Richard Thompson was overjoyed at first when he saw that the other party was willing to let him go, but before the joy could fully register, he couldn't help but think to himself: If this were the primitive era, being told to leave would be no different from being told to die. I don't even have a weapon in my hand right now—sooner or later, I'll just end up as food for wild beasts. At least the people standing here are of my own kind, and we speak the same language. No, I absolutely can't leave now, at least not until I figure out what's going on. He put on a fawning smile and said, "Could you please be kind and take me in? I... I'm homeless right now."

"No!" The old woman replied firmly, "If you don't leave immediately, according to the rules of our Black Stone Valley, I will kill you first, then throw you out of our territory."

Wow! This old lady looks so kind and friendly, but she's actually so ruthless, threatening to kill at the drop of a hat. Richard Thompson finally understood the difference: leaving meant a slim chance of survival, but staying was certain death. Clearly, he didn't want to choose either option. His eyes suddenly darted around. Since everyone here is human, the basic principles should be the same. He said, "Uh, how about this—I'm not asking to stay here for free. I can help you with work—oh, actually, I'm a chef."

"What's a chef?"

"Uh... it means I can cook meals—delicious meals."

"What are meals?"

"Well... it's... it's the food you eat—I can make all of it." Richard Thompson explained, sweating profusely. Even though they spoke the same language, many words were unfamiliar to the other party, making communication very difficult.

The old man said, "Food is for eating, not for making."

This retort nearly made Richard Thompson faint. He said, "Food is for eating, but there's good food and bad food. Cooking is making food taste better." As he spoke, he realized these primitives might not understand, so he added, "Let me put it this way: when you bring back your hunted game, you have to roast it before eating, right? That's cooking!"

As soon as he said this, almost everyone stared at Richard Thompson in shock.

Richard Thompson felt uneasy under their gaze and said, "Did I say something wrong again?"

The old woman suddenly asked in a tone of disbelief, "You... you can make fire?"

"Make fire?"

Richard Thompson's eyes widened, and he saw the others looking at him in utter shock. He thought to himself, could it be that cooking here is still at the stage of making fire? At this thought, he almost burst out laughing, but quickly suppressed his smile and thought, Wait a minute, I don't have any matches or a lighter—how am I supposed to make fire?

Fire? Fire? Suddenly, he seemed to remember something. The only finger he could still move secretly rubbed against the side of his pants, and a look of confidence gradually appeared in his eyes. He nodded slightly and said with a smile, "I do know a little about making fire."

As soon as he said this, a commotion broke out among the crowd. People whispered in small groups, their eyes filled with disbelief.

The young man who had been squatting at Richard Thompson's feet suddenly darted over to the old woman and whispered something in her ear.

This kid is a bit suspicious, better keep an eye on him. Richard Thompson glanced over and braced himself.

After listening, the old woman nodded slightly, then discussed with a few of the more "well-dressed" women beside her. After hearing her out, those women also nodded.

The old woman suddenly called out, "Henry Wright!"

"Here!"

A deep, booming voice answered, and a burly man, built like a small mountain with iron-like skin but a simple, honest face, stepped out from the back.

When Richard Thompson saw him, he couldn't help but take a sharp breath. Damn! What kind of monster is this?

The old woman said, "If you can make fire faster than him, we might let you stay."

Thank goodness it's a fire-making contest and not a fight, otherwise I'd better just leave! Richard Thompson looked around and said, "Um... if you keep me tied up, I can't make fire."

The old woman thought cautiously for a moment before saying, "Untie him!"

The mountain-like Henry Wright immediately stepped forward, his eyes full of disdain, showing not the slightest fear of Richard Thompson.

Richard Thompson completely understood his disdain. He thought, If I had a chest of steel like that, I could ignore anyone with a smaller chest than mine—including women.

Henry Wright went behind the tree, and after a moment, there was a loud snap.

Richard Thompson suddenly felt his whole body relax, and his arms tingled with numbness. He couldn't help but rub them together, then glanced down to check himself, finding his clothes still intact. He breathed a small sigh of relief and thought, These primitives are actually quite civilized. Even though they're naked, they didn't strip me. He looked back and saw that Henry Wright had no weapon in his hand, and wondered, Did he just break the rope? Is that even possible?

The old woman asked, "Can we begin?"

Richard Thompson was startled, then quickly nodded, "Just about! Let Henry Wright go first."

The old woman looked at Henry Wright, who nodded confidently.

Richard Thompson saw all this and thought, As if I haven't read books before! In this primitive era, isn't it just rubbing sticks or striking stones to make fire? It takes at least half a day to get a spark. You're cocky now, but just wait—you'll be crying soon enough.