I am a Primitive Man Chapter 855: Ten Sides Ambush

Chapter 855 – Ten Sides Ambush

The night was like flowing water, carrying a faint chill. A hook-shaped moon slanted across the sky. The flat bronze highway stretched across the earth like a silver ribbon, starkly visible in the moonlight.

Beneath the moon, a column of black figures moved silently westward.

The line advanced in silence—not because no one wished to speak, but because most had no strength left for words.

The fiery zeal that burned when they had set out at midnight yesterday had long since been worn down by the endless march.

Now, sheer willpower alone kept many from collapsing.

So leaned against the shoulders of those ahead, eyes closed, nodding off as they walked—half-asleep, half-marching.

“We’re close! We’re almost at the Copper Mountain settlent!”

At the front, Eldest Senior Brother’s voice rang out. He, too, was weary, but he forced himself to sound strong, to lift the spirits of his people.

When one shoulders responsibility, he naturally stands stronger than the rest.

The words struck like a spark. Everyone’s hearts jolted, spirits lifting.

At last, they were nearly there. At last, they would see with their own eyes the fools who dared attack their settlent.

The thought fired their blood. Suddenly, many felt they could fight imdiately if need be, and still smash the invaders without pause.

The weary column seed to awaken from a daze, vigor surging back into their steps.

The Eldest Senior Brother heard the murmurs ripple through the ranks. His brows furrowed slightly.

“Pass the word—silence! Don’t let the enemy know we’ve co.”

This was part of Shang’s plan. When Liutou and Sparrow had been sent back with the news, Shang had made sure to instruct them. Eldest Senior Brother, after reflection, deed it excellent. Hadn’t the Divine Child used this very trick to snare the Half-Farming Tribe? With that precedent, Eldest Senior Brother was confident.

Why else had they marched through the night without rest, if not to surprise the foe and take them all alive?

Noise now would spoil everything.

The order passed swiftly down the line. One by one, the warriors fell silent.

But unlike before, when exhaustion made them dull and drowsy, now the silence was taut, alert.

Such was the power of spirit over flesh.

Eldest Senior Brother allowed himself a small smile. He was pleased.

They pressed on in silence until familiar landmarks erged. At last, Copper Mountain lood ahead, a shadowed silhouette beneath the moon.

To the northeast, about three li away, glimred scattered firelight. No need to ask—that was the enemy camp.

The Eldest Senior Brother halted the column. He led them off the bronze road, into the fields to the side.

True, the distance was great, it was the dead of night, and discovery was unlikely. Still, his nature and his duty made him cautious.

He told the warriors to rest quietly here—no fires, no loud voices. They could sit, eat cold rations, and drink cold water. Then, taking a few n, he stole forward toward the silent Copper Mountain settlent.

From afar, it seed still. But closer, one could see shadows moving atop the wall—patrols.

Eldest Senior Brother nodded, satisfied. The defenders were vigilant.

Then—suddenly—on the wall, a small fla flickered. It grew brighter.

He and the n with him thought perhaps the guards were lighting a fire for warmth. But then—the fire flared and flew down from the wall!

“Who goes there?!”

A shout split the night.

Instantly, the quiet wall ca alive. Shadows stood, weapons raised—stones, bows, javelins ready to hurl down.

“Wait! They wear rattan armor—rattan helms—and carry rattan shields!”

A sharp-eyed voice cried out.

The defenders froze.

“It’s us! From the main tribe! The Chief is here too!”

Realization struck. The Eldest Senior Brother and his n hastily declared themselves.

Even the steady Eldest Senior Brother wiped sweat from his brow.

On the wall, n mopped their own brows harder still.

If they had lost a heartbeat sooner—disaster.

But who could have guessed? By reckoning, the main tribe would only arrive by the fourth day, and in daylight, not on the second night.

“Chief—you’ve co so soon?!”

Shouts of astonishnt greeted them as the gate was unbarred. They were guided carefully along li-marked paths to avoid the traps.

The gate shut behind them.

Shang hurried up, excitent and confusion on his face. The defenders crowded close, ears sharp, eager to hear.

“Liutou and Sparrow—without rest, they ran all night back to the tribe. The Shaman heard and ordered preparations at once. We ard ourselves and marched through the night. And now—we’re here.”

