The metal rod is bent.

Chen Hao immediately pulled his foot back, lay down on the ground, and clung tightly to a protruding rock at the edge of the crack. He even held his breath, afraid that the slightest tremor would completely crush the rusty, dilapidated pole.

"Don't break it... Brother, neither of us will see anyone off today." He muttered to himself, his other hand reaching for the backpack strap, trembling as he wrapped the buckle around his wrist, then wrapped it several more times, finally tying it to a rock half-buried in the ground next to him.

Nana stood still, but the robotic arm slowly extended. She adjusted the angle, wedging the end into a crevice in the opposite rock wall to create a second support point.

“You can move now,” she said. “Keep your center of gravity low and move slowly.”

Chen Hao swallowed hard and shuffled forward on his knees. The metal rod creaked, as if it might explode into a ball of rust at any moment. He gritted his teeth and moved forward inch by inch, his butt sticking up high, looking like a fat penguin crawling through a minefield.

When he finally stepped onto the opposite rock, his legs were trembling. He didn't rush to untie himself; instead, he reached out and scratched at the dark red rock. His fingernails scraped across the surface, leaving several white marks.

“It’s really hard, but not as hard as stone.” He turned around and shouted, “It’s a bit like… the rusty security bars on the windows downstairs in my building that’s been there for twenty years.”

Nana operated the robotic arm to hand him a sampling blade. He took it, carefully scraped off a piece of mineral debris the size of a fingernail, and put it into a sealed bag.

"Take it for testing," he said, panting. "If it's coal ash again, I'll immediately lie down and accept my fate, and go back to the base to grow mushrooms."

A few minutes later, Nana's optical lens flashed blue light twice.

"It has been confirmed as a mixture of magnetite and hematite, with an iron content of over 55%, and is worth mining."

Chen Hao grinned: "Good heavens, have we stumbled upon a hidden treasure trove?"

“This is the starting point of the ore vein,” she said. “Systematic collection is required afterward.”

He looked down at his hands, which were covered in mud and dust, and then at the rickety metal rod: "Next time, can we get some more reliable tools? If we use this thing again, it'll probably be written into the 'Complete Guide to Humanity's Suicides'."

"I suggest prioritizing improving operational precision." Nana brought up the holographic projection, and a light blue mineral vein model appeared in the air. "Incorrect application of force will cause the ore to break and resources to be wasted."

In the video, a virtual humanoid figure begins to demonstrate the digging action: the hammer head cuts in at a 45-degree angle, with evenly spaced impact points, and the tool is slightly rotated after each strike to separate the rock layers.

“A 37-degree angle is ideal,” she said. “The force should be controlled at around five kilograms. Too much force will crack the internal structure, and too little force will make it impossible to peel off.”

Chen Hao stared at the projector for three seconds, then reached out and turned it off.

“Too slow,” he said. “You have a robotic feel; I only use this hand to press the buttons on a game controller most of the time. Why don’t you just dig, and I’ll applaud?”

“Learning is part of survival.” She ignored his complaints and took a scrap metal piece from her toolbox. “Practice your feel for it first.”

He placed ten small stones on the ground to mimic the distribution of mineral veins. With the first hammer blow, the stone flew three meters away, smashing into powder against the rock wall.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, shaking his hand. "Why is this piece of shrapnel so slippery?"

"Your grip is wrong," Nana corrected. "Keep your thumb and forefinger close together, keep your wrist fixed, and generate power from your forearm, not your shoulder."

He changed his posture and tried again, but the second hammer went astray and almost hit his own toe.

"That's not scientific!" He jumped back two steps. "Who in their right mind is that meticulous? I'm not embroidering!"

“Mining isn’t about violent dismantling,” she said calmly, “but about precise separation. Like when you’re eating potato chips, you don’t want them to crumble into crumbs, right?”

Chen Hao was taken aback: "You even know about potato chips?"

"The database includes analysis of consumption behavior for 23 types of snacks."

"...Then tell me, how can you bite into something without making a crunching sound?"

"It cannot be guaranteed."

