"Son of God, I still blow, I still blow!"

Just after dinner the next day, everyone could not wait to gather around, looking at Han Cheng one by one, with bright eyes.

Music has no borders and no distinction between times, especially music that can be widely circulated and sung has its own unique features.

Of course, race is not easy to cross, otherwise there would be no such thing as a cow playing the piano.

Everyone in the Qingque tribe who had never heard of the flute had been heard last night. Last night, Han Cheng's song "Farewell" was heard in the clouds. The feeling was so wonderful.

Although I can't say it, I can truly appreciate the beauty of music.

So just after dinner today, everyone could not wait to look at Han Cheng, hoping that the respected Son of God could play another song for them.

Looking at the crowd with bright eyes, Han Cheng suddenly saw the scene of having dinner when he was a child. Half of the village gathered in a yard of a house and watching it around a fourteen-inch black and white TV.

Unfortunately, now he is no longer one of the people watching TV, but has transformed into the fourteen-inch black and white TV...

Of course, Han Cheng would not disappoint everyone's pleasure, so he took the bamboo flute again and played a song "Farewell" in front of everyone.

The sound of the flute sounded, and everyone instantly calmed down. Listening to the wonderful sound of the flute, looking at the son of the god playing the flute under the bonfire, the eyes of many female primitive people in the tribe were shiny.

In the past, they thought that men who were strong and could get a lot of food were the most attractive, but now, their deep-rooted concept suddenly became shaken when they looked at the Son of God playing the flute.

Looking at the people who were looking at his eyes shining, Han Cheng felt very helpful.

Of course, if Han Cheng replaced all the female primitive people with stars in his eyes with girls from later generations and suddenly gained such a large number of fans, Han Cheng would definitely be even more enjoyable and would be so happy that he could fly.

However, with his flute that is not considered a third-rate, it would be good to play in public in later generations and not be thrown away by others. He also wanted to gain a large number of little fans. This is simply a dream.

It seems that women from the primitive era are easier to cheat!

"Son of God, still blow! still blow!"

After the song was over, after a long quiet time, some people shouted with unsatisfactory voices, some people took the lead, and the rest came to their senses and shouted together.

They couldn't hear enough of this wonderful flute sound.

Han Cheng naturally would not refuse if someone supported him like this. He put the flute to his mouth. The melody of "Farewell" flowed out again, and everyone was silent in an instant and intoxicated...

"Son of God, still blow! still blow!"

It was late at night, and people who used to sleep very early in the past were still energetic at this time and were unwilling to fall asleep. They couldn't hear enough of this beautiful flute.

"Sleep! Stop blowing!"

The son of the great god Han spoke, and everyone's dissatisfied voices were immediately suppressed.

This cannot be blamed on Han Cheng. Anyone who blew "Farewell" more than ten times in a row, his lips were almost blown, and his mind was a little lacking in oxygen. These guys were still shouting to do it again, and their reactions would not be much better than Han Cheng.

Of course, it’s better to say something about these guys after buying tickets. Han Cheng is willing to go there a few more times. The key is that there are not any tickets, and there are so many requirements. How can this make sense?

As a result, everyone was suppressed by the son of the Great God Han.

"Sleep well tonight, work well tomorrow, and I will play for everyone tomorrow."

After Han Cheng said this, everyone who was in a low mood just now was instantly resurrected with full blood.

Han Cheng touched his somewhat tidy lips and couldn't help but smile bitterly. Sometimes it wasn't really a good thing if there were too many.

Alas, there is no way, being too good is such a distress...

"Hehe~hehe~hehe~..."

There were chickens in the chicken pen in the Qingque Tribe screaming in horror, but no matter how frightened the chirping, they still couldn't escape the poisonous hand of the great god Han.

Han Cheng held a rooster with his wings and pulled three or four feathers from above before letting it go, and then he caught another unlucky guy and continued to pull it out.

At this time, Han Cheng looked quite bold as a witch when she made brushes, and she tended to become a hair-pulling madman.

Fortunately, the targets he was only chickens, ducks, geese and other poultry, but the rest did not take action.

After a while, the chickens and ducks were crying, Han Cheng left here with a lot of harvest.

Seeing the two-legged beast leave, the poultry from the Qingque Tribe slowly calmed down.

Han Cheng stuffed the wings of four chickens into a thin bamboo tube three or four centimeters long. After stuffing them, he put them in some gum to stick them firmly, and then pressed them tightly together with the thin bamboo tubes in the middle of a circular copper sheet with a diameter of about three centimeters.

After he was firm, Han Cheng threw the simplified version of the shuttlecock into the air, and then the shuttlecock fell down with feathers facing upwards and copper flakes facing downwards.

Seeing that it was quite successful, Han Cheng picked it up from the ground and threw it in the air again.

However, this time, he did not let it fall to the ground anymore. Instead, when it fell down, Han Cheng stretched out his foot to catch it and kicked it up again.

Kicking shuttlecock is not Han Cheng's strength, but he can't catch it after kicking it for a few seconds.

