Chapter Eleven: My Identity as the Ancestor of the Human Race Is Revealed

Luo Zu somewhat regretted his loud proclamation—it was nothing short of cursing the human race. In the endless years of the primordial wilderness, ten thousand years passed in the blink of an eye. Perhaps he should amend it and say a year equals an era? But then he decided to let it be. After all, there were no clear units of time in this age; people simply watched the sun rise and set. The two races, Wu and Yao, had never spread the concept of time across the land. Luo Zu had never heard how many gods dwelled in the heavens or how many Wu ancestors walked the earth; he merely guessed, based on the strange tales of the wilderness he had read in his previous life: three hundred sixty-five Yao gods, twelve Wu ancestors, nothing more.

A minor figure gazing up into the boundless sky saw only vastness, never glimpsing the gods or immortals of Wu or Yao—they were far beyond reach. Still, Luo Zu had finally begun to explore his own path of cultivation; at least, he had taken the first step. Cultivating Qi to transform the spirit, forging law from primal energy. The method he used to annihilate the unicorn was his own fire control technique—a spell not of Fire Boy’s flame-breath, but a subtle manipulation of fire-elemental energy, yielding terrifying power. Where the law is unconstrained, the rituals, seals, and bloodlines specified for certain spells serve either to restrain overwhelming power or to compensate for mediocre talent or low attainment.

Once one comprehends a category of spell, similar techniques should come easily. Yet this was only Luo Zu’s personal view; he had met few cultivators so far, mostly the monsters in the Yao tribe, who wielded some Yao magics. But like the “Cave Men,” they used these arts without understanding, guided only by the principle that utility was enough. Luo Zu, however, was different. He analyzed the key points thoroughly, drawing on years spent contemplating two world-shaking powers: Manipulating Creation and the Universe Within a Jar. Though he grasped only their surface, he was adept at dissecting lesser spells.

The fire control technique he mastered after cultivating Qi to transform spirit was such a spell. Once analyzed, he divided fire magic into four characteristics: explosion, ignition, burning, and concentration. Explosion brought forth the blast; ignition set things alight; burning sustained over time; concentration strengthened the blaze. He had already used explosion, obliterating the colossal beast—twice the size of a locomotive—in a single blast.

Thus, Luo Zu was hailed as a hero. Though his wisdom had already earned him the admiration of the “Cave Men,” his newfound power now brought him their veneration.

This was precisely the outcome Luo Zu desired. In this primitive society, respect and worship meant little; what truly mattered was awe. And the benefits Luo Zu could bring them in the future—such was the naked reality of the primordial era. Morality and righteousness held no sway; only force and full bellies counted.

Luo Zu then commanded the hunting party to scour the mountains for pieces of unicorn meat, and bit by bit, they carried them back to the cave settlement. He rarely used his Universe Within a Jar to transport game anymore, preferring to let his companions drag the prey home themselves. He needed to change their fixed perception of him, for if a great enemy arose, it would be too easy for them to deduce his hidden power. He must keep his trump card concealed, which was why he now displayed his fire control technique.

“Boss, you’re amazing!” Fire Boy, his shining bald head gleaming, ran over and offered his eager, sycophantic praise.

Luo Zu clasped his hands behind his back and nodded lightly. “Yes.”

“Boss, I want to learn. Can you teach me?” Fire Boy asked directly.

People of this era knew nothing of subtlety or tact, nor would they, even though Luo Zu had taught them many new words. Their speech remained blunt and forthright. Luo Zu naturally nodded in approval; the eager should learn, for those who failed to advance would be abandoned by the settlement.

Collecting the unicorn’s remains took considerable time. The mountain was strewn with meat; it took two full hours to gather it all. Along the way, they had conflicts with other small beasts, drawn by the scent of blood, hoping to scavenge—only to end up as an extra meal for the “Cave Men.”

As the sun prepared to set, the group hurried to carry the unicorn meat back to the cave. The haul was so vast it took more than ten trips to move it all. Once inside, they celebrated with roasted meat, feasting before beginning the process of preservation.

The “Cave Men” had their own methods for storing meat. One was air-drying: roast it briefly, then leave it in a cool spot in the cave, letting the mountain breeze turn it into jerky, which could be kept for long periods. Another was “refrigeration”: deep in the cave lay a pool of icy water, its surroundings rimmed with ice. When they had more meat than they could eat, they stored it here. These methods, of course, were taught by Luo Zu; otherwise, the “Cave Men” would be no better than the wild beasts—feasting one day, starving the next, sometimes eating spoiled meat.

Luo Zu’s guidance greatly improved their lives; at least, they no longer suffered from eating rotten meat or died of strange illnesses.

In the days that followed, Luo Zu spread his method of Qi cultivation throughout the settlement. He did not analyze each companion’s supernatural powers one by one, but occasionally examined their abilities and translated them into spells he could learn himself.

After a month, Luo Zu had recorded the supernatural abilities of the settlement’s three adult “Cave Men,” writing them down in characters of the Wu script. Each ability was dissected in detail—simple, direct, with no secret wording. Anyone who had succeeded in Qi cultivation could use them immediately.

Of course, this was his personal research, tailored to his own constitution. Others could use the spells only by following the incantations he recorded, not by comprehending their essence and wielding them at will.

The three spells Luo Zu recorded and mastered were: water control, wood manipulation, and healing.

Parsing three spells in a month was already his limit.

While Luo Zu diligently analyzed the supernatural abilities of the settlement’s humans, a major event suddenly erupted among the miniature humans in his Universe Within a Jar.

What happened?

It concerned several remnants left behind when Luo Zu studied Qi cultivation in the jar. He had unwittingly mastered some advanced preservation technique, for these bodies had not rotted away into bones but remained intact for over a hundred years.

The first remnant was even stranger: at the time, he had expelled all his vital energy to envelop a mountain, and now, that energy still lingered, undissipated.

Such a miracle naturally astonished the miniature humans.

And now, with Luo Zu’s deliberate guidance, their society had formed tribal alliances and entered the Bronze Age.