Jiang Yang put down the game he was carrying and headed straight toward the center of the tribe.
The tribal settlement was mostly covered in yellow earth, with a thin layer of sand and gravel over it.
As he walked, he could hear the scrape of his feet against the fine sand.
Evening was approaching, and bonfires were burning throughout the tribe.
Animal hides hung outside the tents, and houses stood within the settlement. Nearby were several underground pits where the tribespeople stored food.
Houses in Fuxi's era seemed to look like this.
Along the way, Jiang Yang saw people cleaning animal hides, sorting their catch, mending fishing nets, and grinding stone tools, while children played and tussled with animal bones in their hands.
It was a scene from the age of ancient tribes.
As Jiang Yang walked among them, the tribespeople greeted him one after another.
It had to be said that he had done well for himself in the Fuxi Tribe.
Arriving at the large central tent, Jiang Yang lifted the animal hide and stepped inside. He saw two old men sitting on the ground, with a handsome young man standing behind them.
They were none other than Jiang Yang's father by circumstance, Eighth-Generation Fuxi, the Great Shaman Zhu, and the young man called Yellow Bear Clan.
Ten years had passed, and Eighth-Generation Fuxi, once as powerfully built as a bear, had become a short, thin old man.
The Great Shaman Zhu had grown even older.
At the sight of Jiang Yang, a trace of delight appeared on both old men's faces.
The young man's eyes also revealed a trace of envy, along with a faint hint of defiance.
Fuxi spoke first.
"Jiang, the Great Shaman Zhu and I are both old. Following our ancestors' rules, we have