I am a Primitive Man
Chapter 881 – Creek Tribe: Salt!
The sky was dark and gloomy, a continuous sheet of leaden clouds covering the heavens, the oppressive heat almost suffocating.
A sudden gust of strange wind blew through, shaking branches and leaves violently, ripping the “hair” from many trees.
Then, raindrops began to fall.
These fast, heavy drops quickly merged into a white, misty curtain of rain.
As the heavy rain poured, the oppressive heat rapidly dissipated, and the entire world seemed to become cool and fresh.
Han Cheng held little Xing’er, standing by the window to watch the rain.
Not far from the window, in the flower bed Han Cheng had built by hand, the bamboo stalks that had once stood upright now leaned under the weight of water-laden leaves.
Han Cheng observed them, feeling the coolness and the unique tranquility, and a sense of indescribable comfort filled his heart.
Typically, such rain would not last long; after a while, it would ease or even stop entirely.
But today was clearly different. The rain continued unabated, pattering relentlessly.
Han Cheng estimated that it would pour for about an hour before gradually easing.
Once the rain slowed slightly, those who had been anxiously waiting grabbed their straw hats and rain cloaks, took bronze shovels or hoes, and left the tribe. They spread out along the fields’ ridges in multiple groups, eventually dispersing throughout the farmland.
Han Cheng no longer watched the rain from the window. He handed his little daughter to Bai Xue, put on an extra hemp shirt, grabbed a straw hat and rain cloak from the wall, rolled up his trousers, and, carrying a bronze shovel, joined the others heading into the fields.
Drizzle was not dangerous; farmers feared extreme weather—strong winds, heavy storms, or hail—because such events could destroy crops.
Outside the tribe, streams of rainwater, unable to infiltrate the soil quickly, gathered and flowed along pre-dug drainage ditches toward the river.
The usually calm river had swollen like a waking python; its murky waters carrying fallen branches and leaves downstream.
Downstream, in low-lying areas near the river, hemp fields were half-submerged in water.
Han Cheng did not dare slack off. After scanning the area, he moved with several others in a chosen direction, eyes constantly scanning the fields, especially the drainage ditches.
They checked for washed-out sections or blocked channels.
If they found any, they would immediately repair them with their bronze shovels.
That evening, after soaking his feet in hot water, Han Cheng lay on the kang (heated brick bed), listening to the raindrops falling from the eaves, the rhythmic sound accentuating the night’s tranquility.
The rain had not stopped, but compared to daytime, it had eased considerably.
He hoped the storm did not extend too far; otherwise, Eldest Senior Brother and his team would face difficulties.
Outing in rainy weather was the last thing anyone wanted.
After worrying a while about Eldest Senior Brother’s party, Han Cheng gradually fell asleep.
It was raining continuously; over the next two days, it barely stopped.
At first, the thirsty earth absorbed nearly all the water, but later, once saturated, most rain flowed away as runoff.
During such days, the Green Sparrow Tribe appeared relatively idle; many tasks could not be done.
Some took advantage of the rare chance to nap on the kang, waking only to eat before returning to sleep—utterly comfortable.
Not all tribes were as leisurely. Some had fewer food reserves than the Green Sparrow Tribe, forcing them to venture out even in the rain to gather food.
Hunger could kill faster than illness.
After a day of waiting, the Creek Tribe’s leader could no longer hold back.
“￥%6E…”
He returned inside the cave, spoke briefly to his people, then began gathering large slabs of animal hide to protect themselves, instructing others to carry weapons.
Once everyone was prepared, the Creek Tribe leader led them out of the cave and into the quiet distance, hunting to bring more food back.
Those left behind also moved, taking tools outside.
These were women who were not strong enough to hunt but could gather wild vegetables.
After washing the vegetables and boiling them with water and a pinch of salt, they could stave off hunger.
Since the leader took the large hides, they could not stay outside for too long or risk getting sick from wet furs.
An older woman raised her voice, urging everyone to return.
The group carried their gathered vegetables back.
“Boom—!”
A loud rumble from afar startled them.
They froze, looking around in fear, but saw nothing.
“@#4WY!”
The older woman screamed in terror, turning to run toward the cave.
The others, frightened, followed, some dropping their protective leaves.
They returned to the cave, breathless, immediately moving stone slabs to block the entrance, pressing their bodies against them while peeking through gaps.
Seeing no threat, they relaxed slightly.
Their panicked actions triggered alarm among the remaining tribe members, who were already vulnerable since the strong had gone hunting.
The older woman recounted the terrifying event they had encountered while gathering vegetables.
While the description incited fear, it also sparked curiosity. Some asked what the frightening thing looked like.
They had not seen it—only heard the terrifying sound—but exaggerated its danger in their minds.
Not everyone agreed.
Someone reminded them of the Green Sparrow Tribe’s drums, which produced loud, terrifying sounds but were harmless.
The comparison made the others reconsider. The old woman lost some of her fear, realizing that not every loud, frightening noise meant danger.
Someone suggested investigating the sound’s source.
The older woman initially refused, urging them to wait for the hunting party’s return.
Eventually, through cautious observation and reassurances, the group became bold enough to investigate, holding leaves for protection and weapons in hand.
They proceeded toward the area where the wild vegetables had been gathered, carefully determining the direction of the mysterious sound.
The older woman in front held out her palm, displaying a half-bronze tiger token.
This gave her and the group immense courage.
Even so, upon reaching the site, they were stunned.
A small yet sizeable mound of earth had split apart, sliding downward with its grass and plants, covering a significant ditch below.
Such a sight was unprecedented, leaving them in awe and fear.
“#￥5@#!”
The older woman trembled, ready to run back to the cave.
But another, holding the tiger token, stopped them.
“#4 Green Sparrow Tribe, walls…”
This young Creek Tribe woman, devoted to the Green Sparrow Tribe, reminded everyone of the Green Sparrow Tribe’s power and fortifications, implying that the Green Sparrow Tribe could easily surpass anything seen now.
Remembering the Green Sparrow Tribe’s impressive defenses, the tribe’s fear melted away.
“Yes! We belong to the Green Sparrow Alliance!”
The minors and newly adult members proudly straightened their chests.
Realizing that the loud, mysterious phenomenon posed no real threat, their mindset shifted instantly.
Even the older woman who had been blocking the entrance relaxed, eventually moving the stone slabs aside.
Soon, part of the Creek Tribe ventured outside again, holding leaves above their heads and weapons ready.
Some repeated “Green Sparrow! Green Sparrow!” to boost courage and warn of any potential threat.
They approached the area where the vegetables had been dug and cautiously advanced toward the source of the terrifying noise.
The older woman led, holding the half-tiger token aloft—providing them with courage.
Even so, when they reached the mound, all were pale and trembling—not from cowardice, but from astonishment.
The earth mound had split, with a considerable section sliding down, grass and plants along with it, covering a sizeable ditch.
Amid the fallen soil lay large patches of bright white against the yellowish or brown soil—a strange sight.
Someone shouted:
“#￥4S Salt!”
The tribe’s eyes lit up with excitement, recognizing the white substance for what it was: salt.