Transmigrated into a wild and primitive world, with a system as an aid—transmigration plus system, the standard official setup.

But he accidentally killed the system, turning himself into a downgraded protagonist.

Fortunately, a totem spirit was left behind, allowing him to control the tribe.

Thus, Ethan Brooks became the tribal chief, starting from an insignificant tribe, gathering the people as the Xia, offering sacrifices to heaven and forging the Nine Tripods, developing step by step from farming, from tribe to dynasty, and then to the supreme imperial dynasty.

Volume One: The Wilds at the Border — The Xia Tribe

Chapter 1: Host, Please Commit Suicide

"Become the chief of the tribe, and within a hundred years, become the largest tribe in the borderlands. If you fail, you will be erased."

Inside a dim and damp cave, Ethan Brooks leaned against the stone wall, his head buzzing.

He had transmigrated.

With a look of misery, he leaned against the stone wall, his head buzzing, and the persistent voice echoing in his ears only deepened his confusion.

"Become the chief of the tribe, and within a hundred years, become the largest tribe in the borderlands. If you fail, you will be erased."

"Hiss—"

He raised his right hand and touched the spot slightly to the right of his forehead. There was a blood-red lump with a scab, and the sharp pain made him suck in a cold breath.

Yet, he couldn't help but press it again.

"Hiss—"

What a feeling.

Painful yet oddly satisfying, the more he pressed, the more it hurt and the better it felt.

He couldn't help it; ever since he was a child, whenever he got a scab from a fall or bump, he just couldn't stop himself from picking at it—hurting and enjoying it at the same time.

"Become the chief of the tribe, and within a hundred years, become the largest tribe in the borderlands. If you fail, you will be erased."

"By now, my parents must have found me hanging at home."

The voice in his ear was getting on his nerves, so he cursed, "I'd be content just to live to a hundred. You can leave now."

"……" System.

"Go kill yourself, don't waste my time looking for a new host."

Ethan Brooks: "……"

In the end, he decided to ignore this lunatic. He had been locked up in this dim, damp cave all along, with vines as thick as an arm wrapped around his legs—clearly to keep him from escaping.

"The money in my account is enough for my parents' retirement, and my big brother and little sister have already done their filial duty."

Thinking of this, a hint of spirit flickered in Ethan Brooks's otherwise dejected expression. Although he hadn't bought any Bitcoin, by coincidence, he had stocked up on a batch of graphics cards and memory sticks a couple of years ago.

He figured he was already someone who had died once—why not die again and see if he could transmigrate back?

Best case, he could go back a few years, get some Bitcoin, and maybe buy a jianbing to try.

In the end, he dismissed the idea.

He thought it would be better to go back to the '90s and do some speculative trading—maybe he could become one of those "pigs standing in the wind" that Jack Ma talked about.

Like Dr. Edward Carter and Director William Clark next door, who went straight to Hong Kong in '93, set up a stall, and founded Ma's Whampoa Academy—much better than having Young Mr. Bennett pay for everything.

If he could go back, he'd take a gamble too. Just thinking about it made him happy—he could think about it forever.

"Hiss—"

He couldn't help but touch the wound on his forehead again.

The sharp pain snapped Ethan Brooks back to reality: a damp, dark cave, bugs crawling through the dirt, his clothes in tatters, and the animal skin he wore was so worn out it was almost bald.

Oh, and at his feet was a mud-stained thing that looked like a taro, about the size of a fist, with a few clear bite marks left on it—that was his food.

The cave entrance was blocked by a huge boulder, with only a few gaps at the edge letting in some light. He was imprisoned here, and it was for a major crime in the tribe.

Two days ago, during the tribe's totem ritual, his predecessor had, for some reason, rammed his head into the totem pole, leaving the scar on his head.

For everyone in the tribe, the totem was the spiritual symbol of the whole tribe, and their reliance for survival in this wild land. Doing something like that was no different from dancing on a grave.

A group of burly men had rushed up like mad, subdued his predecessor, roughed him up, and threw him into this cave. His predecessor didn't make it, and then he arrived in this world.

Now he was just waiting to die—the only question was how. According to Ethan Brooks's guess, he'd probably be roasted over a fire.

Then a group of people would dance around the bonfire, howling.

Yeah.

Being roasted wasn't so bad—better than being eaten. At least his ashes could nourish the earth.

With a shiver, Ethan Brooks slapped himself.

Being eaten would also nourish the earth.

"Ah!"

He curled up on the ground, and only after a long time did he take a deep breath. He really had to break the habit of picking at his scabs.

He couldn't die.

To die right after transmigrating—how embarrassing would that be?

"Hey, if I die, how am I supposed to complete the mission? How am I supposed to become the strongest tribe in the borderlands? Think of something!"

"Only by first becoming the chief of the tribe can this system be fully activated."

"Given the host's current situation, it is recommended that the host commit suicide."

"Don't waste everyone's time."

Ethan Brooks's mouth twitched, and he cursed, "I'll kill you, damn it!"

"It is recommended that the host commit suicide. Let's be considerate of each other."

Rumble.