most precious techniques—something unheard of.

Even within a tribe, secrets weren’t shared lightly.

Yet Bai Tu… simply offered.

Deer Hui and Lion Su had nearly identical conversations with their tribes upon returning. Today was a day of pure joy—being able to build a breeding area and learn construction skills was more than enough reason to celebrate.

The excited beastmen even forgot they hadn’t hunted at all that day. Compared to gaining a breeding area—and the possibility of eventually building their own homes and a canteen—missing one hunt was nothing.

After all, prey had become increasingly scarce. Going out didn’t guarantee a catch. But Bai Tu’s promise today was real. A breeding area wasn’t just a few sheds—it also meant the Snow Rabbit Tribe would sponsor some young prey.

Some of the orcs had seen the Snow Rabbit Tribe’s breeding area before—packed full of prey and their young. No matter the species, every animal raised there was plumper than anything found outside.

Some had even tasted Snow Rabbit dishes. Foods that were usually tough and stringy became tender and delicious when prepared by them.

Take chicken, for example. Chickens existed in their territory, but they were hard to catch. Usually, they hunted them at night when the birds were less alert. But even then, the chickens they caught had very little meat—not suitable for hearty dishes like beef or mutton.

The Snow Rabbit tribe’s chicken, however, was on a whole different level: large chunks of meat or palm-sized drumsticks, coated in some white powder—flour—and fried until golden. The aroma was intoxicating. One bite revealed a crisp exterior and a tender interior, worlds apart from the chickens they knew.

If lucky, they might even get some of the Snow Rabbit tribe’s special seasoning—making it even more irresistible.

The beastmen who had followed their chief to the Snow Rabbit tribe swallowed hard at the memory of those delicacies. They couldn’t help imagining their own tribe raising prey just as plump.

Even without raising animals themselves, they knew one truth: the fatter the prey, the better the taste. And the Snow Rabbit tribe’s prey were unbelievably fat.

The thought of eating such delicious and plentiful food filled the tribe with excitement. They were eager to begin construction immediately.

Although the Snow Rabbit tribe’s construction team had not arrived yet, they could still do preliminary work—clearing weeds and trees, digging trenches, preparing foundations.

Meanwhile, the Snow Rabbit and Blood Wolf tribes were also busy. Except for the construction team, who finally had two days of rest, everyone else now had only half the usual downtime.

To ensure the tribe’s orcs could work without worrying, and because the cubs were all around the same age, Bai Tu officially announced the opening of the kindergarten.

This was huge news. The cubs had been cared for before, but never as formally as now.

Bai Tu divided the cubs into classes—those of similar ages were grouped together. If there weren’t enough cubs of the same race, he grouped them by size instead.

This avoided fights between cubs of drastically different strengths—for example, the wolf cubs were grouped by age.

While the others brought their cubs to kindergarten, Bai Tu also brought his own, wanting to observe how well they adjusted.

The cubs in the same class as Lang Sui and Lang Ying were all around three or four years old. Cubs of this age still preferred their beast forms and weren’t fully used to their humanoid forms yet, but they could understand simple commands.

So when Bai Tu told them to transform, Lang Sui and Lang Ying immediately did so and hurried to his side.

Seeing this, the other cubs imitated them—transforming into human form and throwing themselves at Bai Tu.

The cubs had no concept of their own weight. Seeing Bai Tu carrying more than a dozen cubs at home, they assumed he could carry just as many of them, and eagerly tried to climb up.

Bai Tu: “…”

The teachers beside him—wolves, sub-beasts, rabbits—were all at a loss. There were simply too many cubs; this class alone had twenty or thirty.

If all went well, these cubs would eventually form a hunting team. But since most tribes now relied on animal husbandry, their future professions would change.

For now, that didn’t matter. Right now, what mattered was this: too many cubs were trying to overwhelm Bai Tu.

Even the more obedient ones would sprint back to Bai Tu the moment the teachers put them down. The more temperamental ones howled the moment they were picked up.

Wolf cubs inherited their parents’ loud voices. They couldn’t howl through the entire tribe yet, but half the tribe could certainly hear them.

Overwhelmed, Bai Tu quickly told Lang Sui and Lang Ying, “Transform into beast form! Quick!”

The two cubs had heard that command countless times at home. Although they didn’t understand why he wanted them in beast form again, they obeyed. Besides—they didn’t like other cubs trying to “steal” their father’s two cubs. In beast form, they could climb onto their father’s shoulders—much better!

The other cubs followed suit, transforming and attempting to climb Bai Tu. But they were easier to manage in beast form. The teachers lifted each cub and placed them into bamboo baskets.

The baskets had lids—allowing the cubs to enter and exit only one at a time. Inside, several cubs scrambled over each other. Every time one cub nearly escaped, the teacher holding the basket would give it a little shake, sending them tumbling back down.

After a chaotic start, the cubs finally calmed down.

Bai Tu sighed and said to the teachers, “Let them play for the next few days. Once they settle in, we’ll teach them to speak.”

He had planned to teach earlier, but seeing the chaos, he figured practicing simple physical exercises would be better for now.

