Neighbors (Part 2)

An unexpected set of neighbors had arrived.

Whatever reason drove the raccoon family to relocate here, it was by no means bad news. For starters, raccoons were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clever, courteous, and polite—virtues more than sufficient to win my favor over those obnoxious forest gorillas. Better yet, they wielded fire with natural mastery. If we could build a cooperative relationship, having them nearby would be a tremendous boon.

To make that happen, I first needed to figure out what this family actually wanted.

The most fundamental requirement would be food, of course... but that shouldn't be a problem around here.

Setting aside the lethal difficulty of hunting, the Forest of the Four Seasons was overflowing with edible bounty. I wasn't entirely certain what a magical raccoon's specific diet entailed, but as omnivores, they would hardly be picky. More importantly, they were neighbors, not family members living under my roof like Bbarmbo and Wonmo; they were fully capable of fending for themselves. Lending a helping hand whenever a true emergency arose would be more than enough.

"Keng. Kee-eng."

"So this is where you're setting up camp?"

Led by the head of the household, I followed them to inspect their new lodging. It was a massive, ancient tree standing just a short stroll from my cave—close enough that calling them next-door neighbors was barely an exaggeration. High up its thick trunk opened a spacious, natural hollow. That cozy wooden enclave was clearly their intended nest.

Thank goodness. I hadn't planned on logging this section anyway.

If their chosen home had overlapped with my designated lumber zone, things would have gotten awkward fast. Fortunately, it sat well clear of my clearing grounds, yet remained near enough for effortless visits.

I stood quietly, watching the raccoons scurry up the bark and vanish into the hollow. A heartbeat later, Father Raccoon poked his head back out, accompanied by his tiny cub peeking curious eyes over the rim. It was a sight entirely too precious to keep to myself. Naturally, I whipped out the Gallery interface and snapped a few shots.

Though the comments were framed as jokes, they carried a grain of truth that gave me pause. Even if I had welcomed the raccoons as trusted neighbors, would Wonmo feel the same way? Fast Tree Sloth seemed to have accepted their presence, but Wonmo's bottomless appetite was an entirely unpredictable hazard.

The chill in the air is finally thawing out, so Wonmo should be waking up any day now.

I shifted my gaze from the raccoon tree to the canopy above, letting out a measured breath. The rise in ambient temperature was distinct enough to feel against bare skin; the white pluming mist from my breath had faded noticeably thinner. Within a day or two, the season would either transition entirely or show unmistakable signs of turning.

I'll know for sure the moment Wonmo wakes.

He had plunged headfirst into hibernation the exact second winter struck, so the reverse would surely herald the arrival of spring. Casting one last lingering look at the hollow, I turned on my heel and walked back to the cave. Since our new neighbors were adept at handling flames, building a dedicated outdoor fire pit in the yard seemed like the proper host's gesture.

Crackle! Snap!

I stacked kindling and ignited a lively bonfire for the raccoons to use at their leisure, then ducked into the cavern's warmth. It was time to identify the mysterious root they had given me in lieu of housewarming rice cakes.

Cheonma usually knows these things best.

Whether dealing with beast cores or spirit herbs, her martial knowledge was virtually encyclopedic. Even if she couldn't name the exact species offhand, she could gauge its internal energy profile in seconds. After turning the pristine, snow-white root over in my hands a few times, I brought up the private messenger window and pinged her handle.

I transferred the Snow Ginseng through the trade window. A detailed evaluation wouldn't take long. While waiting for her response, I leaned against the stone partition and pondered how best to nurture this neighborly bond. Simply setting up a campfire wouldn't foster a lasting, productive relationship.

Considering how easily they dug up a root like that, their foraging instincts must be top-tier.

If Cheonma confirmed the herb was genuinely potent, an official proposition was in order. I would provide fresh food, and in return, they would supply wild herbs. Whether I ingested them myself or had Cheonma refine them into Inedia Pills, the arrangement would yield pure profit. It was the very definition of mutual aid—and the foundation of an emerging local economy.

True, calling barter without legal tender an "economy" was a bit of a stretch, but technicalities didn't matter out here.

Given her wording, "confidant" likely meant an elder who could liquidate it for an astronomical sum or feed it to a key commander. In their hands, it would serve far greater purpose than sitting in my stomach like an energetic bomb.

I asked Cheonma to hold on for a moment, then stepped back out into the open air. There was an urgent business proposal that needed pitching.

"Keee-eng."

"Keng."

"King-king."

Just as expected, the raccoon family had gathered cozily around the blazing pit in the clearing. All three crouched in a tidy little circle, extending their front paws toward the roaring hearth to soak in the heat. Watching the baby raccoon hold out its miniature, velvet paws with intense concentration brought an involuntary grin to my face.

They really are great neighbors, but...

As fond as I was of their company, I couldn't stay in this forest forever. My ultimate goal remained finding a path back home. Until that day came, though, we had to share this patch of wilderness. They had extended goodwill first, making my conscience clear. The best course of action was establishing a mutually beneficial trade loop while our paths remained aligned.

"Hey, buddy."

"Keng?"

The moment I spoke, Father Raccoon perked his ears and tilted his head up with remarkable comprehension. His mate and offspring followed suit, blinking their beady, curious eyes in unison.

Should I give him a proper name? Or just stick to calling him Father Raccoon?

