Becoming a Leader in a Primitive Otherworld - Chapter 9

The tribe members were exhausted by the journey, and Xie Yu didn’t stop them from relaxing.

The cool river water washed away their fatigue, replaced by excitement and exhilaration. After a period of playful splashing, some of the tribe members noticed the flat, even ground and asked, “Chief, when will we start building the houses?”

Xie Yu glanced at the sky. The sun was shining brightly, and she estimated there wouldn’t be any more rain.

Thatched huts were the most practical choice given their current productivity. She wasn’t aiming for anything extravagant—just something better than living in caves.

“Stop!” Xie Yu called out. “Divide into three groups.”

One group would gather vines, another would chop down trees and collect branches, and the third would dig holes.

The tribe only had six large stone axes, making tree-felling a laborious task.

Xie Yu demonstrated the desired thickness of the tree trunks. “About three wrist-widths,” she said. “These will be perfect for the walls. Remember, no softwood—we need hardwood.”

As the name suggested, softwood was a type of soft, pliable wood found in the area. If used for the walls, the structures would collapse before the wind even picked up.

Although there was a small grove nearby, Xie Yu decided to send the wood-gathering party to the northern forest. The grove’s resources could be reserved for emergencies rather than depleting them all at once.

Li, the strongest among them, gripped a machete and led the others into the forest.

Suddenly, Xie Yu had a thought. She realized she was always assigning tasks to her people, treating them like passive machines. Once this crisis passed, she would need to encourage them to discover their own strengths.

In another group gathering vines, Yun Nai joined them. The vines would be used to bind timber together, and the tribe members were already familiar with the properties of common vine species.

Yun Nai was searching for a specific thorny grass she remembered. When burned, this grass emitted a scent that repelled animals, making it effective for warding off beasts when tossed into the campfire at night.

As the Priest chosen by the Totem, she had already absorbed and digested Luo’s entire legacy during their journey.

The ability Yun Nai gained was an extensive knowledge of plants and their properties, though not all of them. Some still required her own exploration.

The vine-gathering team consisted mostly of weaker tribe members, accompanied by several skilled warriors who would assist with the work and ensure the group’s safety.

“Priest, we want to help too!” A group of cubs nudged and shoved each other, awkwardly approaching Yun Nai.

Xie Yu wasn’t known for her leniency.

The cubs only dared to tease her about certain things, figuring she’d be more likely to agree to this. Unlike the adults, they didn’t fear the Priest; their feelings were more akin to the childlike affection they felt for Luo.

They just wanted to tag along and play.

An elder standing behind Yun Nai glared at the lead girl, puffing out his beard. “Lin, you little rascals are always running off!”

“You can help dig the pits and play in the mud,” Xie Yu said, frowning. If these little ones got restless and started running around, they’d only cause trouble for Yun Nai.

Lin deflated instantly. Before the Priest could even agree, the Chief had already shut them down.

Yun Nai followed Xie Yu’s lead. “Our little warriors should stay here and dig the pits. We need you more here.”

Her words electrified the five cubs. They nodded eagerly, their faces beaming.

The Priest had called them “little warriors.”

It was the first time they’d ever been addressed that way.

Without shovels, digging a pit was a difficult task.

Xie Yu’s mind raced. She instructed the others to cut down a dozen long, cylindrical logs, split notches at the bottom to hold stone slabs, and secure them with resilient vines.

Armed with these makeshift shovels, the group began excavating a rectangular pit at the chosen site: about thirty meters northeast of the small grove and twenty meters west of the river.

The pit measured nine meters long and seven meters wide—sufficient for the thirty people currently resting there. Any larger, and it would encroach on space reserved for future structures.

The tribespeople marveled at how quickly the shovels dug through the earth, especially the cubs, for whom Xie Yu had crafted smaller, child-sized versions. They were now digging with gusto.

“That’s right, dig faster!” Xie Yu encouraged, her gaze sweeping over the five cubs.

The cubs varied in age. Lin, at six years old, stood just over 1.2 meters tall. While this would be considered above average in Xie Yu’s former world, it was still short by local standards.

Cubs from other tribes of similar age typically ranged from 1.3 to 1.4 meters tall.

Xie Yu sighed inwardly. No one should go hungry, especially not the cubs. And we can’t skimp on education, no matter how poor we are.

Although the ten wolves and deer meat had improved their meals, and their hides had been stripped for warmth, offering a slight improvement, the overall situation remained dire: utterly, utterly, utterly impoverished.

Once the Tribe had the means, perhaps they could send the children to school. But for now, there seemed to be no written language. The Tribe members saw each other daily, rarely needing written communication beyond occasional counting.

A truly long and arduous road lies ahead.

Digging the pit was quick work. After completing the large pit, Xie Yu led the group to dig a medium-sized pit about ten meters south of the first.

Xie Yu watched the Tribe members felling trees at the forest’s edge. “Let’s go help,” she said.

For timber, Xie Yu planned to gather a large supply at once. After building the communal thatched hut, they would need materials for individual dwellings.

