I am a Primitive Man Chapter 937: Look, the Divine Child is Snacking During Class Again!

“Splash~ splash~…”

Over the last few days, Han Cheng along with a handful of helpers who had been assisting with the seedlings, used dippers to ladle water from a jar, gently pouring it onto the flourishing young sprouts.

Maybe due to some inborn farming urge flowing in his veins, Han Cheng—who had barely touched agriculture in his modern days—discovered a surprising pleasure in working with the earth.

Observing how seeds germinated from his efforts, developed into delicate greens, and finally produced yields brought him an overwhelming, boundless delight.

Naturally, there was a key prerequisite: large-scale farming had to be off-limits for him.

When it escalated to widespread cultivation, the fun vanished entirely, morphing into sheer agony.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon in the west, the air started cooling with its descent.

Having finished irrigating the shoots, Han Cheng and his companions gathered the nearby straw coverings and neatly spread them across the greenery.

The underlying wooden arches ensured the coverings avoided pressing down on the delicate plants.

This technique helped shield the seedlings from the chill.

In an ideal setup, sealing them under waterproof plastic films would work wonders, yet the tribe had no access to such advanced stuff, forcing them to improvise with available resources.

Although not as efficient as plastic, these mats offered some protection over leaving the plants exposed.

With this chore wrapped up, darkness began to settle in. Wisps of smoke curled up from Jin’guan City, merging into the twilight—early-returning women from the fields were firing up their cooking spots.

Meanwhile, laborers finishing up in far-off patches shouldered their implements and headed back to the settlement.

During their trek home, light conversations flowed among them, cherishing those brief, tranquil interludes.

From his upright stance, Han Cheng surveyed the surroundings, sensing that the scene unfolding could easily become a vivid painting…

That night, within a chamber in Jin’guan City, flames danced while a group of kids encircled them.

Clutching their study books, the youngsters relied on the flickering glow to track Han Cheng—the Divine Child and head of the school—as he guided them attentively through the lessons.

Following multiple teaching cycles, Han Cheng kindled a smaller blaze nearer the room’s heart. The kids settled back at their spots to chant the readings. Those mastering a full section smoothly shifted to writing practice or committed the passage to heart by repeating it.

In the meantime, Han Cheng savored a scarce break.

He retrieved an aged earthen vessel, positioned it above the hearth, and drew two clusters of soybeans from his pouch, letting them toast gradually in the heat.

Soon enough, the savory scent of the grilling beans wafted throughout the space.

The chorus of recitations grew hushed as certain children caught the fragrance and stole glances at Han Cheng, who concentrated on tending the roasting soybeans.

A few even gulped down their eagerness.

Han Cheng paid no mind, absorbed in the task of toasting.

The voices dipped for a moment before surging back, more intense than earlier.

During this buzz, Han Cheng completed the soybeans’ roast.

With a pair of twigs, he removed the vessel from the flames and placed it aside to temper.

When cooled, he grabbed one bean, slipped it past his lips, and crunched into it, unleashing a deep, nutty essence.

Sharing it with a modest cup of brew, alternating sips and bites, would elevate the experience further.

In his school memories, educators constantly stopped pupils from munching during sessions.

Now serving as the instructor, while his pupils abstained from snacks in class, he relished his treat right there.

As they watched Han Cheng leisurely savor the toasted beans, the children recited with fresh enthusiasm. A couple set their books on the clay tables and launched into memorized chants.

When Han Cheng hit his twenty-third bean, one kid neared him, book in hand, murmuring the lines as he approached.

Han Cheng accepted the volume, and the boy proceeded with a clear recitation.

Upon completion, Han Cheng gave an affirming nod, inscribed a red “Recited” on the page, and doled out twenty roasted beans from the pot.

The boy tucked the book under his arm, cradled the beans securely, and dashed to his place, thrilled, as he bit into a bean with a delightful snap—like tasting an enchanted delicacy.

Numerous children gulped enviously, and the room’s chanting swelled to greater heights.

Yet another kid, who had laid his book aside, now lifted it to perform his recitation for the beans.

A short time later, he came back beaming, gripping nineteen beans.

This display ignited even more drive in the others.

They recalled that delaying the recitation meant fewer beans—down to just one for the final taker.

Given the spring sowing demands and the tribe’s hectic schedule, Han Cheng wisely shifted lessons to the evenings.

