"Is your Silver-Winged Snake tribe's talent for disguise innately practiced to the point of proficiency? There really isn't a single trace." Rowan quite admired Owen for faking it so similarly; he had almost believed that Owen was truly a beastman of the Black Bear tribe.
"You also did very well, but if you want to teach other beastmen a lesson, just leave it to me; don't dirty your hands." Owen took Rowan to a small stream by the road to wash his hands.
The slightly black hand touched the water and the color faded, becoming fair and white.
"No need to scrub so clean; we have to apply black powder again later, what a waste."
Owen didn't listen. Seeing Rowan just casually rinse a couple of times in the water, he made a move to help him scrub. After washing, he even carefully used animal skin to wipe it dry for him, then blackened it again.
The skin color of the Black Bear tribe was a natural yellow-black, not too exaggerated, so applying a little was enough.
