Chapter 195 – Allergic to Meat

Jian Mo had sent word to the Sharpfang Tribe.

A few days later, the people of Sharpfang arrived together, bringing along their cub.

The leader of the group was Shandun, who was quite familiar with Jian Mo. Previously, Jian Mo had pierced his ears for him—three piercings on each ear, a rather complicated set.

Now, he still wore three earrings in each ear, glinting brightly under the sun. Seeing him, Jian Mo immediately felt a sense of familiarity.

Shandun’s beast form was lion-shaped, similar to Dejiang’s. The weak cub’s father was also lion-shaped, but the cub himself had a leopard form, somewhat resembling a snow leopard cub.

The problem was that this cub was far too frail—thin and tiny, with sparse fur that exposed the thin, red skin beneath.

He looked more like a newborn kitten than a snow leopard, even though he was slightly larger than a house cat.

Jian Mo carefully cradled the cub. “The cub takes after his father?”

The cub’s father, Minta, had reddened eyes. “Yes, he takes after me. It’s all my fault for not giving birth to him properly.”

Jian Mo looked at him and shook his head. “It’s not your fault. This was just an accident.”

The cub lay obediently in Jian Mo’s palm. He gave a weak swipe with his paw but didn’t struggle further—maybe he didn’t even have the strength to.

He was so frail—his claws hadn’t hardened yet, his body was cool to the touch, his thin belly rose and fell weakly, and his navel stuck out. He looked pitiful, nothing like an ordinary cub.

Holding him, Jian Mo was filled with pity.

He placed the cub onto a cloth-covered table. “Wait here a moment. I’ll use the stethoscope to listen and check how his internal organs are developing.”

The cub’s two fathers nodded quickly.

Jian Mo fetched his stethoscope, pressed it to the cub’s chest, and listened carefully for a long time. He could hear the faint sounds of the cub’s internal organs.

His organs were developing fairly well. The heart and lungs—Jian Mo’s biggest concern—were not underdeveloped.

Still, the cub’s body was weak, the sounds faint, like he lacked energy.

Jian Mo listened for a while and judged that overall, the cub’s body seemed relatively normal—no major problems.

But he was so tiny and weak that even with his beast ears, Jian Mo couldn’t hear clearly.

To be safe, Jian Mo frowned slightly. “Does anyone here have a beast form similar to his? I want to compare by listening to a healthy leopard.”

Shandun quickly spoke. “Zhuchan’s beast form is a leopard—not a snow leopard, but close enough. Will that do?”

As he spoke, a tall young man stepped forward, waiting for instructions.

Jian Mo nodded. “That’ll do. Let’s go outside—it’ll be clearer.”

Zhuchan followed him out and shifted into his beast form in the open space outside the clinic.

Jian Mo gestured for him to lie down.

The huge leopard obediently lay on his side, following every command—raising his paw, opening his mouth—though his tail was tucked tightly under his belly in embarrassment.

Jian Mo placed the stethoscope against him and listened intently.

The adult leopard’s heartbeat was strong and powerful, blood flowing quickly, lungs clear, and bowel sounds normal.

After listening, Jian Mo had Minta bring the cub back and compared their sounds.

Finally, Jian Mo concluded: “The cub is developing well enough. He’s just weak. If he grows a bit more, there shouldn’t be major issues.”

Minta was still worried. “We’re just afraid he won’t survive. Nianshan is so weak. Even when he cries, it’s soft and thin, like he doesn’t have the breath for it.”

The cub’s other father, Tuming, added: “He doesn’t eat much, either. Whenever we feed him meat broth or meat paste, he spits most of it out. We feed him all day, but he barely takes anything.”

Sub-beasts couldn’t produce milk, so cubs were always fed meat broth or paste.

For generations, this had worked fine. Cubs grew healthy without issues.

Jian Mo asked: “What’s your meat broth or paste like? Did you ask the elders in your tribe?”

Minta nodded. “We did. They said it was fine. We worried maybe we weren’t cooking it well, so we even had others make it, but Nianshan still wouldn’t eat, and often threw it up.”

Perhaps sensing he was being discussed, the cub suddenly let out a weak, raspy cry.

His little voice was hoarse—not loud, but heart-wrenching.

Minta’s eyes grew red, and he quickly cuddled the cub, soothing him.

It was Jian Mo’s first time treating such a tiny cub. Seeing this, he said: “Stay here a few days. I’ll study this more carefully and see if I can figure out the problem.”

Both fathers nodded gratefully.

Jian Mo continued: “The cub can’t go hungry. Come to my house—I’ll make a meat broth with fresh meat we hunted this morning.”

They followed him home.

Since they didn’t know how to use Jian Mo’s kitchen, Jian Mo cooked alongside them.

Minta and Tuming carefully cut the meat into tiny pieces, removing every tendon.

They didn’t blanch the meat, but they diligently skimmed off the scum once it boiled. The broth smelled rich and savory.

Jian Mo observed the whole process. Nothing seemed wrong.

When the broth was ready, they cooled it carefully, testing the temperature with the backs of their hands before feeding the cub.

But the cub resisted immediately, pushing the spoon away with his tongue, refusing to swallow.

Even when forced to drink a little, he gagged and vomited it back up, soaking the fur on his chin and chest.

After all that effort, Jian Mo guessed he had swallowed barely two mouthfuls.

His fathers looked crushed.

Watching, Jian Mo finally understood why everyone thought the cub wouldn’t survive.

