Chapter 33

Maya stood silently at the entrance of the cave for a long time. If she had any other choice, she would never have taken this path today.

When food in the tribe was scarce, the first ones to be abandoned were always the elderly half-beasts.

They could no longer provide any value to the tribe, so it was better to conserve food and give the newborn cubs a chance to survive.

Maya had spent time with the cubs that had been taken in. She didn’t want to see them starve to death.

Most importantly, she knew very well that no matter how harsh the environment was or what challenges lay ahead, An An, who saw her as his mother, would never abandon her.

Among half-beasts, she was already considered long-lived. She had experienced many happy moments in this lifetime. If possible, Maya didn’t want to become a burden to An An, making his already difficult days even harder.

The tribe had just been established and hadn’t been around for long. Many things still needed to be adjusted gradually.

Rather than hearing others praise her child’s excellence, Maya just wanted her child to be safe, healthy, and well-fed.

In most cases, the food distributed in the tribe was prioritized for the half-beasts who went out hunting. Without enough strength, they would struggle to catch prey and might even get injured.

But An An often shared his food with her. If he saw hungry cubs, he couldn’t bear it and would share some with them. After doing this twice, there was barely anything left for himself. How could Maya not feel heartache?

She took one last look at the familiar surroundings, then took slow yet determined steps to leave.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t gone far when she heard the sound of animal paws stepping on the snow behind her. Instinctively, she turned back. Under the moonlight, a white-furred tiger and a yellow-furred tiger stood there, staring at her.

They locked eyes across the short distance, and Maya was momentarily stunned.

“Mom, where are you going?”

An An’s voice carried obvious grievance. He believed that it was because he wasn’t strong enough and hadn’t caught enough food that his mother felt uneasy and wanted to leave them.

“Maya, come back,” Gairo spoke as well.

They both understood why Maya had chosen to leave, but they couldn’t accept such a sacrifice.

Hunger was painful, but it wasn’t insurmountable. The feeling of starvation often brought out their inner potential, allowing them to fight and win against the strongest prey.

But if Maya really left, guilt would follow them for a lifetime.

“I…”

Seeing the two of them appear, Maya didn’t know how to respond. She had planned to leave quietly.

After living together for so many years, even without blood ties, they had still chosen each other as family.

“Mom, come back. I’ll work harder tomorrow to bring back more prey.”

If not for the system’s warning, An An, exhausted from the entire day, would have been in a deep sleep, never expecting his mother to leave under such circumstances.

“An An, I don’t want you to be too tired.”

“But Mom, I don’t always feel tired. Seeing you and the cubs well-fed makes me very happy.”

Gairo nodded in agreement with An An’s words. Before meeting them, Gairo had believed that eating and sleeping every day was the happiest thing. But over time, it became dull and monotonous.

Eventually, he even questioned whether he was simply waiting to die.

But after they became a family, he realized there were choices far happier than what he had imagined.

For example, the first time he saw An An with a round belly from eating the food he provided—it was a sense of accomplishment that was more satisfying than simply being full himself.

“Mom, you can’t just leave me like this.”

An An, already a powerful adult half-beast, had a hint of tears in his eyes as he spoke.

Maya couldn’t bear it. She shifted back into her half-beast form, took a few steps forward, and gently held his head, whispering,

“What if my existence is a burden to you?”

“It’s not.”

“Maya, do you want An An to live with guilt and self-blame forever?”

Gairo’s words struck deep into Maya’s heart.

Of course, she didn’t want that.

She had made the decision hastily, without fully thinking it through.

“…I’ll go back.”

“Good.”

That night, An An slept beside Maya, afraid that if he let his guard down, his mother would try to leave again.

No other half-beast in the tribe knew what had happened. When dawn arrived, it was as if nothing had ever taken place.

The system, residing within its space, analyzed the data and determined that Maya had at most one year left to live—she had already reached the lifespan limit of a half-beast.

But it still warned An An of Maya’s attempted departure. It didn’t want to see the cub it had watched grow up suffer lifelong guilt again, unable to be happy or do anything without overthinking, just like in the previous world.

Maya remained in the tribe, watching An An act cautiously around her.

Even Tuntun, slow to catch on, snuggled up to her as if afraid she would disappear.

She patted Tuntun’s head comfortingly.

“You’re a grown beast now, still acting spoiled.”

Tuntun’s ears drooped, showing his displeasure. He stubbornly refused to listen to a single word he didn’t like.

At the entrance, Shengsheng called for him to go hunting.

“Mom, wait for me to come back.”

“Go on, be careful.”

For the entire tribe, this was a particularly difficult winter.

Prey was becoming scarcer, and being able to eat even once a day was already considered fortunate.

According to Maya’s plan, the priority was to feed the hunting half-beasts and the growing cubs. Everyone else had to endure as much as they could. Survival was more important than anything else.

With his mother watching him closely, An An had no choice but to eat the portion of meat given to him. He didn’t dare share with others, fearing she would be angry and knock him on the head.

After the long, harsh winter, the coldest days finally passed, and the weather began to warm.

