Chapter 51

The Feathered People’s market lay far to the east of the grassland forests, across the sprawling plains and through a dense forest, finally reaching the territory of the feathered folk. This land was a tapestry of rolling mountains and lush greenery, where a variety of trees, berries, nuts, and grains flourished. The feathered tribes nestled on different peaks, each one claiming its own territory.

The market wasn’t hidden deep within the mountains; its origin was shrouded in mystery, passed down through generations. It was said to have started as a trading hub for the fur tribes, conveniently located at the entrance to the feathered peoples’ mountainous domain.

This was Qiao’s first visit to the feathered market. She had heard tales from her parents when she was a child, describing it as beautiful and bustling, although the houses were quite small.

As they approached, they saw a wide, gentle slope at the mountain’s entrance, dotted with rows of wooden houses built at varying heights. If Zhuo Yan were here, he would surely be delighted to see the bamboo he had searched for so long; here, bamboo was everywhere, and the “shops” were constructed from it, forming charming bamboo shelters.

The houses were staggered, with winding paths laid out in smooth pebbles or polished stone slabs. At the entrance of the market stood two grand trees, each adorned with wooden plaques carved with the images of five birds: an eagle, a hawk, a peacock, a wild goose, and a golden-headed bird.

These represented the five major tribes of the feathered folk, who jointly organized the market.

A welcoming attendant approached. “Leopard tribe chief, you’ve finally arrived this year! Are you at the usual spot? The werewolf chief has already set off; will your two tribes be side by side again?”

“Please lead the way, Miss Aling,” said Zhuo Yan’s uncle, while the tribe leader nodded in agreement.

Qiao sat Ah Toup Ah Da’s back, wondering if she should dismount. She glanced at the distant wooden houses, wondering if such small places could house even a single person, or if they were meant for settling down in these tiny wooden cabins.

With a flutter of her wings, Miss Aling transformed into a large goose, soaring ahead to lead the way. The tribe leader also shifted into his beast form, and Zhuo Yan’s uncle picked up the chief’s fallen leather skirt, mounting Ah Da as the leopard tribe’s beastmen followed the goose.

Relieved, Qiao realized those tiny houses weren’t meant for them.

They soon arrived at a charming mountain peak, where a stream cascaded down toward the outside world. The leopard tribe’s usual location at the feathered market was on the backside of this picturesque hill, with the werewolf tribe directly across from them.

The mountain held a single large cave, its entrance wide and inviting.

Miss Aling landed on a nearby branch. Zhuo Yan’s uncle acknowledged, “Got it. The market opens tomorrow.” With that, Aling took flight, leaving the leopards to settle in.

The tribe leader shifted back to human form, noting the presence of newcomers who had arrived for the first time this year. He spoke sternly: “At the feathered market, do not cause conflicts with the other three tribes. Fighting is strictly forbidden. Feel free to trade your own goods as you wish. We’ll be here for ten days, so there’s no rush.”

“Now, let’s check our supplies and find a place to rest,” Zhuo Yan’s uncle instructed.

“A rest? There’s only this cave—” asked Ah Shu.

“Just this cave, and everyone will be here,” came the replies from the other beastmen.

After nearly a month of travel, especially under the sweltering heat, everyone was exhausted. Having done this for years, they were well accustomed to the routine. They unloaded their goods and stowed them in the innermost part of the cave before pulling out a worn piece of leather. This wasn’t meant for trading but was intended for sleeping.

The seasoned beastmen had already staked their claim, choosing spots farther from the entrance to protect their partners behind them. Ah Shu glanced around and also sought out a piece of leather. Chun rushed over to help, saying, “These are all good leathers meant for trading.”

“Didn’t you bring a spare one that’s not so good?” Ah Shu asked.

“I didn’t think of that; it’s my first time here,” Chun replied.

Realizing this, Ah Shu sighed and grabbed a piece. Chun hesitated but knew she couldn’t shift into her beast form. She couldn’t sleep on the ground, not with the dampness in the air and the muddy earth inside the cave. So, she reluctantly took out a piece of leather to lay down.

Qiao had heard from her parents that they had prepared well in advance, and now they had claimed a spot to set up their sleeping area for the night.

The cave was quite spacious—not small for the feathered folk, but for over thirty leopards squeezed together, it felt cramped. Leopards had a natural inclination toward solitude; they were used to small family units, and sleeping collectively was uncomfortable for them.

“I heard my mother say the market is very lively and that the feathered folk even weave feather skirts,” Ah Da said, trying to cheer Qiao up, fearing she might not Ah Dapt well.

