The Emperor of the Primordial Era

Chapter 6: Harvesting Bamboo Rice and Capturing Bamboo Rats

Uncle Di slapped the lookout child to the ground, scolding him for yelling. "Women and children in the middle, warriors on the outside!" Running was impossible; the distance from the bamboo forest to the nearby woods was only six or seven hundred meters. The beasts could catch up in ten seconds at most.

Wu Xiaoming, protected by the warriors, finally had a chance to see what kind of beasts they were. They were about 1.78 meters tall, with yellowish-orange bodies supported by four slender legs, a fat belly, a pointed snout, and a long tail ending in a club-like shape. The thunderous noise came from their tails hitting the ground. There were about four or five hundred of them. These were giant rats!

Fainting at the realization, Wu Xiaoming identified them as bamboo rats. They were guarding their food. No wonder there weren't any bamboo leaves or bamboo rice remnants; these rats had eaten everything. Seeing their food being taken, they had all rushed out.

Recalling a bamboo rat meal from his previous life, Wu Xiaoming remembered its delicious taste. He thought, “We can domesticate these creatures, but how?” Wooden enclosures wouldn't work; they could chew through anything, even bamboo stalks as thick as thighs. He sighed, “If only we had metal.”

Before Wu Xiaoming could devise a way to domesticate them, the rats had surrounded the group, squeaking as if accusing them of stealing their food. Uncle Di roared, and the warriors echoed him, their shouts deafening. To everyone's astonishment, the fierce bamboo rats turned and fled within ten seconds. The tribesmen, still in shock, stared at each other, dumbfounded.

Wu Xiaoming knew that rats, whether from his past or this ancient era, were inherently timid. "Alright, let's continue working. These creatures are scared; they won't come out again today," he assured the still-stunned Uncle Di. "You four, guard the women and children as they transport the bamboo rice back," Uncle Di ordered.

Wu Xiaoming, without further ado, tied four or five dozen bamboo stalks together with animal skins and began dragging them. The tribesmen followed his example, bundling bamboo and trailing behind Wu Xiaoming. Uncle Di and the warriors resumed their task of punching down bamboo.

After a day of hard work, they finally transported all the bamboo back to their home. Yes, home—a concept Wu Xiaoming had introduced.

During the harvest, bamboo rats frequently peeked at them like thieves. Wu Xiaoming devised a plan to domesticate these tasty creatures. By luring them with bamboo left along the way, the rats would follow the food to their home. Even in winter, they wouldn't lack bamboo rats to eat. Uncle Di approved of this idea.

Looking at the mountain of bamboo, Wu Xiaoming was elated. "Ren, how do we eat this stuff?" Uncle Di asked, staring at the pile of bamboo. "We can cook bamboo rice, make porridge, or roast it," Wu Xiaoming replied. He fondly remembered the sweet and fragrant porridge from his previous life.

Realizing they lacked cooking utensils, Wu Xiaoming considered human development history and decided to create stone tools. Stone pots would work. The first priority was to harvest and store the bamboo rice. "We'll make rice and porridge tomorrow after making the tools. Tonight, we'll have to roast the bamboo rice. First, let's store it."

The group worked into the night, finally harvesting and storing all the bamboo rice in two caves—about a million pounds in total.

Dinner consisted of roasted bamboo rice. The sweet aroma filled the air as they gathered around the fire, jumping and celebrating as if it were a festival.

Under the watery moonlight and fresh air, with the occasional distant beast's roar, a warm atmosphere enveloped them. For the first time, Wu Xiaoming felt that being transported to ancient times wasn't so bad. There were no complex social schemes, no worries about mortgages or car loans. The tribespeople treated him sincerely.

The next morning, Wu Xiaoming, seeing Chang’e with animal fur, sighed. “Let’s go. We have a lot to do after breakfast.” He called Dong and left the cave, with Chang’e obediently following, playfully sticking out her tongue, nearly making him blush.