Feeling the winds losing their previous sharpness, An An excitedly took Tuntun outside to play.

He scraped up some snow with his paw and tossed it at Tuntun.

Caught off guard, Tuntun was hit squarely in the face. He was stunned for a moment before puffing up in anger, his fur bristling as he pounced on An An.

“Awwoo!”

Maya joined them, tilting her head back and allowing the long-lost sunlight to shine on her face.

With the arrival of spring, even half-beasts would start hunting again.

Many in the tribe hadn’t had a proper meal in a long time, and keeping them cooped up any longer would only frustrate them.

Maya wanted to go out too, but she knew she no longer had the strength for it. She could only stay in the tribe and watch over the mischievous cubs.

Most of the cubs loved this kind-looking grandmother. They would lie down at her feet, occasionally getting into playful fights if one accidentally kicked another.

As long as it didn’t get out of hand, Maya didn’t interfere.

Watching the little furballs swatting at each other was actually quite adorable.

Through them, Maya seemed to see a young An An all over again.

Through these little cubs, Maya seemed to see An An from the past.

An An was the most formidable and also the luckiest beastman in the tribe. Every time he went out, he would encounter good prey. Because of his great strength, he would sometimes catch prey so large that he couldn’t carry it back alone and needed other beastmen to help him.

Everyone praised An An’s prowess. Maya, cradling a small cub in her arms, reached out to smooth its fur, her mind filled with memories of that delicate little tiger who would whimper and pounce on her, begging for comfort whenever he got even the tiniest scratch.

This summer was not particularly hot, and there was plenty of water. Maya lived comfortably.

As the weather gradually cooled and gusts of wind knocked leaves from the trees, Maya vaguely realized that she could no longer stay by An An’s side. She called him into her cave.

Her vision had already blurred significantly. With great effort, she identified the extra tufts of fur on both sides of An An’s face and braided them into a cute little plait, tying it with a colorful string.

An An had a faint realization of what was happening. He leaned his head against Maya’s lap, and as he closed his eyes, a single tear slipped from the corner.

“An An, after I return to the embrace of the Beast God, I will come back as your favorite bird to visit you.”

“When you see that kind of bird singing in the trees, that means Mama is thinking of you.”

Maya spoke slowly. An An whimpered in distress, resisting with his whole body. He refused to accept this, despising the helplessness of knowing that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make her stay.

He could feel it—his mother was drifting farther and farther away from him, yet he was utterly powerless.

Maya carefully explained everything she could think of. Before she could finish her final words—”Take good care of yourself”—her eyes closed for the last time.

In the howling autumn wind, the grief in the tiger’s roar was unmistakable. Gairo and Tuntun rushed into the cave at that moment. Seeing Maya lying there, lifeless, their tears spilled out before they even realized what was happening.

Most of the cubs in the tribe had been raised by Maya at some point. Now that she was gone, for a long time, laughter disappeared from the tribe.

The tribe had many kinds of beastmen—tigers, lions, leopards, and others. Each mourned Maya’s passing in their own way.

…

After Maya’s departure, An An became noticeably more silent. He would only say a few words in front of Gairo and Tuntun. To the rest of the tribe, he became known only as cold and powerful.

The mother who would patiently listen to him, no matter how much nonsense he spoke, was gone. It felt like he no longer had the privilege of acting willfully.

Year after year passed. During a scorching, arid summer when water was scarce, An An was forced to eat carrion to survive. When he looked back, he saw a bird perched on a distant tree—the very kind he loved most.

Suddenly, he felt unbearably wretched. He stared at the bird for a long time, unable to look away.

If Mama were still here, she would definitely scold him for not taking proper care of himself.

But now that Mama was gone, no one would ever feel sorry for him again.

An An had grown used to the tribe’s migrations. He had also adapted to hunting in the harshest winters. The best fruits were no longer his, and no one indulged his vanity by braiding his fur into little plaits.

Gairo passed away in the eighth year after Maya’s death. The lifespan of beastmen was only slightly longer than that of half-beastmen—just a few extra years.

He was gored in the abdomen by an antelope while hunting. By the second day after returning to the tribe, his condition had worsened. The two half-beastmen who had once studied under Maya tried all sorts of rare medicines, but they still couldn’t save him.

When An An saw Gairo leave, strangely, he did not cry.

Tuntun, seeing his expression, grew worried. He even put aside his usual carefree attitude and stayed by An An’s side day and night, fearing that he might do something reckless.

“Kid, if you’re feeling sad, you can tell me.”

The system assumed An An was bottling up his emotions and had nowhere to vent, so it spoke up proactively. It was more than willing to be his emotional trash can.

When An An first heard this, he was puzzled. It felt strange—because he truly wasn’t that sad.

Until one day, An An went out to hunt. As he pressed a buffalo down with his paw, he suddenly realized—no one was jumping out from the side to help him bite through its throat anymore.

He froze for a moment, his movements halted. The buffalo seized the opportunity to flee.

Tuntun and Shengsheng chased after it, leaving An An standing there in a daze. Countless memories of fighting side by side with Gairo surged through his mind. The overwhelming sense of abandonment, as if the entire world had forsaken him, made him feel suffocated.

