Chapter 184 – Improved Formula

The Hunting Festival had officially begun, and the Riverside Tribe immediately grew busy.

“Brother Jian Mo—!” Ban Ming and the others spotted Jian Mo from afar and shouted, “Our tribe members will be competing today. Make sure you come to the arena to watch!”

Jian Mo waved back in response. “No problem, I’ll be there later.”

Ban Ming grinned. “Then we’ll go get ready. See you later!”

With that, he and the others ran off.

Jian Mo unpinned the wooden brooch from his chest—entirely carved from wood, with a thick pin at the back for fastening to clothes. On the front was a simple drawing of a cat and dog cuddled together.

After carefully putting the brooch away, Jian Mo decided to head home for some food before going to watch the matches.

He had spent the entire morning as a volunteer, guiding guests and maintaining order. Only now could he finally take a breather.

Before he reached home, Wu Jiong came out to meet him. “I thought you’d be back earlier?”

Jian Mo gave him a quick hug. “A new batch of prey just came in from the Meng Shui Tribe and the Yigu Tribe’s joint hunt. I stayed behind to lend a hand.”

Wu Jiong chuckled. “I figured as much.”

Jian Mo smiled. “Aren’t you hosting the matches? Go on and get ready. I’ll come watch you after I eat.”

Wu Jiong nodded. “Alright, I’ll head over first. See you later.”

Jian Mo: “See you.”

After several days of eating spicy hotpot, Jian Mo was craving a proper meal.

Sure enough, when he got home, there was rice and a small stir-fry kept warm in the pot. His heart warmed at the sight, and humming a tune, he set it out and ate.

When he finished, he went over to the arena.

From a distance, Ye Luo waved to him. “Qing Kuo’s match is coming up soon! I thought you’d be late.”

Jian Mo cheerfully replied, “Impossible. I kept track of the time. I’d never miss it.”

This year, in addition to the new event for the young ones, there were many more competitions for sub-beastmen. The most anticipated of all was the sub-beastman gladiator contest.

Though sub-beastmen couldn’t fully transform into beast form, they could partially transform different parts of their bodies to aid in battle—making the fights thrilling to watch.

Jian Mo followed Ye Luo to sit with the Riverside Tribe’s group.

In the arena, two sub-beastmen—from the Dianxin Tribe and the Xiongying Tribe—were already fighting.

Jian Mo knew both of them and had always thought them skilled, but he hadn’t expected their abilities to be this impressive. Their fight was dazzling.

Just one glance, and Jian Mo was captivated, cheering along with the rest of the tribe for the fighters in the arena.

The atmosphere grew more and more heated until the entire venue resounded with shouts.

The two sub-beastmen in the arena, however, weren’t affected at all—trading blows, dodging, and counterattacking relentlessly.

After dozens of exchanges, the sub-beastman from the Dianxin Tribe finally grew exhausted. One misstep, and he failed to dodge a heavy punch, collapsing to the ground.

The match was decided.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Wu Jiong and the other referees came forward to check on both fighters, then quickly announced that neither was seriously injured. The competition would continue.

The next match was Qing Kuo versus a sub-beastman from the Bingjiang Tribe.

The Bingjiang fighter was tall and burly, while Qing Kuo’s figure was tall and lean, a narrow, powerful waist cinched with a leather belt—radiating sharp intensity.

As soon as the fight began, both of their ears shifted into beast ears, and their hands into beast claws.

Like lightning, they lunged at each other, instantly clashing.

During the earlier fight between the Dianxin and Xiongying sub-beastmen, Jian Mo had been able to shout and cheer.

But this time, his throat felt stuck, unable to form words. He could only clench his fists and stare, silently willing Qing Kuo to win quickly.

As a feline sub-beastman himself, Jian Mo could barely keep up with Qing Kuo’s movements.

Qing Kuo was fast and powerful, quickly gaining the upper hand.

With a swift, precise, and vicious spinning kick, Qing Kuo knocked the Bingjiang fighter to the edge of the arena, rendering him unconscious.

That kick was spectacular. Even some full beast-form feline warriors might not be able to deliver such a perfect strike.

The crowd erupted into frenzied cheers: “Aaaah!!! Qing Kuo, you’re amazing!!!”

Jian Mo shouted along, but quietly, his hands shifted back into claws—dreaming of the day when he’d be fully grown and able to fight like Qing Kuo.

Still, since he was likely a long-haired cat, his combat ability wouldn’t be as strong.

