I am a Primitive Man

"#￥5?"

At this moment, the robust chief of the Semi-Farming Tribe looked like a frightened child.

He held in his hand a bone dagger still embedded in the chest of the Sheep Tribe's chief. Turning his head, he looked helplessly toward the wise priestess, seeking guidance and help.

Because of his fear and anxiety, even his voice trembled slightly.

Another reason he turned away was that he didn't dare to look at that lifeless man's face, especially the eerie smile still frozen on it.

The people of the Sheep Tribe stared blankly at their now silent chief, not knowing what to think or do for the time being.

The Shaman of the Semi-Farming Tribe gazed at the Sheep Tribe's chief, whose face bore that unnerving smile. Shock filled her heart, but also a growing anger.

Part of her anger was directed at the Sheep Tribe's chief for doing something so completely outside her expectations. The other part came from frustration at the reaction of her people.

"#￥%F……"

Facing the Semi-Farming chief's inquiry, she composed her expression and finally said something.

As her words rang out, the Semi-Farming Tribe, which had been stunned by the Sheep Tribe chief's sudden death, gradually started to loosen up. The heavy atmosphere began to lift…

The priestess of the Semi-Farming Tribe glanced at her chief, but he hesitated, remaining in place.

After a short while, the priestess walked up to the Sheep Tribe's chief and forcefully pulled out the bone dagger embedded in his chest.

Still-warm blood splattered across half of her body, but she seemed not to notice.

Right in front of everyone, she dipped her fingers into the blood from the chief's chest, then drew a line from her forehead down the bridge of her nose to her chin.

That streak of blood splitting her face made her look both eerie and terrifying.

After finishing this, she began chanting loudly to the remaining people of the Sheep Tribe.

As she spoke, she repeated the act of dipping her fingers in blood and painting her face. Then she pointed toward the cooked mutton soup not far away, and finally gestured with the bloody bone dagger toward her chest.

The meaning was clear: those who painted their faces with the blood would be allowed to live and even drink the meat soup. Those who refused would be stabbed through the heart with the same bone dagger, just like their dead chief.

The unexpected death of the Sheep Tribe's leader had ruined the priestess's earlier plans, but this wise woman quickly came up with a new strategy based on the current situation.

She gazed coldly at the people of the Sheep Tribe. With their chief lying dead in front of them, none of them dared look this fearsome woman in the eyes.

After a moment of deadlock, the priestess spoke again, then began sauntering toward the Sheep Tribe with the bloody dagger in hand, her entire body stained red.

Within any tribe, there are all kinds of people: fearless warriors and those who are more cautious. When life is easy, everyone appears the same. But in times of crisis, people's true natures begin to reveal themselves.

"#￥K……"

Under such pressure, some in the Sheep Tribe finally broke.

One person stumbled forward, crying and wailing, and smeared the blood of their smiling dead chief on their face.

Where there is one, there will be a second, and then a third…

The Semi-Farming priestess, seeing this, loosened her grip on the dagger. She knew that once again, her wisdom had saved her tribe from a problematic situation.

These people had smeared their dead chief's blood on their faces in front of their clansfolk. They would never dare leave the Semi-Farming Tribe again.

Yet not everyone in the Sheep Tribe complied.

Some stood still, spitting toward those who had painted their faces with the chief's blood, and shouted curses in a not-so-fluent language…

Surprisingly, the Semi-Farming priestess did not kill these defiant ones.

Not only that—she even had food brought for them.

Of course, this food was not the delicious meat soup, but a few wild fruits.

"￥%6……"

Faced with the Semi-Farming chief's question, the priestess explained her plan.

Those who smeared blood on their faces could join the tribe and would be questioned slowly about the secrets of sheep.

As for those who didn't paint their faces, they too would stay—but their status would be different.

These individuals would be closely monitored and forced to work. If they didn't, they would be beaten or go hungry.

The priestess of the Semi-Farming Tribe didn't know what "slavery" was—but through her wisdom, she had effectively invented it…

Back in the cave, members of the Sheep Tribe who stayed behind to tend the domesticated sheep began to worry after several more days passed without any sign of their chief returning.

Especially one elder among them, who appeared with two ropes in hand—one old, one new.

Though one was freshly made this year and the other from before, both ropes had the same feature:

They were tied with a series of small knots.

The elder laid the two ropes side by side. It was clear that the new rope had more knots than the old.

Each knot represented a day. The old rope had been made in previous years when the Sheep Tribe's chief led hunting trips to capture sheep.

Among all the old ropes, this one had the most knots.

Now, the new rope had already surpassed it.

Once the people understood what the old man was showing, a heavy sense of worry settled over them.

After some discussion, five members of the group set out—armed and provisioned—heading in the direction where the Sheep Tribe's chief had gone to hunt…

Autumn sunlight spilled down, shimmering across the gently flowing river and its banks.

No wolves or tigers were lurking nearby, waiting to attack the sheep. Nor was there any sign of the chief or his group.

All that remained were the glaringly white sheep bones scattered along the riverbank.

These were the bones left behind just this year…