The cubs in the other rooms were just as lively. Even those who had previously lived in caves were thrilled to be in their new rooms. And to the orcs, lively cubs meant healthy cubs, so everyone welcomed the noise.

This year had the highest number of cubs anyone could remember. Even excluding those rescued from the Black Forest and Red Eagle tribes, the rabbit and wolf cubs alone exceeded past numbers.

In the past, even cubs over three years old were at risk of dying—let alone those under three. But since Bai Tu’s return this year, every cub over one year old had survived. Even the weakest rabbit cub now looked indistinguishable from the others.

Some cubs with congenital issues had also been saved by Bai Tu. If someone had told them this two years ago, they would never have believed it—but they had witnessed it with their own eyes.

Everyone took Bai Tu’s instructions seriously.

Seeing all the healthy cubs also warmed Bai Tu’s heart. He checked on them for a while before leaving, though a trace of melancholy lingered—they would eventually grow up.

Through the window, he saw Sui and Ying looking around anxiously for him. Once they spotted him outside, they ran straight toward the door—only to be caught by the teacher.

“Daddy’s going home,” the sub-beast said as he picked them up. They didn’t understand why Bai Tu insisted the cubs call him “Daddy,” but it did sound more intimate than “Father.”

Bai Tu waved at the two wolf cubs through the window, then gave a few instructions to the teachers. He had come not only to drop off his cubs but also to check how well the system worked.

Compared to the three- and four-year-olds, the five-year-old-and-up class was much more obedient. After transforming into human form, they sat quietly and listened to the teacher’s explanations.

Paper production was still limited, and the cubs were too young to use brushes, so Bai Tu didn’t introduce writing lessons yet. Instead, the teachers taught basic vocabulary—names of foods, tools, and family terms.

Many in this class were children rescued from the Black Forest tribe. Even in human form, they were easy to identify—thin and weak from past hardship. Even after surviving the rainy season here, they still weren’t as healthy as the tribe’s original cubs.

Bai Tu lingered a while longer before finally leaving the kindergarten. Lang Qi was waiting at the gate.

Bai Tu glanced at him—still staring intently at the school—but didn’t call him out. Even though he’d insisted earlier that he wasn’t reluctant to part with the cubs, he had followed them all the way here.

While Bai Tu cared for the tribe’s cubs and beastmen, the beastmen who had returned to the Western Continent were not idle either.

The first thing they did upon returning was hide half of their people, then report to Hu Que about what they had witnessed at the Snow Rabbit and Blood Wolf tribes.

Following Bai Tu’s plan, they told Hu Que that Hu Nian had led them in attacking the two tribes. But once inside, they found the food too delicious and the living conditions too good—so they didn’t want to leave and stayed in the Eastern Continent for a while.

Hu Nian had sent the main fighting force back early. The food there was too good, and he feared their large numbers would drain resources before winter. So he gave them some supplies and sent them home.

One young orc added that the two tribes they had “attacked” had many young female orcs. As he mentioned this, he glanced at Hu Que. Everyone knew Hu Nian liked young females, which had caused delays—but they couldn’t say that openly.

Hu Que soon noticed that half the returning orcs were missing. But when he tried to find a particular individual among them… he couldn’t.

That spy was supposed to monitor tribal leaders and report any disobedience.

Seeing Hu Que searching the crowd, everyone instantly guessed who he was looking for. One of the leaders stepped forward and said quickly:

“Lord Hu Que, when we first arrived there, we were too hungry…”

“Chief Hu Lai attacked the Blood Wolf Tribe before we were fully prepared and was accidentally bitten to death by the wolves.”

This was half truth, half lie. Hu Lai had been bitten by wolves—but not because he attacked Bai Tu.

There was no need to tell the man in front of them the real reason. Outwardly, the group of leaders acted respectful. In reality, every one of them wished they could tear Hu Que apart. Their tribes, their people, their cubs—Hu Que and his brothers had slaughtered them all.

Hu Que found it strange that only this group had returned, while his son and the sub-beasts he’d sent out remained silent. But given Hu Nian’s personality, it was completely believable that he’d be seduced by good food and pretty orcs.

He waved his hand dismissively. He did not want to see these insignificant tribes. “Go back.”

The group bowed with feigned respect and left, one after another.

Just as they reached the cave entrance, Hu Que suddenly said, “Wait. Leave your food. The shaman needs it for offerings to the Beast God.”

Thinking of the food Bai Tu had given them, everyone felt a stab of pain. But they had already hidden a portion earlier, bringing out only sweet potatoes, corn, and vegetables.

Bai Tu had instructed them: If they had to hand over food to the Xihe Tribe, they must give only this kind. If they brought nothing back, Hu Que would be suspicious. But the food also couldn’t be too good—Hu Nian would never willingly hand over meat or anything valuable.

Sure enough, seeing them return with foods they normally didn’t eat, Hu Que believed them immediately. If his son had conquered a new tribe, anything he gifted these small tribes would definitely be something he didn’t care for.

