I am a Primitive Man

Han Cheng held his identity card in his hand and began to pick up the remaining ones, loudly reciting and distributing them to the crowd.

Even the children had them, but they were all over three years old.

Children under three did not have identity cards because their wear and tear rate was relatively high.

The recipients of the pottery identity cards held them in their hands, carefully and curiously examining them. Sometimes, several people would gather together to compare and discuss them.

They admired the unexpectedly exquisite craftsmanship of the identity cards.

It's unknown who took the lead, but on the exquisite pottery identities, someone carefully drilled a small hole and threaded a fine leather cord through it, wearing it around their neck.

In less than two days, except for Han Cheng, everyone in the Green Sparrow Tribe who had an identity card was doing the same.

What was once an identity card has become a piece of jewelry.

Watching the tribe members with their identity cards hanging from their necks, Han Cheng couldn't help but sniff.

Fortunately, it's not the future now; otherwise, drilling a hole in the identity card would be troublesome.

But that's also good. Now that it's hanging around their necks, they can recognize each other instantly.

And it's not easy to lose.

To a certain extent, the Green Sparrow Tribe's identity card combines the functions of household registration and identity cards from the future.

As time passed, after the sunset, the temperature was no longer as hot as before.

On such days, hundreds of acres of millet around the Green Sparrow Tribe also became fuller daily.

Sometimes, a gust of wind would send the fragrance of ripening millet enveloping the entire tribe.

This fragrance made every person in the Green Sparrow Tribe look radiant.

As the sky brightened, with the squeaky sound of the wooden door, the Shaman, who seemed to be not too sleepy, walked out of the room, and as usual, after washing up, he fed the rabbits with grass.

After picking up the rabbit and petting it, the Shaman, accompanied by the Third Senior Brother and another person, walked out of the tribe's gate and headed towards the slightly yellowed millet field to the east.

Turning around the large expanse of millet fields belonging to the tribe has become another primary hobby of the Shaman.

Looking at the well-growing millet, sometimes he would bend over to pull some grass from the ground, something he could never get enough of.

In the beginning, Han Cheng was still worried about his safety and feared he would get tired. However, after some time passed and the Shaman's spirits improved, he no longer said anything.

However, when the Shaman went out, at least two people would accompany him with weapons.

After all, it's the primitive era now, not the future, where all wild beasts can barely survive under deliberate human protection.

"Bang!"

Third Senior Brother, walking with the Shaman on the edge of the millet field, suddenly stopped, drew his bow, and an arrow had already shot out like a meteor at the sound of the bowstring.

"Boom!"

Where the arrow landed, a flock of densely packed birds suddenly rose from the millet field like a black cloud.

Chirping and chirping, they landed on the nearby trees, waiting for these hateful bipeds to leave so they could return to eat this rare and delicious feast.

"Shoot!"

"Shoot them dead!"

While cursing these hairless monkeys who wouldn't let them eat properly while perched in the trees, they were also cursing back at them.

After discovering that the grain painstakingly planted by their tribe had been stolen, the elder Shaman showed no signs of aging. He pointed at the birds that had plagued the crops and cursed them with more vigor than when he danced in religious fervor.

"Twang!"

Third Senior Brother swiftly followed suit, drawing his bow again. An arrow flew out, and a bird perched on a tree let out a miserable cry. The feathered arrow carried it forward before plunging into the ground.

The flock of birds, intimidated by the formidable hairless monkeys, flapped their wings in panic and fled.

The elder Shaman, still full of rage, continued to curse loudly in the direction the birds flew. His emotions were so heightened that even the tribal dialect slipped from his lips.

"Man dies for wealth. Birds perish for food." This saying couldn't be more accurate.

The vast, nearly ripe millet fields surrounding the Green Sparrow Tribe were an irresistible temptation for these birds.

Before the Shaman's curses had faded, the birds circled in the sky and landed again about a mile away from him, chattering and calling their friends to feast.

Occasionally, a few scattered birds would flap their wings and join the feast.

"Shoot! Shoot them dead!"

The elder's eyes reddened as he spoke to Third Senior Brother, bending over to grab a clod of earth and hurl it with all his might at the damned birds.

Of course, he couldn't throw it that far.

Third Senior Brother also annoyed, approached from behind and drew his bow again...

"Shoot..."

The elder's angry howls echoed continuously in the early morning field, much louder than when he worshipped the gods.

"Why isn't the Shaman back yet?"

Han Cheng muttered. In the past, even when he went for a walk, it shouldn't have taken this long for him to return...

Watching the Shaman, panting, feathers on his head, carrying a string of dead birds, and occasionally cursing, Han Cheng couldn't help but laugh.

Old child, old child, sometimes when people get old, they indeed become a bit childish in some behaviors.

To pacify the Shaman, Han Cheng deliberately added an extra meal for the tribe and roasted all those birds for them to eat.

"Divine Child, about these birds..."

As the Shaman gnawed fiercely on the bird meat, he looked worried.

The morning's commotion had left him feeling almost helpless against these annoying flies of birds.

Han Cheng nodded after hearing the elder talk about driving away these birds. What the elder said was indeed very necessary.

The ecology here was excellent, and with various bird species abundant around the Green Sparrow Tribe, news of a large area of delicious food had spread among them, attracting many annoying feathered creatures.

If left uncontrolled, allowing them to continue like this until the millet was fully ripe and ready for harvest would likely reduce the yield by at least ten percent or more.

"It's alright, I have a way."

Han Cheng confidently reassured the Shaman.

Upon hearing this, the Shaman immediately felt relieved, quickly finishing his meal and pulling Han Cheng along to implement their plan to curb those troublesome birds.

He had indeed reached the end of his patience with them.

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