I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 842: The Black Stone Tribe Under the Shadow of Death
Chapter 842 – The Black Stone Tribe Under the Shadow of Death
“Daddy~”
Looking at the empty bamboo trap, Little Pea pouted his lips, on the verge of tears.
The last three sparrows had flown away as the bamboo trap fell; he hadn’t caught a single one.
“Don’t be afraid. Facing difficulties isn’t scary. The only problem is if we don’t dare to try to solve them. Now, think about why you didn’t catch any birds this time?”
Han Cheng reached out and rubbed his son’s head, gently guiding him.
“ I-I went too late,” Little Pea replied.
“So what should we do next time?”
“Go earlier.”
“That’s right. We set up the trap properly and keep trying. Sooner or later, we’ll catch one.”
Han Cheng praised his son’s answer, then together they prepared the trap again, scattering some shriveled grains beneath it.
The two of them, along with the dog and panda, returned to the bamboo grove to hide, waiting for the birds.
During this waiting, Han Cheng suddenly recalled an old joke he had heard in the future:
A woman was busy making quilts and asked her inexperienced daughter to knead dough.
The exchange went:
Daughter: “Mom, too much water.”
Mother: “Add more flour.”
Daughter: “Mom, too much flour.”
Mother: “Add more water.”
Daughter: “Mom, too much water again.”
Mother: “Add more flour…”
And so it went in a loop.
Finally:
Daughter: “Mom, the bowl can’t hold it!”
Mother, enraged: “You little fool! If I weren’t stuck in this quilt cover, I’d…!”
Han Cheng remembered this joke because he worried that Little Pea might overcorrect himself like that daughter.
While waiting, some birds approached again and cautiously entered under the bamboo trap.
Han Cheng observed both the trap and Little Pea quietly, letting his son operate independently.
Little Pea focused on the trap, eyes unblinking. When two sparrows went under, he sharply pulled the rope.
The stick fell; the trap dropped. Some birds flapped away.
They rushed forward; this time, four birds had been caught.
Little Pea squealed with joy, and Han Cheng smiled, even happier than if he had caught them himself.
His son, though simple-minded, learned quickly.
With this success, Little Pea gained confidence. His cheeks were flushed from either cold or excitement.
Without being told, the little boy quickly reset the trap with Han Cheng and ran back to the bamboo grove.
Now, holding the rope carefully and no longer nervous, he seemed much more confident.
Han Cheng smiled inwardly. This was the point—not how many birds Little Pea caught, but what he learned from the experience.
Not just the technique of catching birds, but the patience, observation, and courage that would positively influence his future behavior.
“Dong! Dong! Dong!”
Drums heated by fire resounded through the tribe.
Green Sparrow Tribe warriors, clad in rattan armor treated with tung oil, formed ranks and advanced over the snow.
This marked the opening of the annual post-heroic sacrifice games—a display of strength and unity.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
Archers and slingers took position while the shield and long spear units advanced. Their shouts rivaled the booming drums as they thrust bronze spears at straw dummies.
This military exercise, combined with games, awards, and granting freed slaves citizenship, lasted two full days.
Its purpose was not just entertainment—it cultivated loyalty, courage, and discipline, injected fresh blood into the tribe, and motivated the slaves to work harder.
Though brief, the event was as important as spring planting and autumn harvests for the tribe’s survival.
Beneath heavy snow, time flowed steadily. The Green Sparrow Tribe’s eleventh year-end had arrived.
People celebrated with abundant, delicious food, freely served and eagerly eaten.
As night fell, bonfires were lit; the tribe danced and played drums and gongs, joy radiating from everyone.
Far to the north, inside the Black Stone Tribe’s caves, the cold grew harsher as night fell.
Even by the fire, many felt chilled.
Compared to the first snowfall, the mood of the tribe had become heavy and oppressive.
Initially, the early snowfall had been a novelty. Now, prolonged cold and dwindling food made life grim.
Though their stores had sufficed in the past, the tribe’s growing indulgence—fueled by black stone weapons and abundant hunting tools—had depleted their supplies rapidly.
A few days ago, the chief discovered that over half the food was gone, shocking him.
From then on, less food was distributed.
Though less than before, it was still more than winters without black stone weapons.
For the tribe members, hunger was now a familiar, bitter feeling.
The tribe’s morale plummeted.
Shu Pi (Tree Bark) huddled with others on dry hay, wrapped in furs, shivering.
The cold was relentless, seeping even under thick layers. He longed for the warmth of a Green Sparrow heated bed.
He even thought of building one himself, but feared the beating he had received last year and didn’t want the chief to benefit from his labor.
“#￥5WE!”
Someone sat up, signaling hunger. Several others responded similarly.
The chief intended to punish them, but saw the group’s desperation and let it go.
He explained that their food was limited. If they ate as before, they would run out before the snow melted, and many would die.
The tribe’s spirits dropped further—until one voice suggested raiding neighboring tribes for food.
Instantly, the crowd perked up, remembering past raids.
They enthusiastically supported the idea, while Shu Pi shrank back, fearing the cold outside more than hunger.
The chief warned of the cold, but the desire for food outweighed caution.
Finally, the chief decided to attack another tribe.
He distributed stored food for a night meal, warming spirits and stomachs, allowing a relatively comfortable sleep.
The next morning, some prepared to depart while others roasted food by the fire.
The chief provided extra furs for those going outside, some taken from others staying behind.
Once ready, the chief led his tribe out. The biting cold struck immediately, harsher than inside the cave.
“E#$%!”
The chief instructed those staying behind to guard the cave while he and the raiders trudged through thick snow, white breath frosting their hair and beards.
Shu Pi, left behind, shivered violently as they watched them leave.
Though offered a chance to go raid for extra food, he refused—preferring to endure hunger rather than the freezing outdoors.
The wind pierced every gap, making exposed skin feel as if cut by knives.
Even the chief and raiders regretted leaving—the cold, fatigue, and fear sapped their morale.
Nightfall brought sharper cold. Despite the presence of fires and an abundance of food, many couldn’t sleep.
By morning, two had frozen to death. The survivors considered returning, but the chief refused.
He stripped the dead for furs and even used one as breakfast. Others dragged the remaining corpse along as they marched on.
Another collapsed in the snow and was similarly dragged.
“#￥ER!”
Throughout the journey, the chief kept encouraging his people.
Yet as night fell, they still saw no sign of the target tribe.
Fear and the shadow of death hung heavily over the Black Stone Tribe.
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Chapter 842: The Black Stone Tribe Under the Shadow of Death
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