I am a Primitive Man

"Whoosh, whoosh..."

In the Green Sparrow tribe, also covered by heavy snow, Han Cheng washed his hands with warm water, scrubbed them twice with wood ash, and then washed them again with clean water. Only then did that uncomfortable, greasy feeling disappear.

He shouldn't have foolishly tried to use the refined animal fat oil as a frostbite-preventing hand cream.

Although the fat oil's effect on frostbite prevention was indeed good, the greasy feeling when applied to the hands was enough to drive people crazy.

The people of the Green Sparrow tribe, who still used finely spun hemp thread for spinning tops, frequently washed pots and dishes, and performed other chores in the winter, didn't think so.

At first, they were puzzled and felt sorry when the Divine Child instructed them to use the delicious fat oil to moisturize their hands and faces. After experiencing the benefits of this substance firsthand, these people repeatedly expressed their gratitude for the good things.

As for that sticky, greasy feeling, it was nothing to them.

Meanwhile, their great Divine Child was agonizing over making a snow cream that could protect exposed skin from the cold without causing the frustrating stickiness of fat oil.

After seeing this scene, Han Cheng chuckled and sniffed. These guys weren't picky eaters; they didn't care about such things.

If not, he could try using milk.

Before coming here, he had seen a rather dark film about a corrupt company that had established a secret base underground, where they imprisoned many women obtained through various illegal means.

These imprisoned women served two purposes: they were milked like cows in this place, and after artificial insemination, they gave birth to babies.

Male babies were discarded, while female babies were raised to continue producing milk.

The milk produced wasn't for drinking; it was used to produce various high-end cosmetics.

Naturally, justice triumphed over evil in the end.

Although the practices depicted were extremely dark, they pointed Han Cheng to another path that was worth trying.

Of course, he wouldn't use humans but deer instead.

While Han Cheng was tinkering with these ideas, in the distance, similar events were unfolding in the Flying Snakes tribe.

The people of the Flying Snakes tribe, who lived in a large cave, were all outside the cave.

Slabs of stone blocked the cave entrance. They wrapped themselves in animal hides and stood in the snow pit, occasionally stomping their feet to generate heat for their bodies.

No one complained about being driven out of the cave and freezing outside during the harsh winter, not even the great chief of the Flying Snakes tribe.

Because their tribe's most mysterious and respected shaman was praying to the sky god in the cave, asking for that precious thing to protect their hands and faces from the cold wind in such cold weather.

During this process, apart from the shaman, no one else was allowed to be in the cave, and no one was allowed to disturb until the shaman spoke.

Otherwise, the sky god would fail to give them that precious thing and bring down punishment...

Inside the cavern, which seemed spacious and dim, there was a smell of roasted meat.

A pile of flames kept flickering, dispersing the darkness around them.

Above the flames, there was a relatively thin stone slab.

The slab was tilted to one side, with chunks of fatty meat placed on it.

The fire had heated the stone slab, and the chunks of meat sizzled as they cooked.

Bright white fat was forced out by the high temperature, forming a shiny white line along the inclined stone slab, dripping into the skull placed below as a container.

There were as many as twenty of these skulls.

The shaman of the Flying Snakes tribe held a wooden stick, occasionally flipping the sizzling meat, sometimes picking up a piece and eating it directly after a while.

This was the secret passed down from mouth to mouth among their tribe.

Usually, the specific method was told to the successor only when the previous shaman was about to pass away.

All the previous shamans maintained the highest status in the tribe by relying on this core method and some other experiences.

Watching as the last skull was also filled with fat, the shaman of the Flying Snakes tribe stopped his actions and stopped frying the fat with the meat.

He didn't leave the charred meat behind; to preserve this secret, he followed the previous shaman's example and threw these precious meats into the fire to burn.

While burning, he carefully carried the skulls containing fat away from the fire, placing them in a spot far from the fire to cool them down faster.

Then, he struggled to remove the stone slab from above, laying it flat next to the fire, sprinkling some wood ash on it, making it look like any other day.

The tribe's people would never know that this stone, which was always laid flat next to the fire, familiar to everyone but always ignored, had such a significant purpose.

After completing these tasks, the shaman of the Flying Snakes tribe, feeling tired from the exertion and his advancing age, lay down here and fell asleep.

Outside the cave, the people waiting there with a strange sense of reverence naturally had no idea what was happening inside.

They didn't know how they would feel when they discovered the terrifying yet desirable scene of communicating with the sky god as they imagined it.

Finally waking up from his dream, the shaman of the Flying Snakes tribe used a stick to poke at the dying fire. When he found that all the meat placed inside had been burned away, he nodded in satisfaction.

He added some firewood inside and ignited it again. Then, he placed the solidified fat one by one in front of the totem wall, carefully inspecting them for any flaws. After confirming that there were none, he knelt and raised his voice, saying, "$%^$!".

The people of the Flying Snakes tribe, who had been waiting in the cave for a long time, finally heard this long-awaited message. Led by the chieftain, they pushed open the stone slab, sealing the cave, and entered.

A foul smell filled their nostrils, but the people of the Flying Snakes tribe were unfazed.

Because they knew that this was the smell produced by the sky god after consuming the meat they had offered.

Seeing the skulls, which were initially empty but were now filled with that precious substance, the Flying Snakes tribe respectfully bowed to the totem wall depicting winding snakes and the shaman kneeling in front of it, his back to them, looking very tired. They deeply paid their respects...

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