The sun sank low in the western sky, spilling molten gold across the dense canopy. Under Chen Xu's guidance, the hunting party—nearly doubled in size—moved silently, burdened with the day's plentiful catch, retracing their steps toward home.
Perhaps intimidated by the earlier presence of the tyrant saber-toothed tigers, the jungle now lay in a profound silence. The fully sated apex predators peered cautiously from their lairs, sensing the residual trace of the tigers' fearsome aura.
Upon detecting the faint remnant of the tyrants' essence, the beasts emitted low, quivering growls of terror and retreated into the shadowed depths of their nests. They dared not stir, biding patiently for the last echoes of that aura to dissipate.
At least, until the sovereign presence of the saber-toothed tigers faded entirely, the forest was a domain without daring intruders.
This, of course, did not apply to the intelligent apes under Chen Xu's command. Though the tigers' lingering aura made even them shiver, they pressed on with quiet determination, guided by the formidable Fire God. In their company, what might have been a treacherous return journey became almost harmless.
The forest was still. Not a bird called. Not a rustle whispered. Chen Xu, glancing at the dimming canopy, felt for a fleeting moment as though he had returned to the green, cultivated forests of his former life, rather than wandering the unbridled primeval wilderness.
But the soft, rotting leaves beneath his feet, the fur-clad companions flanking him, all reminded him that he was far from that world—a million years, perhaps, from anything resembling human civilization. He might well become a fossil before the dawn of another age.
Drawing a deep breath, Chen Xu assessed their situation. The apparent safety provided by the tigers' residual dominance was temporary at best. Shadows deepened, and the subtle scent of predators stirred in the cooling air. He knew that hesitation could be fatal once night fully descended.
With a silent command, the hunting party abandoned caution. They surged through the jungle, reckless but purposeful, cutting straight toward the mountain. Several times, they passed directly through the lairs of fearsome beasts—had the saber-toothed aura not lingered, they might have perished tenfold over.
Finally, the party reached familiar terrain, the small mountain rising ahead. They climbed swiftly, and by the time they crested the summit, the sun had slipped entirely beneath the horizon. The twilight had vanished, and a full moon, swaddled in thick clouds, hung hazily in the sky. Night had arrived.
A sudden gust swept through the cliffs, dispersing the last traces of the saber-toothed aura. The jungle's lords stirred, venturing out to patrol their territories, undeterred by human or ape. Life had shifted back into its natural rhythm—feral, wild, and entirely indifferent to Chen Xu or his companions.
"Damn it," Chen Xu muttered, relieved, "if not for borrowing the tiger's majesty, we might have been trapped here overnight. Surviving that… who knows if we'd see the sun again."
He seized the rope he had braided, leapt from the cliff, and quickly descended into the mountain cave. One by one, the newly allied apes followed, hauling their spoils, clinging to the thick rope.
Inside, the fire Chen Xu had rekindled flickered warmly. A trickle of water in a corner added life to the cavern. The apes' eyes widened in astonishment, their low, thrilled cries echoing through the stone walls.
"Looks like their living conditions are worse than ours," Chen Xu noted quietly. He instructed ten of the newcomers to stoke the fire, raising the flames. Once the rest had carried the prey inside, the feast began.
The weaker apes organized the food, but the newly integrated warriors joined in roasting meat as well. Apes One through Four, meanwhile, rested quietly on nearby stones, bamboo spears in hand, recovering from the day's exertion.
While memories of his prior life were still vivid, Chen Xu set about creating a map. He retrieved the deerhide pouch that had carried the bird eggs, setting aside the remaining ten eggs. The pouch was then placed by the fire, its contents lightly roasted.
Soon, the tendons and blood hardened into a tough, flat layer. It was still messy, yet far more workable than raw flesh. Chen Xu probed it with his fingers, satisfied with its resilience. He beckoned the ape leader, who nervously handed over a piece of glowing wood. The fire at its tip crackled faintly with a sweet aroma.
Chen Xu extinguished the flame against the rock, bringing the charred wood into contact with the deerhide. With memory as his guide, he began sketching. Slowly, lines darkened the hide: the small mountain they now stood upon, the riverbeds where they had hunted, and the territories of every nearby predator were marked with care.
When the last detail was etched, Chen Xu tossed aside the partially burned wood, examining the map in the firelight. A faint smile mixed with exasperation crossed his face. Not much to look at… It seems, whether in this life or the last, drawing was never my talent.
Yet, practicality trumped aesthetics. This map contained everything he knew of the terrain—a first in history, as far as he was concerned. Who could imagine, in some distant age, the value it might hold?
The surrounding apes were awestruck. To them, Chen Xu's wild gesticulations in front of the fire seemed like communication with the flames themselves. Reverence surged. They knelt, bowed, and uttered sounds of praise to the Fire God, including Apes One through Four, who rolled off the stones to join in.
Chen Xu blinked, overwhelmed. Am I… a shaman now?
Suppressing a laugh, he ordered the apes back to their task, carefully stowing the hide map in a safe corner of the cave.
He then found a thin stone, placed it by the fire, and heated it. Once the stone's surface was ready, he cracked the eggs onto it. The aroma of frying eggs filled the cave, and as he lifted the half-cooked eggs onto a makeshift platter, his stomach growled, a flush of joy warming him to the core.
Eggs… I never thought I'd taste fried eggs again.
He flipped the eggs with practiced ease, the apes' wide-eyed curiosity and envy evident. Chen Xu ate quickly, savoring the familiar texture and flavor, a rare happiness flooding him. When the eggs were gone, he patted his belly, signaling the apes to continue cooking. He seated himself upon his usual stone, contemplative.
The golden crystals around his neck drew his attention. One by one, he removed the two he had collected.
Crystal fusion… Let's see if it works.
Bringing the two shards together, he held them firmly, eyes fixed intently. Slowly, almost as if made of pliable gum, the two impossibly hard crystals began to merge before him, shrinking together with an almost imperceptible, deliberate movement.