After he straightened the bowl, he stood there for a while, as if he had suddenly remembered something.

“Having a bowl isn’t enough,” he said. “You need tools to make more things.”

Nana stood to the side, the camera slightly tilted: "What are you trying to do now?"

“An axe.” He slapped his thigh. “A stone axe. Didn’t primitive people do this? They would take a stone, tie a stick to it, and chop trees, split firewood, and crack walnuts. They were all-rounders.”

Nana paused for two seconds, then the optical components flashed: "The technical path exists, but two basic conditions must be met: first, the stone must have sufficient hardness and fracture toughness; second, the handle material must be impact-resistant and not prone to cracking."

"I don't understand." Chen Hao waved his hand. "Speak human language."

"Stone needs to be hard, and wood needs to be tough. You have neither right now."

He scratched his head: "Then why don't we go pick them up? There are lots of mountains and rocks around here, we can just find one that looks like an axe."

“Flint is the best, followed by obsidian or quartzite.” Nana pulled up the topographic map projection. “High-siliceous rock layers were detected at the foot of the western mountain, which is highly likely. However, no suitable wood resources have been found so far—common trees have loose fiber structures and are easily broken under stress.”

Chen Hao stared at the red and blue projection for a while, then suddenly grinned: "It's okay, I'm not afraid of not having materials, I'm just afraid of not being able to think of anything. The problem now is that once I've thought of something, it has to appear obediently for me."

He turned and went back into the house, rummaged through his toolbox, and stuffed in a hammer, chisel, rope, and half a pair of pliers—all scraps he had collected while dismantling equipment. Before leaving, he also took a small shard of pottery from the shelf and put it in his pocket as a spare scraper.

"What do you need that for?" Nana asked.

"If we find a good stone, we'll have to test it on the spot." He patted his pocket. "Professional evaluation, scoring on the spot."

The two walked out of the kiln area, the sunlight shining obliquely on the gentle slope. The grass was soaked by the rain of the past few days and was a little soft underfoot, but he walked with great enthusiasm, muttering to himself, "Where do you think primitive people got so much patience? They spent all day chipping away at stones, just to make a gap. If it were me, I would have thrown it away long ago."

“They don’t have any exams to prepare for,” Nana said.

“Yes, that’s why I deserve to be more successful than them.” He nodded. “I was forced to evolve.”

Upon reaching the southeastern slope, the exposed rock surfaces began to increase. He squatted down, touched a piece of grayish-brown sandstone, and tapped it twice; the sound was muffled, like spitting out leftovers.

“That doesn’t sound right.” He tossed it aside. “This thing, let alone cutting down trees, would probably crack itself if it hit hard mud.”

He tried a few more pieces; some were too brittle and shattered at the slightest tap; some were too soft and could be scratched with a fingernail; and one piece looked decent, but when he lightly tapped it with a hammer, it shattered into three pieces, with the fragments almost grazing his ankle.

"So it's all waste material?" He wiped his sweat. "Did the stones in this place not study hard when they were young, and were all discarded when they grew up?"

“Geological evolution is not affected by individual efforts,” Nana said calmly.

"Can't you at least lend a hand? Like, sense where there are hidden good stones?"

“Mineral composition scanning can be performed, but the accuracy is limited by the degree of surface weathering. Deep veins need to be manually exposed before they can be identified.”

"Does that mean I have to dig it myself?"

"yes."

He sighed, picked up the hammer, and continued walking. As he passed a pile of rubble, he bent down and rummaged through it for a while, picking out a flat, bluish-gray stone slab with slightly sharp edges. Holding it up to the sunlight, he could see a tiny, shell-like fracture.

"This...is interesting."

Nana scanned it closely: "It contains 68.3% silicon and has a local Mohs hardness of about 6.5, which is close to the standard for flint. However, it is too small and there is no suitable point of force to attach a handle."

“Oh, so close.” He turned the stone over and over in his hand. “It’s like getting 59 points on a test, just one step away from passing, but they just won’t let you pass.”

He put the stone shard into his pocket: "I'll keep it; it might come in handy as a peeler. If I catch a rabbit someday, I can even trim its fur."

"No traces of mammalian activity have been observed so far," Nana cautioned.

"You have to have dreams," he said. "Otherwise, what's the difference between you and a salted fish?"

