The clamor outside the tent raged through half the night before finally subsiding. Gu Liang curled up on the animal hide, the brand beneath his collarbone searing with pain. Each breath tugged at the scorched skin. Shame and hatred spread like venom through his veins, silent and relentless.
Before dawn, the animal-skin flap was flung open again. A Lie's towering figure appeared in the doorway, the morning chill pouring in with him. He glanced at the curled-up Gu Liang and barked a short command, signaling him to rise.
Gu Liang did not move.
A Lie frowned, striding over and roughly yanking his arm. Gu Liang sucked in a sharp breath of pain—A Lie's hand had landed precisely near his injured brand.
Seeing Gu Liang's face contort in agony, A Lie paused and released his grip. He stared at Gu Liang for a moment before abruptly turning to retrieve a small jar of ointment from the tent's corner. It emitted a faint, herbal fragrance.
He gestured for Gu Liang to expose the brand. Gu Liang glared at him, frozen in place.
A Lie lost patience, forcing Gu Liang onto the animal hide. He scooped ointment with his finger and roughly smeared it over the scorched skin. The cooling sensation instantly eased some of the pain, but this sudden "kindness" only deepened Gu Liang's humiliation.
After finishing, A Lie unceremoniously dragged Gu Liang out of the tent, tossed him a coarse wicker basket, and pointed toward the mountains of animal hides and bones piled around the camp perimeter.
The meaning of the task was unspoken.
Gu Liang stood frozen, clutching the basket. Two burly beastmen guards immediately stepped forward, flanking him like bodyguards as they "escorted" him toward the pile of debris. Their eyes held no sympathy, only the cold detachment of those carrying out orders.
For an entire day, Gu Liang was forced to process blood-stained hides and bones still clinging to rotting flesh. The pungent stench was nauseating, and the coarse rattan straps rubbed raw the palms of his hands. The surrounding orcs occasionally cast curious or indifferent glances his way, but no one offered assistance, nor did anyone speak to him.
He soon realized the tribe operated on a strict hierarchy. Slaves like him occupied the lowest rung, assigned the dirtiest and most grueling tasks. The strong male warriors, meanwhile, enjoyed the finest food and resources. The females handled tanning hides, gathering supplies, and caring for the young. Their gazes toward Gu Liang were mostly wary and distant.
In the afternoon, several young male orcs approached, laughing and joking. One particularly tall one deliberately kicked over a basket of animal bones Gu Liang had just organized.
Gu Liang looked up, his gaze cold and unyielding.
The young beastman grinned, revealing sharp teeth, and muttered something that made his companions burst into laughter. He reached out, seemingly intending to touch the brand beneath Gu Liang's collarbone.
Gu Liang jerked backward.
This provoked the young beastman. He growled lowly, reaching out to grab Gu Liang's hair.
At that moment, a stern command echoed from nearby. It was Chief Mo Zong. He had appeared unnoticed nearby, his face bearing a look of disapproval.
The young orcs instantly stopped their banter, bowed their heads respectfully, and quickly dispersed. Mo Zong's gaze lingered on Gu Liang for a moment. Those sharp eyes swept over the brand beneath his collarbone, but he ultimately said nothing and turned to leave.
By evening, Gu Liang was brought back to A Lie's tent. He collapsed onto the animal hide, utterly exhausted, his palms raw and bloody, his entire body caked in blood and dust.
When A Lie returned, he surveyed Gu Liang's work with an appraising gaze, seeming reasonably satisfied. He tossed Gu Liang a piece of roasted meat—more intact than the previous portion, less charred.
Gu Liang didn't touch the meat. He sat silently, staring at the dying embers of charcoal in the center of the tent.
Late into the night, A Lie seemed irritated by Gu Liang's dead silence. He moved closer, roughly lifting Gu Liang's chin with his fingers, forcing him to look up.
Gu Liang offered no resistance, merely returning the gaze with cold, dark eyes devoid of emotion, as if observing an inanimate object.
This gaze seemed to enrage A Lie. He growled lowly, pinning Gu Liang down onto the animal hide as his entire body loomed over him. Hot breath washed over Gu Liang's face, carrying an unmistakable desire.
This time, Gu Liang neither drew his knife nor fought violently. He merely turned his head away and closed his eyes, appearing like a soulless shell.
A Lie's movements abruptly halted. Staring down at the passive, unresponsive body beneath him, a flicker of frustration and anger flickered in his golden pupils. Finally, he cursed under his breath, sprang up, and stormed to the opposite side of the tent to lie down.
A tense silence settled over the tent.
After a long while, Gu Liang slowly opened his eyes. He silently reached for the Swiss Army knife, its blade reflecting no light in the darkness.
He knew that when the sun rose tomorrow, the same humiliation and drudgery would continue. But something had changed silently during the night.
He was no longer merely prey, destined only for fierce resistance. Hatred had taught him another way to survive—to lie silent and dormant, waiting for his moment.