The ointment proved unexpectedly effective. Within days, the redness and swelling on Gu Liang's hand visibly subsided. The pus stopped oozing, and the wound began to contract and form scabs. Though the pain persisted, the terrifying burning sensation and low-grade fever gradually receded. As his physical strength slowly returned, he could focus more intently on processing the hides. He even found himself with enough energy to ponder how to improve the rudimentary rainwater collection system.
What he gained from the medicine woman was not merely healing, but a shift in mindset. He realized that though this world was barbaric and backward, it wasn't entirely devoid of patterns and knowledge. Such knowledge could be acquired through observation, experimentation, and exchange—even if those exchanges were profoundly unequal. This gave him a faint glimmer of confidence that he could control his own destiny.
Yet just as he steadied his footing, believing he might finally catch his breath, the storm descended in the most direct and violent manner.
That afternoon, the air hung thick and stifling. Gu Liang stood inside the shed, intently smoking a batch of hides with newly acquired pine resin to test its mold-resistant properties. Two fresh clay pots sat in the corner, filled with raw hides soaking in water he'd carefully drawn from the reservoir pit to soften them.
Suddenly, the shed curtain was violently torn aside! A-Lie's towering figure blocked the doorway, shading out most of the light and casting a shadow that completely enveloped Gu Liang. His face bore undisguised malice and a mocking grin, his golden pupils like burning molten gold, fixed intently on Gu Liang.
Gu Liang's heart froze instantly, the resin block in his hand nearly slipping from his grasp.
"Hiding here, huh? You've certainly made quite a mess of things." A Lie strode inside, his gaze sweeping over the supple hides hung to dry in the shed. Greed and fury tangled in his eyes. His stare finally settled on the two conspicuous, brand-new clay pots, and a cold curve lifted the corners of his mouth.
"The priest is quite generous, isn't he? Such fine pots, only to be ruined by a slave." His voice was low and threatening.
Gu Liang instinctively took a step back, his back slamming against the cold stone wall, leaving him with nowhere to retreat. "Ah... Ah Lie, sir..."
A Lie gave him no chance to speak, lashing out with a fierce kick!
"Clang—! Crack—!"
His heavy boot slammed into one of the clay pots! The pot shattered instantly, shattering into countless shards. The soaked hides and filthy water inside splattered everywhere!
Gu Liang's pupils contracted sharply, nearly screaming in horror! Those were tools he had worked so hard to obtain!
"Who gave you permission to use these things?" A Lie stepped closer, his voice a low growl like a beast. "Who gave you permission to hide these fine things without first offering them to me? Huh?" His gaze swept over Gu Liang's hand, which had clearly improved. "And you still have the leisure to make medicine? Looks like your work isn't hard enough!"
The second clay pot met the same fate. A Lie swung his massive bone axe handle in a backhand strike, smashing it down with brutal force!
Another shrill crack! The second pot shattered into dust, its contents spilling out—soaked leather materials mingled chaotically with the shards.
Gu Liang stared at the devastation before him, watching days of hard work and hopes for a better life vanish in an instant. A wave of icy despair and uncontrollable rage surged through him! His body reacted before his mind could process—
He lunged forward, as if to stop or confront the intruder, a long-suppressed, hoarse growl erupting from his throat: "You—!"
Though he immediately recognized the danger and forced himself to halt, that fleeting flash of rage and defiance was clearly seen by A Lie.
A Lie froze for a second, then erupted into maniacal laughter, as if utterly enraged or having discovered the most amusing prey: "Ha! Good! Very good! My little slave, finally daring to bare your teeth at me?"
He yanked Gu Liang by the collar, effortlessly lifting him off the ground and slamming him hard onto a nearby pile of leather hides! The impact left Gu Liang reeling, the pungent smell of tanned leather and dust filling his nostrils, nearly knocking the wind out of him.
