I am a Primitive Man
Chapter 880 – Cavalry Starts from Childhood (Three-in-One)
After Eldest Senior Brother and his group of nearly a hundred people left, the main Green Sparrow Tribe suddenly felt much emptier.
However, the people who remained did not idle. Every task continued as before, and in fact, with so many people gone at once, those left behind were even busier.
By the blacksmith’s furnace, the clang of iron continued. The Second Senior Brother is still focused on processing meteorites to forge weapons.
The allure of meteorite weapons had captivated him entirely. He threw himself into forging, striving to produce more and better weapons as quickly as possible.
To save energy for smithing, he even avoided spending nights with his several spouses, showing an unexpected tendency toward an abstinent lifestyle.
In the carpentry workshop, Limp led the new generation of carpenters, including Cat-Ears, who continued producing donkey saddles and stirrups.
Han Cheng planned to equip at least half of the tribe’s adult donkeys with saddles and stirrups—thirty-one sets in total.
With this, the tribe could attempt to form a small donkey cavalry.
Of course, this donkey cavalry could not compare with elite ancient cavalry.
They could not shoot bows while riding donkeys, nor charge with weapons.
But it greatly improved mobility and reduced physical energy expenditure.
Moreover, when encountering tribes unfamiliar with donkeys, simply seeing people mounted on them would likely frighten enemies into fleeing.
Thus, it was worthwhile to experiment.
At the current skill level of the tribe, a professional army was impossible. These trainees would continue their previous routine: training every few days and returning to farming during busy agricultural periods.
Even this level of training, however, far surpassed that of any other tribe Han Cheng knew.
Faced with such a Green Sparrow Tribe, any tribe daring to provoke them would only be crushed.
“Let these children herd the sheep for you. When herding, let them ride the sheep as much as possible—but do not ride pregnant ewes,” Han Cheng instructed.
Early in the morning, Old Sheep and other herders picked up the whips hanging outside the sheep pens, gathered the trained herding dogs, slung on extra food, and prepared to open the pen for the day.
At this moment, Han Cheng led a group of over twenty children to join them.
These minors were very young, the oldest around seven, the youngest barely five.
Han Cheng’s purpose was not to have noise, but to train them into competent future cavalrymen.
As someone who enjoyed history even before his time-travel, Han Cheng understood why nomadic peoples often became natural riders: it was a product of their way of life.
From a young age, they were in contact with cattle, sheep, and horses. Many rode sheep as children, then horses as adults—essentially growing up on the backs of animals.
In such circumstances, poor riding skills would be unusual.
Han Cheng wanted to emulate this. These children would herd sheep with Old Sheep and, during herding, frequently ride the sheep.
This trained them to live with their feet off the ground, developing strong balance and riding skills.
Accustomed to riding sheep, they would later ride donkeys more naturally, forming a true donkey cavalry.
Habits developed from childhood are remarkably lasting.
Han Cheng himself had learned to hoe fields, carry water, fertilize the garden, cut grass with a sickle, and handle grain with a wooden fork from ages nine to twelve.
Though he rarely did these tasks in junior high and afterward, the skills remained. In this era, he still handled these tasks skillfully.
Similarly, if tribe children grew up accustomed to riding sheep, they would find donkeys easy to handle later.
Education must begin in childhood, and training in riding skills was no exception.
Additionally, herding with Old Sheep gave children experience of hard work and developed pastoral skills—a multi-benefit approach.
The children following Han Cheng were excited to see the sheep.
Children are naturally playful, and riding sheep was extremely fun.
Previously, they had to sneak rides since adults rarely allowed them to mount valuable animals.
Now, the Divine Child himself permitted it.
Naturally, Old Sheep and the herders did not object. Only extra food for lunch was necessary, as young children have surprisingly large appetites.
“Watch over them. Do not let them encounter danger,” Han Cheng reminded Old Sheep and the herders.
By “danger,” he meant wild beasts or falling into deep valleys.
Minor scrapes and falls were trivial. Children in the primitive era were tough, far from the pampered children of today who cry over a scratch.
“No problem, Divine Child. We’ll take good care of them,” Old Sheep chirped.
The older herders enjoyed the children’s company. Though sometimes mischievous, they mainly were endearing.
After bringing extra food for lunch, the herders opened the pen, letting the sheep out.
The sheep were already domesticated, so they exited obediently, led by a ram with sharp horns.
This ram was the leader. Its neck bore a rope with a horizontal stick attached, about forty centimeters long, roughly the thickness of a baby’s arm.
This “sheep tether” prevented the herd from running too fast. Controlling the lead sheep ensured the rest followed.
A slightly older child rushed excitedly to grab a sheep and attempted to climb on.
The sheep, naturally resisting, bucked vigorously, throwing the child to the ground.