Ah well, even having half of Qing Kuo’s strength would already be remarkable.

Jian Mo retracted his claws, indulging in happy daydreams.

Just then, Ye Luo clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go talk to Qing Kuo.”

Jian Mo hissed softly, rubbing his shoulder. “Wait—you signed up for the sub-beastman contest too?”

Ye Luo nodded. “Yeah, my match is tomorrow morning.”

This year’s Hunting Festival had sub-beastman matches in the mornings, beastman matches in the afternoons, and the cub events scheduled for the final days.

Hearing this, Jian Mo’s eyes lit up. “Then I’ll come early tomorrow. No way I’ll miss your fight.”

Ye Luo smiled wryly. “I’m not as strong as Qing Kuo.”

Jian Mo shook his head. “The moment you say that, I know you’re just being modest.”

Ye Luo had leopard-like blood in him. Jian Mo had seen him hunt in the forest before—his movements were light and agile, weaving beautifully among the trees.

Jian Mo declared, “It’s settled. Tomorrow I’ll grab a front-row seat.”

Talking as they walked, they went to wait for Qing Kuo at the arena’s exit.

Fresh off his fight, Qing Kuo was still slightly out of breath. “What are you two doing here?”

Ye Luo handed him a cloth to wipe his sweat. “You just fought—we had to come see you.”

Jian Mo’s eyes sparkled. “That was incredible! Especially your spinning kick. Hah, I want to learn it too.”

Qing Kuo chuckled. “Then ask Wu Jiong to teach you. He knows it—and does it better than I do.”

The three chatted as they walked out. Seeing Qing Kuo didn’t head back toward the stands, Jian Mo asked, “Where are you going? Not going back?”

Qing Kuo replied, “Lots of people brought goods to trade today. I want to see if I can get some ingredients.”

Jian Mo, caught up in his admiration, quickly offered, “Then I’ll go too.”

Qing Kuo: “Let’s grab our trade goods at home first. We’ll meet back here and go together.”

They agreed, then soon reconvened with supplies.

The Hunting Festival was larger than usual this year, drawing many people.

Stalls lined the roads near the Riverside Tribe, with all sorts of goods laid out for trade.

The three walked along the river road, stallkeepers calling out to them enthusiastically.

Qing Kuo and Ye Luo were decisive, quickly trading for a good haul of ingredients—nuts, berries, dried fruits, jerky, tubers, and more. Jian Mo, however, hadn’t found anything that caught his eye.

Until, at a bend toward the back mountain, Jian Mo spotted a young sub-beastman selling a heap of golden-yellow berries.

Always fond of berries, Jian Mo turned his steps toward the stall. “How do you trade for these yellow berries?”

The young sub-beastman looked up, smiling shyly as he offered them a taste. “Doctor Jian Mo, what do you have to trade?”

The berries were sweet. Jian Mo pulled out some cloth. “Would beast-fur cloth work?”

The youth nodded readily. “How much do you want?”

Jian Mo picked a smaller piece of fabric. “As many berries as this can get me.”

The young beastman scooped generous spoonfuls into Jian Mo’s basket—over ten in total—until the berry pile was noticeably smaller. He asked, “This much okay?”

Jian Mo nodded.

Qing Kuo, seeing how sweet they were, traded for some too.

While they bartered, Jian Mo’s gaze fell on some dark, odd-looking fruits emitting a peculiar fragrance—almost like stewed meat.

He picked one up and sniffed it.

The young beastman, noticing, explained, “Our tribe elders say this fruit can be eaten too. Doctor Jian Mo, do you want some?”

Jian Mo asked, “What fruit is it?”

The youth shrugged. “I don’t know. It smelled nice, so I picked them.”

Ye Luo leaned in for a look. “Never seen it before. Which tribe are you from?”

“Young beastman: “The Nongliu Tribe.”

Ye Luo nodded. “No wonder. Your tribe’s far from ours. Lots of things grow there that we don’t have here.”

The boy just smiled.

Jian Mo asked, “May I taste it?”

The youth cut him a slice with a wooden knife.

The flesh was like apple—crisp, with a sweet-sour flavor and a unique fragrance. Quite good.

But what intrigued Jian Mo most was how much it resembled a medicinal herb called Throat-Eye Bead.

That herb was said to treat skin conditions without leaving scars—remarkably effective.

Jian Mo wondered if this fruit might be the legendary herb itself.

It was worth testing.

