After telling Henry Clark the exact location of the training and reminding him to be careful, Miller finally left. Once Miller's figure disappeared, Julius Caesar also relaxed, glanced at the ground, and found that the half of the stone worm had already slipped away. Venting his frustration, he scratched at the ground, sniffing carefully to distinguish the scent, wanting to continue tracking and recapture the escaped prey. However, Henry Clark had no intention of letting him have his way—today, Miller had given him a chance to fill his stomach.

He buried the jerky that Miller had given him in the stone bowl from before, covering it with a layer of stone chips above the soil for camouflage. After making sure it was well hidden, Henry Clark looked in the direction Miller had pointed earlier and called over Julius Caesar.

“Let’s go, Julius Caesar! Time to make a big score!”

Chapter 3 Old Rivals

Since this was the source of most of the tribe’s stone tools, there were naturally plenty of stones suitable for processing. However, this area was also the training ground for the totem warriors, so they had first pick. Only after them would weaker groups like Henry Clark come to “pick up the leftovers.”

The phrase “pick up the leftovers” sounded rather humiliating, but it fit the current situation perfectly.

Generally, when others in the tribe wanted to “pick up the leftovers,” they would do so around sunset, close to mealtime. Only at that time would most of the warriors in the training ground be resting. At other times, the training ground was very dangerous for those without awakened totem power—the flying stones shattered by the warriors’ fists were as deadly as bullets to the weaker groups. But with the route Miller had just shown him, it would be much easier for Henry Clark to get through.

If he could find some good stone, he could trade it for quite a few things. Henry Clark certainly wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by.

Henry Clark led Julius Caesar along the path Miller had pointed out. Along the way, he could hear booming sounds coming from several of the training mountains, and some stray stones fell from who knows where. On other mountain paths, even larger rocks tumbled down. If Miller hadn’t told him the safest route in advance, moving around here would have been much more dangerous.

Henry Clark casually brushed his somewhat messy hair, shook off some stone dust, and kept walking.

The place where Miller had trained earlier was near the mountaintop. The mountains designated as training grounds by the totem warriors hadn’t been carved into gentle slopes, so climbing up was tough. By the time he reached the spot, Henry Clark’s arms, hands, and feet were all bleeding.

Henry Clark didn’t care about his injuries. A couple of days’ rest and he’d be fine. If he could find some good stone, it would all be worth it.

It had taken a lot of effort—if he hadn’t eaten that morning, Henry Clark definitely wouldn’t have had the strength to climb the mountain.

On the uneven ground lay stones of all shapes and sizes. On the rock face ahead, there were holes of varying depths, with marks around the edges from tools digging them out. Henry Clark guessed that harder stones had originally been embedded there, which Miller had dug out and taken back to make hunting tools. Many very hard stones weren’t widely distributed on the mountain but formed in patches—some on the surface, some buried deep inside. The warriors couldn’t split open the whole mountain, so whether you could find a desirable stone blank depended entirely on luck. That’s why Henry Clark had said Miller was lucky to have trained here this time.

Besides those holes, there were also palm and fist prints on the rock face. This was where Miller had trained.

Totem warriors’ fists were really tough. If it were Henry Clark, even if he punched the weakest spot on the rock face, the stone would be fine but his fist would be a bloody mess.

The hardest and best-shaped stones had already been picked by Miller and the others. The stones they chose were naturally of higher quality, but what was left was still useful for Henry Clark.

Without thinking further, Henry Clark had Julius Caesar stand guard while he hurried to search for stones he could trade for food—if he was late, someone else would surely come to snatch them.

Henry Clark picked up a half-foot-long strip of stone. Its shape was irregular, not very big, and not heavy, but Henry Clark knew that the quality of these stones wasn’t about weight. Many types of stone he’d never seen in his previous life, and even some of his old common sense didn’t apply in this world. All the knowledge he had now was accumulated over the past six months. He didn’t know how to quickly identify stone quality, and his experience was limited—unlike the seasoned warriors who could tell a stone’s grade with a glance and a touch. So Henry Clark used a clumsy method: first, he looked for stones with a good shape for processing, then used the stone knife he carried to chop and scratch them, checking the depth of the marks. Generally, the shallower the mark, the higher the stone’s grade.

Henry Clark struck the edge of the stone with his knife. With a crisp sound, only a shallow mark appeared where he’d struck. Seeing this, Henry Clark was delighted—this could be made into arrowheads or spear tips. The specifics of shaping it were the stoneworker’s job; all Henry Clark needed to do was take it to the stoneworker and trade it for food.

He put the stone into his crudely made, hole-ridden animal hide bag and was about to keep searching when Julius Caesar noticed something unusual.

Henry Clark carefully moved over to Julius Caesar and looked in the direction Julius Caesar indicated. Three children, about ten years old, taller and stronger than Henry Clark was now, were coming over.

Three old acquaintances—Henry Clark’s old rivals, the three little brats who always stole his stuff.