I transmigrated into the weakest female in the Beast World and was taken back to a tribe by its cold-faced leopard chief, who left me there to await death.
The tribe members all laughed at me for being useless, until I made fire with my bare hands and became a legend with a single roasted-meat feast.
Bitter wild greens became nourishing medicinal dishes, and poisonous dirt eggs became a staple food. From then on, the tribe was rolling in riches.
The cold-faced chief turned into a loyal puppy, guarding me day and night. “Who dares say my female is weak?”
When our enemies joined forces and marched on us, I set a huge pot over the fire and sneered. “Come on, try my Soul-Severing Soup.”
Survival lies on the tip of the tongue. Civilization lies beneath it.