“Skirts, huh? Well, we should trade for salt first—” Qiao glanced at Ah Da, a hint of shyness sparkling in her eyes. “If we finish trading for salt, we can look for feathered skirts afterward.”

“Okay!” Ah Da beamed.

At that moment, Qiao felt a flutter of excitement about the skirts, even though she wasn’t quite sure who would be wearing them.

Not far from the cave entrance, a stream gurgled, providing water for drinking and washing. The group took a moment to clean up and organize their goods. As night fell, a werewolf approached the leopard tribe’s cave, inquiring about the goods they had brought this year.

“A few hides,” Zhuo Yan’s uncle replied.

Every year, they exchanged information informally. The four fur tribes often traded salt at the feathered market, creating a complicated mix of competition and shared grievances. The feathered folk, especially the eagle tribe, were notorious for demanding the best hides in exchange for salt, which irritated the others.

The four tribes were frustrated, yet they had no choice but to compete for salt. Deep down, however, the four tribes shared a kinship, united by their life on the vast grassland and forest.

“We also brought hides; it’s always hides,” said the werewolf.

The tribe leader regarded the young werewolf with a softer gaze. “You brought something else too.”

“Something else?” the werewolf asked, curiosity piqued.

The leopard tribe leader chuckled. “Everyone brought something else; just bringing hides isn’t enough.”

The werewolf blushed slightly, realizing they also had brought other goods but hadn’t mentioned them. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he soon retreated. Moments later, the werewolf leader returned and said, “I was just teasing our newly grown beasts. This is their first time here.”

“I noticed; they have a fresh face and a lively spirit,” the leopard tribe leader replied with a smile.

The two tribe leaders sat at the entrance of the cave, spreading out their hides. The werewolf leader didn’t ask what the leopards had brought; instead, they chatted about new cubs born in their tribes and those who had passed on to join the sky gods.

“Was it a male who passed?” The leopard tribe leader asked, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes before quickly settling into a nod. “I remember he was quite brave, always protecting the tribe, even clashing with the tiger tribe, standing right at the front.”

“He was a good beast,” the werewolf leader agreed.

With the pain of loss behind them, they understood that life in the grassland and forest went on; meeting the sky gods was not a bad fate, as it was a journey that had to be taken.

“Da Ya’s son, Are, was crushed by a mammoth,” the leader continued.

“No wonder we haven’t seen him this year,” the werewolf leader remarked.

“He had some trouble with his leg, so he didn’t come this year.”

After discussing new cubs and the departed, the conversation shifted. The leopard tribe leader suddenly remembered something. “A-Yin is still alive.”

“A-Yin?”

“The white-furred beast born to Ah Mei in your tribe.”

“Isn’t he still in his beast form?” The werewolf leader was astonished.

“Yep, still hasn’t transformed, but he got lucky—one of our tribe’s beastmen found him and brought him home. Now he can hunt,” the leopard leader explained.

“Ah Mei is here this year with her partner and cubs,” the werewolf leader noted.

Unlike the leopard tribe’s small family lifestyle, the werewolves lived in tighter-knit communities. On their way to the feathered market, beastmen often carried their partners on their backs while their young ones scurried beside them. If the little ones got tired, the adults would gladly carry them.

So it was common for the werewolves to bring their families to the market. In contrast, leopards were less likely to bring their young ones; they either left them to watch the cave or had a beastman stay behind.

The two leaders spoke at a moderate volume, but the keen ears of the beastmen picked up every word in the cave. Some looked toward a corner where Gu He, the father of the white-furred cub, was busy lA-Ying out hides for his partner.

Seeing this, the others didn’t linger; Gu He had not shown much interest in his cub when it was smaller, and now that the cub was almost an adult, it had moved in with Zhuo Yan and was no longer connected to Gu He.

After chatting for a while, darkness fell, and the werewolf leader took his leave.

Everyone settled down to rest.

Before drifting off to sleep, Qiao thought of Zhuo Yan and A-Yin. She gently nudged Ah Da’s arm. Ah Da looked up at her, and Qiao cast a glance at the goods beside them, spotting the soap that Zhuo Yan intended to trade for salt.

Ah Da understood her unspoken words and whispered, “I’ll keep an eye on it; just sleep.”

Before dawn broke, the cave was filled with a chorus of snores, and it was time to get up.

