I am a Primitive Man

After a long wait and just before darkness fell with the sun's departure, the people of the Sheep Tribe who remained behind in the tribe corralled their most precious possession—the flock of sheep—into the pen.

Afterward, an elder among them began to prepare food with their own hands.

Their meal was simple, not lavish.

This was partly because, with the departure of the chieftain and the strong members of the tribe, those who stayed behind could hardly spare the manpower, aside from herding, to dig wild vegetables, pick fruits, or gather seeds.

Another reason was that once the chieftain and the others returned, their tribe would gain a great many sheep, and they would be able to enjoy mutton freely for some time to come.

With that in mind, it didn't matter much if today's meal was meager.

Although everyone was somewhat anxious about the chieftain and his party not yet returning, they could still endure it, for in the past, when the chieftain went out to hunt sheep, it sometimes took several days to return if luck wasn't on their side.

This time hadn't even been as long as the previous ones.

This brightness, combined with the pervasive aroma of meat, warmed the hearts of everyone in the tribe.

The allure of food is something that hasn't diminished, even in highly developed future societies, let alone in this era where food is valued as dearly as life itself.

Especially meat.

Thus, bathed in the scent of roasting meat, the Semi-Farming Tribe was, tonight, a sea of joy.

But this joy brought on by bountiful and delicious food did not extend to the tribe's wise priestess.

While everyone else drooled and waited eagerly within a fenced courtyard for the meat to finish cooking so they could feast, the priestess remained inside her domed hut in the center.

There was a large fire burning inside, lighting the entire room brightly.

At this moment, the previously composed and serene priestess no longer bore her usual calm expression as when she sat on the stone in the yard.

Her eyes were wide open, her lips, usually tightly shut, were slightly parted in astonishment.

Her entire body even trembled slightly and uncontrollably.

If anyone from the tribe were to enter right now and see her like this, they would be speechless with shock.

After all, in their eyes, the priestess was sage—nothing ever seemed to trouble or stump her.

Near the fire sat several pieces of pottery.

There were a dozen or so bowls, a not-too-large jar, and a smaller jar covered with hide and tied with rope.

These items had been brought back by the Sheep Tribe's chieftain and his people during their hunt by the river.

Thanks to the continuous dissemination efforts of the Green Sparrow Tribe, most tribes that had come into contact with pottery had now gotten used to using it for cooking.

The Sheep Tribe was one such example.

Among the bowls, three were broken. The larger jar had a chipped rim, and the outside of all the vessels had been blackened by prolonged exposure to smoke and fire.

And yet, these very pieces of pottery were what had excited the wisest person in the Semi-Farming Tribe to such a state.

Most of the tribe members who accompanied the chieftain to retrieve the Sheep Tribe people had already seen these items.

They had all been amazed by the craftsmanship and took great care in preserving them, even bringing back the broken pieces.

But their amazement stopped at admiration.

For the priestess, it was entirely different.

She made all the pottery in the Semi-Farming Tribe with her own hands. The skill had always been kept secret, passed down from priestess to priestess.

This exclusive knowledge was also a key reason why the priestess held such a high status in the tribe.

As the saying goes, "The layman watches the spectacle; the expert sees the technique." What others saw as beautiful pottery, she saw as something far more profound.

She might not know the word yet, but what she felt was sheer awe, as if she had been touched by something divine.

As someone who had spent nearly twenty years crafting pottery, ever since she started learning from the previous priestess, she knew just how hard it was to make good pottery.

She had crafted many pieces over the years and believed her skills had long surpassed those of her predecessor.

Being able to craft excellent pottery was a source of great pride for her.

But tonight, her pride was shattered entirely in the face of these few captured pieces.

Before seeing them, she had never imagined that humans could craft pottery this exquisitely—so beautiful it was intoxicating.

She reached out with a slightly trembling hand and picked up a broken shard, her fingers gently brushing over it, her expression taking on the sacred reverence she only showed during prayer.

That expression lasted a long time before fading.

As her fingers rubbed the surface, some soot on the inner part of the shard was wiped away, revealing a smooth, slightly blackened section beneath.

This glass-like finish struck her even harder than the symmetrical shape of the bowls and jars themselves.

Because no matter how hard she thought about it, she could not understand how these ice-like smooth textures had been created—how the makers had managed to apply them to the surface of pottery.

A while later, the strong chieftain of the tribe walked in carrying a bowl of boiled mutton soup and half a perfectly roasted leg of lamb.

Just as he was about to speak, the priestess, who had been squatting on the ground for quite some time, suddenly stood up, turned around, and rushed outside. Even though the chieftain reacted quickly and tried to dodge, she still bumped into him.

"￥%T"

The priestess paused briefly, slightly dazed after being so deeply absorbed in the pottery. The chieftain quickly held out the food in his hands again.

But her eyes were fixed on the bowl he held. Upon comparing it with her pottery, she found her work unbearably ugly.

"￥%6F…"

She didn't take the food. Instead, she said something and hurried out of the hut.

The chieftain stared after her in confusion and astonishment—such behavior was sporadic for the priestess.

He waited a moment, hesitated, then placed the food on a stone platform in the room and quickly followed her out, hastening to catch up with her.

Even though the members of the other tribe were still tied up and didn't dare resist, he couldn't afford to let his guard down.