For this round, he intended to retain some folks, picking those mostly paired with their partners.

So, after exhaustive daytime labors, the grown-ups could unwind fully come nightfall.

Han Cheng, though, found idleness tough. Far from a sly elder seeking early slumber, and with kids too young for games, he filled the hours by conducting classes.

This setup addressed several issues seamlessly.

Besides, gathering by the fire under the stars for teaching carried a unique, captivating allure.

If only devouring too many roasted soybeans didn’t lead to bloating, it would all be flawless…

“@#4￥4…”

The stooped ancient uttered a joyful cry, and his companions mirrored it eagerly, resembling an endless loop in a contemporary messaging thread.

Naturally, their spirits soared. Following an arduous trek, they had reentered the region famed for superior ceramics and pure salt.

Envisioning the captivating visions the veteran Shaman had painted prior to departure, and mulling over the bounty secured from the Red Tiger Tribe via these treasures, the party brimmed with anticipation—they yearned to swiftly locate a group crafting such goods for exchange.

This burst of zeal let them traverse the route in two days flat, shaving off the typical third.

After their exuberant calls faded, the invigorated Nesting Tribe, under the stooped one’s lead, ventured forth to barter and explore in tandem…

Humming bees danced between blooms, dispersing a sugary aroma.

Gentle rays pierced the foliage, casting spotted shades below.

The stooped ancient halted, fatigued, gazing heavenward.

His fellow primitives nearby appeared deflated too, their initial thrill long ebbed.

Much of the ceramics and salt on their backs had swapped for provisions and pelts.

Still, despite the extended search, no makers of such refined pottery and pristine salt had surfaced.

“@#￥TY…”

Having soaked in the sun’s rays to soothe his tired spirit, the stooped ancient dropped his gaze and voiced an order.

Under his directive, the paused band pressed onward to a close settlement…

“@￥SDD…”

Concurrently, the elder woman primitive bellowed sharply and signaled to the settlement chief trailing them.

In stark contrast to the stooped crew, the females under the elder woman’s command buzzed with vitality and glee, exuding boundless pep.

Eyeing the provisions and hides slung over their frames, their curved gazes sparkled with mirth, hearts lifted high.

Directed by a few bearing markers and staffs, they threaded toward an unfamiliar group.

Earlier, sans the hooks from the enigmatic Green Sparrow Tribe, their hauls stayed meager. Now, with hooks enabling heavier loads, they reached far more settlements per outing.

The following afternoon, the Nesting Tribe contingent, spearheaded by the stooped ancient, reached that very settlement.

The settlement chief, fresh from a hunt, breathed easy upon spotting the stooped ancient and their ceramic cargo.

Fortune smiled; they had lately met a group offering finer pottery and salt. Had this band arrived sooner, scarce provisions would have barred acquiring the premium wares…

“@#34￥4?!”

Through fragmented exchanges hard to fully grasp, the stooped ancient gleaned from this chief the path the sought-after group had taken post-departure. Thrilled, he sprang to his feet.

“@#4ED…”

Steadying his pulse, he pressed the chief rapidly on the whereabouts of those with the exquisite pottery.

After a labored dialogue, the chief grasped the stooped ancient’s query.

He extended his arm, poised to indicate the elder woman’s route.

Yet, as if struck by a thought, he paused, retracting his gesture.

“@￥W#4…”

He declared, gesturing at the provisions the stooped ancient bore, and hastily fetched the bowl awarded to the elder woman for guidance, raising it to the visitors.

The intent shone through: matching provisions were due to unveil the women’s direction.

This ploy, once more, stemmed indirectly from Han Cheng via the elder woman.

Grasping the chief’s aim, the stooped ancient paused in surprise.

He viewed this chief as welcoming before—why the abrupt cunning?

Puzzlement notwithstanding, this marked their nearest shot at the elusive tribe—they dared not forfeit it.

Decisively, the stooped ancient accepted the chief’s stipulation.

He instructed a tribesman to unpack their bundles, align as many as ten digits from both hands, hold steady, and fan out fingers.

Then, before the chief, they portioned provisions into the elegant bowl—reaching one hundred fillings—before ceasing.

At that point, every scrap from their dual packs transferred to this settlement.

This barter style had arisen from a prior chief during an earlier swap for choice pottery and salt.

Beholding the heap of sustenance plus the bowl gripped tight, the settlement chief abruptly reeled, head spinning…