I am a Primitive Man Chapter 3: Catch a monster for dinner.

"Hoo."

"Hoo."

After making sure that Big Senior Brother and the rest had really gone away, thus escaping the destiny of turning into food for primitive folks, Han Cheng let out heavy breaths, sensing how wonderful the world truly was.

Yet, this pleasant feeling didn't endure. As the sun dipped below the horizon and light dimmed, Han Cheng, stuck as a tree, spotted a grave issue.

He felt famished.

Indeed, starving.

The sort where his stomach rumbled fiercely.

But utter helplessness and despair washed over him since movement remained impossible.

When young, he'd seen TV shows and found Master Thief Bai Zhantang's Sunflower Acupoint Sealing Technique super impressive. That scene with Li Dazui struck by the point, waving two tiny red flags and acting like a statue by the entrance, left Han Cheng chuckling and a bit jealous.

Who'd have thought he'd now feel exactly that way.

Curse it. He shouldn't have gotten so nosy and touched that rugged mural.

After pondering endlessly, Han Cheng pieced together a reasonable reason for his time travel.

The blame lay with the rough mural on the rock wall.

During his desert trek, he stumbled on a barren hill bearing simple, crude etchings from ancient hands on its surface.

Later, believing he'd uncovered something amazing, Han Cheng bent close, pressed his palms to the artwork for a better look, and wound up in this place.

Darn it. If it dragged him over, why not include his backpack too?

Inside were still five or six spuds, seven or eight hard-boiled eggs, plus a bunch of compressed biscuits and instant noodle packs.

"Gurgle, gurgle."

For the eighteenth attempt, Han Cheng tried diverting his focus from the gnawing hunger, but once more, it didn't work.

He noticed that whatever crossed his mind, it always circled back to eating.

Even the roasted aroma rising from his own form made his mouth water.

Were he able to shift now, Han Cheng would've nibbled on his arm just to ease the pangs.

"Hiss."

"Howl."

Far-off, resonant cries resounded through the gloom, evoking a timeless wildness.

A slight doze fled from Han Cheng as he trembled. His foggy mind sharpened instantly, pushing aside thoughts of meals.

Only then did a dire realization hit him.

This was the primitive age.

In those ancient days, savage creatures roamed freely. The humans who'd later rule the earth fought desperately to survive in hiding spots, evolving through hardship against all odds.

Nights in the primitive world were bound to be perilous.

For him especially, with the constant scent of cooked meat drifting, he resembled a tempting roast, luring any hungry prowlers.

The primitive night served as a hunting ground for beasts.

In the quiet darkness, roars near and far chilled Han Cheng to the bone.

Particularly when rustling stirred in the nearby trees and, under the moon's glow, he glimpsed several glowing eyes not too distant in the forest, his pulse raced wildly.

He'd faced wolves in the wilderness after dark before. He recognized those lights as animal gazes.

From the eyes' scale, the lurking forms nearby dwarfed ordinary wolves in size.

Bitter regret filled Han Cheng as his heart thumped like thunder.

Blast it, he'd just dodged the primitives and now risked ending up as ancient monster waste. What had he done to deserve this?

Truly, fortune played a huge role in life. While others who crossed boasted grand tales, he, another traveler, suffered the worst breaks.

Maybe he forgot to check the calendar before leaping eras?

With his heart nearly bursting from his chest, Han Cheng vented inwardly.

He pondered if these olden predators deemed him, a stranger, unappetizing, or if his scorched-meat blend repelled these mighty ancients' palates.

Hidden from view in the encircling woods, these enigmatic creatures hovered near Han Cheng. Following some soft growls, they withdrew without feasting on him.

Having sidestepped a mauling, Han Cheng felt utterly drained.

This marked just his debut day in this primal realm, packed with close calls already. Endless horrors likely loomed ahead.

With such thoughts, Han Cheng inwardly sighed, admitting he'd overthought it.

In his fixed pose, even without serving as supper, he'd barely survive past three days.

Rooted like a trunk, Han Cheng eyed the moon-drenched forest, wrapped in immense solitude. A hint of resignation tugged at his lips.

"Sasha, sasha."

Fresh noises rustled in the nearby trees. After countless such disturbances, Han Cheng, grown numb, didn't even glance over.

Since that feather-brained creature swooped from nowhere, perched on his crown for ages, and departed by dumping a foul bird dropping right on his schnoz, hope had vanished.

Better a swift end than this humiliating torment leading to a drawn-out demise.

The noise drew closer, heading straight his way.

At last, a bold creature stepped into the soot ring to claim him.

Far from scared, Han Cheng welcomed it, yearning for the beast to end him quickly.

Meanwhile, he guessed where it might strike first.

Ideally at his throat, sparing him extra agony.

"Pa, pa."

"Pa, pa, pa."

Odd taps paired with a weird tingle rose from the burnt crust over his features.

Expecting oblivion, Han Cheng flared with rage. Blast it, this was too much, utter insolence!

Eat or leave, but don't toy with me by smacking my face first, you fiend!

Infuriated, he snapped his eyes open to identify this insolent critter.

But what met his gaze shattered all assumptions.

No prehistoric monster stood there, but rather an elderly primitive with snowy locks and a face etched by time.

Caught off guard by Han Cheng's abrupt stare, the elder froze mid-swat, arm hovering.

Surprise flickered in his hazy eyes, swiftly turning to profound bewilderment.

The elder's lifted palm hung there briefly. Then, despite Han Cheng's glare of fury, it lowered once more to his cheek.

Not to strike, but to gently stroke.

He traced Han Cheng's lips, nostrils, and various spots.

Han Cheng's anger boiled hotter, not merely from the groping, but because the geezer spread the nasal bird muck across half his visage.

He shot the elder a fierce, protesting look.

By now, hiding meant nothing; exposure be damned.

Yet the elder pressed on undeterred by the ire, growing keener. After fondling the face, he stooped to probe lower.

As the elder knelt, Han Cheng at last beheld the rest.

Trailing the elder were more primitives.

Spotting the alluring tiger-pelt skirt, the drool-slicked chap eyeing him, the portly one ogling intently, and the bone strand adorning a swarthy visage—weren't these his departed senior brothers from yesterday?

So their exit had been feigned. True aim was fetching their elder back.

Though this elder proved oddly hands-on, inspecting Han Cheng from top to bottom right away.

After all, Han Cheng was male!

Inwardly, Han Cheng groaned. Despite the sooty sheath cloaking him, save a few head zones, everything else lay exposed. Though sensation eluded him, witnessing the elder's ongoing prods sent shivers through.

Luckily, the elder's exam wrapped up soon. Rising, he uttered words to the seniors that baffled Han Cheng.

Clearly, this elder commanded deep respect among them, even from the chief senior brother, whose gaze brimmed with awe.

They jabbered, motioned, and Han Cheng grasped zilch. But eyeing his second senior brother's escalating drool while staring, Han Cheng sensed dire intent.

Were they, like Journey to the West demons, debating an oil-fry for him?

The talk ended promptly. The elder then scanned the heavens, the ash perimeter, and nearby beast tracks. Abruptly, he clasped hands forward and performed an eerie motion toward Han Cheng, murmuring faintly.

From their ongoing talk and signs, Han Cheng caught hints they were recounting his tale to the elder.

But the elder's ritualistic pose and mutterings baffled him.

Did they view him as an abomination, set for divine offering?

What mattered now? Apathy ruled him. He'd watch this master-disciple crew's scheme unfold.

Han Cheng embodied "a dead pig unphased by hot oil." The elder ceased chanting, jabbed a finger his way, and the stick-wielding seniors closed in.