I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 823: “If Heaven Doesn’t Give Birth to a Divine Child, Eternity is Like an Endless Night”
Chapter 823 – “If Heaven Doesn’t Give Birth to a Divine Child, Eternity is Like an Endless Night”
Unlike mud or bricks, stone conducts heat exceptionally well.
Don’t forget that long ago, in the Flying Snake Tribe, the shaman who was even better at posing as a mystic than Shaman, used stone slabs to fry fatty meat, collecting the rendered fat and presenting it as a gift from the gods to fool the tribe members.
Now, the Black Stone Tribe chief lay on the stone-built heated kang, with a small fire constantly burning beneath him—so the outcome is obvious.
It was slow-cooked perfection!
Because the fire burned steadily, the temperature rose gradually, much like the effect of slowly boiling a frog in warm water.
Additionally, ever since the cold weather began, the Black Stone Tribe chief hadn’t had a good night’s sleep. Now, finally feeling spring-like warmth, he slept deeply. The result? When he awoke drenched in sweat, much of the skin on his back had been scalded, turning pale and blistered.
Feeling the omnipresent pain in his back and imagining what would have happened if he had kept sleeping, the chief nearly went berserk. He roared incoherently, first destroying the stone kang that almost cooked him alive, then viciously beating Shu Pi, who had curled up on the floor, holding his head.
Some of the tribe members joined in, collectively attacking Shu Pi, who had nearly roasted their chief.
Blows rained down like a violent storm.
If Shu Pi hadn’t endured countless beatings over the past year, building up his resilience, and crouched preemptively with his hands covering his head to survive, he would have perished.
Now, the cave fell silent. The Black Stone Tribe chief lay on his side, occasionally drawing a shuddering breath—the pain on his back leaving him little desire to continue sleeping.
The perpetually burning fire cast flickering shadows across the cave walls.
“Pah.”
Shu Pi, leaning against the stone wall, spat blood-tinged saliva.
Carefully, he avoided making too much noise, fearing the chief would notice and strike him again.
He stared with hatred at the Black Stone Tribe chief lying near the fire.
It was nighttime, the firelight dim, and most people had already slept. No one would notice him now, allowing Shu Pi to show his resentment openly.
He regretted not having made the fire stronger earlier, wishing he had burned the cruel chief alive.
Darkness breeds dark thoughts. Even people who appear cheerful in the day can cultivate dark intentions when alone in the dark—let alone someone like Shu Pi, recently beaten and harboring deep hatred against the Black Stone Tribe.
Shu Pi’s gaze remained fixed on the chief for a long time before slowly shifting to the pile of blackened stones, some still smeared with mud.
If he lifted one of those stones and smashed it on the chief, the brutal man would surely die.
He would no longer beat him!
Shu Pi recalled how, at the start of the year, the Black Stone Tribe chief had led people to destroy his tribe and kill its members. He also remembered the countless beatings he himself had suffered since joining this tribe.
Thinking of these, his already heaving chest rose even more violently.
Hatred gave him courage, and the dark, quiet cave amplified it.
After a long while, Shu Pi swallowed blood-tinged saliva, pressed his swollen hands against the stone wall, and slowly, silently stood up.
The chief, whose back was blistered and burned, hadn’t even taken a breath for a while—he must have fallen asleep.
The person tending the fire dozed off as well. No one noticed Shu Pi standing.
After a moment, Shu Pi clenched his fists and, trembling, slowly approached the stone pile.
The Black Stone Tribe highly valued their blackstone weapons. Ordinary people like Shu Pi rarely had access to them.
Even simple sharpened wooden weapons, bows, and arrows were stored deep in the cave, forbidden to anyone without the chief’s order.
However, the chief had forgotten something this time—the remains of the stone kang he had violently destroyed.
The kang’s stones lay scattered on the ground.
Shu Pi approached quietly, bent down, and gripped a stone.
The moment his hands touched the stone, his heart raced, his legs trembled, and most of his strength seemed drained. The heavy stone felt almost weightless yet impossible to lift.
Just then, the cave stirred—someone near the fire stood up—a core member of the tribe.
“#￥%DER?”
