Chapter 509: Chapter 382: Playing in the Mud Pits

Not until the messenger’s figure completely disappeared from sight.

Levi Corbin’s face darkened instantly, and he kicked over the barrel beside him: "Bullshit! When the hell did I ever collude with the Swine-Dog Tribe?"

Suddenly, something struck him, and he turned sharply to the Beastman next to him: "Where’s Harlan Corbin? Still no news?"

The Beastman, trembling, shook his head: "Clan Leader, I’m afraid Harlan...won’t be coming back."

Levi Corbin’s face went pale in an instant, and he couldn’t fool himself anymore.

Beast King City was venting for The Wolf Tribe.

More accurately, it was the new Beast King, Kian Sterling, venting for Luna Sutton.

...

The Swine-Dog Tribe was even more flabbergasted. Sure, they’d always been pillaging, but lately, they genuinely hadn’t done a thing—much less provoke Beast King City.

Why’d they suddenly get slapped with the crime of colluding with The Winged Tiger Tribe, plotting shady schemes?

The Swine-Dog Clan Leader, Gus, blankly took the royal decree handed over by the Beast King City envoy. When he saw the huge list of tribute they now had to cough up, he almost lost it and cursed the hell out loud.

Are they treating our Swine-Dog Tribe like some damn pushover?

Their tribe might rob smaller tribes often, but those are all tiny ones—where’s the good stuff supposed to come from?

Beast King City asks for tributes, and right off wants heaps of resources, plus beast crystals? Might as well just kill them.

Worst part? The decree even stressed: no stealing allowed, or the punishment’s double.

Gus was practically foaming with rage, but all he could do was swallow the bitter pill. Who told the opponent to be Beast King City?

If he dared to refuse, Beast King City’s army would probably roll over and squash their Swine-Dog Tribe flat.

And it’s not like they’re exactly innocent.

"Rest assured, Lord Envoy. Our Swine-Dog Tribe will definitely obey the Beast King’s decree. Tribute every year, right on time, never dare to delay."

Gus squeezed out a smile uglier than crying, and reverently took the decree.

The envoy gave him a cold glance, turned, and left with brisk strides.

Not till the envoy’s party disappeared did Gus drop the act, his face so dark it could drip ink: "Damn it, which bastard set up the Swine-Dog Tribe?"

The Swine-Dog Tribe’s reputation might suck, but they always mugged people openly—never played dirty tricks in the shadows.

This time, out of nowhere, Beast King City slapped on a massive crime and demanded tributes that’d bleed them dry—forcing them to the brink.

If they found out which bastard was behind it, Gus would definitely tear them to pieces.

Meanwhile, on the back mountain of The Wolf Tribe.

"Rumble—"

Another boom echoed out, and a small mushroom cloud rose over a spot in the back mountain.

Malachi Arcanus lowered his hand, staring at the crater he’d just blasted. His wild, handsome face was full of pride.

By now, he’d gotten the hang of several kinds of Fire Magic, and thanks to the Red Lotus Karmic Fire inside him, the spells he cast packed a punch way beyond anything normal Fire Magic could do.

"Ha! Nailed it!"

Malachi turned, spotting Soren Phoenix practicing spells not far away, eyebrow raised with a huge grin, "Hey, fancy-boy, wanna have a duel and see who’s better?"

Soren heard him, peach blossom eyes twitching as his fingers moved fast.

In a flash, a plume of flame shot out, morphing mid-air into a Fire Phoenix. Its cry echoed across the sky, and it dove straight for Malachi’s face.

Clearly, he wanted to test Malachi’s strength.

"Good one! Bring it on, as if I’d be scared."

Malachi only got more pumped, laughing out loud. The Red Lotus Karmic Fire in his palm transformed into a snarling Abyssal Demon Wolf, charging head-first at the attacking Fire Phoenix.

"Boom—"

The Fire Phoenix and Abyssal Demon Wolf made of Red Lotus Karmic Fire clashed and tore into each other mid-air. Blinding firelight lit up the mountain, the heat intense, waves billowing out.

Both remembered it was just sparring, so neither lost control; they kept the practice contained to the open space, without actually burning down the forest.

’Cause if they really torched the woods, they’d catch hell for sure.

The dust hadn’t settled yet, and a dark shadow silently appeared on the edge of the battle.

Rhys Blackwood’s form flickered through the swirling smoke. He didn’t even spare a glance for those two fireheads going at it.

He just raised his hand, stone-faced.

Dense darkness flowed from his palm like something alive.

In an instant, it swallowed up all that blinding light, cloaking the area in silent gloom. It was as if the whole sky went pitch black—so dark you couldn’t see your hand.

Day turned to night in a heartbeat.

"Tch, The Black Serpent, always killing my vibe."

Malachi’s voice, in the gloom, sounded even more pissed. The Red Lotus Karmic Fire flared up again in his palm, like a lone lamp, illuminating his wild, dissatisfied face.

"Seriously, Rhys, you’re such a buzzkill."

Soren grumbled, brushing non-existent dust off his Fiery Red Feather Robe. Phoenix True Fire flashed in his palm, casting glints in those peach blossom eyes. "Me and the brute were just getting to the good part—why you gotta interfere for no reason?"

