Warden of the Beast World: Everyone is a Hakimi

Ling Shou felt that he had never suffered more in his entire life than he had in the past two weeks.

He is the young patriarch of the Sky Feather Falcon Clan, and has been the center of attention since the day he hatched.

The Sky Falcon Clan is the overlord of the Empire's skies. His mother is one of the few female war goddesses in the Empire who has awakened her combat power. He himself broke through to S-class combat power at his coming-of-age ceremony and was rated by the military as "the most talented aerial combat raptor beastman in the past century".

All the words he had ever heard in his life were either flattery or reverence, requests for instructions or reports. He had never been called a "free-range chicken" before, much less for half a month straight.

But Ye Tang can. This little female not only calls him a free-range chicken, but also a flat-feathered bird, an illiterate bird, and yesterday she even upgraded it to "poor little thing with no food to eat".

He was so angry that he jumped up and down on the perch, stomping on the metal frame with a loud clanging sound, while Ye Tang just pushed the food cart away without looking back, leaving behind the words, "Jumping won't help, no money, no meat."

His next-door neighbors eat meat and fish three times a day, and the corridor is filled with the aroma of roasted lamb chops, pan-fried steaks, garlic oysters, and honey-glazed chicken wings from morning till night.

Jingyao's plate was always piled high like a mountain of meat; Hanzhou didn't eat much, but every meal consisted of carefully prepared poultry and red meat; Chiheng not only had meat but also desserts. Yesterday, he even saw Chiheng eating something called "tiramisu," with brown powder sprinkled on white cream. Chiheng would take a peck, squint his eyes, shake his feathers, and then take another peck; Cangming went even further, upgrading his seafood feast from garlic oysters to butter-baked lobster. Yetang even specially made him a pot of seafood porridge, which was served with a small dish of pickled vegetables when it was delivered to the pond.

On Ling Shou's plate, there were only nutritional supplements and catnip. There wasn't even a vegetable salad left.

The incident dates back five days. Ye Tang brought him a plate of vegetable salad, but he refused to eat it out of spite; his raptor pride wouldn't allow him to accept a plate of leafy greens. Ye Tang brought him another one the next day, but he still didn't eat it. Ye Tang stopped bringing salads on the third day.

"Don't you not eat vegetables? If you're not going to eat them, don't waste them. I'll make a fruit salad for Chiheng." Ye Tang said this in an extremely calm tone, even with a hint of understanding gentleness.

Ling Shou was so angry that his eagle eyes widened. He said "I don't eat vegetables," but he meant "I want to eat meat," not "You might as well not give me anything at all."

But Ye Tang's understanding was—if you don't eat vegetables, then we won't give you any either, since there will be plenty of nutritional supplements and catnip anyway. Perfect logic, flawless.

At dinner time tonight, the rich aroma of roasted meat wafted through the corridor once again. Ling Shou stood on his perch, watching Ye Tang push three food carts past his door—the first was for Jing Yao, roasted lamb leg with black pepper spaghetti; the second was for Chi Heng, honey-glazed roasted chicken wings with chocolate lava cake—that "cake" was a new dessert Ye Tang had just invented today, and after Chi Heng took a bite, the bird jumped up, its tail feathers fluffing up like a red dandelion; the third was for Cang Ming, steamed grouper with sea urchin steamed egg, which Ye Tang called a "seafood set meal," which Cang Ming had pre-ordered two days ago at an extra cost.

Ling Shou's stomach let out a low growl.

"Little Sprout," he pressed the call button, his voice already tinged with a barely perceptible weakness, "what—do—you—want—to—give me—meat?"

Ye Tang had just delivered steamed grouper to Cang Ming and was pushing her empty food cart past Observation Area No. 3 when she heard this, she stopped. She turned her head, looked at the silver-gray peregrine falcon standing on its perch behind the glass wall, and gave the same answer she had given for the past fifteen days: "Pay."

"I said I could—"

"Pay first."

