I am a Primitive Man

The leader of the Donkey Tribe held a bowl of steaming hot meat soup, happily slurping it by the fire. The soup, seasoned with salt, was delicious, and he could never get enough of it.

Warm spread through his body as he drank the hot soup, deepening his affection for the pottery. Even though their tribe needed to tighten their belts this winter due to the exchange for pottery, he felt it was entirely worth it.

After finishing the soup and meat, he handed the bowl to another tribe member eagerly waiting for it. The Donkey Tribe had few pottery bowls, so they had to take turns using them.

Compared to the leader, the others had much less to eat. It was rare to find meat in their bowls; usually, each person would have one or two fruits cooked with the meager amount of meat available.

The joy of obtaining pottery made them want to cook anything edible in the pots. And indeed, it was a suitable method. Previously, one person couldn't feel full even after eating three fruits, but now, just one fruit was enough to satisfy.

The only downside was that they got hungry quickly and needed to relieve themselves frequently…

Compared to previous years, the Flying Snake Tribe seemed rather desolate. The battle last year resulted in the loss of many adults in their tribe. Even though they had plundered some people from other tribes, it didn't entirely compensate for their losses.

Because the captives they obtained were mostly underage children and female primitives, to prevent rebellion, the adult males had to be killed and eaten…

The second leader of the Snake Tribe sat in a corner, nibbling on some frozen fruits. He glanced over to where the Shaman and several other leaders had gathered not far away, unable to stop himself from salivating at the scent of meat emanating from there, especially the juicy piece of meat the Shaman was holding.

He used to be one of the daily meat-eaters in the past, but now, he could only silently nibble on fruits here.

All of this was because of that damned tribe!…

He thought bitterly.

However, recalling the terrifying scene of that day filled him with fear.

He mumbled curses at the damned tribe while silently nibbling on fruits, all the while pondering how to regain his position as leader.

If only he could completely conquer that damned tribe…

The world was vast, and countless things were happening every moment. Han Cheng wasn't a high and mighty god who ignored everything. He had his busy affairs to attend to. And even if he wanted to know, he didn't have the ability. After all, he was just a pseudo-god, lacking the power to know everything.

If he did have such great power, he wouldn't be so troubled by such trivial matters as charcoal.

Two of the three giants of the Green Sparrow Tribe had problems: the Divine Child had become obsessed with making charcoal and paid little attention to other matters, focusing solely on producing charcoal.

The Shaman was even more frightening; his time spent in the rabbit pen grew longer and longer each day.

Just the day before yesterday, the Shaman had dug a hole in a sunny spot and buried a rabbit.

Buried with it was the dried grass that the rabbit loved to eat.

Han Cheng knew about this incident; he had just returned from outside with a handful of black ash when he saw the Shaman doing this. Seeing the Shaman engaged in such activities, he couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness and worry. He deliberately stayed here to accompany the Shaman for a while longer because the rabbit that the Shaman buried was the one with dark circles around its eyes that he often petted.

The Shaman, an old primitive who prioritized eating above all else and cherished food exceptionally, decided not to eat the dead rabbit but to bury it instead, indicating the significance of this rabbit in his heart.

The death of this rabbit brought great pain to the Shaman.

Moreover, the Shaman carefully buried the rabbit with its favorite grass and a few freshly plucked small vegetables. He even meticulously smoothed the soil covering it, fearing that larger clumps of earth might crush the rabbit… This demonstrated the Shaman's reluctance to part with it.

Watching the Shaman earnestly carry out these actions without saying a word, Han Cheng could deeply understand and empathize with the Shaman's feelings.

Recalling his feelings when Fu Jiang went missing some time ago, the sentimental Han Cheng shed a sympathetic tear for this prematurely deceased rabbit with dark circles around its eyes and for the Shaman's deep affection.

In modern times, he had seen some elderly people who relied on their cats and dogs for companionship and emotional support.

Although the Shaman was primitive, he was also elderly. After spending a long time together, just like the elderly in modern times, he developed feelings for the things he raised, which was unsurprising.