When he finally snapped out of it, the fully grown tiger had curled into a tight ball, tears uncontrollably streaming down his face. Waves of sorrow hit him one after another, until he was crying so hard that his body trembled.

On the way back, they passed a grassland. He vaguely remembered that this was where Gairo had first taught him to hunt. He felt sorrow all over again.

Just before reaching the tribe, utterly drained from crying, An An felt a nausea he had never experienced before. He lay there for a long time, unable to recover.

There was no more Mama to offer gentle, patient comfort. No more Gairo, silent yet always standing behind him.

He had become a lone tiger.

For the first time, An An clearly realized this fact.

An An was not much younger than Gairo. By now, he had become a middle-aged tiger, one of those rarely allowed to go out hunting.

In other tribes on the grasslands, when beastmen aged and lost their ability to hunt, death was their only fate. But in this tribe, things were different.

When they were young, beastmen brought back food to nurture cubs who were not related to them. In old age, those cubs, remembering their kindness, would save the softest meat for them.

For the three years after he was no longer permitted to hunt, the weather on the grasslands remained good, and An An lived comfortably.

Their tribe was the most harmonious on the entire grassland. Beastmen did not look down on half-beastmen for being weaker hunters, and half-beastmen did not feel inferior because of it.

By working together, they improved their quality of life.

When An An sensed that his time was coming, he, like his mother before him, chose a good day to leave the tribe at night. He traveled far, far away to the mountains.

Walking, resting when tired, and looking for unlucky rabbits to eat when hungry.

By the end of his journey, all four of his legs trembled. Gairo’s former territory had long since crumbled, leaving only a cave barely recognizable in its original form.

When An An entered, he saw markings on the cave wall—drawings he had made as a mischievous cub with some unknown substance.

After all these years, they were no longer clear.

An An found a spot he deemed suitable and lay down. He could feel his consciousness fading. He did not know where he would go next, nor whether he would ever see Mama again.

Just before his eyes closed completely, in the narrow gap between his heavy lids, he saw it.

The very tree Gairo had once pointed at, saying that when new buds sprouted, warmth would return.

Perched upon it was his favorite bird.

The system was in the process of settling the task and needed a brief buffer time. While it still had some lingering connection to the previous world, it suddenly saw, on the electronic screen, that already somewhat aged little white lion. Another lion was beside it, having pounced down next to An An.

Using its paw, it dug a pit and placed An An, who had completely lost all signs of life, inside.

Upon seeing this scene, the system let out a sigh of relief. Compared to having its little cub’s body left out in the open to dry in the wind, this was the best outcome.

This time, An An had completed the mission perfectly. From the moment Maya picked up An An, her life had been filled with happiness, and in her later years, she simply reached the end of her natural lifespan.

Without informing An An, the system had used the vast majority of his task rewards to purify his soul and reclaim his lost fortune.

Besides that, it had kept some rewards in reserve, just in case any emergencies arose during the mission. This way, if An An needed them, he wouldn’t be left completely empty-handed.

The system patiently waited for An An to regain consciousness. Inside a transparent crystal ball, the chubby three-year-old Xie Shi’an slept for a very, very long time.

He needed sufficient time to have his memories completely erased, eliminating any lingering emotions and attachments from the previous world.

After every mission, Xie Shi’an was left with nothing. Excessive emotions were a burden to him—if they weren’t cleared away, one day, they would drive him mad.

“Where is this?”

The human cub, who had just woken up after a long sleep, rubbed his eyes with his chubby hands. His clear, bright eyes were full of confusion and unease.

The system appeared before the little cub using the same form it had assigned itself in the previous world and reintroduced itself once again.

“This is the system space. You are the host I have chosen, and we need to complete missions together. I hope we have a pleasant cooperation.”

Having gone through this process twice before, the system already understood An An’s thoughts very well. Without wasting words, it directly stated:

“During the mission, you will have parents who love you very much. The mission is to not be an ungrateful child and to repay and honor your parents properly.”

For An An, this mission was practically effortless. He was never the type to be cold and ungrateful. On the contrary, due to the absence of parental affection in his past, even the smallest bit of parental love made him instinctively want to give back tenfold.

“When do we start?”

Before the system could even rush him, An An was already eagerly urging it on.

“Host, please prepare. The new mission is about to begin.”

“Okay.”

Sitting on a small stool, An An obediently placed his little hands on his knees and even closed his eyes in an extra well-behaved manner, waiting for the system’s signal to start the mission.

He quickly entered a new world. Originally, An An was supposed to enter a challenging xianxia (cultivation) struggle-type storyline. His mother was supposed to be a talented but struggling female protagonist who had to climb her way up from the very bottom.

However, the system felt reluctant—reluctant to see its little cub suffer in the early stages, just like in the previous world, where he even struggled to get enough food to eat. The very thought of it made the system’s heart ache.

So, the system decided to use its authority to pick a better world for An An, allowing its little cub to enjoy some comfort first.

(End of Arc)