Alex’s consciousness felt submerged in cold water, chaos wrapped in bone-chilling coldness.
Alex felt his limbs were frozen stiff, and every slight movement pulled at his aching muscles, as if countless fine needles were pricking him.
His ears were ringing; sometimes it was the whistling wind, sometimes indistinct human voices, along with the occasional crackling “pop” of firewood in the Fire Pit.
These sounds mixed together, preventing his consciousness from focusing.
He remembered clearly that his final memory was on a cliff edge on Qingluan Mountain.
As a graduate of the Agricultural University, he was using his holiday to survey rare plants in the wilderness when he encountered a sudden landslide.
The rocks beneath his feet instantly shattered, and he hung in mid-air, clutching a shrub.
The strong wind carried gravel that slammed into his body, and finally, exhausted, he fell.
The feeling of weightlessness, intense pain, the sound of wind in his ears…
those memory fragments stabbed into his mind like knives, making him involuntarily frown.
“Pain…”
A weak moan squeezed out of his throat, the sound so hoarse it didn’t seem like his own.
This wasn’t his voice!
Alex suddenly realized this, and his heart clenched.
He wanted to open his eyes, but his eyelids were as heavy as lead; he could only manage to pry open a slit.
A dim, yellow light entered his vision—the flickering firelight from the Fire Pit.
The firelight swayed, illuminating the rough rock walls around him.
He was in a cave?
His vision slowly cleared, and he saw several people gathered around him.
Closest to him was a young woman, wearing a grayish-brown animal skin skirt, the edges of the animal skin badly worn, revealing her thin arms underneath.
Her hair was simply tied back with a hemp rope, and there was some charcoal dust on her face, but it couldn’t hide her bright eyes.
At this moment, those eyes were filled with surprise and worry, staring fixedly at him.
“He’s awake!
He’s awake!”
The woman’s voice trembled slightly as she turned and called out behind her.
Alex’s mind grew even more confused.
The woman’s clothing, her tone of voice, and the surrounding environment—stone axes and animal bones hung on the cave walls, tattered animal skins covered the ground— and several emaciated people sat by the Fire Pit in the distance.
Their eyes held a kind of numb exhaustion, gaining a bit of vitality only when they looked at him.
This wasn’t modern society!
Could it be…
he had transmigrated?
Just as this thought surfaced, a violent headache suddenly struck him, as if countless steel needles were piercing his temples.
Countless unfamiliar memory fragments flooded his mind:
—”Alex, hurry up and follow, we must catch prey today!”
A tall man patted his shoulder, holding a stone axe; that was “Father.”
—”The wild vegetables here are poisonous, don’t eat them!”
An aged voice warned him; that was the Tribe’s Old Shaman.
—In the snow, he followed Chief John searching for food, slipped, and fell into a Snowdrift.
His body grew colder and colder, his consciousness increasingly blurry…
These memories didn’t belong to him, yet they were incredibly real, as if he had experienced them himself.
He slowly pieced together the sequence of events:
The original owner of this body was also named Alex, a young Hunter of the Flame Stone Tribe, who had just turned seventeen this year.
The original owner’s parents had frozen and starved to death last winter, leaving him alone to struggle for survival in the Tribe.
Yesterday, after the Tribe had run out of food for many days, the original owner followed everyone into the mountains to find food, unfortunately falling into a Snowdrift.
By the time he was rescued, he had already lost consciousness, and he, Alex from the 21st century, occupied this body at that moment.
“Alex, how are you feeling?”
The woman’s voice came again.
She reached out and felt Alex’s forehead, her fingertips slightly cool.
Alex used the firelight to clearly see her face, and a name jumped out from his memories—Yuna, the Tribe’s Female Priestess, the Old Shaman’s apprentice, responsible for caring for the Tribe’s injured and children.
In the original owner’s memory, Yuna was the kindest person in the Tribe.
Last winter, she had secretly given the original owner half a piece of frozen animal meat.
Alex opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but found his throat was painfully dry.
Yuna seemed to read his mind, turned, and picked up a crude Clay Pot nearby.
The pot contained a small amount of murky water.
She carefully supported Alex’s head, brought the Clay Pot to his mouth, and whispered:
“Drink slowly, don’t choke.”
The cool water slid down his throat, easing the burning pain of thirst.
After drinking a few sips, Alex finally gained some strength.
He leaned against the rock wall and looked around the simple cave.
The cave wasn’t large, only about a few dozen square meters.
There were signs of water seepage on the walls, covered with a thin layer of ice.
The Fire Pit was in the center of the cave, and the firewood inside was almost completely burned up, leaving only a pile of glowing red charcoal, barely maintaining a semblance of warmth.
There were about a dozen people sitting in the cave in total, mostly elderly, women, and children.
The able-bodied men must have gone out looking for food.
The animal skins on their bodies were tattered.
Some were holding children, staring blankly at the Fire Pit, while others were huddled in the corner, shivering.
This was the current state of the Flame Stone Tribe—on the brink of extinction.
Alex learned from the original owner’s memories that winter had arrived exceptionally early this year, and the snow was exceptionally heavy.
The prey in the mountains had long since migrated or gone into hibernation, and the Tribe’s stored food had run out half a month ago.
These days, everyone could only survive by digging for wild vegetables and gnawing on bark.
Several people had already died from freezing, starvation, and illness.
Yesterday, Chief John decided to disperse the Tribe because if they remained together, everyone would starve to death.
“Where is the Chief?”
Alex finally found his voice.
Although still hoarse, he could speak clearly now.
“Chief John took Mark and the others to the valley in the east,”
Yuna put down the Clay Pot and answered softly,
“Shi took another group to the river in the west to cut ice and fish.
