He once again naturally tossed the insect into his mouth and started chewing, just like eating beans.

Did I see that right? He... he’s eating it? Richard Thompson was completely dumbfounded.

“Is it fatty?” another night watchman asked, swallowing his saliva.

“Not bad!”

Longlong casually spat out two wings.

Sweating profusely! What kind of people are these? Hopefully, this is just a nightmare. Richard Thompson silently pulled up the back of his hat to cover his head. Suddenly, he thought, actually, this isn’t so bad—at least there won’t be any mosquitoes biting me at night.

Chapter 8: Prayer and Divination

Although Richard Thompson’s miraculous experiences had already enabled him to face any difficulty calmly, that didn’t mean he could tolerate sharing a cave with a bunch of snoring, pantsless savages. For someone who had just returned to being a fresh-faced young man, this was simply too dangerous. He would rather sit outside and wait for dawn. Besides, with so much on his mind, he didn’t think he could fall asleep anyway.

Of course, that wasn’t the case. The day’s events had left him utterly exhausted, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

……

“Richard Thompson! Richard Thompson!”

In a daze, Richard Thompson seemed to hear someone calling him. He couldn’t help but open his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a pair of flip-flops. He jumped up in surprise, “I’m back... Brian Cooper... Brian Cooper?”

When he looked up, he saw the same old face that had scared him half to death not long ago. It was like a bucket of cold water poured over him from head to toe.

“You’re awake!”

Old Brian Cooper said with a cheerful smile.

Was what happened before just a hallucination? I clearly saw a pair of flip-flops just now. Richard Thompson looked down and saw that Brian Cooper was indeed wearing flip-flops, though they were rather crude. The soles were just pieces of animal hide tied to his feet with vines, but the design was exactly like flip-flops: a hole at the front with a vine threaded through and looped around the heel. Puzzled, he asked, “These shoes...”

“Shoes! You call these shoes?” Brian Cooper excitedly pointed at Richard Thompson’s leather shoes, then at his own flip-flops, looking thrilled.

Who would have thought that humanity’s first pair of shoes would be flip-flops? Richard Thompson suddenly saw Brian Cooper hopping left and right in front of him and was momentarily stunned. What is he doing? Looking down, he saw Brian Cooper deliberately jumping onto rocks and immediately understood: Brian Cooper was showing him that he understood the purpose of shoes. No wonder he’s the smartest person in Blackstone Valley—impressive! He gave a thumbs up and sincerely said, “Yes, these are called shoes. You’re really smart, very smart.”

Brian Cooper was so happy he couldn’t stop grinning. After a while, he suddenly seemed to remember something and handed a greenish blade of grass to Richard Thompson.

“What’s this?” Richard Thompson instinctively took a step back.

Brian Cooper pushed the little blade of grass toward Richard Thompson again.

Richard Thompson took the grass with a confused look and noticed its unusual shape—serrated edges, almost like human teeth.

Brian Cooper said, “Eat it.”

Is this breakfast? Eating grass first thing in the morning—I’m not a horse! Richard Thompson nodded perfunctorily, “Okay, I’ll eat it later.”

Brian Cooper shook his head. “You have to eat it now.”

Richard Thompson asked, “Why?”

Brian Cooper replied, “Because we’re about to pray.”

“Pray?”

Richard Thompson was taken aback. He suddenly remembered that primitive people seemed to be into this sort of thing. But praying is one thing—why does it feel like some kind of cult ritual, eating grass beforehand? Are they going to do a bloodletting next? He looked at the grass again, wondering if it was poisonous. Cautiously, he asked, “Does everyone have to eat it?”

Brian Cooper nodded.

Seeing Brian Cooper staring at him, Richard Thompson knew there was no way to get out of it. Helplessly, he put the grass in his mouth. He bit off a small piece at first and immediately found the taste incredibly pungent, like a chemical.

“Ugh!”

Richard Thompson really couldn’t stand it and spat it out with a retch. “Ptooey, ptooey! What is this taste...”

Halfway through his complaint, he suddenly froze, because he noticed that his spit was full of residue, and at the same time, his mouth felt fresh and oddly comfortable.

Could this be primitive toothpaste? Richard Thompson looked at Brian Cooper in surprise.

Brian Cooper just kept laughing, as if to say that spitting it out was normal.

How amazing! Oh, I get it—this is just like bathing and changing clothes before a ritual: clean out your mouth before praying.

Now that he understood, Richard Thompson felt relieved. Since he didn’t have to swallow it, he took a bigger bite, endured the pungency, and chewed until he couldn’t stand it anymore, then spat it out. The grass seemed to stimulate saliva production, and he spat out a big mouthful. His mouth felt incredibly light and fresh, and he was amazed. This grass really was magical—so natural, though the taste wasn’t great. If it could be processed into mouthwash, haha, the problem of rinsing your mouth would be solved!

Just as he was lost in his thoughts, Brian Cooper suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the fire pit. Don’t be fooled by Brian Cooper’s age—he was surprisingly strong. But Richard Thompson was already used to it by now.