"Brother Cheng is this?"

Because Xiao Xing'er was not born for a long time, she needed more care from the woman Bai Xuemei, who is a mother, and now she can't raise silkworms anymore, so Bai Xuemei lives a relatively leisurely life. Her favorite thing is to hold Xiao Xing'er and lead Xiao Pea to follow Han Cheng, just like a little tail.

At this time, seeing Han Cheng making strange moves towards something he had never seen before, he asked curiously.

"This is a shuttlecock. If you kick it with your feet, you can have the effect of strengthening your body.

When the game is held in winter, the shuttlecock kicking is set as a special event. Women will compete with each other. Anyone who plays more will get rewards.”

Han Cheng explained to Bai Xuemei with a smile.

Afterwards, he kicked twice, successfully increasing the number of kicks from two to three times. Han Cheng felt a little proud. This progress was too obvious! In just a while, he increased by one third!

"You'll kick."

Han Cheng smiled and said to Bai Xuemei who was holding Xiao Xing'er.

"Brother Cheng, I won't."

Bai Xuemei shook her head. This was the first time she saw this shuttlecock and this novel way of playing, so she naturally didn't know how to play it.

"It's okay, it's easy, you'll be kicking."

Han Cheng took Xiao Xing'er from Bai Xuemei's arms and said to Bai Xuemei with a smile.

He persuaded him as he came here, looking like a senior old bird guiding the young newbies.

"When you kick, try to move your feet up as flat as possible. You can't use too much strength. Just pay more attention to it and you can reach my level."

"Uh-huh."

Bai Xuemei nodded obediently, with the nervousness and anxiety that is unique to novices.

The eldest son of Han taught a few more words. After imparting his own experience, Bai Xuemei, who was a little cautious and nervous, threw the shuttlecock into the air.

"Ba, bha, bha, bha, bha..."

Seeing the chicken-feather shuttlecock flying up and down on Bai Xuemei's feet, Han Cheng's face was twitching. Can he use such strength to slap in the face? He is obviously a big shot, but he insists on pretending to be a newbie here. Is it really good to slap in the face like this?...

"Brother Cheng, the method you taught is so good!"

The first time I kicked the shuttlecock, Bai Xuemei, who had kicked her twelve times in a row, looked at Han Cheng and said with admiration.

Even though Han Cheng was thick-skinned enough, his old face couldn't help but blush.

"Hey, Brother Cheng, what's wrong with your face? Why is it so red?"

Looking at Bai Xuemei's innocent look, Han Cheng suddenly had the urge to escape...

The appearance of shuttlecocks soon set off a craze in the tribe. Few female primitive people who had fun activities were very happy after getting these chicken feather shuttlecocks. They wanted to take them out and kick them when they were fine.

It has the style of those later generations who "put a deck of cards in their waists and get whoever they catch."

Of course, if shuttlecock alone is not enough to make these female primitive people in the tribe be obsessed with it, it would not be surprising that such a trend could be set off in the tribe.

The sheep horn comb is different from the ordinary wooden comb. The sheep horn comb is not only comfortable to use, but also looks very beautiful. It is the thing that can most touch the hearts of tribal women.

When using such things as a reward for the top three shuttlecock kickers in winter sports, there is no need to worry about these women not being moved by them.

The horn comb obtained through the competition is different from the rest of the things. The horn comb obtained through the competition is rewarded to individuals and is no longer owned by the public.

After years of continuous development and the gradual enrichment of tribal materials, everyone has gradually developed some private ideas and can distinguish their own and publicly owned concepts.

"Bang~"

With white smoke and a bronze-casting stove, Heiwa was holding a gong tied up with a rope in his hand, and holding a gong hammer wrapped in cloth in the other hand, knocking it in the middle of the gong.

After the gong was beaten, the gong's face trembled and made a sound.

The sound is a little bigger than what was cast before, but it is still far from the effect that the Son of God said.

This made Heiwa very distressed. He had already made the mold very carefully and had already made the gap between the molds to the thinnest level he could reach by hand. However, the cast gong was still not ideal.

Before, he always wanted to do something more challenging, but now Heiwa suddenly regrets it because the challenge of this gong is too great!

He had racked his brains, but he still couldn't come up with a perfect gong.

And now the weather is getting colder and colder, and it may be when heavy snow will fall.

Time is so tight that Heiwa cannot be in a hurry.

"Put this gong in an iron stove and burn it hard with fire. After heating it, use a hammer to beat the protruding circle in the middle to a thinner."

Han Cheng walked over, understood the difficulties Heiwa encountered, and then held the unsuccessful Gong in his hand and watched it carefully for a while, and spoke to the second senior brother beside him.

Copper cannot be used repeatedly like iron, but there is no problem in blasting the thick part after heating it and then knocking it thinner.

Han Cheng's most direct contact with Tongluo was to patrol and fight with his cousin who was more than 10 years older than him when he was a child, and a nephew who was five or six years older than him.
To be continued...