Primitive children were fearless; falling did not induce tears. The child quickly got up and chased the sheep, climbing again.
The other children, encouraged, ran toward the remaining sheep, cheering.
The initial fall was ignored.
The children’s enthusiasm caused temporary minor chaos among the herd.
However, with Old Sheep, herders, and trained dogs, the situation was manageable. Over time, the sheep would adapt to being ridden.
Han Cheng watched from the courtyard, smiling as several children successfully mounted sheep.
“Daddy, ride sheep!” said Little Pea, envious of the mounted children.
“You’re too small. Wait another year until you grow taller,” Han Cheng laughed, patting his son’s head.
He then turned to the lazy, playful giant panda lying nearby. “Go, ride Tuan Tuan. Riding Tuan Tuan is even more mighty.”
Little Pea struggled to climb onto the panda, who looked innocent, and Han Cheng felt a pang of guilt.
Still, such playfulness would develop his future riding skills. The boy’s early interest in riding large animals meant he was truly starting young.
On the open plains, cracks of whips occasionally split the air.
These were warnings—or guidance—by Old Sheep to control the herd.
Once led to a good grazing area, the herders relaxed their supervision, only cracking whips if sheep strayed.
If whips were insufficient, stones or clods were thrown—skills in accurate hand-throwing were strong among herders, comparable to a teacher flicking chalk.
Sheep would jump at the stone and return to the herd.
Today, however, the herd was unsettled, particularly the horned rams.
Usually, they only mounted small ewes, but now, children repeatedly tried to climb onto them—an unfamiliar experience for the animals.
The rams had few means to resist these children.
After a few days, children’s novelty wore off; they became bored of riding and herding.
Shaman, noticing this, became angry and lifted his stick to discipline the children.
Unlike some modern indulgent parents, Shaman was strict. Discipline was as severe as when he skinned rabbits to eat.
Han Cheng had explained his donkey cavalry plan to Shaman, who agreed with the Divine Child.
Seeing the children reluctant to ride after several days angered him: the task was crucial for the tribe.
Two timid children even cried.
Primitive children were wild but feared adults, preeminent figures like Han Cheng, the Shaman, and the Senior Brother.
Han Cheng did not intervene. He knew some discipline was necessary. Lectures often failed, but corporal reminders worked.
Discipline had to be controlled—no overbeating or causing unconsciousness—otherwise, it backfired.
After Shaman struck each child twice with the stick, Han Cheng appeared.
“Do you know why you were punished?” he asked gently, squatting to their level.
“Y-yes… we… we didn’t want to ride sheep…” one child sobbed.
Han Cheng, understanding their high-level comprehension of Mandarin, wiped the child’s tears.
“That’s partly right, but also partly wrong.”
“Why do you ride sheep? Not just for fun. Riding now prepares you to ride donkeys later—running donkeys, wielding weapons, drawing bows—to defend the tribe against invaders.
Do you want to be heroes of the tribe? Protect our home when enemies attack?”
Han Cheng raised his voice to ensure the children understood.
Discipline is effective only when children understand the reason.
Hearing this, the children’s spirits lifted. Han Cheng’s lessons on loving the tribe were practical.
“Yes!”
“Yes!”
The children answered, determination in their voices.
“Good! You’re excellent! But wanting alone isn’t enough. You need skills. Without skills, how can you defend the tribe or become heroes?”
Prompted, the children thought carefully, realizing the wisdom of the Divine Child.
“Now do you understand why Shaman punished you?” Han Cheng asked again.
“Because we didn’t study properly.”
“Because riding sheep now helps us contribute to the tribe later…”
Han Cheng smiled, and Shaman grinned widely, missing many teeth.
They both realized something important from the Divine Child’s method.
“From now on, study well. Become useful. Those who don’t, I’ll strike again!” Shaman said, stamping his stick for emphasis.
Rewards were also necessary—“carrot and stick” works best.
“Practice well for the next twenty days. We’ll hold a small competition to see who rides best. The top three receive rewards; the last three, punishments.”
Han Cheng casually implemented this ranking-and-reward system from the future.
From then on, the chosen children trained seriously.
Their long-term goal: defend the tribe as heroes. Short-term: strive for the top three to earn rewards. Avoid being in the last three to escape punishment—the most excellent motivator for children.
Han Cheng and Shaman were pleased to see the children’s diligence.
From that day, Han Cheng’s life became leisurely. He spent time at the tribe as a caretaker: walking with his daughter, son, and occasionally wandering the surrounding fields.
Sometimes, he caught grasshoppers to feed the chickens and ducks.
Larger grasshoppers were kept for cooking: wings removed, cleaned, salted, wrapped in egg, and fried—crispy and delicious.
Children, including Little Pea and Xiao Xing’er, were excited and sometimes ate the grasshoppers themselves rather than feeding the animals.