Chapter 314: Spring in Nagrand

Wu Qingsong began dedicating more time and effort to the Beastgirls Sisterhood, helping the sixteen gifted girls with their spiritual training. He devised training plans for them, personally guiding and supervising their progress.

This might not have been the most effective way to strengthen them, but it was the best approach given their current circumstances.

Morin elevated the status of these sixteen beastmaidens and their families within the faith, while Ram and Harold granted them privileges that set them apart from ordinary residents. In a sense, being chosen to join the Beastgitls Sisterhood meant that their families had also ascended to Nagrand’s upper class, receiving various benefits and conveniences.

Harold still adhered to his principle that no one should gain rewards without effort. A better life required greater responsibilities or exemplary contributions, and Wu Qingsong fully agreed with this view.

“All believers should be equal, but weren’t they granted the power to awaken their potential precisely because they were more devout than others? Because they received Xuanyuan’s blessing and selection?”

To Wu Qingsong, Morin’s reasoning sounded like pure sophistry, but the believers readily accepted it. The families of these girls, subjected to this constant reinforcement, became even more devout.

From a genetic perspective, there was some justification for favoring the families of the beastgirls. After all, their parents might produce more offspring with similar abilities, further strengthening Nagrand.

Wu Qingsong sought out the craftsmen who had once painted murals in Orgrimmar’s temple, learning painting techniques from them. He then began replicating the patterns that the Flame Demon Lord had shown him.

At first, his attempts were nothing short of disastrous, but through repeated practice, he eventually managed to recreate images that closely resembled those in his mind. However, when he presented these paintings for study, no one could decipher their meaning.

“Do these drawings really hold any significance?” Xeila asked. “What if that so-called Flame Demon Lord just made them up to get rid of you? It probably knew the distance between its realm and the surface world and figured you wouldn’t waste months going back to find trouble with it.”

That was indeed a possibility Wu Qingsong had considered. As Xeila said, he had neither the time nor the energy to return to the Abyss.

Once in a lifetime was more than enough for a journey like that.

“Maybe we should consult some shamans from the local tribes or try to find a mage to examine these patterns?” Nina suggested.

“That’s an option,” Wu Qingsong nodded.

Finding shamans wouldn’t be difficult, though whether they actually possessed magic was another matter. If they did, the wild tribes wouldn’t be as weak as they were.

As for a mage, there was one possibility.

The lich along with a horde of skeletons was still buried somewhere in the sand caverns west of Mesthebes. Unfortunately, they had sealed that cavern too well, leaving no markers. The Sentalus had occupied the region ever since, constantly clashing with the Yagatas. Retrieving Raman would be a risky endeavor.

Despite its loss of most memories, the lich still retained fundamental knowledge of magic. Wu Qingsong found himself regretting not taking it with him at the time.

“For now, let’s wait for spring,” Wu Qingsong said.

“And these drawings?”

“Have Alice hang them up in the Sisterhood’s quarters. Let the girls see if they can make sense of them,” Wu Qingsong replied.

The minds of those around him were already shaped by their experiences. Perhaps the beastgirls would perceive something different in the images.

***

Winter on the wastelands was so long that it felt almost suffocating. From the first snowfall to the initial thaw, a full six months had passed.

Temperatures finally rose to the point where people could move about freely without immediately falling ill from sweating in the cold. Without delay, Ram and Harold led the residents outside to drive stakes into the ground, mark planned areas, and inspect and repair tools in preparation for the spring planting.

Then, one day, someone noticed that the bare shrubs around Nagrand had begun to sprout new buds. Beneath the thinning ice, the first resilient plants had started pushing through.

The temperature climbed higher each day. In just a few days, the ice and snow rapidly melted. The dried-out riverbeds filled with runoff, while the two streams flanking Nagrand swelled into rushing torrents, transforming into full-fledged rivers.

Fortunately, when choosing the site for Nagrand, they had accounted for this possibility and settled on an elevated hilltop. The wooden stakes they had driven into the ground earlier now indicated the flood levels, revealing which areas were submerged.

As the river surged toward the lakeshore plain, its flow finally slowed, but it flooded vast tracts of land, turning them into a sprawling wetland.

“It looks like the situation is even worse than we anticipated,” Wu Qingsong said.

“There’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll just have to adapt,” Harold replied.

They had previously sought out wolffolk from Silvermoon, hoping to find locals familiar with the region, but to no avail.

Unlike the warmer lands to the south, tribes on the wasteland rarely settled in one place. They followed their herds, chasing after green pastures, sunlight, and rain, tracking deer and cattle across the vast land.

Because of this, while these nomads could describe the general features of the region, they lacked precise knowledge about specific locations.

The maximum flood levels of the rivers near Nagrand, the extent of the floodplain, and the best spots for levees and bridges—all these factors dictated where farmland should be developed and how the city would expand. However, without reliable data, they had to adopt the most conservative approach to planning. If they based everything on this year’s flood levels and next year’s turned out to be even worse, the consequences would be disastrous.

“This flood season probably won’t last long. The water level will drop soon,” Wu Qingsong said. “Once we have enough manpower, we should build a dam upstream. That would solve our irrigation problems.”

Harold opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Wu Qingsong quickly added, “I know, I know. We can’t rush these things. It all has to be done gradually. But having a plan in place is better than scrambling at the last minute, isn’t it?”

Liuli laughed from the side. 

Wu Qingsong pinched her cheek and said, “Come on, let’s go check on the seeds.”