After breakfast, Wu Xiaoming and Dong began making stone pots. Surprisingly, they finished five large stone pots, each capable of cooking fifty pounds of rice, within an hour, thanks to their immense strength. They also made thirty-five containers for rice, spoons, ladles, cups, and other necessities. The rice containers were simple; they cut bamboo the size of a dinner plate and split it with a stone knife, then had Dong smooth the edges with a stone. Cups were also easy, made from larger bamboo sections. Spoons and ladles were more challenging, taking Wu Xiaoming four hours to complete.

Originally planning to make spears for hunting, they had to stop as night fell and the warriors returned, all wounded but alive. Seeing the empty-handed warriors, the women and children were dejected, as were the warriors.

"Uncle Di, what happened?" Wu Xiaoming asked while clearing ashes from the fire pit. "Don’t ask. We encountered electric leopards and barely made it back," replied the most injured warrior, wincing. “Ah, be gentle. Does this ash help?” “Yes, it kills bacteria and disinfects,” Wu Xiaoming said, applying the ash to the deep wound. The tribesmen trusted him and followed suit, knowing the ash would help. At this time, Shennong had not yet tasted all the herbs, so none of them knew about medicinal plants. Wu Xiaoming wasn’t about to risk his life experimenting with herbs.

Uncle Di explained that electric leopards were ferocious predators that fed on electricity. During thunderstorms, they celebrated. Fast and deadly, they had invaded the leopards' territory while hunting. Despite the danger, they had been driven away without losing anyone, a miracle attributed to the goddess Nüwa’s protection.

“Goddess Nüwa? If gods existed, they’d have granted me divine rewards for my inventions,” Wu Xiaoming scoffed. This wasn’t the prehistoric era, just ancient times. It wasn’t until two years later that he realized he had indeed traveled to the prehistoric era, nearly driving him mad.

Food was scarce as winter approached, and everyone was worried. They could survive without food and water for a month, but no one wanted to starve. The bamboo rice could only last a month. The warriors’ injuries, though minor, meant they couldn’t hunt for a few days. Hunting was risky, and injuries increased the danger.

“Uncle Di, don’t worry. I’ll think of something tonight. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” “Even if you can’t come up with a solution, it’s okay. Ren, you’re not omnipotent. Even the Shennong tribe leader couldn’t solve everything,” Uncle Di reassured him. He didn’t understand what Ren meant by “where there’s a will, there’s a way,” but he got the gist.

Wu Xiaoming led the tribespeople in cooking bamboo rice. Uncle Di smiled, seeing how Ren had matured.

Large stone pots were set on stone platforms, roaring fires beneath them. Soon, the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of bamboo rice. After everyone had their fill, Wu Xiaoming organized another batch of rice to cook, knowing they all had huge appetites.

In the dim evening light, the tribespeople, burdened with worries about the future, ate quietly, the atmosphere heavy with sadness.

“Ren, these tools you made are so useful, and the bamboo rice is delicious,” Chang’e, sensing the somber mood, tried to lighten the atmosphere by chatting with Wu Xiaoming.

“These are stone pots. The ladle is for serving rice, and this is a spoon,” Wu Xiaoming explained, wanting to lift the spirits of the tribe.

“Uncle Di, I’ll make weapons tomorrow. With proper weapons, hunting will be easier, and we’ll stand a chance against fierce beasts.” “I know. Ren asked me for weapons the night the wolves attacked,” Chang’e eagerly chimed in.

“Ren, you should be our tribe leader. We might never find Shennong, and you’re the best suited to lead us. You’ve done so much for the tribe, and I’m only good for leading hunts,” Uncle Di said solemnly.

“This isn’t right. I’m not even an adult yet, and you’ve led the tribe well. We wouldn’t have survived without you,” Wu Xiaoming replied, having no intention of becoming a leader. His initial ambition of becoming an emperor or sage had faded when he realized this wasn’t the prehistoric era. Now, he just wanted a better life.

Ignoring Wu Xiaoming, Uncle Di asked the tribe loudly, “Do you agree that Ren should be our leader, to lead us away from hunger and cold?”

“Agree!” “Agree!” someone shouted, “Renhuang!” “Renhuang!”

And so, Wu Xiaoming unexpectedly became the tribe leader, “Renhuang,” of thirty-five people.