Chapter 222: You’re So Naughty
Little Eight voiced its confusion outright. “Nan Xun, is there something wrong with your man’s brain? A shaman— the emissary of witch-demons, the thing prehistoric people fear and hate the most—and not only is he not afraid, he’s excited?”
Nan Xun replied, “Don’t say that about him. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder—he just likes me, so he doesn’t mind my identity.”
She wrapped her arms around A Mang’s neck, leaned close to his ear, and explained with a soft laugh, “A Mang, although I’m a shaman, I’m a good shaman—one who brings happiness and joy to humans.”
A Mang immediately said, “I don’t care whether you’re good or bad. I’ve chosen you as the only woman in my life!”
After learning that Nan Xun truly was a shaman, A Mang grew visibly excited. It was as if he had endless energy—while building the birdhouse for the big bird, he even hummed a little tune.
Nan Xun tried to hand him things, but he picked her up and set her aside. “A Xi, don’t move. I’ll do everything.”
Nan Xun could only watch. When she got hungry, she lit a fire herself and roasted some meat. The big bird squatted beside her, its round eyes fixed intently on the roasted meat in her hands.
“Bird elder, thanks for helping me start the fire earlier,” Nan Xun said, glancing at it.
The big bird replied, “From now on, if you need fire, just tell me—I’ll breathe it.”
As it spoke, the bird suddenly patted Nan Xun in a very humanlike way with its wing. “Hey, human, can you let me have a bite of that meat? It smells so good.”
The pat nearly sent Nan Xun headfirst into the fire pit.
Damn—it was strong.
Once the meat was done, Nan Xun split it in half, giving one portion to the bird and saving the rest for A Mang, who was working so hard.
“Chirp—chirp chirp! Meat roasted over fire really is delicious! From now on, I’ll handle all your fire!” the bird praised.
Nan Xun felt the bird’s intelligence was probably only that of a five- or six-year-old child—eat, sleep, repeat. A little roasted meat was enough to buy its loyalty.
The birdhouse was built very simply, still in the shape of a house, just with a huge doorway so the bird didn’t have to lower its head to get in.
The bird was extremely satisfied with its new home, and its fondness for A Mang and Nan Xun rose sharply.
Thus, from that day on, Nan Xun and A Mang had a new neighbor—a big bird.
The bird loved the roasted meat they made. To show off what it could contribute, it shot up into the sky and soon returned with two animals in its claws that looked somewhere between rabbits and cats.
A Mang processed the bird’s food and put it on the fire to roast. The bird squatted nearby, staring at it without blinking.
When the meat began to sizzle and drip with fat, the bird pounced, not even caring about the heat, pecking furiously like it hadn’t eaten in ages.
Halfway through its meal, the bird suddenly stretched its neck, its eyes turning vigilant as it stared into the depths of the forest.
The soft rustling sounds grew loud in the otherwise quiet woods, mixed with the occasional crackle from the fire.
A Mang stood up at once, pulling Nan Xun behind him. He tightened his grip on the spear, already in a combat-ready stance.
When the thing finally revealed itself, Nan Xun recognized it almost instantly.
It was the giant python that had swallowed A Bao before!
The python slithered out of the grass, then stopped, swaying its head toward Nan Xun and flicking its tongue.
Seeing it was a python, A Mang relaxed slightly. Of all fierce beasts, snakes were the ones he feared least. When facing him, they moved more slowly and seemed to harbor an instinctive fear of him. When his father was still alive, he’d said that was because A Mang was born a warrior—a warrior snakes and insects feared by nature.
The python showed no hostility. From the relaxed state of its body, the battle-hardened A Mang could tell.
Nan Xun suddenly leaned over and poked his arm. “A Mang, this is the python that swallowed A Bao.”
A Mang snapped his head around to look at her, then turned back to the python.
After a long moment, he said, “A Xi, help me tell the python that I’m grateful for what happened last time. If it hadn’t appeared in time and eaten A Bao, you might have been hurt.”
Nan Xun froze. “A Mang, I thought A Bao’s death would make you at least a little sad.”
A Mang stared at her in surprise. “A Xi, why would you think that? He wanted to hurt you—he deserved to die! If he’d somehow survived back then, I would’ve killed him myself.”
Nan Xun: ……
Her way of thinking and A Mang’s were indeed different—very different.
Nan Xun conveyed her and A Mang’s thanks to the giant python.
There was unmistakable shock in the python’s eyes. It raised its head slightly, and an excited voice appeared in Nan Xun’s mind. “You can understand my snake language! Could it be… are you our snake ancestor?”
The python’s voice was old and weathered; it was clearly advanced in age.
Nan Xun’s mouth twitched. Snake ancestor?
How on earth did this stupid python come to that conclusion? She and snakes were clearly different species, okay?
The python explained, “There’s a faint scent on you—very pleasant—that makes snakes want to be close. And the man beside you… the scent on him makes all snakes wary.”
Nan Xun glanced at A Mang, unsure how to respond, and simply said, “Oh… thank you for liking me.”
And so this somewhat dumb-but-cute giant python also settled into a small burrow beneath the stone slope, becoming Nan Xun’s new neighbor.
To make communication easier, Nan Xun gave both the big bird and the big snake names: the bird was called Da Hui (Big Gray), and the snake Da Hei (Big Black).
The bird was a bit tsundere and preferred sticking close to the powerhouse A Mang, even though it couldn’t communicate with him. The elderly python, on the other hand, was fonder of Nan Xun and often carried her around through the grass.
Nan Xun sat atop the python, legs crossed, arms wrapped around its neck.
The python moved quickly through the grass, and Nan Xun enjoyed the ride immensely.
Her good mood, however, was cut short when she spotted a few familiar faces—cannibals. There were seven of them in total, including two women Nan Xun recognized.
When they saw the giant python and Nan Xun riding on it, the women screamed and collapsed onto the ground in fright, while the men all raised their spears.
Nan Xun didn’t want to get entangled. She patted the python’s head. “Da Hei, let’s turn back.”
The python raised a third of its body unhappily, lifting Nan Xun high enough that she could look down at them.
After a brief standoff, the python turned around and left.
From far away, Nan Xun faintly heard A Hua shouting.
She was asking whether A Mang was still alive.
Nan Xun nearly facepalmed—if he weren’t alive, had she eaten him?
Nan Xun didn’t tell A Mang about running into A Hua and the others. She thought they were just passersby. But three days later, they actually came looking for them.
All seven were stunned by the scene before their eyes.
They had never seen such a beautiful treehouse. The suspension bridge between the treehouse and the stone cave looked incredibly strange. They saw A Mang and Nan Xun—and they also saw the big bird squatting beside them, as well as the massive black python coiled into a heap nearby.