However, what the Shaman did next puzzled Han Cheng.

After carefully burying the rabbit, the Shaman didn't stop there. Instead, he carefully poured half a jar of water with some ice chips over the grave.

After staring dumbfounded, Han Cheng quickly understood the Shaman's intentions.

Perhaps he did this out of concern that the rabbit would get thirsty, or maybe it was a unique mourning ritual within the Green Sparrow Tribe for the deceased.

Indeed, the death of this rabbit caused profound psychological trauma to the Shaman. After burying the rabbit with dark circles around its eyes, the Shaman, who used to run to the rabbit pen daily, no longer went there.

Instead, he often stayed at the burial site of the rabbit with dark circles around its eyes, lost in thought for a long time. He only left when it was time to eat; sometimes, he mutters quietly.

This deeply moved Han Cheng and worried him about the Shaman's well-being.

Who would have thought that even primitive people would have such deep feelings for the animals they raised?

Han Cheng, with some mud in his fingernails from outside the tribe, returned and saw the Shaman squatting motionless at the burial site of the rabbit with dark circles around its eyes, like a statue. His heart was deeply moved, and he sighed.

Indeed, there were passionate people everywhere.

After watching for a while, Han Cheng decided to go and comfort the deeply saddened, primitive old man. After all, once a rabbit dies, it cannot be returned to life. Being sad at this time was not helpful.

As Han Cheng approached, the Shaman spoke first before he could say the comforting words he had planned.

This brought a slight joy to Han Cheng's heart. He could console him correctly if he were willing to speak.

He looked at the Shaman with a smile, but before he could utter a few words, the smile on his face completely froze as if struck by lightning, both externally and internally fried.

Had he been blindly moved by emotions these past few days?

At this moment, Han Cheng, who knew the truth, almost shed tears.

"Shaman, why are you…"

The Shaman, who was eagerly expressing his thoughts while full of confusion, noticed the unusual expression on the god's face and stopped, asking with concern.

The leader of the Donkey Tribe held a bowl of steaming hot meat soup, happily slurping it by the fire. The soup, seasoned with salt, was delicious, and he could never get enough of it.

Warm spread through his body as he drank the hot soup, deepening his affection for the pottery. Even though their tribe needed to tighten their belts this winter due to the exchange for pottery, he felt it was entirely worth it.

After finishing the soup and meat, he handed the bowl to another tribe member eagerly waiting for it. The Donkey Tribe had few pottery bowls, so they had to take turns using them.

Compared to the leader, the others had much less to eat. It was rare to find meat in their bowls; usually, each person would have one or two fruits cooked with the meager amount of meat available.

The joy of obtaining pottery made them want to cook anything edible in the pots. And indeed, it was a suitable method. Previously, one person couldn't feel full even after eating three fruits, but now, just one fruit was enough to satisfy.

The only downside was that they got hungry quickly and needed to relieve themselves frequently…

Compared to previous years, the Flying Snake Tribe seemed rather desolate. The battle last year resulted in the loss of many adults in their tribe. Even though they had plundered some people from other tribes, it didn't entirely compensate for their losses.

Because the captives they obtained were mostly underage children and female primitives, to prevent rebellion, the adult males had to be killed and eaten…

The second leader of the Snake Tribe sat in a corner, nibbling on some frozen fruits. He glanced over to where the Shaman and several other leaders had gathered not far away, unable to stop himself from salivating at the scent of meat emanating from there, especially the juicy piece of meat the Shaman was holding.

He used to be one of the daily meat-eaters in the past, but now, he could only silently nibble on fruits here.

All of this was because of that damned tribe!…

He thought bitterly.

However, recalling the terrifying scene of that day filled him with fear.

He mumbled curses at the damned tribe while silently nibbling on fruits, all the while pondering how to regain his position as leader.

