Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 3523: A Feast With The Beast Kin

A few hours later, the Main Nest had transformed completely.

The arguing voices, the tense stares, the awkward silence from earlier were all gone, replaced by laughter, loud chewing, clanking cups, and the unmistakable atmosphere of a feast in full swing.

Lin Mu sat cross-legged on a wide stone platform that served as a table, surrounded by food in quantities that would have horrified most human sect kitchens.

There were massive slabs of grilled meat laid directly on heated stone plates, their surfaces crackling softly as fat dripped and sizzled. Some were clearly from beasts Lin Mu recognized from the rainforest, while others had no recognizable origin at all.

Thick ribs larger than tree trunks. Skewered haunches pierced by sharpened bones instead of metal rods. Entire carcasses roasted slowly over low flames, turned by beastkin cooks who treated the process with reverent seriousness.

Between the meats were piles of raw vegetables, roots, and leaves arranged in simple bundles. Immortal fruits sat in woven baskets, glowing faintly with spiritual light. Some were sliced, some whole, some crushed into rough pastes and eaten with bare hands.

The style was crude, but efficient.

And strangely... familiar.

Lin Mu took another bite of charred meat, nodding unconsciously. ”This isn’t bad.”

Little Shrubby, seated a short distance away and already halfway through something that looked like an entire Thunderhorn Elk, let out an approving growl. ”Good meat. Clean. Not overcooked. But...” he sniffed the air and frowned slightly, ”...no spice.”

The bear king, seated opposite Lin Mu and currently gnawing on a bone thicker than Lin Mu’s arm, paused mid-bite. ”Spice?”

Lin Mu swallowed. ”He means seasonings. Herbs. Aromatics.”

The bear king blinked, then laughed. ”Why ruin good meat?”

Shrubby bristled. ”Ruin? RUIN?” He jabbed a claw toward his chest. ”I use spice to RESPECT the meat.”

Several beastkin nearby burst into laughter.

The boarkin elder snorted so hard he nearly choked on a mouthful of roasted tuber. ”This beast has opinions!”

The rhino kin elder nodded solemnly. ”Strong beasts often do.”

Shrubby huffed but went back to eating, muttering about how he would ”educate these people one day.”

Despite that, he clearly enjoyed the food, his tail swaying lazily as he chewed.

Lin Mu reached for a large mug pushed toward him by the bear king. The container itself was carved from polished horn, thick and heavy. Inside sloshed a pale golden liquid that shimmered faintly.

”Drink,” the bear king said, grinning. ”Our clan’s pride.”

Lin Mu lifted the mug and paused, sniffing it.

Sweet.

Not sharp like most alcohol. Not harsh. No biting scent of fermented grains. Instead, it smelled like wildflowers and warm sunlight.

He took a cautious sip.

His eyes widened slightly.

”It tastes like... honey,” he said.

The bear king slapped his knee, clearly pleased. ”Good nose. It is honey. Fermented, thinned, and aged.”

”What kind?” Lin Mu asked.

”Trident Bee honey,” the bear king replied casually.

Lin Mu’s brows rose. ”The ones with paralyzing venom?”

”Those,” the bear king said proudly. ”Their hives are a pain to raid. Many warriors get stung. Some fall asleep for days.” He grinned. ”Worth it.”

Lin Mu took another sip, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. It was lighter than most liquors, smooth and mildly effervescent. Not intoxicating in an overwhelming way, but relaxing.

”I like it,” Lin Mu said honestly.

The bear king beamed. ”Good! Bear King Mead is only given to kin and honored guests.”

Encouraged, Lin Mu reached into his spatial storage and brought out a sealed jade jar. ”Then you should try this.”

The bear king eyed it suspiciously. ”What is it?”

”Immortal Apple Wine,” Lin Mu replied. ”From my own stock.”

He poured it into a spare cup.

The liquid sparkled faintly, tiny bubbles rising steadily. A fragrant aroma filled the air immediately, crisp and refreshing.

The bear king took a sniff, then a gulp.

His eyes widened.

”Hoh?” He smacked his lips. ”This is... strange.”

”Good strange?” Lin Mu asked.

The bear king took another, larger gulp. Then another. ”Very good strange.”

He laughed loudly. ”Like drinking a river that smells like fruit!”

The elders nearby leaned in.

”What is that?” the foxkin elder asked, tail flicking.

”Human wine,” the bear king said, shoving the cup toward her. ”But dangerous enough to make you crave more.”

She drank.

Her ears twitched. ”I like this danger.”

Soon, Lin Mu found himself distributing jars to curious elders. The serpentkin elder sniffed it skeptically before sipping and nodding approvingly. The boarkin elder downed half a cup in one go and immediately demanded more. Even the rhino kin elder, who had initially claimed he only drank water and milk, accepted a cup after persistent encouragement.

Laughter spread, voices growing louder as the atmosphere became increasingly jovial.

Meanwhile, Daoist Chu had found himself seated among the deerkin and foxkin elders.

He was gesturing animatedly at the air, using a thin stream of Qi to sketch formation lines. ”You see, human formations rely heavily on fixed anchors. Stones, talismans, arrays carved into the ground.”

The deerkin elder nodded, his antlers decorated with hanging beads and charms. ”We noticed.”

”But your formations,” Daoist Chu continued, fascinated, ”they flow. They shift with the forest.”

The foxkin elder smiled slyly. ”Why fight the land when it already listens?”

She tapped the ground with her claw. ”The forest breathes. The rivers move. The roots connect everything. Our arrays simply guide what already exists.”

Daoist Chu’s eyes shone. ”A living array...”

”Yes,” the deerkin elder said. ”The great one covering our territory is ancient. Older than the sect. Older than our tribes.”

”You control it?” Daoist Chu asked.

”Barely,” the foxkin admitted. ”We can nudge it. Wake it. Calm it.”

The deerkin added, ”If several elders focus together, it can bare its teeth.”

Daoist Chu sucked in a breath. ”An offensive natural array of that scale...”

He looked positively giddy.

On the other side of the hall, Elyon was... suffering.

He was surrounded.

At least eight wolfkin women sat far too close to him, their tails swaying, ears perked, eyes bright. The wolfkin elder lounged nearby, arms crossed, watching with obvious amusement.