I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 848: The Black Stone Tribe Arrives at the Battlefield
Chapter 848 – The Black Stone Tribe Arrives at the Battlefield
“Bang! Bang! Bang…”
The moment Han Cheng’s voice rang out, more stones flew over.
However, because these people were shocked to see Han Cheng and his group hunting so many “prey” in their own territory, and spurred on by the presence of their leader nearby, many of them tossed their stones prematurely.
As a result, more than half of these stones didn’t even reach the shield formation—they landed haphazardly on the ground, bouncing around chaotically.
Most of the remaining stones were blocked by the upright shield wall.
Only two stones struck the Green Sparrow Tribe members.
Perhaps because his name was “Shi Tou,” the stones seemed to have an uncanny affinity for him. Both stones that breached the shield formation struck him directly—one hitting his body, the other his head.
Thankfully, his vine armor and vine helmet absorbed the impact. Otherwise, the next shaman of the Green Sparrow Tribe might have had his skull cracked open.
Shaken and slightly dizzy from the blows, Stone didn’t feel fear. On the contrary, he grew furious.
He quietly shifted to the side, drew his bow, and released an arrow at the charging intruders.
Although Shi Tou was a scholar and the future shaman of the Green Sparrow Tribe, he was by no means weak. He had practiced archery regularly, just like Han Cheng had over the years.
This wasn’t just due to the era’s requirements—Han Cheng deliberately trained him.
Han Cheng believed the ideal leader was a scholar who wielded a sword. If reasoning failed with rebellious tribe members, one could use physical force first to restore order, then persuade them with reason once they had calmed down.
Only this approach could ensure the tribe’s development wouldn’t stagnate, unlike the literati and bureaucrats of the later Song and Ming eras.
Han Cheng often reflected that, if Confucius could see the misdeeds of future generations, he would surely want to come back and scold those corrupt disciples decisively, especially those who distorted his theories into absurdity.
“Twang~ twang~”
As Han Cheng finished speaking, the sound of bowstrings vibrating echoed. Seven or eight arrows shot toward the screaming attackers.
The sudden onslaught infuriated Divine Child, who had already lost patience with the intruders. If the Divine Child hadn’t stayed silent earlier, the Second Senior Brother would have ordered arrows fired long before the stones were thrown.
But now, it was not too late.
“Plop!”
The one-eyed leader, running at the front, tripped on uneven ground and rolled uncontrollably to the left front.
“#￥5!”
Dizzy and furious, he cursed the stone that had tripped him and his own carelessness. At such a critical moment, being knocked down by a stone was unforgivable. A mistake like this in previous fights could have cost him dearly.
Once the rolling stopped, he hurriedly looked at the strange people holding unfamiliar objects. They remained in place, doing nothing.
Relieved by his luck, he was also astonished that they hadn’t seized the opportunity to attack him while he lay prone. Such foolishness!
He couldn’t understand how they had managed to capture so much prey on their territory.
As he prepared to rise, a scream came from his followers.
The one-eyed leader fumed—he had fallen hard without a sound, yet now his people were shrieking. Could it be they had also tripped?
Looking back, his shock turned to rage. Four or five of his people had indeed fallen. Their shrieks revealed this.
How could he stay calm? He had fallen, and yet his followers, seeing him tripped, also fell. Were they trying to sabotage the attack?
His urge to stomp on them vanished when he saw blood flowing from the fallen, two of whom were unmoving after rolling. Small feathered sticks were embedded in their bodies.
What was happening?
His tribe’s running people now fell not from stones on the ground, but from arrows—small, feathered sticks flying directly into them.
The one-eyed leader cried out in pain himself; one had struck his chest.
“Thunk!”
A heavy stone hit his head, and his head jolted. Blood ran down his forehead into his eyes. Pressing one hand to his chest, the other to his head, he collapsed, body trembling violently.
Above, a crimson sky stretched, and a lone eagle circled high.
He struggled to understand how these small sticks had pierced his people. He tried to lift his head but couldn’t; his body convulsed uncontrollably.
Faintly, he recalled the prey captured by these strange people and felt intense frustration.
“#￥@3!”
In an instant, eleven or twelve people fell. The remaining charging attackers froze, staring at the strange figures like monsters, far more terrifying than anyone they had previously encountered.
Someone shouted, and the attackers turned in disarray, fleeing backward.
