I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 636: Female Leader

“Thud.”

After finishing one row of granaries, Han Cheng, Shaman, and Shi Tou moved on to another. Holding oil lamps, they carefully inspected each corner to check if this row had been visited by those unwelcome intruders—mice.

Halfway through, a faint, muffled thud was heard, followed by a mouse’s pitiful squeal. The sound jolted everyone in the room, making them pause. freёwebnoѵel.com

“That trap is too sensitive! It’s only been a short while since we set it up, and it’s already caught a mouse.”

The one with the fastest reaction wasn’t the youngest, Shi Tou, nor the young and strong Han Cheng, who had set up the mouse traps, but rather Shaman, who, by all accounts, should have been the slowest to react.

After a momentary daze, Shaman, surprisingly elated, turned and ran outside without a sound. His speed and reaction were astonishing, prompting admiration from Han Cheng, who couldn’t keep up.

“Haha, good!”

Soon after, Han Cheng and Shi Tou hadn’t even turned the corner before they heard Shaman’s delighted laughter, gloating over his revenge.

Turning the corner, they saw two hanging slabs had already dropped, with a mouse crushed underneath, its eye bulging and head and paws scrabbling helplessly.

“Serves you right!” Shaman was squatting there, triumphantly scolding the mouse that had tried to squeal for help.

“Eek!”

The mouse, overwhelmed by Shaman’s verbal attack, suddenly convulsed violently, let out a pitiful scream, and then blood oozed from its mouth. After a couple more convulsions, it lay still.

Han Cheng, standing nearby, was dumbfounded, and his lips couldn’t help but twitch. Shaman’s method was something else—was he channeling Zhuge Liang, a famed strategist of ancient China?

Images of words from history—“Silence, the head of a village, the old rogue, has such audacity”—kept looping through Han Cheng’s mind, refusing to stop.

Only when Shaman had thoroughly mangled the already-dead mouse, breaking it into pieces and still not stopping, did Han Cheng snap him out of this disturbing reverie and halt Shaman’s further actions.

Remembering how Zeng Guofan of the Xiang Army faced off against the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and was nearly driven to jump into a lake twice, Han Cheng realized Shaman’s actions were somewhat reminiscent—Zeng had vented his fury by chopping up and firing the corpse of Taiping’s leader, Hong Xiuquan. Shaman, while angry over the mice eating the clan’s grain, was not at the level of needing to chop them into pieces just yet.

Meanwhile, as Han Cheng and Shaman dealt with their mouse problem, the melting ice in the north marked the end of winter, bringing hope to many suffering tribes.

However, not all of them share joy. A nearby tribe remained gloomy near the Black Stone tribe. It wasn’t due to a raid by Black Stone but because they discovered that a tribe they often interacted with had disappeared entirely after winter.

Initially, the Grass Tribe thought these people might have starved or frozen to death due to a lack of food. But the empty, bone-free cave quickly dispelled that notion.

“Amm...”

One member of the Grass Tribe voiced his suspicion to their chief. He guessed that due to a lack of food, the neighboring tribe had migrated away with their people. This would explain the desolation in the cave.

After pondering for a moment, the Grass Tribe’s chief shook his head, dismissing the idea.

No tribe would choose to migrate during the harsh winter, especially a food-deprived one. Such an action would only lead to faster death for them.

Unlike the Green Sparrow Tribe and many others, the leader of the Grass Tribe was not a man but a woman. Her tall frame and robust physique didn’t make her look much different from the men. While the physical appearance wasn’t markedly different, there was a fundamental distinction—as the female leader, she possessed the meticulousness typically associated with women.

After dismissing the other tribe member’s hypothesis, the female leader of the Grass Tribe moved through the empty, echoing cave, searching carefully for any clues. The sudden disappearance of a neighboring tribe, regardless of the reason, was not a good omen for them. Understanding the cause was crucial for the Grass Tribe.

Hence, even though she didn’t get along with the leader of that neighboring tribe, the Grass Tribe’s leader would still conduct a thorough inspection.

After a thorough search, she finally made a discovery. She found a few broken sticks in a less noticeable corner of the cave. These sticks were smooth, some sharp at the ends, and used as weapons by some people from the neighboring tribe. Now, these weapons were broken, with some showing dark reddish-brown patches—dried blood scattered and dried upon them.

The neighboring tribe had faced something dire. They were likely attacked or driven out during the cold season.

Panic spread among the Grass Tribe members. Many who had not fully recovered from the harsh winter began to tremble again. The tribe members’ eyes all turned toward their leader, waiting for her decision. However, the Grass Tribe leader’s gaze remained fixed on the broken stick in her hand.

Her meticulous nature made her notice the stick’s difference. The smooth, even break on these sticks was not what she would expect from normal wear and tear. She remembered cutting small tree branches with the tribe’s stone axes. Those smooth, even cuts were unusual, signaling something was not right.

Understanding these unusual cuts made her feel uneasy. Even their strongest members, wielding the sharpest stone axes, could not sever such a thick stick with a single blow. This meant the attackers possessed exceptionally sharp weapons, easily slicing through wooden defenses.

After a moment of contemplation, the Grass Tribe leader suddenly spoke and led her people out of the cave in another direction. She held the broken weapon in her hand. She intended to warn nearby tribes about the presence of a powerful, evil tribe in the vicinity.