Deciding that titles could wait, I motioned for Father Raccoon to follow. Without a trace of hesitation or fear, he scampered briskly after my stride. Leading him into the cavern, I halted in front of the crude wooden partition where my territory map was sketched out—a record tracking every scouting trip I had undertaken since waking in this forest.

"Alright, take a look, Father Raccoon. See this root you brought me earlier?"

"Keng."

"If you happen to find more herbs like this, bring them to me. If you do..."

Skrrt—

Holding up the silhouette of the Snow Ginseng, I dragged a heavy galvanized iron bin across the stone floor. Inside lay rows of fish frozen solid—flash-frozen river game preserved in pristine, ecological cold storage.

"I'll trade you these fish. They're rock-solid right now, but the weather's warming up fast. They'll thaw out into fresh meat in no time."

"......"

"If raw fish doesn't suit your fancy, I've got other options. A shipment of Inedia Pills is arriving any moment now. I can give you a steady share of those instead."

Thwack—

The split second the words left my lips, a heavy, leathery paw dropped squarely onto my right shoulder. Startled, I craned my neck to find Fast Tree Sloth staring down at me, his calm face suddenly brimming with profound existential judgment.

'I barely have enough snacks as it is, and you're handing them away?' his gaze seemed to scream.

Ordinarily, Bbarmbo possessed zero material greed, moving through life with serene detachment. But Inedia Pills were a catastrophic exception to his zen philosophy. Ever since the gorilla chief stole his precious stash, the sloth had harbored an intense, borderline neurotic protectiveness over those brown spheres.

"Relax, will you? You only eat one every few days anyway," I whispered soothingly. "Besides, the herbs he brings in can be refined into even more pills down the line."

"......"

"Think of him as our raw material supplier. Cut our new business partner some slack, alright?"

Whether swayed by the logic of vertical supply-chain integration or simply tired of holding his arm up, Bbarmbo slowly retracted his razor-sharp claws with a low rumble. As dense as the forest was with magical flora, I was practically blind when it came to herbology. Leaving the foraging to an innate expert and providing fair compensation was simple common sense.

"......"

Father Raccoon stroked his whiskers with a thoughtful paw, visibly deliberating over the terms. He didn't distrust me, but an economic contract was serious business. A bad trade could imperil his family's survival; he had a mate and a kit to feed through the changing seasons.

Yet after weighing the risks against the bountiful provisions before him, his evaluation of my reliability tipped the scales.

"Keng!"

With ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a decisive bark, Father Raccoon thrust out a tiny, black-padded paw. Grinning, I leaned down and gently clasped his furry hand between my fingers, sealing our commercial pact with a firm, miniature handshake.

The deal was struck, but the briefing wasn't over. This was the precise reason I had brought him before the wall map.

"Now, listen closely. See this marked ridge and the hollow valley right here? That's gorilla territory. They're extraordinarily hostile to trespassers, so don't you dare step foot inside their perimeter."

"Keng."

"And over here lies the cavern inhabited by mutant kangaroos. See that giant pig-like carcass in my butchering area? The second that thing wandered near their threshold, it was pummeled into paste. Those marsupials are violent thugs. Further down south is the great lake, but on the path leading to the shore, there's an aloof stag that..."

Point by point, I gave him an exhaustive rundown of every apex predator and hazardous boundary within several miles. Even spirit beasts native to the deep woods couldn't know every regional dispute in an unfamiliar quadrant; a single wrong turn could spell doom for a small raccoon.

With our trade contract finalized and safety protocols established, I sealed the trade transaction on the interface and transmitted the Snow Ginseng across dimensions to Cheonma.

What a relief to land such solid neighbors.

Though I suppose calling them business partners was more accurate now. Regardless of labels, peaceful coexistence was all that mattered.

Come to think of it... should I build a proper roof or miniature cabin near the fire pit for them?

The idea of crafting some cozy raccoon-sized housing was definitely worth considering.

Around that very moment, within the grand halls of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Central Plains.

"I STRUCK GOOOOOOOOLD!!!"

A senior demonic practitioner clasped a radiant, snow-white root above his head, roaring at the ceiling with lung-bursting ecstasy. The man howling like a lunatic was none other than Chief Strategist Wi Seolak.

Summoned abruptly to the Cult Leader's inner sanctum moments earlier, he had been handed this pristine root without an ounce ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of ceremony. His initial bewilderment had lasted only as long as it took his internal energy to brush against the herb. The sheer volume of Yin-attribute vitality locked beneath its translucent skin was staggering beyond belief.

Th-this unquestionably originated from Lord Grylls... to think he would casually deliver a treasure of this caliber...!

If liquidated through their clandestine merchant conduits, this single stalk could comfortably fund several years of the Cult's continental operating budget. Beast inner cores carried distinct elemental signatures that made them perilous to sell without raising imperial scrutiny, but wild ginseng was an entirely different matter. One could simply claim it had been unearthed from an untamed peak behind the sect's mountain stronghold, leaving critics powerless to dispute the claim.

In a cutthroat world where vast wealth and overwhelming martial supremacy dictated destiny, this gift was far more than quenching rain in a parched drought—it was a herald proclaiming a golden harvest for decades to come.

The Heavenly Demon is God. And Grylls is entirely invincible.

Wi Seolak's admiration and profound reverence for the mysterious hermit of the wild skyrocketed straight past the heavens.