Even running faster than before, two or three fell along the way.
“Enough! Do not pursue!”
Han Cheng’s voice rang out, stopping those eager to chase.
Their purpose in traveling south was to find a suitable place for the tribe, not to pick fights. Now that the attacking tribe had realized their mistake, further pursuit was pointless.
If they had been closer to the tribe, they could have defeated them and taken survivors as slaves—but here, in unfamiliar territory, carrying captives would be too burdensome.
Even those struck by arrows or stones staggered away. The Green Sparrow Tribe did not pursue.
“Gone! Everyone’s gone! The first ones fled faster than rabbits!”
A nimble tribesman climbed a tree, peering in the direction the one-eyed tribe had fled, laughing.
Han Cheng then allowed his people to disperse and continue their previous tasks.
Second Senior Brother and others finished processing the half-prepared boar, while Divine Child worked on the birds. Meanwhile, a few tended to the donkeys and deer, feeding them peas.
Those injured but not dead called weakly; the Green Sparrow Tribe paid no attention to the would-be attackers. Neither did Han Cheng.
Mistakes have consequences. Here, in the wilderness, even if he intervened, they wouldn’t survive.
After breakfast and tidying up, Han Cheng’s group followed the river south. The weak cries disappeared, and wild animals soon came to scavenge.
“Splash~ splash~”
The sound of oars splitting the river water rose. A large raft crossed the fifty- or sixty-meter-wide river.
Two people stood at the raft’s stern, while a donkey and a deer, each tied by all four legs, trembled on board.
Han Cheng and his group watched the raft slowly approach. This was the last load; once it reached the shore, everything would be transported.
This marked the fourth day since the mysterious attack.
After traveling two days downriver, the river widened, turning from south to east, and then gradually north.
Han Cheng had the tribe pause at a calm stretch, construct rafts, and cross. Upon landing, they untied the donkey and deer, both trembling like previous transport animals.
The raft was tied to a tree, and after a short rest, they continued south.
Mountains stretched endlessly, trees towering.
“Here.”
Han Cheng signaled. Second Senior Brother set down a 30–40 pound ram and handed it to a primitive tribesman wearing only a lower-body animal hide. Mao translated.
Understanding, the man grabbed the dead ram tightly, unwilling to release it.
“Let’s go.”
Han Cheng led the group into a narrow crevice, seemingly split by a giant axe. The man hesitated, then carried the ram back to his tribe, thrilled by the unexpected reward.
The narrow gorge rose steeply, mostly bare rock with sparse vegetation. The Green Sparrow Tribe marveled at nature’s handiwork while fearing the towering cliffs might collapse.
After 700–800 meters, the passage widened, and they breathed easier.
Continuing south for two more days, they reached impassable mountain ranges.
Turning back, they encountered locals; the rest fled, leaving one brave individual to guide the Green Sparrow Tribe.
The shaman stood at the tribe gate, overlooking neat, green fields—the newly sown grain. Across the river, scattered people worked, deer pulling plows, the earth marked with neat furrows.
The second round of spring sowing was nearing completion. Rapeseed buds were about to bloom, with the third round scheduled sooner than usual due to the Divine Child’s warning of an early winter.
The shaman gazed south, worried for the Divine Child, now twenty-eight days away with the eggs hatched into chicks. Could they be safe?
Praying before the totem pole, the shaman wished for the Divine Child’s safe return, warmth of location being secondary.
Meanwhile, the Black Stone Tribe leader, furious, kicked the guide Shu Pi. The guide had promised an arrival soon, but no sign of the target tribe appeared.
The leader nearly wanted to turn back. Others, frustrated at the guide, restrained themselves, knowing he belonged to the Black Stone Tribe.
Due to exhaustion and scarce food, some members had collapsed along the way, mostly those still recovering from last winter’s famine.
“#￥%E”
The guide rose, reassuring the leader: “Almost there.”
The leader raised his foot, hesitated, and set it down—there was no other option but to follow.
“#ERR!”
The leader gestured angrily to continue forward.
The guide led the group, cautiously verifying the surroundings. Though familiar, some sights felt strange. Dizzy yet determined, he pressed onward.
As the sun tilted west, birds flew into the forest.
“#￥%!”
Excitedly, the guide pointed ahead: smoke was rising to the right front.
Chapter 848: The Black Stone Tribe Arrives at the Battlefield
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