The changes brought by the fire-making incident were subtle yet real. Gu Liang still worked daily, but the overseer's scolding seemed less frequent. Occasionally, curious orcs would point at his pocket, mimicking the motion of striking a flame, grinning widely.Gu Liang would nod cautiously, but never readily pulled out his military knife to demonstrate—the Black Mane Chieftain's attitude that day offered an invisible shield, yet it could also become a reason for suspicion.
His food remained poor quality, yet the portions seemed more consistent—at least the dizzy spells from hunger had diminished. The overseer who once lashed him with a whip now glanced instinctively at Gu Liang's wrist (where the dagger was concealed) when assigning heavy labor. Though his tone remained impatient, the casual brutality had softened.
This fragile equilibrium born of his perceived usefulness allowed Gu Liang, during his brief respites, to observe more closely.
He noticed the tribe's food storage methods were extremely crude: freshly distributed meat was haphazardly piled in shaded pits, attracting flies and emitting a putrid stench within two days; smoked meat hung in ventilated areas, but the crude technique resulted in uneven smoking—the outer layer charred and hard as wood, while the interior remained prone to infestation and spoilage.Tubers and wild fruits gathered were mixed together in damp pits, many sprouting or rotting before they could be eaten. Each time he cleared away this spoiled food, it felt like witnessing a silent, colossal waste.
He also noted the equally acute drinking water problem: the tribe's sole water source was the river. During the rainy season, the river ran muddy, carrying silt and decaying leaves washed down from upstream; in the dry season, the water level dropped, forcing people to walk farther for water.All orcs, regardless of age or gender, drew water directly from the river for drinking, washing, and even cleaning bloodstained entrails after processing game. Gu Liang looked at his own wrist, still swollen and infected from skinning hides, and felt a chill—unclean water was itself a breeding ground for disease.
Then there were the dwellings. Those hides tents and crude wooden-and-stone huts were stiflingly hot under the scorching sun and offered little defense against the cold winds during bitter nights. A moderately strong storm could cause leaks in many shelters or even tear off roofs entirely. The tribe seemed to have never considered actively improving these conditions, merely patching them up year after year, enduring the hardships, or migrating elsewhere.
"Food, water, shelter... the three most fundamental elements of survival," Gu Liang silently summarized in his mind, his assessment bordering on cold detachment. "This tribe remains stuck in the most primitive stage of passive adaptation in all three areas. They depend on nature's generosity while enduring its cruelty. There is no proactive planning, no systematic improvement."
Yet the eyes that saw through it all could not even secure a meal or shelter for themselves at this moment.
These scenes relentlessly jolted his professional instincts. Civil engineering, materials science, basic chemistry... knowledge churned in his mind, yet he lacked both the means and the status to act upon it. He was merely a slave; any action beyond his bounds risked suspicion and disaster. A Lie's watchful gaze followed him like a shadow, a constant reminder of his predicament.
That day, the tribal hunting party returned with an exceptionally massive beast resembling a wild buffalo, causing a sensation. While processing the kill, several beastmen attempted to strip its thick, resilient hide. Yet their crude tools and brutal methods left the skin riddled with holes, wasting most of it.
Gu Liang, nearby hauling firewood, watched the scene with a pained frown. He recalled the modern principle of leather tanning, which required substances like tannic acid found in tree bark, minerals, or animal fats.
He instinctively halted, his gaze scanning the surroundings for potentially useful plants. His eyes fell upon a shrub with reddish-brown bark, reminiscent of a tannin-rich tree species from his memories.
His pause and concentration did not escape the golden eyes that constantly scanned the hunting grounds. A Lie had just finished dividing the best parts of the kill and was wiping the blood from his arms when his gaze, sharp as a falcon's, locked onto Gu Liang in the corner. A cold, amused curve lifted the corners of his mouth as he strode over.
Rough palms, sticky with the prey's blood and reeking of rust, clamped down on Gu Liang's jaw, forcing his head up with such force that his jawbone throbbed.
"My little slave," A Lie's face drew dangerously close, his scorching breath washing over Gu Liang's face. The molten gold of his vertical pupils flashed with scrutiny and an unyielding, probing intensity. "Your eyes... they never stay still. Watching warriors grind stones, women work hides, elders tend embers... Now, you're staring at this rotten bark."His thumb scraped hard across Gu Liang's jaw, his voice low and venomous, like a snake striking. "Tell me, what are those wandering eyes of yours truly studying? Spill out all those unwelcome thoughts churning endlessly in your mind. Let me see them."
It wasn't merely about the leather. It was a raw, deeper desire to control every thought and discovery within him.
Gu Liang felt a chill more piercing than physical pain—as if an invisible gaze were prying open his skull.
He had no doubt that if he revealed his suspicions about tanning or the reddish-brown bark, A Lie would immediately extract every detail, claim it as his own, and watch him even more closely.
Gu Liang winced in pain, fear seizing him in an instant as he struggled to break free. The surrounding beastmen all turned to look, their expressions amused.
"Let him go." A cool voice cut through the air. Emma had approached unnoticed, bone knife in hand, sharpening its edge as if merely passing by. "Father wants you to examine the samples from the newly discovered saltstone vein, A Lie." Her tone was flat, as though delivering the most mundane of messages. "The samples are in his tent. We need to assign the first mining crew immediately."
Saltstone veins were vital strategic resources for the tribe, and Chief Mo Zong valued them far more than any successful hunt. A Lie paused, his golden pupils narrowing as he looked at Emma. He snorted, releasing Gu Liang with such force that the man staggered, his jaw bearing clear fingerprints.
"We'll talk later," A Lie tossed over his shoulder, as if setting aside an amusing toy for later, before turning toward the chieftain's tent.
Gu Liang clutched his aching jaw, his heart pounding with lingering fear. He glanced at Emma, but she had already lowered her head, focused on sharpening her bone knife, as if her earlier intervention had been nothing more than a casual gesture, entirely unrelated to him.
But Gu Liang knew this was yet another one of her "conveniently timed" appearances.
[Target Individual Gu Liang avoided a potential conflict due to Host intervention. Anxiety value decreased. Positive Dependency Value +1%. Current Positive Dependency Value: 2%.]
Emma's knife-sharpening motion paused almost imperceptibly. Dependency value... It had indeed begun to rise.
Just as she had anticipated, each intervention, while reducing his external risks, deepened the scar called "dependence" within him. This sound was more pleasant than the darkening value alerts, but its essence was equally troublesome, perhaps even more so. She had to control this balance carefully, like pruning vines—allowing it to provide necessary support while preventing it from becoming overly entangled. Otherwise, future plans would become impossible to execute.
Gu Liang lowered his head and continued hauling firewood, though his mind churned with turmoil. Emma's assistance felt like a mist—seemingly unintentional, yet always precisely timed. What did she want from him? Was it merely because he was "useful"?
That night, lying in his sheltered corner, he used a sharp stone blade under moonlight to secretly etch the pattern of that reddish-brown bark onto the inside of his tattered sleeve. Beside it, he carved a simple symbol representing "tanning." Daring not to make bold moves, he could only silently record these fragmented "possibilities," waiting for an opportunity that might never come.
His value was a double-edged sword—granting him a meager space to survive while thrusting him into a more conspicuous, more perilous cage. And the keeper of this cage seemed to desire not only his obedience, but also the dangerous "ideas" within his mind—ideas that clashed with this world.
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