Zhuo Yan’s uncle announced, “The feathered folk have food. Beastmen can choose a place to settle down for the next few days. I suggest finding a place with the geese, peacocks, or golden-headed birds, as they tend to be the friendliest and most harmonious.”

“As for the beastmen, you can hunt outside the forest every afternoon. Take what you can catch; don’t be picky, and come back early. If you run into other tribes hunting, be courteous and yield,” the leader advised.

The younger, more impetuous beastmen didn’t quite understand why the leopards had to yield to the other tribes, but out of respect for the leader’s authority, none dared to voice their confusion.

“After we finish trading for salt, we’ll head back; there are still others in the tribe,” Zhuo Yan’s uncle said gently.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

On the first day of the market, the leopard tribe leader stayed in the cave to oversee their collective goods, allowing everyone else to go explore and trade for what they wanted. Zhuo Yan’s uncle stayed behind as well.

This way, they could take turns watching the goods.

Qiao and Ah Da carried a wicker basket as they followed the path that Aling had shown them. Along the way, they encountered many beastmen from the werewolf, lion, and tiger tribes, some of whom were accompanied by young cubs. Qiao’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked over at Ah Da.

“They brought their cubs with them.”

“Are we going to bring ours in the future?” Qiao blurted out.

Ah Da said, “Okay. But if it’s too small, it won’t be good; if it’s too big, he shouldn’t be riding on my back. Only you can ride with me.”

Qiao burst into laughter, and the two quickly changed the subject.

As they walked further, the crowd thickened, making it easy to spot the Feather People—both males and females loved to adorn themselves. They were humanoid, draped in beautifully woven feather skirts of vibrant colors. When the wind blew, the feathers swayed gracefully. The females were tall and slender, with delicate, animated features adorned with feathers and flowers, while the males were also tall and lean.

Yet despite their beauty, the Beast People towered over them, broader and sturdier.

“Look at them; they’re so skinny! Short and scrawny, not very attractive,” one Beast Person commented.

Even the Sub-Beast People thought the males of the Feather People seemed too thin. “Can they even find mates like that?”

“Well, the prettier the male, the better his chances with the females,” someone chimed in.

“Especially the Peacocks—their tails are the most stunning,” another agreed.

“True, but they can’t fly very high, so they can’t carry salt,” someone else added.

“But their feather skirts and ornaments are gorgeous!”

Qiao, recalling her time in the tribe and excited about the upcoming Feather People’s market, remembered what Aman Stone had said: everyone had heard stories about the Feather People from their parents. The conversations among the Sub-Beast People and Beast People were similar to those she’d had while working with her friends.

Zhuo Yan used to say, “When you visit someone else’s territory, you have to respect their customs. Even if we don’t find their beauty appealing, we shouldn’t show it. It’s inconsiderate when they present their best to us. Everyone has their own beauty—strength and grace can both be beautiful.”

Qiao kept Zhuo Yan’s words in mind.

As they strolled through the market, they passed little wooden huts brimming with goods. She spotted colorful bird whistles that could produce delightful sounds—Little Xian would surely love one! There were also green tubes that chimed beautifully when struck.

“These are made from bamboo,” someone said.

At first, Qiao thought the sound-making tubes seemed impractical and a waste to trade for, but hearing they were bamboo, she paused in surprise. “Bamboo?”

“Yes,” the golden-feathered female replied with a smile. “We use them to create sounds when we sing and dance, but it seems the Sub-Beast People don’t fancy them. I’ve been waiting here for years, and no one has taken them.”

“Does it have bamboo shoots to eat?” Qiao asked eagerly.

“Eh? Have you been here before?” the golden-feathered female asked.

“This is my first visit, but I’ve heard about it from my partner, Zhuo Yan. He’s quite impressive; he made soap, and I can show you,” Qiao responded.

“That sounds great!”

Before long, Qiao had arranged her meal with the golden-feathered female, who introduced herself as Zilan. Qiao traded a medium-sized hide for her lunch at the market, ensuring she could enjoy a full meal each day.

Zilan excitedly asked, “Is your soap really that good?”

“It’s made by my partner. He couldn’t come, so he asked me to trade it for salt,” Qiao explained. Noticing Zilan’s curiosity, she added, “I can share half with you as a gift.”

Zilan waved her hand, declining. “No, no! I can’t take something so valuable from your partner.”

“I’m not just giving it away. I’d like some bamboo seeds in exchange,” Qiao replied.

Zilan looked puzzled. “Seeds? We have bamboo all over our mountain, but I don’t know what the seeds look like. If you want bamboo shoots, they’re out of season now; they only grow in spring or after rain.”

