A man was seen walking over, holding two pieces of wood in one hand and some dry grass in the other, respectfully handing them to Henry Wright.

Richard Thompson saw the two pieces of wood—one thick, one thin, with the thin one sharpened at one end—and felt even more unimpressed. Isn’t this just the classic way of making fire by drilling wood? He pressed his lips together, but his expression remained very humble as he quietly watched the other show off.

Henry Wright squatted down, kneeling on one knee. He first placed the thick piece of wood on the ground, then covered it with dry grass, leaving only a small hole.

The children all gathered around, eyes wide open, their gazes full of anticipation.

Richard Thompson secretly scoffed. It’s just making a fire, is it really that big a deal to you all? But after a brief moment of thought, he immediately understood: in this primitive era, making fire must be difficult, so humans hold great respect and longing for fire. That’s why these children are so excited.

After Henry Wright finished preparing everything, he held the thin stick between his hands, with the sharpened end pressed against the thick wood, and began to rub it back and forth slowly but powerfully.

Could he just be all show and no substance? With friction at that speed, it’ll be dark before he gets a fire going! Richard Thompson rolled his eyes inwardly, but then his eyes bulged out and his mouth dropped open.

It turned out that after rubbing for a while, Henry Wright suddenly rubbed his hands back and forth with great force. The thin stick slipped from his hands but remained standing on the thick wood, spinning at a speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye. In just a moment, the thin stick began to slowly sink downward, while a cloud of powder rose up, swirling rapidly around the stick.

Suddenly, there was a soft whoosh.

A tongue of flame shot up, and the pile of dry grass immediately caught fire.

The children around instantly raised their little hands, wiggled their hips, and danced and sang around the fire, singing “la la la,” their faces beaming with joy, their little willies swaying along—truly adorable.

“Drill—drill—wood—to—make—make—make fire.”

Richard Thompson’s jaw seemed to have dislocated, his mouth wide open and unable to close, his voice trembling so much that even he couldn’t hear himself!

Chapter Two: Don’t Show Off

Immortal? Monster?

These two words popped into Richard Thompson’s mind. Anyway, he didn’t think a human could do this, because it was just too unbelievable. In his understanding, only machines could achieve such a thing.

But if it were an immortal or a monster, why would they show respect for fire? Wouldn’t they just spit out some magical fire and be done with it? Besides, what Henry Wright did… this should still count as making fire by drilling wood—the earliest human method of making fire—just done in a very flashy way.

Or am I hallucinating?

Richard Thompson rubbed his eyes hard. The faint firelight told him he wasn’t hallucinating, but he still didn’t want to believe it. He pinched his thigh hard, and the sharp pain told him this was no illusion, but reality.

Seeing Richard Thompson’s expression, Henry Wright couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows and, in his deep voice, said, “It’s your turn!”

Henry Wright’s voice interrupted Richard Thompson’s thoughts. He quickly pulled himself together, laughed, and looked at Henry Wright with admiration, saying, “Brother Henry Wright, you’re really amazing! My admiration for you is like the endless river, flowing on and on—!” As he spoke, his hands quietly reached into his pants pockets.

“It’s your turn!” Henry Wright interrupted him mercilessly.

Fair enough! Such a sophisticated compliment, he probably doesn’t get it! Richard Thompson gave an awkward smile, rubbed his hands, and said, “Could you give me some dry grass too?”

Before he finished speaking, a pile of dry grass and two sticks were thrown at his feet.

Richard Thompson looked up at the young man and saw his eyes darting around.

“Thank you!”

Richard Thompson smiled and nodded, then squatted down, picked up the two sticks and tossed them aside, flicked his bangs with a proud look, and said, “I don’t need these—they’re too much trouble.”

He knew he had to show off a bit at this moment and couldn’t keep a low profile, because the other side was just too impressive. He understood that only if he showed great ability would they value him and take him in. To put it bluntly, this was actually a recruitment event.

Everyone was shocked at this, which showed that Henry Wright’s fire-making method was the only one they knew.

After a brief moment of thought, Richard Thompson had a plan. He took a deep breath, shouted, thrust his hand into the dry grass, and loudly chanted, “Urgent as the law commands!”

As soon as he finished speaking, a wisp of black smoke rose from the dry grass.

Oh no! Good thing this is a speed contest—if it were about style, I’d be a total loser! Ouch! That’s hot! Richard Thompson suddenly tensed up, quickly pulled back his left hand, yelping, “Ouch! That’s burning!” and reached both hands behind to rub his butt.

At this moment, the surroundings were deathly silent. Everyone stared at the slowly igniting flame, all dumbfounded.

“Fire! Fire! He really can make fire!”

A little kid pointed at the flame and shouted in surprise.

“Yeah! He… he really can make fire.”

“How is this possible?”

Many people covered their mouths, looking as if they couldn’t accept it, their expressions even more exaggerated than Richard Thompson’s earlier.

Henry Wright’s mouth twitched nonstop, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. It was clear his confidence was on the verge of collapse, because Richard Thompson’s way of making fire was obviously much easier.