They transported the logs using the simplest method: rolling them across the ground.

While some felled trees, others rolled the logs. Soon, a pile of round logs was stacked beside the pit.

White clouds drifted across the golden-tinged plain, carried by a gentle spring breeze that rustled through the leaves.

Three groups were busy at work.

Meanwhile, Yun Nai’s team of ten had entered the thickets and grasslands. After assigning quotas to the others, she ventured deeper into the vegetation, separating from the group.

Moments later, Yun Nai returned with a bundle of thorn grass, catching sight of a man acting suspiciously. He was surrounded by a pile of vines, and his eyes darted away when he saw her.

Closest to him stood a gaunt woman, her back to Yun Nai, her hands empty.

The others continued their tasks, seemingly oblivious to the scene.

Yun Nai glared down at the man. “Put it back.”

The man chuckled ingratiatingly and pushed the vines toward the gaunt woman.

Yun Nai frowned at the sight. It was clear that her tribespeople weren’t as simple and honest as she’d believed.

Soon after, Yun Nai led her group back toward their camp.

Some carried thorn grass in their arms. Xie Yu hurried forward and thoughtfully took the bundle from Yun Nai’s hands.

Yun Nai released her grip.

Xie Yu noticed two or three shallow cuts on Yun Nai’s hand, the beads of bl00d already smeared across her skin.

The thorn grass, with its sharp spines, was clearly the culprit.

She sensed an uneasy atmosphere within the group, but knew this wasn’t the time for questions.

“What’s this kind for?” Xie Yu asked Yun Nai, pointing to the cotton-like leaves another member carried.

“We can use it to fill gaps between wooden planks.”

Xie Yu’s golden eyes lit up. “Priest, you’re so meticulous!”

“Split this log,” Xie Yu said, tapping several tree trunks. She planned to carve them into a pile of wooden pegs.

The thatched hut would be built using mortise-and-tenon joinery, and the wooden pegs would reinforce the structure’s stability.

Mortise-and-tenon joinery involves carving interlocking grooves and protrusions into the wood, allowing pieces to fit together to form a framework.

The hut’s overall shape was a simple rectangular box, while the roof was designed as a triangular prism to prevent water accumulation.

Yun Nai instructed the others to drive the trimmed logs firmly into the ground along the pit’s edge. The rest of the group then tightly bound the row of logs together using vines they had gathered.

Working tirelessly, they completed the thatched hut—large enough to accommodate over thirty people—in just half a day.

The hut’s walls consisted of two layers: vertical logs on the inner layer and horizontal logs on the outer layer. The gaps between the logs were filled with the cotton leaves they had collected earlier, packed tightly with clay.

The roof was covered with bundles of reeds and a thatch-like plant. First, a layer of sticky mud was applied, then the mud-coated thatch was left to dry in the sun before being laid across the roof.

To further reduce the risk of leaks, the roof was reinforced with tree bark and large lotus leaves.

By the time most of the day had passed, two thatched huts stood on the ground. The roof of the third hut was also constructed in a triangular shape.

Xie Yu glanced at her people. The process had taken a considerable amount of time, and she had noticed several individuals who showed particularly strong reactions during the construction.

“This is a house,” Ke Xian said, stepping inside to feel the difference. It was far more comfortable than the cave. The cave was dry and cold, and became damp during rain, but the hut was different.

The cubs ran in and out, while the others beamed with delight.

The ground remained unfloored. Laying a proper floor was still too ambitious; smoothing wooden planks would require far more effort.

Xie Yu pondered for a moment. She wanted to be able to light a fire indoors, even though winter had passed. Even without a hearth, the hut wouldn’t be freezing.

A wooden door was carved for the hut, but without hinges, it could only be temporarily secured by wedging it shut. Those inside could close the door by pushing a long pole against it from behind.

Immediately afterward, they hammered together two single beds for Xie Yu and Yun Nai.

The four corners of the wooden beds were supported by round logs. Xie Yu pressed down on one, finding it stable and free of creaking.

She considered pushing the beds together to form a double bed, but they could also separate them during the hot summer months. Yun Nai had no objections to this arrangement.

After this period of construction, several people had shown a natural aptitude for woodworking and become familiar with the bed-building process.

Xie Yu instructed them to teach the remaining villagers how to make simple wooden beds. Later, when everyone had their own thatched huts, they could simply move the beds inside.

Outside, the air buzzed with lively chatter and the sounds of cheerful labor.

Xie Yu frowned. She still had something to ask.

“What happened?” she asked as she entered the room. Her gaze fell on Yun Nai’s snow-white neck, a stark contrast to the dark hair draped over her shoulder.

Xie Yu moved closer and naturally applied a thin layer of medicinal mud to the cuts. The cool paste seeped into her fingertips as she covered the wounds.

“I was just about to tell you,” Yun Nai said, her eyes following Xie Yu’s slender fingers. “Some people are being lazy and malicious. They need to be dealt with.”