Still, Hu Que wouldn’t let them keep it.

With a disinterested glance, he waved his hand and ordered the food delivered to the shaman.

The leaders bowed their heads, appearing distressed yet too afraid to resist.

Seeing their reluctance, Hu Que felt quite pleased and lectured them:
“You must remember—without the shaman and our tribe, you would all be dead. Learn gratitude. The shaman gave you life and allowed your tribes to survive.”

“Yes,” the eldest leader said, “We will always be grateful to the shaman.”

Only then did Hu Que allow them to finally leave.

The chieftains returned to the rendezvous point where their tribesmen had waited. Seeing them return empty-handed, the beastmen immediately knew that the Xihe Tribe had kept everything.

The leaders shook their heads helplessly. Since the so-called “Beast God’s Punishment,” the same thing had happened countless times. No matter what prey they hunted or what food they traded for, once they brought it into the Xihe Tribe’s territory, it would be confiscated.

The Xihe Tribe didn’t lack food at all—yet they hoarded everything, waiting for the small tribes to starve and crawl back for help.

Only then would Tiger and the shaman graciously give them a bit of food, calling it a blessing from the Beast God.

Those who received the food often wept with gratitude, forgetting entirely that it was their own food to begin with.

Before, everyone had sensed that something was wrong, but they could never pinpoint the cause. Now, after hearing the truth from the Snow Rabbit Tribe, they finally understood.

Thinking back on their past “gratitude” toward the Xihe Tribe, fury burned in their chests.

The eldest chieftain said solemnly, “We must hurry back and warn the other tribes.”

They had already given up all the food they openly carried. Hu Que would be preoccupied searching for Hu Nian and would not have the energy to monitor them further. They had a chance to warn the tribes that were next in line to be preyed upon.

The group grew serious. If they didn’t act quickly, more tribes would fall victim.

To avoid suspicion, the chiefs didn’t remain together for long. They exchanged a few final words, assigned responsibilities, and then split up—pretending to be exhausted warriors returning home after a long fight.

The tiger-clan orcs who had been spying on them hid in the shadows. After listening for a long time and hearing no complaints—no resentment toward the Xihe Tribe at all—they gave up the chase and returned to report to Hu Que.

“They’re quite sensible,” Hu Que said with satisfaction. “Let them live for now. They may still be useful.”

He didn’t like small tribes, especially this particular group. Their land, located between the Eastern and Western Continents, was barren. Not only did they supply little food, but he had to send guards regularly to ensure they remained obedient.

Hu Que’s original plan was to use this battle as an excuse to wipe out all these small tribes. After eliminating them, he’d send strong orcs from his own tribe to occupy the region between continents, then use the same method to take over tribes on the Eastern Continent.

After all, the Black Forest Tribe was gone. Only the Western River Tribe—his tribe—remained large and powerful on both continents. Therefore, he believed he should rule both continents.

But the plan had failed. Too many of the small tribes had survived. Hu Que had instructed his men to listen for complaints or resentment to justify killing them—but the group had shown none.

As expected, Hu Nian was an idiot. He had obediently returned after receiving food. Hu Que felt strangely relieved. His son might not be clever, but at least he knew how to keep the best things for himself.

Good. Hu Que was getting old. In two years, he could pass the tribe to Hu Nian.

While Hu Que was secretly pleased, the minor chieftains had already returned to their tribes with their people.

The Xihe Tribe had a huge population and many responsibilities, so they managed the small tribes by sending one or two beastmen to watch each tribe. If a tribe showed any dissatisfaction, those tiger-clan watchers would immediately report it.

Hu Que would never bother verifying the truth. The moment a tribe was said to be rebellious, he ordered them annihilated.

As a result, the watchers lived more comfortably in the small tribes than their own leaders.

But they never expected that simply participating in one battle would put them in danger.

When the chieftains returned, they immediately approached their watchers.

The tiger-clan orc—used to swaggering around the tribe like a tyrant—was stunned and furious.

“How dare you attack me! I’ll tell Lord Tiger you’re rebelling! You’re plotting a rebellion!”

But those words only poured fuel on the fire.

Because of those words—spoken countless times in the past—the small tribes had suffered under the Xihe Tribe’s oppression. The tigers, the shaman, Hu Que—every one of them bore responsibility.

The orc who had grabbed the tiger bit down with a single, powerful chomp—tearing off the tiger-clan orc’s arm.

As the man screamed in agony, several orcs immediately transformed and pounced.

They had endured too much suffering. Now, knowing the truth, they hated these watchers with every fiber of their being.

The chieftain didn’t stop them. After the tiger-clan orc was dealt with, he immediately left to alert other small tribes that had been targeted by the Xihe Tribe—and those who had been secretly drugged just like them.

Everyone needed to know the truth.

A month later, as Bai Tu was inspecting the prepared winter food, the elderly chieftain was carried into the Snow Rabbit Tribe by his people.

“Lord Bai Tu,” the old man said, covering his injured eyes with one trembling hand, “we have defeated the Xihe Tribe!”

He could no longer see—but it didn’t matter.

They had won.