Hearing this made Qiao a bit sad, but she still offered half of her soap to Zilan. “Take it; Zhuo Yan is really kind. I’ll let him know, and he has given me some soap before, so I can always repay him.” She was confident Zhuo Yan wouldn’t mind her sharing.

“Don’t!” Zilan insisted, smiling. “I might not know the seeds, but I’ll ask the elder women in my tribe tonight. If I find the seeds, I’ll come to trade for that half block of soap.”

“Thank you, Zilan!” Qiao replied, genuinely grateful.

“No need to thank me.”

The two continued their conversation, with Zilan eagerly sharing about the Feather People and their five tribes, especially concerning salt. “The Eagles, Hawks, and Geese have plenty of salt. The Geese are quite generous and friendly, but our tribe brings back just enough salt for ourselves. The Peacocks are worse; they can’t even reach the seaside. But everyone in the Peacock tribe is stunning. Other tribes compete to trade salt with them.”

“So if you want to trade for salt, it’s best to start with the Geese, then the Hawks and Eagles…”

Both Qiao and Ah Da listened intently.

By evening, the Sub-Beast People hurried back to their resting place before dark. The Leopards settled into the cave, sharing stories of their day at the market.

“Wow, Qiao, you heard all the useful news while we were out exploring!” one commented.

“Well, it’s not like she’s special; anyone could have asked around and learned,” Chun muttered, interrupting.

Qiao glanced at Chun, who turned her head away defiantly.

“Then why didn’t you find out?” a Sub-Beast Person shot back.

“I don’t care for that stuff. It’s not like we’re in the tribe, chatting about other caves,” Chun retorted.

Qiao looked at her again, but Chun stubbornly avoided her gaze. Qiao sighed and let it go.

The Sub-Beast People continued chatting, while Uncle noticed and exchanged glances with the tribe leader. These tidbits weren’t exactly secrets; the Geese were known to be easy to work with. In the past, the four tribes sought to trade with them, but times had changed.

It wasn’t that the Geese had changed; it was the Eagles who had become more dominant, restricting the Geese’s freedom to trade salt. The Eagles demanded an unfair exchange—one or two hides for salt—leaving the Geese in a difficult position against the Eagles and Hawks.

Just like the Leopard and Wolf tribes try to avoid conflicts with the Lion and Tiger clans, the Peafowl tribe faces even harsher realities. While others might admire their beauty, all four tribes vie for their favor, bringing them salt as offerings. But the truth is, their situation isn’t easy at all. The salt given to them pales in comparison to what they could obtain by flying to the coast themselves.

The population of the Peafowl tribe has dwindled, and the Leopard tribe leader sighs quietly, not only for the Peafowls but also for his own kin—this year, there are only sixty-six members in the Leopard tribe. The Wolf tribe boasts eighty-nine, while the Lion and Tiger clans are thriving, each with nearly two hundred warriors.

As the tribe leader contemplates the salt exchange ahead, he feels a weight of worry pressing down on him. His partner can sense his unease without a word spoken, gently placing a hand on the back of his. “We still have our pottery this year.”

“Mm-hm,” the leader nods, hoping they can exchange more. He’s cautious about bringing too much; the Peafowl don’t seem fond of pottery. If they manage to trade successfully, the quantity could become a hassle, especially given the sheer number of Lion and Tiger tribe members they would encounter on their return journey.

Days pass, and the private exchanges within the Fur and Feather tribes come to a close. Now, they gather collectively to trade salt. Each tribe Ah Rives laden with goods, standing behind their leaders. Among them is Qiao, who has grown close to Zilan in recent days. She learns that past salt exchanges nearly erupted into violence when the Eagles tossed salt into the water, refusing to give any to the beastman involved.

“Why would they do that?” Qiao asks, puzzled.

“It seems the Eagles thought the Tigers offered too little,” Zilan explains. “Then they loudly complained about how the Eagles were unfair and ugly. That infuriated the Eagles, so the Tigers now trade exclusively with the Geese.”

But this year, things have taken a turn.

The Tiger clan leader, visibly furious, declares, “We’ve always exchanged salt with you! Last year we agreed on a larger quantity, and now we’re receiving even less than before!” Their tribe has swelled in numbers this year, adding to the pressure.

“There’s nothing I can do. This year, while flying to the coast, several of our males were injured on the way back, and the salt scattered from the sky. It was unavoidable,” the Goose tribe leader explains, his annoyance apparent. “You Tigers have offended the Eagles. Our tribe is caught in the middle, and if we give you salt this year, it’s only because of last year’s promise. Next year, we won’t do the same.”

