Inside the Semi-Farming Tribe, the female priestess held a piece of pottery in one hand and a piece of sheepskin in the other, speaking in a babbling tone to a man from the Sheep Tribe—one who, days earlier, had smeared the Sheep Tribe leader’s fresh blood across his chest in submission.
After several days of subjugation, those from the Sheep Tribe who had chosen to smear blood on themselves had become much more obedient.
So, when the priestess finished her rambling speech, the man continued to nod in compliance.
Satisfied, the priestess smiled, then turned to speak to a few others.
Not long after, six members of the Semi-Farming Tribe arrived, each leading a beast of burden.
They loaded food onto the animals’ backs and, armed with weapons and under the watchful eyes of the priestess and tribe leader, departed the settlement, accompanied by the submissive man from the Sheep Tribe.
Inside a courtyard fenced with wooden stakes, several defiant Sheep Tribe members were under the watch of two armed Semi-Farming tribesmen. They held sticks, relentlessly beating the vines harvested by the Semi-Farming Tribe.
At that moment, they spotted the traitor from their tribe walking out with the others, and they burst into a chorus of primitive curses, spitting in his direction.
The scolded man shrank his neck, lowered his head, and dared not look back. He quickened his pace to escape.
A flurry of whipping sounds followed. The rebellious Sheep Tribe members were beaten on the back by the guards for their outburst.
They dared not resist and returned to silently striking the vines with their sticks.
After sending off the submissive man and his escort, the Semi-Farming Tribe leader also led some members out to hunt.
Initially, the tribe leader had wanted to personally lead a large team, following the submissive Sheep Tribe member to the rumored place of the sheep’s “secret.”
But the wise female priestess firmly opposed this idea.
And her reasoning was sound.
It was autumn. After this period would come the cold season.
The most important task now was food storage.
As for the secret of the sheep or matters concerning the Green Sparrow Tribe, those could be investigated by a small party first. Once confirmed, the tribe leader could then lead a larger group, mounted and well-supplied, to take further action.
This way, the tribe could stockpile more food in the meantime.
Otherwise, if the lead turned out to be false, the tribe could suffer from a wasted effort and a lack of provisions.
There was no denying that this female priestess, acknowledged as the tribe’s wisest, was indeed very clever.
Once the tribe leader went off hunting, she led another team to gather fruits herself.
In the wild fields outside the Green Sparrow Tribe, only a few people remained working the land, preparing for the upcoming planting of rapeseed.
The majority of manpower had been redirected to tribe construction.
Compared to most tribes of the era, under Han Cheng’s leadership, the Green Sparrow Tribe had rightfully earned the title of “building maniacs.”
Of course, Han the Great Divine Child, who was known to dodge hard labor, was nowhere near any of this physically demanding work.
He didn’t feel the slightest guilt about skipping these duties—he always found perfectly logical reasons to justify himself. He even convinced others that it was only right for him not to participate in such tasks.
At this moment, Han was squatting in a special vegetable patch, tending to his prized creation: Chinese cabbage, into which he had poured years of effort.
“Food is the god of the people.” Though no such phrase existed yet in the tribe, everyone deeply understood the importance of food.
Under such a noble banner, Han easily convinced both himself and the others that he was not avoiding hard work, but rather working for the tribe’s future.
With this brazen self-justification in mind, Han picked up a grass-rope and began tying up the cabbages, helping them close up and form dense heads.
Tying up cabbages was no problem for Han Cheng. After all, back in the future, he had watched plenty of “binding” tutorial videos while learning new skills online.
Now, those were truly elaborate and dazzling bindings.
Though he couldn’t replicate the full array of styles he’d seen, tying a few cabbages was child’s play.
After neatly binding the cabbages one by one, Han moved over to the edge of the radish patch.
The radish greens looked strong, but the roots beneath were still small. He pulled one out, snapped off the greens, peeled the skin, and took a bite. There wasn’t much juice, but the taste was somewhat better.
Still, it was very spicy.
Spicy flavors were something Han always pursued. However, he preferred the spiciness of chili peppers, not the kind of burn caused by radishes.
Besides, while raw radish was pungent, cooking it dulled the flavor.
It seemed that he’d need to build a radish cellar soon.
Though these radishes didn’t taste great, they were still helpful in staving off hunger.
As he considered this, enduring the radish’s sharp burn, Han prepared to take another bite—when he suddenly froze.
Radish cellar… radish cellar…
This phrase began to echo in his mind.
A moment later, sitting on the edge of the field with a bitten radish in hand, Han the Divine Child burst into wild laughter, completely unrestrained.
He laughed so heartily.
And as he laughed, he muttered: “I remember now! I remember!”
It took him a while to calm down. When he finally did, his face was still lit with joy.
Of course, he was thrilled—because he had finally remembered a method of food storage so crucial that he’d once lost sleep over it and even considered sleeping pills to calm his nerves.
Underground pit storage (cellaring)!
Han had learned of this method thanks to his knowledge of late Sui Dynasty history.
During the Sui Dynasty, the empire stockpiled massive amounts of grain and developed sophisticated warehousing systems. Famous storage facilities included Huiluo Granary, Luokou Granary, and Liyang Granary. Nearly every region had grain depots, and aside from government-run warehouses, there were also charitable granaries.
It was said that by the end of the Sui Dynasty, enough grain had been stored to feed the population for thirty years. When the great Tang Emperor Taizong (Li Shimin) ascended the throne, some regions were still consuming the Sui’s stockpiles.
How did that much grain last so long?
One of the biggest reasons was precisely cellaring, or underground storage.