A weak cub could still grow stronger with good care.

But if a cub refused to eat at all—that was a real problem.

Minta clutched the cub and looked pleadingly at Jian Mo. “Doctor Jian Mo, this is the situation. What should we do?”

Jian Mo raised his stethoscope. “Let me examine him again.”

The cub, having just tasted the broth, had fallen into a deep sleep.

Jian Mo checked carefully—and suddenly noticed his skin was hot, warmer than normal.

Jian Mo frowned. “Something’s wrong.”

Minta leaned forward nervously. “What’s wrong?”

“His temperature is too high. And don’t you think he’s sleeping too deeply?”

Jian Mo shook the cub gently, even lifted his little paw.

The cub stayed limp, eyes closed tight.

“You see? He’s not waking up when I shake him.”

Tuming hesitated. “Maybe he’s just full and asleep?”

Jian Mo shook his head. “Doesn’t feel like normal sleep—it feels more like unconsciousness. Quick, let’s move him into the sunlight.”

They hurried outside with the cub.

Jian Mo parted the cub’s sparse fur, examining closely. “Looks like his skin has red patches—it’s more flushed than before.”

Everyone crowded around. “It really is—quite a large patch, too.”

Jian Mo pressed lightly with his fingers. “His skin is red and hot. If he had a rash, it’d be even clearer. But even without, this doesn’t look good.”

Minta panicked. “Why is this happening?”

“I’m not certain, but my guess is he’s allergic to meat. Have you ever fed him anything else? Or only meat broth and paste?”

Minta was flustered. “Only meat broth and paste. That’s what we always feed cubs. No one feeds anything else.”

Jian Mo said firmly: “I suspect it’s the food. Let’s try something different.”

Minta asked anxiously: “But what else can he eat? Does this mean he can never eat meat?”

“Not necessarily. He’s too young—his body may react strongly to meat now, but he might tolerate it when older. For now, though, no more meat. Let’s try something else. I’ll get some bird eggs—let’s see if he can handle steamed egg custard.”

Jian Mo kept long-tailed birds at home. They only laid every two or three days, but he had some eggs stored.

He cracked three eggs, beat them with water and a pinch of salt, then steamed them.

Everyone waited nervously outside the kitchen.

At last, the custard was ready. Jian Mo set it to cool. “Let’s wait for him to wake up. Then we’ll try a little.”

Both fathers nodded obediently, overwhelmed by all they had learned today.

When the cub finally woke, Jian Mo tested the custard’s temperature, then carefully spooned a little to him.

He wasn’t sure if the cub could eat it, so he planned to try just two small spoonfuls.

But the moment it touched his mouth, the cub didn’t resist—instead, he bit the spoon fiercely with his tiny teeth and gobbled it down.

When it was gone, he refused to let go of the spoon.

Minta and Tuming watched in shock, eyes wide. Minta’s eyes shone with hope, while Tuming’s grew misty.

Tuming gently pried his cub’s mouth open so Jian Mo could pull the spoon free.

Jian Mo gave him another spoonful. This time, before the spoon even reached him, the cub lunged forward and clamped on, devouring eagerly.

The Sharpfang tribesmen whispered in awe—no one had seen the cub with such energy before. They were deeply impressed with Jian Mo’s skill.

After two spoonfuls, Jian Mo withdrew the spoon.

The cub scrabbled toward it, realized there was no more, and wailed hoarsely, “Mew—aoo! Mew—aoo!” breaking his fathers’ hearts.

Minta sniffled. “Nianshan seems like he could eat more. Can we give him a little more?”

Jian Mo shook his head. “Not yet. We need to observe. Give him more in the afternoon. How many days old is he?”

Tuming counted on his fingers. “Today’s the ninth day.”

“So for nine days, he’s only had meat broth and paste? Nothing else?”

They nodded.

“And every time, he reacted the same? Crying, resisting, then vomiting?”

Again, they nodded.

Jian Mo noted it all down. “We don’t yet know if he can tolerate egg custard long-term. But one thing’s certain—no more meat broth or paste, at least for the next six months. We can try again when he’s older.”

Both fathers answered quickly. “We understand.”

“Also, watch his urination and bowel movements these days. Record everything and report back to me.”

They listened carefully to every instruction. By then, the cub had cried himself tired and fallen asleep.

Jian Mo checked him again. The redness was fading, and his skin was cooler.

It really did look like a meat allergy.

For a Sharpfang cub to be born allergic to meat… this was indeed troublesome.

Jian Mo stroked the little one’s back gently. This tiny fellow probably hadn’t had a proper meal since birth. No wonder he was so weak. He would need careful raising from here on.

Minta and Tuming kept watch over their cub all day.

By evening, the cub had peed and pooped normally, with no issues.

Jian Mo helped steam a fresh custard and told them to feed him half a bowl. If he stopped before that, it was fine.

They fed him, and the cub licked his lips and finished it all.

For the first time, he didn’t cry afterward—he yawned and fell asleep peacefully.

Minta gazed at him and couldn’t help but cry.

Afraid to wake him, he bit down on his own fingers to stifle the sound.

But soon he couldn’t hold back. He ran outside—and moments later, sobs filled the air.

Tuming handed the sleeping cub to Jian Mo, asking him to hold him, then rushed out to comfort his mate. Within seconds, two voices cried together.

Inside, Jian Mo listened, his own chest aching.

This little family had endured so much already.