The old Obsidian had now become a colony of Cipher.

Lucian dropped a few white tubers into the fish soup pot. Waiting until the tubers were fully cooked, he scooped them out into a wooden bowl and carefully carried it to the bedside.

"Papa, the food is ready, wake up and eat. Papa? Papa? PAPA!!!"

The wooden bowl in the little Sub-Beast’s hands fell to the ground after he realized that Papa lying on the sickbed was no longer breathing. The child’s wails echoed everywhere, but the group of people lying or sitting sprawled around only glanced over for a moment before turning back, their faces as deadly still as corpses.

They were already used to this sight. Ever since the young Chief and that person from the Cipher clan arrived, all non-members of the four clans were driven out of the stone caves to live with the slaves brought by Cipher. During the day, they had to laboriously make golden flour threads, shape clay, and mine rocks. At night, they were only given a small portion of white tubers and wild vegetables, sleeping in tents roofed with leaves.

Enduring the harsh winter without being allowed to stay in warm caves or animal-skin tents, many people fell ill. After getting sick, they received no treatment and could only risk their lives to forage for herbs in the forest. Some took the wrong medicine and passed away as their illness worsened, while others were eaten by wild beasts while searching for cures. The originally robust beastmen grew increasingly emaciated and frail.

Lucian’s Daddy had been crushed to death by a falling rock a few days ago. Upon hearing the news, his Papa was so shocked that he immediately fell ill. He managed to hold on for a few days, but today he also departed. It was only poor Lucian, a little Sub-Beast with no remaining relatives, who knew what would become of him in the future.

Thud!

A loud noise rang out on the grass, and a blood-soaked figure was violently thrown onto the ground.

"Nashi, my child..." The old Sub-Beast, who had been lying on his deathbed, used all of his remaining strength to crawl toward the figure that was just thrown down. It was a young Sub-Beast. Just the day before, he had said he found a source of medicine to cure his Papa. No one expected that he would leave healthy today, only to return as a battered corpse.

A man considered the healthiest in the group forced himself over to check the young Sub-Beast’s condition. At a mere glance, his pupils shrank. What a sin... This young Sub-Beast had been humiliated to death!

The old Sub-Beast had managed to crawl to his son’s corpse. He lifted the young Sub-Beast’s head and stroked his wide-open eyes. However, no matter what he did, the young Sub-Beast’s eyes would not close.

He despairingly loosened his grip. The young Sub-Beast’s head lolled to one side, those wide, glaring eyes staring straight at the crowd, causing a surge of resentment to rise within the deadened hearts of these people. Someone, no one knew who, let out a heavy, sorrowful sigh.

The Beast God’s punishment! They had listened to a demon and driven away the devoted Chief of the tribe. Now, it was their turn to be punished. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Lucian hugged Papa’s corpse, his eyes swollen red. He took out a necklace with a sparkling stone pendant hidden in Papa’s chest and clutched it tightly in his hand. This was a gift his friends had given him before the departure. The friends had said this was an amulet Brother Kaelen made for them, and as long as they always wore it, they would be healthy and safe. He had also suffered a high fever once, and then a stream of warmth emanated from the stone, helping him recover.

Lucian grasped the stone in his hand. He could still feel the warmth circulating within it, but why didn’t it work on Papa? Could it be because his Papa and Daddy were among those who had shunned Kaelen—the messenger of God—so the Beast God did not bless them?

Everyone said Brother Kaelen was a demon, but Lucian did not think so. His Brother Kaelen was kind and compassionate, possessing intellect surpassing ordinary men, and was more forgiving than anyone he knew. Compared to Brother Kaelen, the Fourth Elder’s group and Cipher were the true Demons!

Brother Kaelen, Wilder, Moer, Grandfa Chief, Lord Priest... where are you all? I miss you so much... Lucian’s heart was filled with bitterness. Tears fell from his eyes onto the stone in his hand. The stone emitted a faint glow for a moment before returning to normal.

On the other side of the forest, Kaelen felt a slight twinge in his heart. He placed a hand on his left chest and instinctively glanced toward the distant horizon.

"What’s wrong?"

Sane, who was brushing Kaelen’s hair, saw his movement and paused, lowering his head to ask.