"So it was the priest who gave you your courage?" A Lie leaned down, his icy gaze nearly piercing Gu Liang. But his foot moved first, crushing the half-smoked, already-tanned hide on the ground before landing heavily on Gu Liang's hand. "You think clinging to that old leg and concocting these little tricks means I won't touch you?"
He raised his foot and crushed down hard on Gu Liang's injured hand! The scabbed wound instantly burst open, blood seeping out. The excruciating pain made Gu Liang scream in agony, his body convulsing.
"Remember!" A Lie ground his foot down, his voice as poisoned as ice. "You are my slave! Your life, your craft, everything you are—it all belongs to me! I take it when I want it, I destroy it when I please! No one can protect you!"
Agony and humiliation nearly overwhelmed Gu Liang. He clenched his teeth, glaring fiercely at A Lie with bloodshot eyes filled with hatred, yet no sound escaped his lips.
The tremendous commotion had long since drawn a crowd of beastmen. They gathered outside the leather tent, watching the chaos within and Gu Liang's pitiful state, whispering among themselves. Yet none dared step forward to stop the enraged A Lie. Blacktooth and his men stood at arm's length on the periphery, arms crossed, their faces twisted into smug, gloating grins.
Just then, a deep, authoritative voice boomed: "Stop!"
Chief Mo Zong strode forward, flanked by several elders and warriors. His face was ashen, and his eyes blazed with fury as he surveyed the destroyed leather tent, the shattered clay pots, and Gu Liang, now trampled under A Lie's feet.
"A Lie! What are you doing?!" Mo Zong roared. "This is the place I permitted him to work! Those pots were assigned to him by the priests!"
A Lie slowly withdrew his foot, yet his face showed no fear. Instead, he met Mo Zong's gaze with a hint of defiance. "Chieftain, I was merely disciplining my own slave. He was slacking off, wasting the tribe's property, and even tried to talk back to me. Am I not entitled to correct him?"
"Disciplining slaves is acceptable, but it's no excuse for destroying tribal property!" Mo Zong pointed at the shattered pottery fragments on the ground, his voice icy. "These hides, these pots—they all belong to the tribe!"
"Tribal property used by a slave is wasteful," A Lie retorted, his golden eyes locked on Mo Zong. "Or do you, Chief, believe an outsider slave's worth now surpasses that of a Leopard Clan warrior?"
The words were razor-sharp, instantly escalating the conflict to the level of tribal power dynamics and resource allocation. Among the gathered beastmen, some supporters of A Lie and others already resentful of the "privileges" granted to slaves began to murmur in agreement.
Mo Zong's expression darkened further. He needed A Lie and his men's combat strength, but could not tolerate such an open challenge to authority and disruption of the rules. More troublesome still, A Lie's words struck like poisoned thorns into the hearts of many warriors—the allocation of resources to a slave was inherently a sensitive topic.
Just as tensions reached a boiling point, Emma's calm voice cut through the air: "Father, A Lie. Arguing won't solve anything."
She parted the crowd and stepped forward, her gaze sweeping swiftly across the scene. It lingered briefly on the puddle of filth and shards before settling on Gu Liang's blood-soaked hand. Her eyes sharpened momentarily, then swiftly returned to their usual composure.
"The clay pots were approved by the priests, and the hides were the tribe's winter reserves," Emma's tone was steady, yet each word carried the weight of indisputable fact. "Now, the priests' property is destroyed, and the tribe's supplies are ruined."She looked at A Lie, her gaze holding no accusation, only cold scrutiny. "A Lie, you disciplined your slave. No one can say anything about that. But what you destroyed was the priest's honor, and several valuable hides the entire tribe might have lacked this winter. Should this debt be charged to your slave, or to the 'discipline' itself?"
She skillfully reframed "personal grievances" as "destruction of communal resources," directly highlighting how A Lie's actions crossed tribal boundaries.
