Those three were not from the Child Cave; each belonged to a different family and lived near the foot of the mountain. They often played together, and their conflict with Henry Clark had started just a few days after Henry Clark woke up in this world. At first, Henry Clark hadn’t adjusted his mindset and would always see them as people from his previous life’s world. Even when he fought back, he would hold back a lot. The result of those few times he held back and showed mercy was that Henry Clark lost the hard-earned jerky he’d gotten after much effort, and was beaten up by those three little bastards until his face was swollen like a pig’s head.

Later on, Henry Clark gradually came around. Just like the first day he woke up and saw those children in the cave with the same wolfish eyes fighting over food, Henry Clark’s attitude and mindset toward them changed as well.

While recovering from his injuries, Henry Clark reflected deeply. After that, when he clashed with them, he no longer held back. The tribe’s rule was that you couldn’t kill or cripple fellow tribesmen, but as long as you didn’t kill or maim, no one would say much. The people living near the foot of the mountain had long gotten used to these savage rules.

Henry Clark didn’t know exactly what special race the tribe belonged to. Although they looked no different from people in his previous life, this species had especially strong recovery abilities. Even after being badly beaten, they could walk again after resting for two or three days, and after another month or two, they’d be lively as ever. That’s also why the tribe didn’t care about fights of this level—because to them, it was just a small matter, not as important as preparing food.

As for those three kids, Henry Clark wasn’t as tall or as strong as them, and he didn’t eat as much as they did. What did he have to fight them with? Even when outnumbered, you had to use strategy and ferocity.

Henry Clark pressed Julius Caesar’s head down, and seeing that Julius Caesar was still baring its teeth at the three kids walking this way, Henry Clark pinched its mouth. “Wait a moment!”

Looking around, Henry Clark picked a hidden spot to stash the stones he’d just selected and put in a hide bag, then quietly moved behind a rock wall and said to Julius Caesar, “In a bit, you go deal with ‘Wild’. Do you know ‘Wild’?”

A warrior had once said that many of the beasts living deep in the mountains were very smart, and those that weren’t smart were often even harder to deal with. Julius Caesar belonged to the relatively smart kind. This wasn’t their first time working together. Even if Julius Caesar couldn’t tell which one to go after, it didn’t matter—Henry Clark had already set his sights on the one in the lead, the guy called “David Reed”, the number one little bastard. Once he was dealt with, things would be much simpler.

Julius Caesar crouched low, quietly hiding behind a big rock, which meant it understood Henry Clark’s intentions.

Approach quietly, subdue swiftly, and aim for a decisive blow—this seemed to be the nature of wild animals. When it came to hunting, they could always bring out this hidden instinct, even wolves raised as dogs from a young age.

Chapter Four: The Kids from the Cave Are Truly Terrifying

Of course, Henry Clark didn’t intend for Julius Caesar to actually kill with one strike—the tribe didn’t allow it. But as for giving up what he’d just gotten, Henry Clark absolutely refused, especially since it was these three little bastards coming; that made it even less likely.

While Henry Clark was considering whether to fight barehanded or use stones, the three people climbing the mountain hadn’t noticed the ambush. Their attention was focused elsewhere, wary of stones flying at them. They didn’t know which was the safest path up the mountain, so they could only judge roughly by the sounds they heard, avoiding the places where loud crashes came from.

“Scott Turner, are you sure it’s this way?” The one in front, David Reed, dodged a stone that fell from above, looked angrily at the person hiding behind him, and his eyebrows nearly stood up.

The timid kid named Scott Turner shrank his neck and said, “I’m sure. My dad’s on patrol today. He saw Miller come down this way. He should be here soon. Miller is an intermediate warrior, so he must have left some good stuff behind.”

David Reed snorted, kicked away the stone that had landed by his foot, and kept walking forward.

Watching the three of them get closer and closer, Henry Clark held his breath, waiting for the best moment.

After working together so many times, Henry Clark didn’t need to say much. He waited for the right moment, signaled to Julius Caesar, and then suddenly dashed toward David Reed like an arrow, right fist clenched, aiming straight for David Reed’s face.

David Reed’s reaction wasn’t slow—he was the most capable of the three. Caught off guard by Henry Clark’s ambush, he didn’t have time to dodge completely, only managing to turn his head slightly so his nose avoided the punch, but his face still took the hit. Before he could react, his jaw was struck hard again. The consecutive blows left David Reed dizzy for a moment, and his body fell backward.

But that was just the beginning. In just a few moments, Henry Clark’s fists followed one after another, punching David Reed’s face again and again.

In the end, Henry Clark still didn’t choose to use the stones.

Even barehanded, landing punch after punch like this was no pleasant experience.

The people of the Flamehorn Tribe were physically strong. Even the children who hadn’t awakened their totem power were far stronger than most people Henry Clark had seen in his previous life. If Henry Clark wanted to settle things quickly, he couldn’t afford to hold back his strength.