Kaelen snapped back to reality and gently shook his head. The hand placed on his left chest still did not drop; the sharp pain was gone, but he kept feeling a sense of emptiness in his heart. As a Wood-element mage, Kaelen’s sixth sense was slightly sharper than that of ordinary people. He just felt like something was about to happen, whether good or bad, he couldn’t tell.

Sane was always sensitive to Kaelen’s unusual emotions. He also looked in the direction Kaelen had just gazed, his eyes narrowing slightly. He lowered his eyelids, patiently finished brushing and braiding Kaelen’s hair, and then placed the comb into Kaelen’s hand, saying:

"I just remembered there’s still some unfinished business. I will head over to the council tent first. Can you go to Uncle Cassian’s place by yourself?"

[Alright, you go ahead. Right, after you’re done, remember to stop by Theron’s place. Tell him to come over to my experimental area for a bit this evening.]

Sane nodded and quickly walked toward the council tent. Reaching a hidden corner, he abruptly changed direction, went to the training grounds, called Andre and Quinlan out separately, and whispered into their ears.

"Remember to only scout the perimeter. Do not penetrate too deeply. Moharm is very cunning; don’t let him discover anything."

Quinlan nodded and said, "Rest assured, we know our limits. Besides, with the invisibility amulets Kaelen made right here, we won’t let ourselves be discovered."

Sane nodded and waved for them to leave. Andre and Quinlan immediately concealed themselves and flew toward the cave in the valley, squeezing through a crevice to fly to the cliff on the other side. If it were only Quinlan, he would not be able to take that route; the air pressure in the chasm would drag him down, crushing him into meat paste. But Andre was an eagle; his ability to withstand pressure was much greater than that of the small Avian clan.

On the other side, Kaelen was already standing in front of the waterwheel. Cassian had finished this waterwheel a long time ago, but the continuous pounding machine using a wooden camshaft system was only being tested for the first time today. This contraption had consumed a lot of Cassian’s time. If it weren’t for his previous research on bows and arrows and how they functioned giving him some inspiration, he wouldn’t have been able to build the pounder so quickly.

Actually, he had been stuck on how to make the pestle pound down continuously without getting jammed or breaking the wooden beam. From the moment he drew a bowstring taut and suddenly released it to unleash the force, Cassian had enlightened to the working principle of the camshaft.

The machine possessed a rugged yet incredibly brilliant mechanical beauty. The main axle of the waterwheel was connected to a large horizontal wooden trunk. Along this trunk, Cassian had skillfully chiseled holes and hammered in hardwood cam lobes, arranging them staggered at offset angles in a spiral pattern. As the stream’s current cascaded down and sent the wheel blades spinning rapidly, the camshaft vigorously rotated along with it.

This rotational movement caused the cam lobes to sequentially press down and sweep against the tail ends of a row of parallel levers. The pressing force made the lever tails dip down, simultaneously lifting the sturdy stone-clad wooden pestles at the other end high into the air. As soon as the cam lobe slipped past, the fulcrum abruptly vanished, and gravity pulled the heavy pestle head down, slamming it forcefully into the row of mortars holding the raw materials below. Thanks to the sophisticated angle calculations of the cam lobes, the pestles did not fall all at once but took turns rising and falling, creating an endless, continuous chain of motion.

Every pounding beat rang out steadily and powerfully. As much as the water flowed, the axle rotated just as much. The machine operated automatically, running smoothly and enduringly in an astonishing manner.

Kaelen could not help but admire Cassian’s transcendent intellect. He thought it was time to let Cassian try his hand at high-lethality weapons. At this moment, Cassian suddenly spoke:

"Hey, tell Sane to transfer that kid Anthony over to me. That boy’s precision in calculations and sharpness are much higher than those of my current apprentices."

[But isn’t he a beastman warrior?]

Cassian frowned and said, "So what if he’s a beastman warrior? There isn’t any fighting going on right now anyway. Just let him come over here and work with me; it might be more useful than him wandering around the tribe all day."

Kaelen rubbed his nose, silently thinking to himself that the man was patrolling, not just wandering around as Cassian said.

