Chapter Thirty-Two: The Division of Prey

Li Le was startled by the commotion outside.
“Who would be making such a ruckus at Brother Bai’s door? And it doesn’t sound like just one person,” he wondered, scooping up Tuan Tuan and placing her on his shoulder as he walked toward the entrance.

The moment he opened the door, the noise swelled even louder.

A large crowd was thronging around Brother Bai at the stone-paved intersection—or, more accurately, around the massive slab of Green-Tusk Beast meat he was carrying. The chunk, apparently from the beast’s belly, was nearly half a story high and still dripping with blood.

Li Le recognized many of those crowding around Bai Ge; they were residents from District 13. The adults’ faces were alight with excitement as they conversed animatedly with Bai and cast covetous glances at the slab of meat.

“So they’re dividing the spoils,” Li Le realized. “No wonder everyone’s gathered so eagerly.”

He looked around and, as expected, those surrounding Bai Ge were all adults—women, brawny men, even a few elders—but not a single child among them.

This confirmed what Brother Bai had told him earlier: only adults, not minors, were entitled to share in the hunt’s spoils.

“So, it seems that in this place, without coming of age, you really have no say at all. It must make so many things inconvenient…” Li Le reflected.

“But then, if I had waited a year or two until I was an adult before emerging from the Dead Fog, would Brother Bai have accepted me into Cloud City?” The thought made Li Le’s heart sink. “Fortunately, in this world, talent is far more valued than mere age…”

Otherwise, who knows what sort of treatment he might have received.

“Hurry, You, fetch the big basin and the bone knife we use to divide the spoils!” a bent old man, leaning heavily on his cane, called out to two strapping youths.

He seemed to hold great seniority and respect among the residents of District 13; no one disputed his authority.

“Right away, Elder. We’ve got them ready—I’ll bring them immediately!” one of the men boomed, and together they dashed off to a nearby wooden hut.

In no time, one of them returned, balancing an enormous bone basin on his head. The basin was bone-white but stained at the bottom with a deep, rusty hue—a permanent mark from years of soaking in the blood of wild beasts, which water could not erase, giving the vessel a primal aura.

Inside lay a bone knife, its blade pale as snow and tinged faintly red, the length of a grown man’s forearm.

“Quickly, set it here!” the old man directed, tapping the ground with his cane in front of a wide open space near the hut.

“Understood!” The man’s face flushed red as he heaved the hefty basin to the ground, while his companion deftly retrieved the bone knife from within.

With a thud, Brother Bai tossed the beast meat into the basin, the hide facing up and the blood seeping down, pooling at the bottom. A few cold drops splattered onto his stern face.

“Elder, how will we divide this time’s spoils?” asked a sturdy woman who had wiped purple vegetable juice from her hands onto her apron. She’d been cooking when the hunters returned, but had rushed out, unwilling to miss the allotment.

“That’s right, Elder,” others chimed in, pressing the old man for answers even as a group of young people surrounded Bai Ge:

“What about the bones and blood from this Green-Tusk Beast, Brother Bai? They’re all valuable—how will we divide them?”

“My family could use some of the bone; we’re almost out of bone meal…”

“We’d like some of the beast’s blood—my boy, Si, is growing, and needs it to strengthen his bones…”

The crowd erupted with overlapping voices, each person making requests or testing the waters.

“Silence!” the old man commanded, pounding his cane with impressive force.

At his word, everyone fell at once into hush, each looking respectfully at the elder.

Li Le recalled what Lie had told him: in every district, there were elders, wise and venerated.

This world was perilous—few warriors reached old age, most perishing young. That meant those who survived to become elders were the true repositories of wisdom, possessing deeper understanding of the world and commanding respect in every district. They were known as District Elders.

Thus, the moment the venerable elder spoke, everyone quieted instinctively.

“It’s just the belly meat of an adult Green-Tusk Beast. There’s no cause for discord!” the old man declared, stroking his white beard, his gaze stern as it swept the assembly. “District 13 rose from weakness not by bickering, but through unity!”

“As the saying goes, ‘Think of the future, to live for long.’ I hope you all can look further ahead, not let trivial matters breed ill will.”

He tapped his cane, and seeing the looks of reflection and guilt on the faces around him, softened his tone.

“Last year, our trade with Abundance City didn’t bring back much grain, but remember—our district still has surplus stores from before; enough to see us through the Dead Season!”

“As for distributing this hunt’s spoils, we’ll do as we always have—by the old rules.”

The residents murmured among themselves, then nodded their assent.

Seeing the crowd satisfied, the old man stroked his beard again and finally turned his kindly gaze to Bai Ge, who had stood silent all the while.

“Yezi, you divide the spoils this time. These old bones can no longer wield a knife,” he said affectionately.

Lie’s stern expression flickered with surprise. “Elder, you want me to do it?”

Dividing the hunt’s spoils was a mark of authority and favor, a task usually reserved for the district chief. In District 13, Bai Ge’s tenure was still short; the task typically fell to the Elder. For the Elder to delegate it to Bai Ge was astonishing.

“Yes, yes! These old bones are too weary for this work. I’ll be inside resting. You, remember to bring my share to my hut,” the old man intoned, eyes gleaming with wisdom. With that, he turned and hobbled away across the stone road, leaning heavily on his cane.