The chief came to see the warrior who had killed a bear. He was a large man with a high-level bloodline, all raw strength and predatory presence.
But when he saw that Luo He bore no visible wounds, his expression darkened with suspicion. "This bear was dead already," the chief declared loudly.
Addressing the gathering crowd. "This boy brings the corpse of another's kill and claims it for himself. This is dishonourable." He shouted.
Luo He approached the bear calmly. He placed his right foot on the creature's skull the massive cranium that had once belonged to a living predator and applied pressure.
The bone crunched beneath his boot, fragments scattering like brittle pottery.
Even the chief's eyes widened.
"I challenge you," Luo He said simply. "For the position of chief." His eyes were cold with no emotion behind them. The chief's hand went immediately to the massive knife at his side.
The challenge had been made. Now it could not be refused. The entire tribe gathered in a circle. The village elder read the rules.
His ancient voice carrying clearly. If Luo He won, he would inherit everything the title, the chief's three women, his property, his wealth, his very clothing. Everything.
The chief attacked with the fury of someone who had never met a real opponent. Luo He moved with absolute precision.
He jumped high enough to clear the knife's arc and brought his foot down in a perfect arc, kicking the weapon from the chief's grip.
His next strike a punch delivered with little of his gathered power connected with the chief's chest. Ribs shattered. Bone fragments pierced lungs.
The chief gasped, blood beginning to leak from the corners of his mouth. The final kick shattered the man's skull. His brain rattled within the broken bone like something loose inside a container.
Luo He picked up the chief's own blade and, in one motion, severed the head from the body. He lifted it high, and the entire tribe erupted in sounds of cheers and cries.
The primal acknowledgment of a new leader. The New Chief. The tribal law demanded that Luo He kill all of the former chief's sons to prevent future challenges.
"No," he said simply when the elder approached him with the traditional knife.
The crowd went silent. "I will not murder children who pose no immediate threat." Luo He continued.
His voice was calm, authoritative, a voice that expected obedience. "The tribe needs strong men in the future. I will spare them."
"And the former chief's women, I will not take them as my own." He announced proudly. "Instead, I name them as my councilors. They have wisdom. Let them advise me." He said coldly.
The three women of the former chief stood in shock, unable to quite comprehend that their lives and the lives of their children had just been spared.
Later, when one of them emboldened by gratitude, approached Luo He in the chief's house and began to remove her clothes.
Offering herself as a gift of appreciation, he stopped her gently. "I have no interest in such things," he said. "Clothe yourself. You are honored enough." He said calmely.
But Shirshir was different. When he gave her the chief's gold bracelet, a gesture of significant trust and affection. She accepted it with tears in her eyes.
That night when she came to his bed, Luo He did not refuse her. She was warm, eager and wholly present, in a way that Luo He found pleasant.
And beside them in the furs, his son Lang slept peacefully. One small hand resting on his father's shoulder.
For the first time in a very long time, Luo He felt something that might have been contentment.
Luo He woke to the weight of his new clothes tangled around his body. Heavy, warm, and utterly impractical for sleeping.
Shirshir was pressed against his left side, her arm draped across his chest, her breathing deep and content. On his right, Lang was sprawled across his shoulder like a small, starfish.
One tiny hand fisted in the fabric of Luo He's undershirt. For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling of the chief's house. A structure made of woven branches and animal hide.
Later decorated with the trophies of a hundred hunts. Then he sat up carefully, dislodging both sleeping figures with minimal disturbance.
"This is absolutely barbaric," he muttered while looking down at the chief's traditional clothing.
The bear-skin cloak was suffocating. It was massive. The entire pelt of a massive animal, designed to display dominance and power through sheer bulk.
The paws were converted into boots. They were stiff and ungainly. The whole ensemble was hot, restrictive, and utterly lacking in any practical design.
"Elegant savagery masquerading as dam traditiond." He carefully extracted himself from the furs and moved to the opening of the chief's quarters.
Pushing aside the heavy hide that served as a door. The morning air was cool against his skin, and he breathed deeply, clearing his head.
The bear-skin cloak would need to be worn. That was the nature of power in a tribe like this. It was visual, visceral and impossible to ignore.
But he would find ways to make it work for him rather than against him. When he returned inside, Shirshir had shifted in her sleep, and Lang was burrowing deeper into the furs.
Both were seeking the warmth he had vacated. Luo He felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest. It took him a moment to identify it. It was almost like contentment.
The Big Man, the former chief's protector stood exactly where Luo He had left him the previous night. Outside the chief's house.
The massive bone necklace he gave was carefully in one enormous hand because his neck was too thick for it to fit properly.
He was a remarkable specimen. Nearly eight and half feet tall, with shoulders that could barely fit through doorways.
And muscles that had been developed through years of hard labor and harder beatings.
His face was simple, almost childlike despite its size. With intelligent but confused dark eyes. Everyone called him "A Beast."
He had been born with insufficient intelligence for normal tribal life, unable to understand complex hierarchies in society.
Or the subtle languages of revenge and jealousy that governed tribal politics. But he was strong. Stronger than anyone else in the village.
And so the former chief had claimed him. Worked him like an animal, beaten him when he made mistakes. And never once treated him as anything approaching human.
The moment Luo He had given him the necklace, a gesture of honor in the tribe. The man had knelt immediately and pressed his massive forehead to the ground in absolute submission.
"What is your name?" Luo He had asked softly. The man had looked up, confused. "No name. I am... thing." He called in a casual voice.
"You are no longer a thing." Luo He said coldly. "I am taking you as my student. You will learn. You will grow stronger, not just in body but in mind." He said confidently.
In the morning light Luo He approached him. "Come with me," Luo He instructed. "And stand where I stand. You are now my protector. Do you understand?" He said with the commanding presence in his voice.
The man nodded slowly, processing the words. Understanding, perhaps not fully but grasping the essential meaning he was wanted. He was valued. He was not a thing anymore.
"What is your name?" Luo He asked again. "I... no name." He said again.
"Good you have already improved. I can give you a name." He said proudly.
Luo He considered for a moment, then smiled slightly at the randomness of what came to him. "You are Long. Your name is Long. Does that please you?" He said laughing.
The man, Long looked down at his massive hands, at the necklace, at this figure who had shown him kindness in a life that contained none.
His large, simple face transformed with something that might have been joy.
"Long," he repeated. Testing the word. "I am Long."
"Yes. And you belong to no one. You serve because you choose to serve." Luo He said. Still he expected a servant but he made it seem like it was a choice. He was still a slave, but under invisible chains.
Long nodded. The concept of choice was perhaps beyond his full comprehension, but the concept of kindness that he understood perfectly.