Half-asleep, the man saw Shu Pi near the stones and jumped, asking what he was doing.
Shu Pi, startled, dropped the stone he had lifted and froze.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to do or say. His only thought: “I’m going to die this time!”
Worse, the man’s shout awakened others. The chief, lightly sleeping due to the pain in his back, immediately sat up.
“#￥5DY…”
Shu Pi stammered, explaining he just needed a small stone to relieve himself, holding one with some dirt still on it.
No one thought the tamed Shu Pi would dare harm them—they remembered past punishments.
The chief, now awake, cursed Shu Pi before letting him go about his business and lay back down with difficulty.
Though everyone noticed his trembling and unnatural voice, they didn’t care; Shu Pi had made a significant mistake recently and been poorly beaten—this was expected.
Having survived, Shu Pi took the dirty stone, exited the cave, and braced against the icy cold, shivering violently.
He returned inside, closed the cave entrance, and lay on the dry straw again.
Silence returned to the cave.
Shu Pi wanted to lift another stone and continue, but after many attempts, he didn’t move.
He recalled his misfortune, trying to muster courage. Yet each time he did, the man’s earlier shout replayed in his mind, draining him of bravery.
“Wait… my body is still injured, and the tribe isn’t fully asleep. If I act now, I might fail in killing that cruel man…”
He tried several times but didn’t stand again.
Gradually, his racing heart calmed. He relaxed and soon fell asleep.
Time quietly passed in the busy days, taking some things and leaving others.
Unknowingly, ten years had nearly passed for the Green Sparrow Tribe.
Under white snow and biting winds, the tribe’s people felt a fire burning in their hearts, growing stronger each day as the year drew to a close.
Domesticated, increasingly lazy wild pigs were tied, lifted, and placed on one-meter-high platforms. Their heads and necks hung over the edge, restrained by several people holding them down.
Sensing their imminent death, the pigs screamed desperately, but it couldn’t prevent their fate.
With a blood-curdling cry, a bloodied bronze knife cut their necks, blood foaming into ceramic bowls below.
Second Senior Brother watched, licking his lips. Fresh blood mixed with water and salt, solidified into blood tofu—delicious!
Cooked with mutton fat in a copper pot and paired with garlic, the taste was incomparable.
Chickens, ducks, and geese were similarly slaughtered, skinned, or scalded, becoming food for the New Year.
In the kitchen, opening a tofu box revealed white, tender cubes.
Shaman, missing a tooth, sliced a steaming piece, dipped it in garlic, and ate, eyes squinting in pleasure.
The New Year approached amidst anticipation and joy.
The culmination of preparation would be displayed at the New Year’s Eve feast.
The aroma of wine, meat, milk, and vegetables mingled, making mouths water.
Fruit wine was poured into everyone’s bowls. Following Han Cheng’s cue, they stood, raised their cups, and drank.
“The New Year’s Eve feast begins!”
At Han Cheng’s command, everyone picked up their chopsticks, eager for the food.
The hall fell silent; everyone focused on eating.
Han Cheng, sitting beside Shaman, picked up a piece of fish, chewing slowly, smiling at the sight of hundreds eating together. He felt nostalgic, recalling childhood New Year’s.
This was the authentic flavor of the New Year.
In later times, Han Cheng never anticipated the New Year so eagerly. Perhaps adulthood, higher living standards, or monotonous celebrations dulled the excitement.
Now, in the Green Sparrow Tribe, he found that feeling again. Living in a simpler time had its benefits.
The feast was in the afternoon; by nightfall, bonfires were lit and drums beaten—the New Year’s Eve celebration began.
Girls loved flowers, boys loved firecrackers. Young girls with ram-horn braids carried ice lanterns, running about gleefully.
The boys preferred throwing bamboo into the fire, covering their ears, excited and fearful as sparks flew and explosions roared.
Outside, other tribes shivered in caves, waiting for the cold to pass, but the Green Sparrow Tribe was a joyous sea of activity.
Looking from above, only two places glowed with fire: the main Green Sparrow Tribe and the Copper Mountain settlement.