The Tiger leader seethes with rage but is left with no options.

The Leopard tribe leader watches this unfold, feeling a twinge of pity for the Tigers. They have a large population, and their leader faces significant challenges, manipulated by the Feathered tribes. Once fierce hunters of the forest and plains, they now find themselves in dire straits.

The goods from the other three tribes are laid out, and it’s the Leopard tribe’s turn to present their offerings.

“These are the pottery we’ve brought this year to exchange for salt. This is a ceramic bowl, and this is a pot for boiling soup or water. It’s lightweight, but over time, pottery can crack,” the leader explains, detailing their wares.

The five tribes of feathered beings stand behind their leaders, some even transforming into their bird forms to hover above, intrigued. The leader of the Golden Feather tribe inquires, “Didn’t you bring soap? My tribe members say it’s quite useful.”

“Soap? Qiao, why don’t you explain?” the uncle calls her forward.

This is Qiao’s first experience with such a gathering, and she feels a rush of nerves. She sets her basket down for all to see, realizing that Zilan must have boasted about the soap’s quality. Qiao begins to describe it, her voice steadying as she speaks.

The Eagle and Hawk clan leaders show a flicker of interest, but it’s not overwhelming. It reminds them of the bean tree, both having cleaning properties, but the Peafowl clan leader finds the soap to be much more appealing—it’s prettier, daintier, and more uniquely shaped than the beans, yet they have no salt to offer in exchange.

“You’ve been trading this privately. Let’s focus on the Leopard tribe’s pottery,” the Eagle leader interjects.

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Meanwhile, Zhuo Yan finds the rainy season to be unlike anything he expected—not a constant downpour, but rather sudden, unpredictable showers. One moment, the sky is clear and sunny; the next, without warning, heavy rain begins to fall. The downpours are quick but intense, sometimes lasting only ten minutes, and at other times stretching on for an hour, catching everyone off guard.

It’s beyond frustrating.

The rains aren’t gentle drizzles but torrential downpours, occurring ten times a day or more.

Everyone is trapped in their caves, unable to venture out. The ground turns to mud, making even a single step a challenge. Occasionally, the sub-beastmen will take advantage of a sunny break to go outside, but they often do so barefoot.

The beastmen, too, are reluctant to hunt—when they transform into their beast forms, their fur becomes soaked, which is uncomfortable for them. They’d rather go hungry, nibbling on the dried meat the sub-beastmen prepared earlier, until supplies run low and the square rings with the sound of drumming, calling the beastmen to hunt.

A-Yin quickly runs to the gathering and returns with a howl.

Zhuo Yan knows what’s coming: they’ll be going out to hunt tonight. “If there’s thunder and lightning, stay away from trees. Lightning strikes can be dangerous,” he warns.

“Aw-wooo~” A-Yin acknowledges, understanding.

As the evening draws near, the rain finally stops, and the beastmen shift into their forms to venture out. A-Yin runs in the midst of the pack, howling to communicate with the leader, who responds in kind. Ah Hui joins in with a howl, too.

A-Yin shares, “My brother says that lightning can strike trees, so we need to keep our distance.”

The leader replies, “I’ve heard that story before.”

Ah Hui chimes in, “Isn’t that the tale of the beastman who was struck down by lightning for wasting food? Even Ma Ha hasn’t come to hunt today.”

Trailing at the back, Duo Yu and Mu Tou roll their eyes at the conversation. They decide to pretend they didn’t hear anything about lightning striking Ma Ha. It’s better not to dwell on that.

Zhuo Yan seizes the moment while it’s still dry to step outside for a quick relief, wash his hands, and check on the boars and chickens. The boar’s den has flooded slightly, but the boars are digging through the mud, deepening their burrow. They’ve become muddy little creatures, thriving in the conditions.

The entire tribe is a muddy mess, but the rain has made the ground surprisingly dry.

For Zhuo Yan, the climate of this land feels like a long, harsh winter, with only brief, unremarkable seasons of spring and autumn. For him, as soon as winter fades, summer begins—though Aman and the others would argue that the hottest days are true summer, which lasts barely ten days.

And then came the rainy season.

Though it had been raining for the past few days, the temperatures were far from cold—rather muggy, actually. It felt like a sweltering thirty-five degrees Celsius, a welcome change from the scorching forty-degree heat they had endured before.

Aman remarked that once the rainy season was over, autumn would Ah Rive.