Further on, the terrain rose slightly, the soil layer thinned, and large areas of bedrock were exposed. He swung the hammer a few times, the impact numbing his hands, and only a few small fragments broke off.

"This rock is pretty stubborn." He shook his hand. "Looks like I'll have to change my strategy."

He looked around, his gaze settling on a sloping rock ridge not far away. The rocks there were densely packed, their surfaces smooth, as if they had undergone long-term effects from water erosion or thermal expansion and contraction.

"Let's take a look over there."

He slipped as he climbed over, staggered, and luckily grabbed the rock face to avoid falling. He steadied himself and caught his breath: "Climbing mountains is pure self-torture for fat people."

Nana extended her arm in a gesture of support: "I suggest you reduce your movement speed."

“It won’t be slow.” He wiped the sweat from his face. “Right now, all I can think about is, ‘If I could make a reliable stone axe, I wouldn’t have to ask anyone for help when building houses or sheds.’ This motivation is as strong as the last serving of braised pork in the cafeteria.”

Upon reaching the bottom of the ridge, he carefully tapped each exposed rock. Some produced dull thuds, while others remained completely still. The sound only became clearer when he tapped a dark brown, oval-shaped stone with shallow cracks on its surface.

He stopped what he was doing, squatted down, and rubbed the surface with his hands.

"This sound... it seems like it might work?"

Nana scanned for a moment: "Preliminary judgment is that it is metamorphic flint, with a Mohs hardness of 7. The internal structure is dense, and the fracture pattern meets the requirements for cutting tools. The size is moderate, and the weight is about 1.2 kilograms. Theoretically, it can be used as the base material for the axe body."

Chen Hao's eyes lit up immediately: "The true Chosen Stone?"

"Further processing and testing are still needed."

"Absolutely!" He carefully picked up the stone, as if holding a freshly baked sweet potato. "We've solved half the problem! Now all we need is a piece of wood that isn't rotten."

He carried the stone up the slope, looking around as he went: "What kind of wood do you think is sturdy? Old trees? Young branches? Should it be dried? Can it be cut and used immediately?"

"Ideal stem material should have longitudinal fiber continuity and a bending strength greater than 40 MPa. Common candidate tree species include oak, elm, and locust. No similar species have been identified in the local vegetation."

"That means it hasn't been found yet."

"yes."

"Then let's keep looking."

He placed the stone on a flat rock and used his free hand to pull out a few weeds blocking his path. The vegetation was denser at the edge of the forest ahead, and the tree trunks looked thicker.

"Let's go take a look over there."

The sun was already setting, casting long shadows. He stepped through the fallen leaves to the edge of the woods, reached out and touched the bark of a tree. It was rough but not very thick. He forcefully broke off a small branch with a snap.

"Too brittle." He shook his head.

I tried another tree, the branches were more flexible, but the main trunk was crooked and twisted, so it was impossible to cut straight material.

"Do I have to raise a tree and wait for it to grow?" he muttered. "I might not even be able to use it by the time I retire."

He squatted in front of a half-dead tree, pried off a piece of bark with a chisel, and examined the color and texture of the wood.

"How's this floor? It looks alright, right?"

"If the moisture content is too high, it is very easy to warp and crack after drying. It is not suitable as a load-bearing component."

So we're still going to work with wood?

"yes."

He stood up, dusted off his pants, and said, "Alright, I've completed half of today's task, which is progress. At least I know which stones are usable and which aren't."

He glanced back at the dark brown flint resting on the rock, as if looking at a partner about to be born.

“You wait,” he said to the stone. “I’ll definitely give you the best brother—a stick that will never break.”

Nana stood behind, the camera flashing continuously: "Current objective: Find suitable stem material. The search area has been expanded to the northeastern forest area, and the estimated walking distance has increased by 3.2 kilometers."

"Walk that far?" He frowned. "Won't your legs be ruined?"

"Adjustable priority".

He thought for a moment, then looked up at the deepening shadows of the trees in the distance.

"Oh well, I'm already here." He strode forward. "Anyway, I have nothing else to do. I can't live off tearing leaves by hand for the rest of my life."

His footsteps rustled on the fallen leaves.

The wind blew through the treetops, lifting the hem of his clothes.

He had one hand in his pocket and the other hand gently patted the dust off his shoulder.