Chapter 065: The Middleman

It wasn't long before Shu Da returned with the hunting party, stepping into the tent with a grim expression and a bundle of strange objects in his hands.

"Shaman, look," he said, frowning as he laid a string of necklaces before Shu Wu. "The Han tribe was telling the truth after all."

Shu Wu picked up one of the necklaces, examining it closely. His face darkened. "These are made from human bones. Where did you find them?"

"In the Dark Forest, just north of our tribe," Shu Da replied. "We first discovered the remains of the Tree Tribe's settlement—it had been burned to the ground. Then we continued eastward and found numerous frozen corpses scattered through the forest. Their faces were painted with horrifying markings, and every one of them was an adult male. These bone necklaces were taken from their bodies."

Shu Wu listened intently as Shu Da recounted their findings, nodding along. "Everything matches up. It seems their warnings were true. We are in real danger."

A heavy silence fell between them, neither knowing what to do next.

After a long pause, Shu Wu turned to Shu Da. "If those cannibals really attack us, do you think we can hold them off? I've had our people reinforce the walls over the past two days."

Shu Da glanced at the crude fence outside their tent. It was clear he had little faith in its effectiveness. Never mind a horde of cannibals—even a child could easily climb over those flimsy stakes.

Seeing Shu Da's doubtful expression, Shu Wu pressed on. "What if we replace the walls entirely with those wooden barricades?"

"They could still climb over," Shu Da responded bluntly.

"Then why don't we build walls like the Han tribe? Even if we can't make blue bricks, we should at least be able to make mud bricks. We have enough people," Shu Wu insisted.

"We don't have those glowing golden shovels," Shu Da countered. "Digging is slow. If they can build a wall with a hundred people, we'd need a thousand to do the same. And if everyone's busy building walls, what will we eat? Besides, even if we manage to build a mud-brick wall, those cannibals have those massive beasts with long trunks—one charge and the wall will crumble."

Shu Wu nearly spat out blood in frustration. Kid, do your family members know you're this good at crushing hope?

He exhaled deeply, nodding with resignation. He knew Shu Da was right. "We'll reinforce what we can. Set up more barricades. Post extra guards. Have the women and children make more weapons—even if it's just gathering stones. If the day comes when we can't hold out… we'll figure something out then. If only we had more people."

Shu Da hesitated for a moment, then suddenly turned back. "Shaman, I have an idea. We could have more people."

Shu Wu's eyes lit up. "Oh? Tell me."

"Remember the Chestnut Tribe to our south? The one that lives near the chestnut grove? They need pottery just as much as we do. What if we trade them our pottery for their people?"

Shu Wu raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"The Han tribe trades with us at a fixed rate—one clay pot for two young boys or one adult woman, one clay bowl for a single boy. But what if we doubled that? We could offer the Chestnut Tribe one clay pot for two women or four boys. Then, we take the people we get from them and trade them to the Han tribe at their rates. We keep the surplus for ourselves. That way, our population grows, and we gain even more pottery in the process." Shu Da's voice trembled with excitement.

Shu Wu's eyes widened in admiration. So trade could work like this? He chuckled. "You're quite the talent, aren't you?"

Even across the river on the western shore, Ro Chong would never have guessed that he had inadvertently inspired the birth of the first-ever middleman in primitive society—an opportunist profiting off trade margins.

Well, damn. This is something.

"Yes, this could work," Shu Wu agreed. "Gather a team and head to the Chestnut Tribe. Use the pottery we've already traded for—start with five pots. We need to move fast. Winter is just over a month away, and once the river thaws, we won't be able to cross to the Han tribe anymore."

"Understood. I'll leave immediately," Shu Da replied, rushing out to make preparations.

Meanwhile, at the Han tribe, Ro Chong was preoccupied with a different concern—how to deal with the lingering threat of the wolf pack.

The wolves continued to lurk in the forest, refusing to show themselves. Their presence remained an unresolved danger.

During the last battle, the Han tribe had the advantage of fortified walls. The wolves had been unable to breach them. Even when part of the barricade collapsed, Ro Chong's spear formations had been able to hold the line. In any conflict, the defender had the upper hand. The previous battle had proved this—despite their numbers, the wolves had failed to break through.

Now, aware that they were at a disadvantage, the wolves were lying in wait. They could be planning something.

But this stalemate couldn't last forever. The Han tribe's salt reserves were nearly exhausted, with just enough left to sustain 200 people for a month. After that, there was no choice—they would have to venture into the Xie Ding tribe's cave to mine salt. And that meant a direct confrontation with the wolves was inevitable.

Ro Chong weighed his options. A head-on fight wasn't viable. Fifty adult warriors weren't enough to face a hundred wolves in open terrain—it would be a massacre.

There has to be another way…

"Pia! Pia! Stop struggling! Stay still!"

Near the livestock pen, Lamefoot and Strongarm were securing nose rings onto the wild cattle. They threaded the copper rings through the bulls' nostrils, twisting the ends into loops. The result looked suspiciously like… the Golden Hoop Curse.

The bulls, naturally, were not happy. As they struggled, Xiao Qu Bing snapped a vine switch across their backs, acting tough while the real work was being done by the others.

Ro Chong's eyes suddenly gleamed.

"Of course! That's it—punishment!"

Laughing, he ran toward the cave. Nearby, Grey Mountain and Rou Rou, who had been grazing peacefully, gave him a confused look. There he goes again… our master has lost his mind…

"Shaman! Shaman!" Ro Chong burst into the cave. "Do we still have those thorny vines we use for punishments? I need a lot of them."

The elder blinked in confusion. "The thorn vines? Yes, there are plenty. They grow right outside the cave entrance. But why—"

"Got it!"

Without another word, Ro Chong dashed outside to harvest the vines.

These vines were thick, about as wide as a finger, and covered in sharp thorns. They were perfect for what he had in mind.

Using an axe, he cut them into finger-length segments. Then, he soaked them in cold water, freezing them into solid blocks. Once the ice encased the thorns, he coated the frozen lumps in a thick layer of pig fat.

The plan was simple—once swallowed by a wolf, the ice would melt inside its stomach, releasing the barbed thorns. Even if they didn't pierce the stomach lining completely, they would tear up the intestines, causing internal bleeding. The wolves would die in agony.

And best of all? The tribe would get intact wolf pelts for free.

Hia hia hia hia hia… Ro Chong chuckled to himself.

—