Zhuo Yan thought it still felt like late summer. After all, who experiences autumn with temperatures over thirty degrees every day?

In Zhuo Yan’s eyes, this continent was marked by its distinct winter, while the other seasons blurred together into a series of summers—comfortable summers, scorching summers, and refreshing summers.

With A-Yin out hunting, Zhuo Yan found himself with little to do at home. He took to the cave walls, sketching and jotting down notes about the passing days. He noted that the salt drying season lasted about ten days during the hot summer, which needed to be completed before the rainy season arrived.

Once the snow melted, the season for kiln-firing would commence, with the chill making it quite manageable. When the rainy season ended and the ground was no longer muddy, it would mark the planting season.

Before the onset of winter, it would be time for harvesting and storing food. This year, they had plenty of salt, and Zhuo Yan planned to prepare cured and pickled meats in advance. He was also delighted to have found some garlic—if only he could get his hands on star anise, cinnamon, and chili peppers!

Zhuo Yan drew grids on the walls, filling in tasks for each season and estimating how many days each would take.

After finishing his notes, he rolled onto his stone bed, noting that the entire tribe was currently out of straw mats, except for Qiao’s family.

The next day, the hunting party hadn’t returned yet, and a light drizzle had persisted throughout the morning. By the afternoon, the rain stopped, and the sun shone brightly, quickly drying the ground—it was no longer so muddy.

Outside, the sound of small pebbles was heard as Aman and his companions arrived.

“Ah, finally back!” someone exclaimed.

“I barely stepped outside before it started raining again,” another grumbled.

“Tell me about it! It drives me crazy!”

The four of them reached Zhuo Yan’s home, lamenting about the weather, only for it to start raining again. Zhuo Yan couldn’t help but groan, “Ahhhh! I’m losing my mind here!”

“When will this end?”

Little Xian laughed heartily at their frustration, and Aman teased, “I thought you’d be happy to see the rain!”

“Happy? How could I be?” Zhuo Yan retorted, feeling trapped by the relentless downpour.

“Didn’t you say rain is good because it cools things down?” Shi Tou reminded him.

Xian nodded in agreement; he remembered that too.

Zhuo Yan sighed, realizing he had been naive about the true nature of this ‘rainy season.’

With nothing to do, he felt as if he were on forced vacation. A-Yin hadn’t returned yet, leaving Zhuo Yan feeling quite bored. Eventually, he scribbled on the wall under the ‘rainy season’ section: “Try to prepare some entertaining toys and crafts to make.”

This dragged on for about half a month, and Zhuo Yan felt as if he were imprisoned. He kept painting the word ‘correct’ on the walls, a task that took him thirteen days. On the thirteenth day, a single brief rain shower occurred, and everyone gathered by the riverbank to chat.

The riverbed had widened significantly; the water was surging and murky.

“The rainy season must be ending soon; the tribal leaders are coming back,” someone said.

Zhuo Yan had always wondered, “The Feathered tribe must be far from us; they don’t experience the rainy season, right?”

The beastmen were fast runners, and it took more than two months for round trips. The Feathered and Beastmen tribes must be distanced from each other, and the weather couldn’t possibly be the same for both.

Cong Lu, who had visited the Feathered tribe, answered Zhuo Yan’s question: “It rains there in summer too, but I’ve heard it’s light. The leaders avoided the rainy season to prevent losing their salt on the way back if they encountered rain.”

“So, they must choose times when both places are sunny?” Zhuo Yan mused.

“Rumor has it that spring there is very rainy, while winter sometimes has no snow and other times just one snowfall,” Aman added, recalling what his mother had told him.

Cong Lu nodded, confirming that the Feathered tribe had said the same.

On the fourteenth day, no rain fell, signaling the end of the rainy season. Zhuo Yan felt the temperature; at noon, it was a pleasant thirty-one or thirty-two degrees, and the mornings and evenings were cool but not cold—a comfortable warmth.

However, there was some bad news: large patches of resilient grasslands by the river, which had endured throughout the year, were devastated by the rains. They lay sprawled on the ground, mixed with mud, and the sub-beastmen mentioned that it would sprout again come autumn.

Zhuo Yan lamented, “I no longer have any mats to sleep on.”

Well, it wasn’t too hot, and he had learned from this year’s experience. Next year, he would prepare more grass rods in advance to weave more mats.

With the rainy season behind them, the soil was rich and damp—an ideal time for planting.

The tribe began plowing the land again, ready to sow their crops.