A Lie's face darkened, and just as he opened his mouth to protest, Emma turned to Mo Zong, her tone shifting to pragmatic detachment: "The damage is irreversible. But Gu Liang's skill in softening hides appears to be the only way to compensate for this loss. If his hands are truly crippled, these shattered pots and hides will have been destroyed for nothing."
She deliberately avoided saying "Gu Liang is useful," instead emphasizing that "his craft is the sole tool to mitigate the loss." This acknowledged A Lie's ownership (the craft belonged to his slave) while elevating its "public disaster relief" value in the current situation, legitimizing Mo Zong's intervention.
A Lie snorted coldly, his golden pupils churning with hostility, yet momentarily unable to refute Emma's accusation of "damaging communal property." Her words cut like an icy fissure—acknowledging his authority while simultaneously positioning him as a threat to the tribe's interests.
Mo Zong drew a deep breath. Emma's words provided him with a way out, shifting the conflict from the sensitive realm of "chieftain authority versus warrior privilege" back to the more concrete issue of "resource loss and remediation." His gaze swept over the chaotic scene before him, and he finally declared in a deep voice, "A Lie, control your temper! Disciplining slaves is acceptable, but tribal property is not for venting your anger!"
This statement effectively defined the nature of the incident before everyone—it was A Lie's excessive "venting," not a principled confrontation. He then turned to Gu Liang, his tone leaving no room for argument: "His craftsmanship is vital to the tribe. His hands must not be crippled. Go find the medicine woman. Have her treat his hands." This command was no longer an act of mercy toward a slave, but rather the necessary maintenance of a "repair tool" based on tribal interests.
With that, Mo Zong turned away without another glance, leading his men out. This public clash had been temporarily resolved by the chieftain's authority, yet everyone knew the rift had now been laid bare.
A Lie cast a cold glance at Gu Liang, then shot Emma a meaningful look before striding away with his men.
The gathered crowd gradually dispersed, leaving behind only the mess on the ground and Gu Liang, gasping in pain.
Emma did not leave immediately. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at the shattered pottery shards and filthy water, then at Gu Liang's mangled, bloodied hand. Her brows knitted tightly.
[System Critical Warning: Target Gu Liang has sustained severe physical and psychological trauma. His sense of security is completely shattered. Hatred toward A Lie has skyrocketed, drastically increasing the risk of darkening! Current Darkening Value: 20%! Host Intervention Urgency: Highest Level!]
Emma clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. She knew A Lie would act, but hadn't anticipated such direct and violent force. This was trouble.
She took a deep breath, stepped forward, and crouched down. Feeling her approach, Gu Liang's body jerked violently. He lifted his head, his gaze filled with unprecedented turmoil—pain, despair, rage, and a deep, undeniable... doubt.
As if asking: Is this the "value" you spoke of? Is this what you meant by "gaining a foothold"?
Emma avoided his gaze, drawing a small leather pouch from her waistband filled with clean water. Silently, she took Gu Liang's injured hand and began carefully washing away the dirt and bloodstains.
Her movements weren't gentle, even a bit clumsy, but they were meticulous. The water stung the wounds, and Gu Liang clenched his teeth, not uttering a sound.
"Stay alive," Emma murmured, her head bowed as she washed the wound. In a voice low, cold, and clear, she uttered two words, "So you can hate."
With that, she stood up, not meeting Gu Liang's momentary look of shock. She turned and walked away quickly.
Gu Liang remained alone, sitting amidst the rubble and debris, blood dripping from his hand. Yet within his mind, those two words echoed relentlessly.
Stay alive. Only then can you hate.
Was this encouragement? Or a warning? Or perhaps... the precondition for the "foothold" she mentioned was so bloody and fragile?
Amidst the searing pain and chaos, the last shard of fragile hope—that his craftsmanship could buy him a safe haven—seemed to shatter completely along with the broken pottery, crushed beneath Emma's retreating figure.Yet in the icy depths of darkness, something sharper, harder was quietly taking shape. The dark seed called hatred, nourished by blood and humiliation, began to sprout wildly.
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