“Can I trade cloth for these fruits too?” Jian Mo asked.

The youth nodded. “Yes, but since they’re rare, I’ll need more cloth.”

Jian Mo pulled out another piece. “That’s fine.”

The youth agreed, even tossing in the half-cut fruit as a gift.

Ye Luo asked, “Do you know what it is yet?”

Jian Mo: “Maybe. I’m not sure. I’ll have to test it.”

Since the Throat-Eye Bead worked best in a formula with several other herbs, Jian Mo, seeing it was still early, dragged Ying Ao into the forest to gather ingredients.

As for Jiujiu, it had already gone wild playing with the cubs—useless for now.

Jian Mo worked the whole day, and Wu Jiong had been busy as well.

By evening, Wu Jiong returned to find Jian Mo carefully brewing medicine over a charcoal fire in the courtyard. “Who’s injured?” he asked.

Jian Mo looked up. “No one. This is a scar-removal remedy. Not sure if it’ll work—I want Bei Ya to try it.”

He had always kept Bei Ya’s condition in mind, though he hadn’t found a good cure.

Wu Jiong came to help, noticing sap from the Kunzhi tree simmering in the pot, with a half-jar of thick medicinal decoction set aside.

Seeing his expression, Jian Mo explained, “Bei Ya’s case is unique. I want to try making it into a plaster.”

He had learned to make Kunzhi sap plasters from Witch Doctor Lian Ke. Later, in the Xingchu Tribe, he studied more with Xing Yi and others, discovering that witch doctors had long used Kunzhi sap—but it required processing first, not direct use.

Lian Ke’s skills had been poor, so what Jian Mo had learned from him was flawed.

Only later did he truly master it under Xing Yi’s guidance.

Now, Jian Mo carefully simmered the Kunzhi sap to the right consistency, then poured in the herbal decoction, stirring as it cooked.

When it reached the verge of boiling, he spread the mixture over large leaves in a shallow wooden tray, smoothing it flat to cool.

Wu Jiong watched. “First time I’ve seen you make this kind of plaster.”

Jian Mo exhaled lightly. “I just never had the chance before. Once it cools, it’ll solidify.”

Wu Jiong nudged his shoulder. “Go inside. You’ve been at it all day.”

Jian Mo: “I’m fine.”

Wu Jiong: “Well, I’m not.”

Jian Mo laughed, pushing him back instead. “Then you’d better rest.”

After dinner, Jian Mo returned to check on the plaster.

It had cooled completely. Peeling it from the leaves, it came off whole—much like making rice rolls.

The plaster was pliable, with a faint stickiness when stretched.

Jian Mo called into the house, “Go take a bath. When you’re done, I’ll apply some on your leg scar. Let’s see if it lightens it.”

Wu Jiong glanced at it. “Not necessary.”

The scar on his calf was from childhood—no real need to remove it.

But Jian Mo shoved him toward the bath. “Of course it’s necessary! I need to test it somehow. I don’t have scars, so I can’t. If we jump straight to Bei Ya and it doesn’t work, it’ll be such a letdown.”

Wu Jiong sighed, giving in, and went to bathe.

From behind, Jian Mo shouted, “Wash thoroughly!”

Wu Jiong raised a hand in acknowledgment.

He returned soon after, carrying the clean, herbal scent of soap.

Jian Mo beckoned him outside, examining his leg in the twilight. “That scar’s deep.”

Wu Jiong: “Old injury.”

Jian Mo: “Doesn’t matter. The formula says it works. Let’s test it.”

He measured the scar with the plaster, then rubbed Wu Jiong’s leg hair thoughtfully. “Hmm, too much hair. Hard to stick. Can I shave a little?”

Wu Jiong, already seated before him, didn’t refuse. “Just a little.”

Jian Mo checked his knife’s sharpness with his fingertip, fetched some soap, and carefully shaved a narrow strip around the scar.

He was cautious, leaving only a thin line bare—otherwise, in wolf form, that patch of fur would look awkwardly bald.

Finished, he gently stroked the skin. “How’d you get this?”

Wu Jiong: “Fell out of a tree while playing with De Jiang as a kid.”

Jian Mo cut the plaster to size, warmed it slightly to activate the stickiness, and pressed it onto the scar. Satisfied, he admired his work. “Perfect. Now we wait a few days and see if it works.”

Wu Jiong looked down. “It fits well.”

Jian Mo crossed his arms proudly. “Of course. It’s an improved formula.”