If only he could completely conquer that damned tribe…

The world was vast, and countless things were happening every moment. Han Cheng wasn't a high and mighty god who ignored everything. He had his busy affairs to attend to. And even if he wanted to know, he didn't have the ability. After all, he was just a pseudo-god, lacking the power to know everything.

If he did have such great power, he wouldn't be so troubled by such trivial matters as charcoal.

Two of the three giants of the Green Sparrow Tribe had problems: the Divine Child had become obsessed with making charcoal and paid little attention to other matters, focusing solely on producing charcoal.

The Shaman was even more frightening; his time spent in the rabbit pen grew longer and longer each day.

Just the day before yesterday, the Shaman had dug a hole in a sunny spot and buried a rabbit.

Buried with it was the dried grass that the rabbit loved to eat.

Han Cheng knew about this incident; he had just returned from outside with a handful of black ash when he saw the Shaman doing this. Seeing the Shaman engaged in such activities, he couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness and worry. He deliberately stayed here to accompany the Shaman for a while longer because the rabbit that the Shaman buried was the one with dark circles around its eyes that he often petted.

The Shaman, an old primitive who prioritized eating above all else and cherished food exceptionally, decided not to eat the dead rabbit but to bury it instead, indicating the significance of this rabbit in his heart.

The death of this rabbit brought great pain to the Shaman.

Moreover, the Shaman carefully buried the rabbit with its favorite grass and a few freshly plucked small vegetables. He even meticulously smoothed the soil covering it, fearing that larger clumps of earth might crush the rabbit… This demonstrated the Shaman's reluctance to part with it.

Watching the Shaman earnestly carry out these actions without saying a word, Han Cheng could deeply understand and empathize with the Shaman's feelings.

Recalling his feelings when Fu Jiang went missing some time ago, the sentimental Han Cheng shed a sympathetic tear for this prematurely deceased rabbit with dark circles around its eyes and for the Shaman's deep affection.

In modern times, he had seen some elderly people who relied on their cats and dogs for companionship and emotional support.

Although the Shaman was primitive, he was also elderly. After spending a long time together, just like the elderly in modern times, he developed feelings for the things he raised, which was unsurprising.

However, what the Shaman did next puzzled Han Cheng.

After carefully burying the rabbit, the Shaman didn't stop there. Instead, he carefully poured half a jar of water with some ice chips over the grave.

After staring dumbfounded, Han Cheng quickly understood the Shaman's intentions.

Perhaps he did this out of concern that the rabbit would get thirsty, or maybe it was a unique mourning ritual within the Green Sparrow Tribe for the deceased.

Indeed, the death of this rabbit caused profound psychological trauma to the Shaman. After burying the rabbit with dark circles around its eyes, the Shaman, who used to run to the rabbit pen daily, no longer went there.

Instead, he often stayed at the burial site of the rabbit with dark circles around its eyes, lost in thought for a long time. He only left when it was time to eat; sometimes, he mutters quietly.

This deeply moved Han Cheng and worried him about the Shaman's well-being.

Who would have thought that even primitive people would have such deep feelings for the animals they raised?

Han Cheng, with some mud in his fingernails from outside the tribe, returned and saw the Shaman squatting motionless at the burial site of the rabbit with dark circles around its eyes, like a statue. His heart was deeply moved, and he sighed.

Indeed, there were passionate people everywhere.

After watching for a while, Han Cheng decided to go and comfort the deeply saddened, primitive old man. After all, once a rabbit dies, it cannot be returned to life. Being sad at this time was not helpful.

As Han Cheng approached, the Shaman spoke first before he could say the comforting words he had planned.

This brought a slight joy to Han Cheng's heart. He could console him correctly if he were willing to speak.

He looked at the Shaman with a smile, but before he could utter a few words, the smile on his face completely froze as if struck by lightning, both externally and internally fried.

Had he been blindly moved by emotions these past few days?

At this moment, Han Cheng, who knew the truth, almost shed tears.

"Shaman, why are you…"

The Shaman, who was eagerly expressing his thoughts while full of confusion, noticed the unusual expression on the god's face and stopped, asking with concern.

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