I am a Primitive Man

Humans are a very peculiar species. Their strangeness lies in how some individuals among them can defy logic and perform actions that are either shocking or deeply admirable.

Just like the current chief of the Sheep Tribe.

He was already consumed by fear. Especially when the chief of the Semi-Farming Tribe pressed a sharp bone dagger to his chest, he lost control of his bladder.

Not only did the wise female shaman of the Semi-Farming Tribe conclude that this man, terrified to the extreme, would soon spill the secrets about the sheep, but everyone in the Semi-Farming Tribe witnessing this scene believed the same—that this coward would submit.

Even the Sheep Tribe members surrounded by armed warriors of the Semi-Farming Tribe believed their chief, facing the threat of death and already wetting himself, would give up the tribe's secrets about the sheep.

No one can truly overcome the fear of death.

The Semi-Farming Tribe's female shaman looked at the puddle beneath the Sheep Tribe chief and felt increasingly certain of her plan.

Taming this tribe's chief, she thought, was just like how they once tamed their livestock.

She believed this same method could be applied to people like this—those without much courage.

However, something unexpected happened. Despite being tied to a stump and scared stiff, the man didn't speak, even after a moment passed.

"￥%6D…"

The female shaman raised the sheepskin in her hand and spoke again to the chief of the Sheep Tribe.

Still, the terrified chief remained silent.

This outcome left the Semi-Farming shaman both surprised and angry.

She turned and said something to the Semi-Farming chief.

The chief, holding the dagger, applied pressure. The sharp tip pierced the skin of the Sheep Tribe chief.

Blood began to seep from the wound, slowly trickling downward.

Their tribe had a tradition of stabbing toward the chest when killing humans or animals.

This was closely tied to their belief that the heart was the seat of intelligence, and that when someone died, their heart stopped beating.

Pain and terror struck the Sheep Tribe chief at once. His body trembled like a leaf in a storm.

His lips quivered, and his teeth chattered audibly.

And finally, he spoke.

But what he said wasn't about the sheep or any of the tribe's secrets—instead, hoarse and shaking, he shouted to his people not to reveal the secret about the two individuals.

This scene left the Sheep Tribe members stunned. Some lowered their heads in shame, unable to meet their chief's gaze.

The Semi-Farming shaman, who had just felt a flash of joy upon hearing him speak, quickly realized from the tribe's reaction that this cowardly man, who had peed himself, had not revealed what she wanted.

She was both disbelieving and furious.

She repeated something to the Semi-Farming chief. He thrust the dagger in deeper.

Blood gushed faster now, a dark red, flowing freely.

The Sheep Tribe chief turned deathly pale, his body trembling even harder.

But then—strangely, unbelievably—at the brink of death, amid the pain and fear, the terror in his eyes began to fade.

Morning sunlight pierced through the clouds. A light breeze stirred. Wisps of smoke drifted slowly upward from beneath the clay pots, which were tilted slightly by the wind.

The aroma of food filled the air in the tribe. Children chased a lamb, stumbling as they ran.

Women brought bundles of dew-covered grass and spread them cheerfully across the stone slabs to dry in the sunlight.

In the sheep pen, the animals bleated. The largest ram, horns curled and powerful, stuck its head through the pen's slats, stretching its neck toward a tempting patch of grass outside.

After much effort, it finally managed to lick the tip of the grass, only to get its head stuck while trying to pull back.

Watching this notorious troublemaker struggle in vain, the Sheep Tribe chief couldn't help but smile.

In one corner of the pen, a heavily pregnant ewe lay on the ground, blood pooling behind her.

Two tribal women crouched beside her, gripping the hooves of a half-delivered lamb, trying to assist the birth.

But for some reason, the lamb wouldn't come out.

The chief grew anxious.

He rushed over to help. Kneeling at the ewe's front, he wrapped his arms around her upper body, pressing his chest firmly against her neck to keep her from standing.

If she got up, the hooves that had barely emerged would slip back inside.

The ewe was strong—she butted him hard in the chest, making him gasp in pain and struggle for breath.

But the Sheep Tribe chief ignored it. He held on tightly, refusing to let her move.

Even as pain squeezed the air from his lungs and exhaustion overtook him, he didn't relent.

And finally, just as he thought he could hold on no longer, he heard the jubilant cheers of the two women behind the ewe.

Through their cries of joy, the exhausted chief saw a dripping-wet lamb, struggling to stand.

It was huge—almost the size of a lamb that had been born long ago.

No wonder the birth had been so difficult…

The Sheep Tribe chief stared at the lamb, filled with joy.

When he saw the large newborn totter upright, stumble behind its mother, clumsily find her teats and begin to nurse hungrily, he collapsed into the pen, completely spent, a faint smile on his face.

Outside the livestock enclosure of the Semi-Farming Tribe, there was dead silence.

Even the female shaman, who had wanted to shout more threats, swallowed her words.

Because in full view of everyone, the man who just moments ago had been scared out of his wits was now entirely calm.

More than that, despite being tied to a stump, his body strained forward, pressing his chest into the blade.

The bone dagger in the Semi-Farming chief's hand sank even deeper.

This fierce and feared tribal leader now stood frozen, terror etched on his face.

If he could, he would've thrown the knife away and run without looking back, fleeing from this eerie man.

He'd seen many deadly situations before. He'd clashed with other tribes. He had killed—not just once.

He'd never been afraid of doing those things.

But today, facing this man—tied to a stump, deliberately impaling himself on the blade, smiling as he did it-the Semi-Farming chief was genuinely, deeply terrified.