The Eldest Senior Brother spoke lightly, almost casually, as though it were nothing.

But the words struck like thunder.

The Copper Mountain defenders felt their chests swell, their throats tighten, and their eyes sting.

Running all night to warn. Marching all night to aid.

What should take four days is done in two.

Such words sounded light—but how heavy they were.

This is our tribe. These are our people.

The thought burned in every heart. To live with such kin was to feel both moved and safe beyond words.

“Chief…”

Shang’s voice trembled, but he could not finish. Others too stood, throats choked, unable to speak.

The Eldest Senior Brother only smiled.

“We are one tribe. This is only as it should be. Now—think. How do we catch them all quickly? Spring plowing waits for no one.”

They climbed the wall, discussing in low voices. The earlier stir soon faded.

Far off by the fire, the Black Stone chief stirred from sleep. He thought he heard sothing—but when he looked, the strange cave-dotted wall seed unchanged.

Rubbing his eyes, he turned to the piles of finished arrows and crude wooden boards. His doubts lted away.

No matter what, this settlent would fall. All within would be his.

He lay back down, dreams sweet with plunder, and soon slept again.

Back at Copper Mountain, the gate opened once more. n carried steaming food out to the highway camp.

This was Shang’s first command upon hearing that Eldest Senior Brother’s force had arrived.

The cooking was done indoors, safe from enemy eyes. Even if firelight leaked, it mattered little—the enemy already knew of their presence.

“Drink hot soup. Warm yourselves. Drive off the weariness.”

By moonlight, bowls of at broth were handed to the exhausted warriors who had marched for nearly a day and night without rest.

They dipped their cold rations into the steaming broth, slurped the hot liquid, and at once felt warmth spread through every limb.

But warr still were their hearts.

On the wall, Eldest Senior Brother too ate, while questioning Shang in detail about the enemy, and discussing capture strategies.

The Divine Child’s thod against the Half-Farming Tribe was their model—but here, terrain differed, and adjustnts were needed.

In Han Cheng’s influence, their thinking had grown sharper, their thods richer. Strategy was no longer foreign.

Plans set, Eldest Senior Brother asked how Shang had kept the enemy contained so far. Hearing the answer, he laughed aloud, clapping Shang on the shoulder in praise.

Then he led Shang and a group of slaves out again. Ti pressed. Preparations had to be completed before dawn.

Slaves bore hoes and shovels. Unlike the weary main-tribe warriors, these local slaves had more strength left—their task was digging traps.

The Eldest Senior Brother left twenty-five warriors east of the enemy, hidden between them and Copper Mountain, ard with drums and gongs for signals.

Another twenty-five were stationed to the west, in the sa way.

Then, skirting wide around, Eldest Senior Brother led the main force north.

Three li behind the enemy camp, the land pinched into a narrow “eight”-shaped valley. The ridges bristled with thorn bushes, impassable.

It was through here that the Black Stone force had marched days before. There was no other way.

Eldest Senior Brother grinned, gave Shang a thumbs-up, and ordered trenches dug.

One hundred ten slaves and over one hundred thirty warriors—more than two hundred hands together carved five ditches across the valley mouth.

Each ditch is one to one and a half ters wide, staggered at varying distances, with narrow passages left askew for later capture.

The Green Sparrow had grown practiced in “sinister” tricks under their crafty Divine Child’s guidance.

Not content, Eldest Senior Brother added three trip-rope lines farther north—hidden shallow grooves with ropes covered in dirt and grass, ready to trip any who fled.

By dawn, all was finished.

Shang, with sixty warriors, slipped back into Copper Mountain. There they would hold the wall, strike hard, and drive the enemy north—straight into the trap.

Thus, the battle was laid.

Seventy warriors and one hundred ten slaves remained to man the ambush—enough to hold the mouth.

At dawn, the weary fell asleep where they sat, snoring amid tools.

And as the sun rose, the Black Stone camp awoke as well.

Clamor filled the air as n stumbled up like scattered sheep.

The Black Stone chief roared orders—“Eat, then attack!”—before gorging himself on roast at.

They would take the settlent today. He would see to it they were all well fed.

Their food stocks were poured out. Other tribes, too, gave generously.

For today, they believed, the Green Sparrow would fall.