My classmates chose martial arts and fantasy, but I chose the prehistoric world.

When Meng Chuan woke up, he first smelled a strong stench of blood, herbs, and burning animal fat mixed together.

He was lying on a thick, untanned animal hide, its rough hair pricking his skin.

He opened his eyes and saw a dome made of thick logs and huge stones, with a few rays of sunlight shining through the gaps, illuminating the dust floating in the air.

This is an extremely spacious stone and wood hall, with extremely simple furnishings.

Aside from the huge stone bed covered with animal hides beneath him, there was only a roaring campfire in the center, with a large stone pot big enough to stuff a person inside sitting on it. Inside, thick soup was boiling, stewing large chunks of unknown animal meat, with a strong and domineering aroma.

Beside the campfire lay several huge stone axes, bone hammers, and some half-processed animal hides and bones.

"woke up?"

A dull thud came from the doorway.

Meng Chuan propped himself up to sit up. His chest still ached, but his injuries had clearly improved.

The damaged flesh and blood have mostly healed, the pale golden new skin is still somewhat fragile, and the tendons and bones under the skin are slowly recovering step by step under the nourishment of blood and qi.

The most intractable problems, such as loss of essence and blood and tearing of meridians, cannot be cured in a short time.

He turned his head to look in the direction of the sound.

It was the witch man with a vertical scar on his face, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

He was only wearing knee-length leather pants, his bare upper body muscles were like piled-up rocks, and his bronze skin was covered with various claw marks, teeth marks, and some ancient dark red totem tattoos, in addition to that hideous scar.

"Is this... a witch tribe?"

Meng Chuan spoke, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Yes, a hunting camp of the Houtu tribe."

The scarred man came in, picked up a stone bowl from beside the campfire, ladled it full of broth from the pot, and handed it to him. "Drink the soup; it will help restore your energy."

Meng Chuan accepted it.

The bowl was heavy, the soup was scalding hot, and the chunks of meat were almost the size of his fist, stewed until tender, with the fat mixed with the rich broth emitting a powerful aroma.

He blew on it and carefully took a sip.

The moment the soup entered my throat, it transformed into a torrent of heat that rushed into my stomach and then spread throughout my limbs and bones!

Wherever it passed, the cold and stiff muscles and bones seemed to come alive, the blood and qi spontaneously accelerated their circulation, and the dull pain in the chest was also relieved a little.

"The meat of the earth dragon beast has been treated with several potent medicinal ingredients."

The scarred man also ladled himself a bowl, squatted by the campfire, and drank it down in a few gulps, crunching loudly as he chewed the meat and bones. "You're badly injured, especially with your vital essence depleted. Ordinary methods won't heal you in months. Drink three bowls of this soup a day for ten days, and I guarantee you'll be as strong as ever!"

Meng Chuan quietly drank his soup.

The broth enters the stomach and transforms into pure qi and blood, which, guided by the Nine Revolutions Mystic Art, slowly replenish the body's deficiencies.

The drug's effects are indeed remarkable.

"Thank you for saving me."

He put down his bowl and said seriously.

"If you want to thank someone, thank Lady Houtu."

The scarred man waved his hand and pointed to Meng Chuan's arms—there, the bone fragments were radiating a warm glow. "Without her keepsake, even if you died on the ancient battlefield, we wouldn't give you a second glance."

He spoke bluntly, without any euphemisms.

Meng Chuan, however, thought this was good—straightforward, bold, and open-minded!

"How long was I unconscious?"

"Three days." The scarred man wiped his mouth. "The captain said that since you are valued by Lady Houtu, you should stay here and recuperate properly. After you recover, it's up to you whether you stay or leave."

After finishing the soup, the scarred man brought over a leather bag filled with a murky but potent liquid, reeking of alcohol mixed with the smell of medicine.

"Medicated wine, can be applied externally or taken internally... You can decide what to do with it yourself."

