Grilled Meat and a Sudden Whim

"Blade Tusk Witch Doctor, what is this? Why does it smell so good!"

"Let me see! Let me see!"

The aroma of grilled meat drifted out of the courtyard, once again drawing over a group of adult warriors. Drooling, they staggered closer like zombies.

When the little Trolls saw the adult Trolls coming to snatch food, they instinctively bared their fangs. Like puppies guarding their food, they pressed their backs to the earthen stove, trying to block the warriors' advance.

"Heh heh! The little brats have even learned to bare their fangs. Move aside."

The leading warrior thrust out his belly, forcing open a path as he squeezed in. The remaining Trolls flowed in after him beneath the little Trolls' resentful stares.

However, the warriors had no habit of snatching food—especially not food from the young of their own tribe. That would have been shameful.

They merely gathered around in curiosity, drooling as they watched Blade Tusk turn the branch.

After a while, when an even layer of char marks appeared on the meat's surface, Blade Tusk removed the grilled meat from the rack, saying, "Move, move. Don't crowd around."

As he spoke, he passed the skewers of meat through the gaps between the warriors' bodies to the little Trolls.

As for how excited the little Trolls were to eat their recovered meat, that could be left aside for now. Blade Tusk turned to the surrounding warriors and asked, "Smell good?"

"Good!"

"Craving it!"

"Want some?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Then go learn to read! Idiots aren't qualified to eat grilled meat."

The moment Blade Tusk finished speaking, the area erupted with cries of grievance.

Arguments such as "How can you do this?", "I'm starving to death!", and "I'm not stupid, I'm a great hunter!" rose and fell one after another, nearly deafening him.

Yet amid all those complaints, one voice rang out with the clarity of a gray wolf mixed into a pack of huskies.

"Witch Doctor! I can read! I can read!"

"Uh..."

Following the voice, Blade Tusk saw its owner amid the equally astonished gazes of the warriors.

It was a Troll not much taller than Blade Tusk. His tusks were not especially thick, and his skin had yet to fully harden into its horny layer. From the look of him, he seemed to be an adolescent "skill intern."

He definitely was not one of the few Trolls whom Blade Tusk and the other Witch Doctors had personally taught back then.

Blade Tusk's interest was piqued. He handed over a section of branch and instructed, "What's your name? Write it on the ground."

"Okay! Okay!"

Delighted that he would soon get to eat "grilled meat," the adolescent "intern" eagerly took the branch, immediately squatted down, and began drawing on the ground.

"Wood Tusk."

The writing was not pretty. It was crooked and wobbly, even rather ugly, but his expectant eyes shone brightly.

Still, being able to write one's name did not count as literacy.

So Blade Tusk recited several common phrases and had him write them out one by one as a test.

The result proved that this "intern" had not lied. He wrote most of them fluently, without much pause for thought.

And for the occasional character he did not know, he neatly substituted pinyin.

"Not bad, you! Good! We Witch Doctors keep our word. This skewer of grilled meat is yours."

There was no extra grilled meat, so Blade Tusk gave away the one he had prepared for himself.

Taking the grilled meat, the "intern" felt for the first time in his life—under the envious gazes of the surrounding Trolls—that there were things besides "bravery" worth being proud of.

Watching the Trolls' reactions, Blade Tusk silently remarked, The future of Troll hearts looks promising.

He clapped his hands to draw every Troll's attention and said, "See this pile of earth? It's called a 'stove.' See the light inside it? It's called 'flame.'"

Whether they were eating meat or eating their own drool, the Trolls all nodded to show that they understood.

"These are all the fruits of 'knowledge.' And those characters the chief keeps going on about every day, forcing you to remember—the characters you think are useless for hunting, the characters you think waste your time and refuse to learn—are the vessels that carry 'knowledge.'"

As he spoke, wisdom gleamed in the eyes of these Trolls who did not know a single character.

And seemingly realizing that his words had not been well understood, Blade Tusk changed his explanation.

"If hands are the limbs you use to grip throwing spears, then 'writing' is like 'hands' to knowledge. Only by mastering 'writing' can you use 'knowledge' as freely as you use throwing spears."

The analogy might not have been especially precise, but the response was much better than before.

At the very least, most of the Trolls no longer wore wise expressions. Instead, enlightenment dawned on their faces.

Blade Tusk nodded in satisfaction and struck while the iron was hot once more.

"Go back and tell all the clansmen: starting tomorrow, no matter who it is, as long as they memorize one hundred characters, they can come to me for a meal of roasted meat."

At this, the Trolls who had been craving it all grew excited, rubbing their hands together as they prepared to find someone to teach them.

How many of them would only be fired up for three minutes before letting it fizzle out? Blade Tusk did not know.

But he believed that every additional Troll who sincerely intended to learn to read would be another source of strength for the tribe.

"Then wouldn't I be losing out?"

An ill-timed voice rang out. It was the subadult Troll who already knew how to read, staring at him with a conflicted expression.

With a quick turn of his mind, Blade Tusk immediately understood what he was thinking and asked, "How many characters do you know? Are you proficient with pinyin?"

"More than eight hundred characters. And I'm good with pinyin too," he answered somewhat sheepishly.

That number surprised Blade Tusk. Back in his previous life, elementary school graduates seemed to know around three thousand characters, right? By comparison, Wood Tusk could only be considered "halfway out of illiteracy," hardly something worth boasting about. But they could not be compared so simply—their learning environments were worlds apart.

Nodding in satisfaction, Blade Tusk replied beneath his expectant gaze, "Starting tomorrow, you can come eat roasted meat eight times."

The moment the word "eight" left his mouth, he realized what a foolish promise it was. Where would he find the time to roast meat for them all day?

So Blade Tusk changed his mind and revised his words.

"Uh, how about this? I'll teach you how to roast meat in a little while. Starting tomorrow, you'll be half a cook. I'll try my best to keep the fire here burning at all times. If it goes out, come find me again."

"Alright, alright. I'll definitely learn properly."

"Mm, but remember, at your current level, you can only eat eight times. If you want to eat more, keep working hard. Wait, let me think—if you can organize everyone to learn characters in your spare time, then for every clansman you teach one hundred characters, not only will there be roasted meat, I'll reward you with even more things."

"Witch Doctor, is there anything else delicious to eat?" one Troll asked on behalf of nearly all the Trolls.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be food. Better weapons, better armor... um, I'll discuss a reward system with the other Witch Doctors. Whether you learn to read yourself or teach someone else, no matter who you are, as long as you do it without affecting production, there will definitely be rewards."

"OH! OH!"

"Learn characters, learn characters!!"

The simple Trolls still had only one way to express their excitement, and they all raised their hands and shouted.

"Mm. In a few days, the tribe will hold an unprecedented gathering. We'll make the official announcement then."

Finally, Blade Tusk used this to wrap up the interlude and sent the warriors away.