Abyss Summoner

Chapter 348 - 339: Wanyuan Plain (2)

The Abyss, where occasionally some races do not live by slaughter.

Cat Race.

This is a type of Half-Beastman.

Half-Beastmen are irritable and brooding by nature. They prefer action over thinking, and battling over arguing. Successful Half-Beastmen are those who maintain enough self-control to survive in civilized areas, not the crazy ones. They enjoy simple pleasures like feasting, drinking, boasting, singing, wrestling, drumming, and frenzied dancing. Refined pleasures like poetry, elegant dance, and philosophy do not appeal to them. In the right environment, Half-Beastmen can be quite entertaining.

Beastmen love scars. They see battle scars as symbols of honor and decorative scars as objects of beauty. Any Half-Beastman living among or around Beastmen bears scars, which either mark the shame of enslavement and identity of former masters or the glory of conquest and high status.

The representative Half-Beastmen characters include Lizardmen, Jackal-wolfmen, and other creatures with fierce beast genes.

However, Cat Race members are anomalies among Beastmen. They are neither bloodthirsty nor cruel. Unless life is at stake, they seldom attack enemies.

Perhaps related to their temperament, they love peace. But in the Abyss, this is evidently seen as cowardice.

Unlike the cowardly goblins, the cowardice of the Cat Race is manifested in hiding and concealing. When disaster strikes, their first thought is not to resist but to evade the enemy’s invasion as quickly as possible.

This is very passive.

As a result, when battles occur, once Cat Race members are cornered by the enemy, it foretells the possibility of genocide.

The Cat Race in the Abyss is already scarce. The harsh environment is one reason, but the malice from neighboring races is equally a major reason.

As fellow Half-Beastmen, Jackal-wolfmen particularly enjoy invading these timid clans. They kill the strong men and weak children, then capture female Cat Race members as their slaves, subjecting them to daily abuse.

It is a fate worse than death.

Few captives live to return to the camp. Shortly after being captured, their bodies endure abuse, and when the novelty wears off, it often implies they might be killed alive.

This is brutal.

But this is the stark reality of the Abyss.

...............

A Cat Race camp.

This is a tribe of just over six hundred people. In the Abyss, this size doesn’t even count as medium, and among them, few have seen companions of slightly older age.

Where did they go?

Lack of food, impending battles, these are the reasons for the disappearance of the elderly. Aging means losing the power to wield weapons, which in turn leads to tragedy.

Abandonment, left to cover the retreat.

Of course, they aren’t thrown out for no reason. Only when needed by the clan do these deserted ones pack their belongings and silently walk away.

Now.

Hundreds of Cat Race members gathered together.

This was a rare sight indeed.

Flora stood among the crowd, as if waiting for something.

This Master of Fist, who remained calm even when facing a Frenzy Demon and twisted its head off, now seemed somewhat anxious. She frequently glanced left and right, her hands awkwardly placed as if unsure of where to put them.

Everyone was waiting.

Waiting for that long-awaited promise.

Flora shared with her clan members her observations from the Human World, describing a place filled with sunshine and hope. Despite the many monsters, it was a world where even the lowest survivors, with effort, could have a meal. For the Cat Race, this was akin to paradise.

Does it really exist?

Some were full of curiosity.

"Look!"

The anxious wait received a response. Just as everyone maintained this posture for some time, a black crack suddenly appeared beside Flora.

The crack, like a ray of sunshine in the dawn, slowly tore through the darkness. In just a few seconds, a portal appeared before everyone.

Soon after, some pre-packed aid was sent to the ground—an entire sack of rice, which could be cleaned and steamed to make meals. Though the taste wasn’t great, it was enough for survival.

And it wasn’t just one bag. Under Du Men’s research, rice production greatly increased, with the Economic Development Zone stockpiling up to one hundred thousand pounds of grain. This didn’t include other vegetables and insect meat.

With so much food, Chen Feng could fully support a lengthy war because he had the capability.

Over two hundred bags of rice were transported to this slaughter-ridden dimension in a short time. Once the rice was delivered, bags of potatoes followed.

Next, snacks, drinks, cold-resisting supplies, and finally, firearms and crafted weapons were transported from the Human World.

In less than fifteen minutes, the entire plaza was filled with these supplies.

Flora bent down, tore open a package, and took out a bag of biscuits. She gently tore it open, and the pocket was ripped apart. Then, she took a biscuit and gestured to a little girl beside her.

The little girl looked young, with orange-yellow hair on her head. When she saw Flora, her ears perked up slightly, and her tail hung obediently beside her.

An orphan.

Like herself, this girl named [Flower] lost her parents in a battle. Perhaps due to this shared misfortune, Flora took special care of her.

The little girl timidly took a few steps forward, glanced at Flora, and upon seeing Flora’s affirmative gaze, finally picked up the biscuit and put it in her mouth.

The biscuit melted in her mouth.

The girl widened her eyes instantly, feeling as if she were dreaming because she had never tasted such sweet food.

In the past, when the camp lacked food, they didn’t hesitate to catch worms. The texture of a plump worm was imaginable.

Some people also smelled the biscuit’s aroma and moved closer, looking at Flora somewhat obliviously.

Flora wasn’t concerned with their gazes.

Her attention was entirely on the aid before her. The owner hadn’t deceived her. In fact, these supplies far exceeded initial expectations.

Food.

With this food, the clan no longer needed to risk hunting outside. The elderly didn’t need to reduce the clan’s burden by resorting to suicide.

Patting the little girl’s head, Flora walked to a wooden crate, struck it with her fist, and it opened, revealing dozens of reinforced guns inside.

"Bring it up!"

Flora ordered.

As the Guardian of the clan, she had absolute authority.

Moments later, a bound Kobold was brought forth. This creature with an ugly face and bulbous nose was still somewhat defiant, perhaps owing to its confidence in the Cat Race’s perceived nature, shouting words related to enslavement and revenge.

"Noisy!"

Flora’s face flashed with impatience. She raised her gun, aimed at the Kobold, and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. Immediately followed by a loud bang, the Kobold’s head was blown apart, instantly killed.

The surrounding Cat Race members gasped, clearly shocked by the spectacle before them.

Scouring her surroundings, Flora raised the gun high and said in an indisputable tone, "Fight! We must reclaim what is ours!"

"The Cat Race! We are not slaves!"