The Old Shaman is in the small cave next door with the remaining elderly and children.
I stayed here to look after you, and also…”
She paused, her eyes dimming, “And the Tribesmen who haven’t woken up.”
Alex followed her gaze.
In the corner of the cave, a tattered animal skin was draped, and the outline of a person could vaguely be seen underneath.
His heart sank.
He knew without asking that it was yet another Tribesman who hadn’t survived this cold winter.
A strong desire for survival surged in his heart.
In modern society, he was a carefree university student, who had never considered “survival” to be something he had to fight tooth and nail for.
But now, he was in the Stone Age, without electricity, without modern tools, and even a full meal or warm clothes had become a luxury.
If he couldn’t find a way to survive, he would soon become that corpse in the corner.
He was a graduate of the Agricultural University, having studied botany and agronomy, knowing which plants were edible and how to improve soil and cultivate crops; he was also an outdoor sports enthusiast who understood wilderness survival skills, knowing how to start a fire, find water, and make simple tools.
These might just be book knowledge and hobbies in modern society, but in this primitive Tribe, they were life-saving skills!
“Yuna,” Alex took a deep breath, trying to make his tone sound firm,
“Does the Tribe still have dry wood?
Thin pieces, about the thickness of a finger.”
Yuna was stunned, not understanding why he suddenly asked this, but she still nodded:
“Yes, Mark and the others picked some up when they returned yesterday, they are by the Fire Pit.
Why?”
Alex looked towards the Fire Pit and saw several dry, thin branches piled there.
He struggled to stand up, but his legs gave way due to prolonged hunger and cold, and he nearly fell.
Yuna quickly supported him: “You just woke up, your body is still weak, don’t move around!”
“I’m fine,”
Alex waved his hand, his eyes shining with a light Yuna had never seen before,
“I need those sticks, and…
do you have any rope?
A Vine Rope will do.”
Yuna was even more confused, but she obediently picked up a few thin branches from the Fire Pit side, and untied a crude Vine Rope from her waist, handing it to Alex:
“Are these enough?
What are you going to do with them?”
Alex took the branches and the Vine Rope.
As his fingertips touched the dry wood, a plan formed in his mind.
The charcoal in the Fire Pit was almost extinguished.
Without fire, the cold of the night would be enough to kill everyone.
The Tribesmen seemed only capable of maintaining the Fire Pit by preserving the Kindling, and once the Kindling went out, they couldn’t restart the fire.
After the original owner fell into the Snowdrift yesterday, the fire in the Fire Pit was almost out.
Everyone was too weak to add firewood, let alone start a new fire.
“Making fire,”
Alex said with certainty, looking at the branches in his hand,
“We need more fire, not just for warmth, but for roasting meat and boiling water.
Only with fire can we survive.”
Yuna was stunned, her eyes filled with doubt and disbelief:
“But…
the Kindling is almost gone, and we don’t have new Kindling.
The Old Shaman used to say that fire was a gift from the gods, and once extinguished, it could never be made again.”
Not just Yuna, but the few conscious Tribesmen nearby also heard their conversation, they all looked up, their eyes full of suspicion.
In their understanding, fire was sacred, and could only be maintained by preserving the Kindling.
Once the Kindling died out, they could never obtain fire again.
This young man, who had just returned from the gates of hell, actually claimed he could make fire?
Alex didn’t explain, he just picked up a thin branch, and used the edge of the stone axe to carve a shallow groove in the wood.
Then he found an even thinner, straighter branch and sharpened one end.
Next, he used the Vine Rope to secure the thin branch in the groove, creating a simple Bow Drill Fire-Starting Device.
His movements were practiced; this was a skill he had learned previously at an outdoor survival training camp.
But to Yuna and the others, these movements were strange and unfamiliar, everyone watched him intently, holding their breath, their eyes full of curiosity and tension.
Alex took a deep breath, gripped the top branch with both hands, and began to rotate it rapidly.
His arms trembled slightly due to weakness, but he didn’t stop, instead using all his strength to increase the rotation speed.
The friction between the branch and the groove generated increasing heat, and soon a wisp of smoke appeared.
Yuna’s eyes immediately lit up.
She instinctively leaned forward, staring intently at the wisp of smoke.
The surrounding Tribesmen also gathered around, and a flicker of light finally appeared in their previously numb eyes.
Alex didn’t get distracted and continued to rotate the branch quickly.
The smoke grew thicker, and finally, a spark flashed in the groove.
He immediately stopped rotating and carefully blew the spark onto the dry leaves prepared nearby, then gently blew air onto it.
“Hoo…
hoo…”
As he blew, the spark on the dry leaves grew larger, and soon a small cluster of flames ignited.
Alex quickly moved the flame into the Fire Pit and added a few thin branches.
The flame crackled and leaped up, illuminating everyone’s faces.
The cave instantly fell silent.
Everyone watched the rekindled flame in the Fire Pit, their eyes filled with shock and awe.
They had never seen fire made this way.
This young man, who had just woken up, had actually “created” fire!
Yuna looked at Alex, her eyes full of disbelief:
“Alex, how…
how did you do that?
Is this…
the power of the gods?”
Alex looked at the flickering flame in the Fire Pit and sighed in relief.
This was just the first step.
He knew that leading this crumbling Tribe to survival still required a long journey.
But at least for now, he had a good start.
He raised his head, looked at the Tribesmen surrounding him, and said with a firm tone:
“This is not the power of the gods, it is ‘Knowledge.’
As long as we have knowledge and our hands, we can survive, and we can ensure the Flame Stone Tribe survives!”