"I am the dignified young patriarch of the Skyfeather Falcon Clan—"

"You, the dignified young chieftain of the Sky Feather Falcon Clan, have been eating my catnip for free for half a month." Ye Tang counted on her fingers for him. "Do you know how much a single catnip plant costs at Colonel Deer's place? Do you know that every bunch you eat is freshly picked? Do you know that Jing Yao and the others' food expenses are prepaid? For the past half month, you haven't paid a single penny, yet you still eat catnip and ring the bell to curse me every day. I haven't cut off your catnip because you're a nationally protected animal."

Ling Shou's wings opened and then closed. What she said made such a good point that he couldn't refute it.

But it wasn't that he didn't want to pay. He didn't even know what he was being stubborn about. Maybe it was because she was the first female who dared to call him a "free-range chicken," maybe it was because she was the first female who dared to argue with him and win, maybe it was because those two minutes of arguing every day had become the only thing he looked forward to, even if he was furious after losing the argument, it was still more interesting than sitting on the perch all day. But he would never say any of these things out loud.

Seeing that he remained silent for a long time, Ye Tang shrugged and pushed her cart away.

Chi Heng lay prone on the rocky hill in Observation Zone No. 4, having witnessed the entire event clearly. Today, he was in human form, his long crimson hair braided into a loose plait hanging down his chest. He held a cup of Wild Begonia's specially blended iced fruit tea in his hand, the straw between his teeth, and his crimson-gold eyes were filled with schadenfreude.

"Look at you, why bother?" Chi Heng's voice was slow and leisurely, with a kind of comfortable laziness. "I've already said, the warden responds better to gentle persuasion than force. You argue with her every day, so she'll just starve you every day. Would it kill you to give in to her?"

"Impossible." Ling Shou gritted his teeth.

"Then you can keep taking the supplements." Chi Heng took a sip of fruit tea, chewed on a piece of mango, and squinted his eyes contentedly. "Anyway, I'm not eating any. My dinner tonight is roasted chicken wings, dessert is lava cake, and my drink is fruit tea. Oh, by the way, the warden said he'd make me a mango mille-feuille tomorrow. Do you know what a mango mille-feuille is?"

He didn't know. All he knew was that the fruit tea in Chi Heng's hand looked a million times better than the nutritional supplement.

Jing Yao's voice also came from Observation Zone One. Marshal White Tiger had just finished a whole roasted lamb chop today and was lying on the stone platform licking his paws. His amber tiger eyes held a hint of composure and authority from someone who had been through it all: "Young Clan Leader, in this Zero Prison, the warden is the one who calls the shots. You are just a prisoner."

"I..." Ling Shou choked on his words. Jing Yao never participated in their arguments, always sitting quietly to the side watching, occasionally exchanging a meaningful glance with Han Zhou, without saying a word.

Now even he's making fun of it, which shows that everyone thinks this situation is ridiculous to the extreme—the dignified young patriarch of the Skyfeather Falcon Clan, an S-level combatant of the Empire, and the overlord of the sky, has been eating nutritional supplements for half a month because he was stubborn and refused to pay.

"Face reality," Jing Yao continued licking his paws, his tone as calm as if he were giving a tactical summary to a new recruit, "Here, you're not the young clan leader, and I'm not the marshal. She's the one who provides the food; you're the one waiting for it. The one who provides the food calls the shots."

Ling Shou turned around, his back to everyone. His silver-gray falcon feathers were tightly folded at his sides, his back was straight, and his posture remained proud, just like the Skyfeather Falcon Clan.

But his stomach was burning, his mouth was dry, and the image of the fruit tea in Chi Heng's hand kept replaying in his mind: water droplets clinging to the clear glass, ice cubes clinking crisply in the tea, mango and strawberry pieces bobbing up and down. He sniffed softly. Tomorrow, tomorrow he definitely…

Forget it. He himself doesn't believe he can back down tomorrow.