Chapter 332: Saving the Mousekin

“How miserable is mousekin’s life?” Wu Qingsong asked after a moment of contemplation.

Mousekin barely had any presence on the plains. He already knew that when the clans of the plains counted their population, they didn’t include mousekin. They rarely participated in clan conflicts, carefully scavenging for food around their burrows while quietly raising their young. The power struggles and territorial shifts on the plains usually had nothing to do with them. No matter who controlled the land, they always remained at the very bottom of the hierarchy.

But beyond that, Wu Qingsong knew little.

In the south, under the elven rule, mousekin and rabbitkin were powerless against oppression. They were frequent targets of plunder and slaughter by nobles and soldiers, often reduced to slaves, stripped of property and freedom, or even fed to war wolves. No matter how harsh life was for the mousekin on the plains, it couldn’t be worse than the south, could it?

“My lord, their lives are not much different from their southern kin,” Alice said. “In fact, they might have it even worse here on the plains.”

While the plains clans had no formal concept of slavery, whenever labor was needed, the mousekin were always the ones expected to shoulder the burden. They were forced to take on the majority of the work, yet the clans rarely considered their well-being, as though allowing them to survive was already the greatest mercy. They had to rely on their meager strength, constantly struggling for the right to live.

And even that was no easy task.

Clans often blamed mousekin for consuming plants that could have been used for grazing livestock or for eating food meant for cattle and deer, leading to a shortage of game within clan territories. Whenever the elders reached such conclusions, they would drive the mousekin out, pushing them into even more barren lands.

Even the typically peaceful taurkin regularly expelled mousekin from their territories for the same reasons—believing the mousekin consumed too many plants and encroached on their living space.

Thus, the mousekin were driven across the plains year after year, constantly uprooted, perishing along the way.

Some clans even raided mousekin villages—underground networks of intersecting tunnels—during their winter migrations, seizing the food they had painstakingly gathered throughout the short summer and autumn to feed their livestock, leaving the mousekin to fend for themselves.

More brutal clans, like the nomadic Bedouin Clan roaming the northeastern icefields, often treated mousekin as winter provisions—killing and eating them, then occupying their burrows as winter shelters.

To Wu Qingsong, such practices were incomprehensible. While male beastkin differed widely in appearance, female beastkin looked strikingly similar, reinforcing the notion that they belonged to the same overarching race.

Killing mousekin was already extreme, but eating them?

“We can’t allow this to continue!” Wu Qingsong declared immediately. 

His words made Alice instinctively clasp her hands over her chest, as if beholding a divine revelation.

“Wu…” Ram sighed helplessly. “Things like this happen every day in this world. How much can we really change?”

“Have Morin come see me,” Wu Qingsong instructed Alice. “We need to completely overhaul our missionary plan. Our spring plans will also need to be revised. Send the priests to the mousekin settlements and tell them this: if they convert, Nagrand will guarantee their safety and their right to live freely on these lands.

“Ram, we need to send messengers to the surrounding clans and make this clear. Mousekin who follow Xuanyuan are members of the Icy Sea Clans. Driving them out will not be tolerated.”

“That will stir resentment,” Ram warned.

“Why should they resent it?” Wu Qingsong countered. “The priests’ task will be to teach the mousekin how to dig wells, cultivate barren land, and grow crops. They’ll be eating the food they produce, not the plains’ wild plants. If the clans can’t even tolerate that, then frankly, they have no right to remain on this land.”

“Is it really worth it?” Ram asked, unable to understand.

“Trust me, Ram. It’s absolutely worth it,” Wu Qingsong said firmly.

Mousekin might be weak in combat, but humans were weak compared to beasts, too—yet they had driven countless megafauna to extinction and become rulers of the world.

While extraordinary strength might dominate this world, technology could bridge the gap between mousekin and the stronger beastkin. Even setting aside any savior complex, Wu Qingsong believed this was the right choice.

At worst, he would gain an abundance of soul stones—resources that would inevitably transform into powerful assets in the future.

***

Morin was more than pleased with this outcome. Deep down, he had always felt a stronger kinship with the mousekin, who shared the same fate and close biological ties with rabbitkin. Naturally, he yearned to bring change to their lives.

He had simply been constrained by their physical weakness, forcing him to take a more pragmatic approach.

But now that Wu Qingsong had made his decision, Morin immediately mobilized the young rabbitkin priests, who threw themselves into preparations with renewed enthusiasm.

“Our plan remains centered around temples, protecting nearby mousekin villages,” Morin soon reported to Wu Qingsong. “Mousekin are skilled diggers, so well-drilling won’t be an issue. We just need to teach them how to build windmills and reclaim land. Each temple will require one or two bison or moose for plowing. The temples themselves don’t need to be large since they’re mainly for mousekin, the height can be reduced by more than half, making construction much simpler. We could even start by erecting a Xuanyuan statue and gradually expand into a full temple.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Wu Qingsong agreed. “The temple and statue represent Nagrand’s authority. Make sure the mousekin understand that anyone who dares to harm them under temple protection is defying Nagrand itself and will face the harshest retaliation.”

“Lord!” Morin was visibly moved. “Rest assured, we will… we will spread Xuanyuan’s glory across these lands!”

“Good luck. I believe you can do it,” Wu Qingsong said. “But don’t neglect the training of houndkin priests. Even if our focus shifts to the mousekin, the rest of the work must continue. By spring, every clan territory should have at least one Xuanyuan temple. We also need to consolidate our progress within Silvermoon.”

“Understood! We’ll make sure everything is properly arranged!” Morin promised.

Thus, even during the harshest days of winter, the Xuanyuan Temple in Nagrand remained bustling with activity. Upon hearing of the new missionary plan, even more mousekin actively sought out Morin, eager to train as priests.

“We might not be able to preach many sermons,” they said, falling to their knees before Morin, eyes shining with fervor. “But if we go, we can build one more temple, one more refuge for our kin!”

By the end of that winter, nearly all the rabbitkin and mousekin in Nagrand had become fervent believers. It was an outcome Wu Qingsong had never anticipated when he first made his decision.