After saying that, he ignored Meng Chuan, picked up a stone axe and walked to the corner of the hall. He gestured at a thick animal bone, as if he wanted to make it into some kind of weapon.

Meng Chuan sat cross-legged on the stone bed, guiding the medicinal power to heal his wounds while observing the camp.

Several more Wu tribe warriors came in and out, each one tall and powerful, wearing simple leather armor or just animal skin, with scars and totems on their bodies.

When they saw Meng Chuan, they only glanced at him casually, nodded in acknowledgment, and then went about their own business, some sharpening weapons, some processing game, and some sitting around the campfire tearing apart meat and talking and laughing loudly.

The topics of conversation were simple, mainly about which hunting grounds had fattened up beasts, which demon patrol had crossed the line, and which brother had been ambushed by a cunning shadow leopard while hunting the other day, only to have his neck snapped in half by the leopard.

His language was rough, his laughter hearty, revealing a primal vitality and power from the ancient world...

Meng Chuan quietly recuperated in this noisy, bloody, and vibrant environment.

He ate three bowls of earthworm meat soup every day, supplemented with medicinal wine for internal and external use, and practiced the "Nine Revolutions Mysterious Technique" day and night without stopping.

The rich blood and qi environment in the witch clan camp is very beneficial to this cultivation technique.

Ten days later, Meng Chuan's chest wound had completely healed, and the new skin had a pale golden sheen, making it more resilient than the surrounding skin.

The meridians in the body are mostly open, and the flow of magical power has resumed, but the essence and blood are still 30% depleted and need to be replenished slowly.

He can now walk on the ground.

The scarred man, named "Rock," was the vice-captain of the hunting party that rescued him.

Seeing that he was recovering well, he said, "There's an open space behind the camp where we usually train our strength and practice our combat skills. If you're bored, you can go and take a look."

Meng Chuan thanked him and walked out of the Stone and Wood Hall.

The camp was larger than he had imagined, built into a mountain hollow, with a simple barrier made of giant trees and rocks on the outside.

Inside, dozens of similar stone and wood houses are scattered, and many Wu tribe men, women, and children are active inside.

Most adult men are as tall and strong as rocks, while women are tall and slender with abundant energy. They are responsible for processing game, tanning leather, and taking care of some strangely shaped animals.

Children chased and played in the open space, and even at a young age, they could lift and throw stones weighing hundreds or thousands of pounds for fun.

Everyone has totem tattoos on their bodies, more or less. The styles are ancient and mysterious, and they are very similar to those on Yan's body.

Meng Chuan walked to the open space behind the camp.

The ground here is extremely firm, and there are many huge stone locks, stone blocks, and bone or stone weapon racks.

Several Wu tribe warriors were sparring, their fists and feet colliding with each other, producing dull thuds and bursts of energy that made the air buzz.

There are no fancy tricks, only the purest power, speed, and hard-earned fighting instincts.

Meng Chuan watched for a while, then his gaze was drawn to something at the edge of the open space.

It was a thick stone slab about three zhang high and more than one zhang wide, roughly polished smooth, standing on a stone platform.

On the stone slab, a huge pattern full of primitive and wild atmosphere was drawn with some kind of dark red pigment, like dried blood.

It was a giant that stood tall and firm, with muscles coiled like a dragon, eyes wide open in anger, hands supporting the sky, feet planted on the ground, surrounded by chaotic energy, with earth, water, fire and wind surging around him!

Although it consists of only rough lines and color blocks, it still naturally exudes a magnificent will that can create the world and break through the ages!

Just by looking directly at him, Meng Chuan felt his soul tremble, and the Nine Revolutions Profound Technique within his body spontaneously accelerated its operation, with the sound of his blood and qi rushing around him resounding loudly!

Pangu Totem!

Without even asking, he guessed the meaning of the pattern.

This is the ancestor of the shamanic tribe's rituals and the source of their power!