In years to come, more lights would illuminate the land, dotting it like stars in the sky. Though the process would be slow and fraught with obstacles, even a small spark can one day become a wildfire.
Joyful days passed quickly, and the year ended.
Though it “ended,” it remained in people’s hearts.
Elderly tribesmen, dressed in new clothes, leaned against walls, lost in thought. Memories of the New Year flooded their minds, shaking them with wonder.
This year had redefined their understanding of the Green Sparrow Tribe and a happy life, leaving them on cloud nine.
Not only them, members of the Wind Tribe and neighboring Wind Tribe shared the same feelings.
The year exceeded all expectations, showing them another possible way of life.
Repeated amazement led the elder to a question: why did the Green Sparrow Tribe live so well while others did not?
An older Green Sparrow Tribe member answered proudly: “Because of the Divine Child! Our tribe has a Divine Child—that is why!”
Others followed, agreeing that previously, without a Divine Child, life had been harsh, like living in an endless cold night, directionless.
Now, under a wise Divine Child, they finally saw light and direction.
The elders recorded this, and over generations, it became a proverb: “If Heaven doesn’t give birth to a Divine Child, eternity is like an endless night!”
Han Cheng heard their words and smiled, though shaking his head.
“The tribe has all these things partly because of me, but more importantly, there’s something else!”
He gathered the tribe and spoke loudly.
His words confused everyone. They believed the Divine Child was solely responsible for the tribe’s transformation.
Han Cheng explained:
“This is labor!
Through labor, we have this food.
Through labor, we have spacious, bright houses.
Through labor, we create the things we need.
Through labor, we live this life, and can live even better!”
The tribe slowly understood. Everything they had truly came from hard work.
Labor produced all they possessed.
An older voice, Shaman, interjected:
“We were not afraid of toil before the Divine Child arrived. We searched for food even in the rain and cold. We worked hard, yet often went hungry. That year, our orchards were seized by the evil Flying Snake Tribe. Without the Divine Child, many would have starved!”
Shaman’s voice grew emotional, even shedding tears.
The tribe fell silent, reflecting on past hardships. The newer members realized the tribe’s current wealth came from labor under the Divine Child’s guidance.
“Through the Divine Child, we learned to fish, make pottery, produce salt, farm, and build homes and walls. Only then, through labor, did our tribe become strong and prosperous. Without the Divine Child, even hard work alone would not suffice!”
Everyone’s hearts rose with emotion.
Shaman bowed respectfully: “Divine Child!”
Others followed suit, bowing and shouting “Divine Child!” more sincerely than during rituals.
Han Cheng felt deeply moved, almost to tears.
Even in a primitive society, gratitude and recognition gave him satisfaction.
He reflected: he had stressed labor as the source of wealth, but neglected another factor: technology is the primary productive force.
As a man from the future, Han Cheng embodied knowledge far beyond this era.
He realized he would need to teach the tribe gradually about technological awareness, finding better methods and tools while laboring.
“One house, two houses,
Green tiles, white walls.
Wide doors, big windows.
Three houses, four houses,
Fruit blooms before, trees behind.
Which house is the best? Our school is the finest!”
Eleven years had passed for the Green Sparrow Tribe. Spring had not yet arrived, but the tribe already radiated vitality.
In cleared sunny areas, women with braided hair sat together sewing clothing and shoes.
Women from the Wind Tribe and neighboring Wind Tribe who had just joined also learned, occasionally pricked by needles. Experienced elders stopped to instruct and demonstrate patiently.
Others rested, preparing tools for spring planting as the snow melted.
Han Cheng’s vision of abundant food stores for three years inspired the tribe to labor toward it.
Education motivated the tribe, uniting them in purpose.
Most striking were the orderly sounds of children reading in blue-brick houses.
Shi Tou, the next tribal shaman, pointed at a blackboard, guiding children to recite aloud. Their clear, youthful voices echoed across the tribe.
Those working would naturally quiet down, preserving the sound.
As the Green Sparrow Tribe prepared for spring, Shu Pi, healed from his injuries, began to move once more.
Chapter 823: “If Heaven Doesn’t Give Birth to a Divine Child, Eternity is Like an Endless Night”
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