Rhys lowered his hand, and the darkness rolled back like a tide, daylight flooding back in.

He shot the two a cold look, and let out a single syllable: "Noisy."

Simple and sharp. Sent a chill right through all of them.

"Heh."

A chilly laugh came from nearby.

Zeke Veridian was somehow leaning against a surviving ancient tree, emerald eyes raking over the entire messy scene.

"Are you two upset the back mountain is too intact, so you came to teach the Beastmen a live ’enemy raid’ drill? Any bigger a racket, and Luna might be out here whipping folks with vines."

His tone was cool, laced with trademark sarcasm.

"Zeke’s got a point."

A gentle voice, tinged with laughter, rang out.

Kian Sterling strolled over from the far end. The spectral form of the Ten-Tailed Celestial Fox flickered behind him, making his androgynous handsome face look even more mysterious.

He swept his gaze across the battered woods—full of holes as if after a war—and smiled even wider.

"Spell duels are great and all, but this commotion... kinda disturbs the peace. Just now, Corbin Crowley sent word: the patrol’s already asked for the fifth time if some other tribe is staging a sneak attack."

Malachi and Soren both looked a little embarrassed.

Malachi barked back with a scowl: "Cut it out, old fox. Don’t act like you never practice spells here yourself."

"Oh, I practice too, but I keep it contained. Unlike you two—raising a massive fuss."

Kian tossed off that little jab, making Malachi and Soren’s faces turn even darker.

Soren shook his hair, trying to save face: "If we don’t make a ruckus, how else do we know if we succeeded?"

Just as he finished, the temperature dropped sharply, like winter hit in a snap.

Everyone’s eyes swung in one direction.

There was Corbin Crowley, under an old tree no one had noticed, silver eyes scanning the mess all around him, mouth twitching.

"Whoever blasted the holes, you fill ’em in yourself. Lots of tribe beastlings around—if one tumbles in and gets buried, things’ll get real interesting."

He wasn’t kidding. The tribe’s little ones loved running wild, often playing in the back mountain: mud, sand, crawling through dog holes, leaping into pits—it was business as usual.

Corbin finished speaking—

From afar, Kael, Kael Shadowend, Frey, and Rhys’s eight snake cubs came running over.

Right behind them were Barrett Arcanus, Fintan Arcanus, Zora, three baby phoenixes, and two little dragons—one gold, one green.

Kael, at the front, suddenly ran to Corbin’s feet, flashed into a rosy chubby ball.

He hugged Corbin’s leg, pointing a tiny finger at the spell-blasted craters, babbling in a childish squeak: "Pa...pa, we...wanna play jump-jump."

The eldest beastlings—Kael, Kael Shadowend, Frey, and the eight snake cubs—not only could swap between their true forms and little beastling shapes as they liked.

They’d already begun to speak, albeit clumsily—one word at a time, with fuzzy pronunciation.

Kael Shadowend, Frey, and the eight snake cubs all shifted to beastman cub form too, clutching at Corbin and Rhys’s pant legs, chorusing for "jumping in the pits" in their cutesy voices.

Barrett Arcanus, Fintan Arcanus, Zora, the three baby phoenixes, and the two young dragons were smaller, not yet speaking—or shape-shifting.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t get it. And in beast form, they actually moved better than the beastling shape; they’d all already zipped off to the pit to play.

Corbin and Rhys both looked grim. Their own cubs wanted to play in the pits—what could they say?

Could they say "No?"

Obviously not.

They turned their stares toward Malachi and Soren—message clear as day.

Crater’s yours—you deal with it.

Malachi and Soren: "..."

What little troublemakers.

The two exchanged glances, then each looked away.

They’d finally gotten a good, wild fight in—who’d bothered to keep control?

Not them, that’s for sure.

Now look—dig a big pit, and their own cubs want to play in it.

Kian scooped up little fox Zora from a hole, dusted off his daughter, and walked off in no hurry.

Girls really have no business leaping around in mud pits—just gets them filthy.

He’d barely taken a few steps when he heard "thud-thud" behind him.

He turned back, and saw Barrett Arcanus and Fintan Arcanus, the two wolf pups, already rolling into the biggest pit.

Digging away at the dirt with glee, looking dusty and filthy, calling up to Kael and the others with "awoo awoo"—showing off they’d grabbed the best, biggest pit first.

Malachi didn’t do a thing—instead, he squatted at the edge chuckling, "Nice job, boys. Even better at picking spots than your old man was."

Zeke’s mouth twitched, and he spat out a word, deadpan: "Childish."

Then with billowing robes, he drifted off—who cared who cleaned up this mess?

Soren, scowling, dragged his girl Lyra Fawkes out of the pit, leaving his two boys to play however they liked.

Mael Valerius was off by a stream, practicing spells, oblivious to all the chaos—like it had nothing to do with him.

As for his two cubs mucking it in the mud pits? He didn’t care one bit.

Let them have fun, tough kids are healthy—less likely to get sick.

Besides, the brute’s watching them.