He rolled his eyes and squatted down again. In his third attempt, he used less force, slowly trying to find the right feel. He failed the first five times, but finally managed to loosen the pebble without breaking it on the sixth try.

“It’s done!” He held up the metal plate. “I hereby declare that from this moment on, I officially join the ranks of the ‘Gentle Miners’.”

Nana didn't respond; she just silently recorded the data.

For the next two hours, he repeatedly tried mining on an exposed ore layer. At first, every three taps would break off a piece, the ore crumbling like a trampled biscuit. He grew increasingly frustrated and his movements became more aggressive.

"It's all iron anyway, so even the broken pieces can be smelted, right?" he muttered as he swung a thick piece of alloy as a hammer.

"With a breakage rate exceeding 70%, refining efficiency drops by more than 60%," Nana cautioned. "You're creating more work for your future self right now."

Chen Hao stopped, panting heavily as he sat down on a rock.

"Do you think I'm just not cut out for this?" He looked at his reddened palms. "I'm bad at studying, bad at fighting, and now I can't even pick up stones."

“You have been trying for 41 minutes straight, with the number of mistakes decreasing each time,” she said. “On the 18th attempt, the success rate reached 39 percent.”

"That's only a little over 30%?"

"Initially zero."

He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed: "Alright, it's better than improving from zero to thirty-nine points on the exam."

He stood up, stretched his wrists, and picked up his tools again.

This time, he no longer pursued speed. He paused for a second before each strike, recalling the angle and rhythm shown in the projection. The first few strikes were still inaccurate, but he didn't rush to change positions. Instead, he stopped to observe the direction of the cracks on the rock surface.

"So you have to follow its own seams," he muttered. "It's like cutting a watermelon; you can't just chop it open."

With the seventh hammer blow, a palm-sized piece of ore fell off completely.

He froze, squatted down, picked it up, and examined it from all angles: "No crack? It really isn't cracked!"

After scanning, Nana confirmed: "Meets extraction criteria, 92% completeness."

"Am I awesome?" He waved the ore at her. "See that? That's the moment my talent awakened!"

"It's the result of accumulated experience."

"Can't you even say one compliment?"

"It is recommended to continue the operation to avoid the impact of a single success on the stability of the judgment."

He pursed his lips, but still turned around and continued.

The sun gradually moved westward, and the wind in the valley became dry. He had long since taken off his coat and was draped over his shoulders; his forehead was covered in sweat, and his face was caked with dust. But his movements became increasingly steady, and he found his rhythm.

By the time the tenth qualified ore was put into the bag, he could already predict which hammer blow would loosen the ore and which blow he should pull back to prevent it from cracking.

"Am I a professional miner now?" He wiped his face, revealing a gray stain underneath.

"My proficiency level has reached the standard," Nana said. "The current collection efficiency is more than five times that of the initial stage."

"Five times? That saves five days of work!" he grinned. "I knew practicing this would be much more interesting than copying homework."

After the last piece of ore was extracted, he checked his backpack: seventeen complete samples, all properly sealed. He patted the bulging bag, like a farmer inspecting his harvest.

"Let's go?" he asked.

"The route is safe, and you can return."

He took one last look at the rock face. Just moments ago it seemed treacherous and unapproachable, but now it resembled a wall concealing treasure, waiting for someone to peel back its surface.

As he turned around, he casually stuck the life-saving metal rod back into the ground.

“Leave it here,” he said. “As a warning to those who come after—don’t be like that fool who tried to cross the cliff with a broken iron bar.”

Nana followed half a step behind him, while the system continuously monitored the environmental status.

When he reached the mouth of the valley, he stopped, took out the smallest piece of ore from his bag, and tossed it in his hand twice.

"You know... if you made a ring out of this, wouldn't that be romantic enough?"

"It has moderate hardness, but its color is too dark, resulting in low market acceptance."

“I was just saying it offhand.” He stuffed the ore back in. “Who wants to give me a rust-colored ring?”

He began his journey home, his shadow stretching long.

The ore in the backpack clinked softly with each step, making a delicate tinkling sound.