Anyone recognized by Uncle Cassian was definitely not lacking, but having a beastman warrior step back behind the scenes to craft tools felt like quite a pity. After all, beastman warriors were as rare as diamonds in the sand. Without even needing to ask, Kaelen knew Sane would definitely disagree. He said:

[How about this: we both compromise. I will convince Sane to let Anthony study at your place for half a day every day, and the other half must be spent at the military camp. Don’t think it’s too little; half a day is already the biggest concession. Even then, it’s not guaranteed that Sane will agree.]

Cassian clicked his tongue, nodding with a scowl on his face. Returning to the continuous pounding machine, the person responsible for boiling the reeds came to report that the reeds were thoroughly cooked and asked what they should do next. Kaelen first had someone use a giant wooden peg to firmly lock the waterwheel’s rotation, then directed them to fish out the cooked reeds and place them into the stone mortars.

Afterward, he signaled to remove the wooden peg so the wheel could resume operation. The stone-clad wooden pestles slammed down one after another, instantly pulverizing the tough reeds into mush.

Kaelen personally held a long wooden stick and stood in front of the stone mortar, highly concentrated on calculating the tempo of the camshaft. Whenever a pestle was just lifted, he nimbly used the stick to turn over the layer of reeds in the mortar, occasionally splashing a little extra water so the fibers would loosen and not burn from friction. This task demanded absolute precision and was extremely dangerous, because if he was late by even a single beat, the thousand-pound stone pestle crashing down would crush the entire stick.

Repeating this over and over until the reeds had been pounded into a smooth, fine pulpy mixture, Kaelen finally ordered the waterwheel to be pegged shut, carefully scooping out all the reed pulp from the mortars.

The reed pulp mixture was poured into a large wooden vat filled with pure water. Kaelen used a large wooden pole to stir vigorously, breaking up the mixture until the reed fibers were evenly suspended in the water. To ensure the future paper would be durable and prevent ink from smudging, he also had someone crush some wild plant roots containing mucilage, squeezing out the sap to mix into the pulp vat, creating a natural adhesive glue.

Next, Kaelen brought out a rectangular wooden mold, its bottom stretched with a layer of extremely fine and tightly woven bamboo screen.

Under the unblinking, curious gazes of dozens of people, Kaelen gripped the edges of the mold tightly with both hands, submerged it into the vat of pulp water, and gently scooped it up. He gave the mold a light shake in all four directions so the reed fibers would interweave evenly, while simultaneously allowing the excess water to drain through the gaps in the bamboo screen. Gravity pulled the water downward, leaving behind a soaking wet, paper-thin, and perfectly flat membrane of reed pulp on the surface of the mold.

Kaelen carefully flipped that wet pulp membrane face-down onto a wooden board. He repeated the process of scooping and pressing them on top of each other, layer after layer. Once finished, he told someone to place a heavy, flat stone slab on top to squeeze out all the stagnant water inside.

Continuing the process until there was barely any reed pulp left in the water vat, Kaelen finally stopped.

These raw paper sheets needed to be pressed overnight, after which they could be taken to the kiln area to dry, and then they would be ready for use. What he needed to do right now was add more safety measures to the continuous pounding machine.

Kaelen had just experienced the papermaking industry once and saw the hidden dangers. He told Cassian to make an additional stopper bar right by the wooden pestle shafts. When the waterwheel was pegged shut, the stopper bar could be pushed out to block the wooden pestles, and only then would it be safe to step in to scoop out the paper pulp.

Otherwise, if one day the wheel’s locking peg system malfunctioned and the stone pestle fell while someone was scooping pulp, they would be crippled if not smashed to death. He had seen many modern industrial accidents on the news; he could not afford to be unprepared.

Just like that, the sky had already turned pitch black. Official paper production would only begin tomorrow. Everyone wrapped up their work, returned home to wash up, and then headed to the tribe’s communal dining area.

Currently, apart from families who earned many contribution points to exchange for ample food and supplies, almost everyone went to the communal dining area. Kaelen’s household had always eaten separately from the beginning, so he bid farewell to Cassian and the others, turning his steps toward home.

Halfway home, Kaelen suddenly remembered something and slapped his forehead.

Oh dear, he had almost stood Theron up.

Theron, who had been left waiting around idly like a planted mushroom in front of Kaelen’s experimental tent, let out a loud sneeze.