He gripped the sealed jar containing the live insects tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white from the plastic edge, but he didn't let go. The image of that insect nest was still swirling in his mind, like a door that had suddenly opened, leading to unexpected paths.

“If insects can be building material suppliers,” he said as he walked, “what about plants? They can’t just live off bark and vines.”

Nana followed beside her, her steps as steady as ever, even the rhythm of snapping a dead branch seemed measured. "Your hypothesis is feasible. Ancient humans on Earth used bast fibers to make ropes, fabrics, and binding materials."

“I knew you’d understand.” He grinned and casually stuffed the jar back into the burlap sack at his waist. “Don’t let my current weight fool you; when it comes to weaving baskets or making ropes, I actually passed my craft class when I was a kid.”

After he finished speaking, he bent down and casually plucked a handful of lush grass growing by the roadside. The stems were thin and long, and the edges of the leaves were slightly serrated. He rubbed it a couple of times, sending grass clippings flying everywhere. The remaining piece was limp and broke easily with a pull.

“It’s ruined.” He flicked away the residue. “This grass looks healthy, but it’s all water. If you dry it, it’ll probably just be ash.”

Nana had already brought up the scanning interface. The optical element rotated slightly, aiming at the patch of land that had just been cleared. "Detection complete: This plant is a low-fiber weed with a loose structure and a tensile strength of less than 0.3 MPa, unsuitable for load-bearing purposes."

"Another wasted trip." He sighed. "All that time I spent picking grass was like giving the lawn a free mowing service."

But he didn't stop; instead, he looked up and scanned his surroundings. The woods were more open than before, and sunlight could reach the ground. Several clumps of plants growing close to the ground caught his attention. Their leaves were long and narrow, and their stems had a faint bluish-gray sheen; they looked much sturdier than the previous clump.

"What about that one?" he pointed to that area. "Let's not let it be another pretty but useless 'vase' type."

Nana approached, and the blue light flashed twice. "Preliminary identification: suspected to be a variant of 'Ajuga decumbens', with a high proportion of lignin in the epidermis and tightly packed fiber bundles, suitable for extracting weaving materials."

"Sounds like I could be an assistant." He rubbed his hands together. "Then don't be shy."

He squatted down, ready to pull them out, when suddenly he remembered something and pulled a small shovel from his toolbox. "I learned my lesson from digging up the bug nest last time; I had to leave the roots intact, otherwise how could I plant them back home?"

"Do you plan to cultivate him long-term?" Nana asked.

“Of course,” he muttered as he carefully dug the soil, “Right now we’re just scavenging, but later we’ll have to build plantations. Others travel through time with systems, but I’ll build an ecosystem with robots. That’ll be a unique business.”

He dug up the first plant intact and examined it closely, turning it over and over in his hands. It had a well-developed root system and a thick main stem. He peeled off the outer skin and tried it; the fibrous strands inside were clearly visible, and it was quite elastic when he pulled on it.

“That works!” His eyes lit up. “I’ll soak it in water and maybe I can make fishing line.”

For the next hour or so, he was like a wound-up toy. He didn't miss a single plant that Nana had marked as "potentially usable." A climbing vine on a slope caught his attention—its stems were thin and flexible, with many branches and natural hook-like protrusions.

“Isn’t this a ready-made bandage?” He tore off a piece and wrapped it around his wrist a few times. “No need to tie a knot, it will lock itself in place.”

"I recommend selecting newly sprouted lateral branches," Nana cautioned. "Old vines have hardened internodes and are prone to breakage."

He nodded and immediately adjusted his strategy, focusing only on the tender green parts. He put all the harvested vines into the stream water he carried with him to soak, and temporarily set up a makeshift processing area—basically just a flat stone with a groove, which served as a container.

“I used to think water was only for drinking and washing,” he muttered as he wrung out the wet vines, “but now I’ve discovered it can also be used in a processing plant.”

At midday, when the sun was at its strongest, he rested for a while under a big tree. He had a folded burlap sack under his bottom, and his back was against the tree trunk. He looked like a wilted eggplant.

"I'm a bit tired," he said, wiping his sweat, "but it's better than just looking for wood yesterday. Back then I was like a headless fly, but now at least I have a direction."

Nana stood to the side, updating the local plant database. "Three high-value species have been identified so far: fiber grass (tentative name), which meets the tensile strength requirements; twining vine, which meets the flexibility requirements; and waxy shrub, whose leaf surface secretes a waxy layer, which has waterproof properties."

"Oh, it even has a coating function?" He perked up. "Isn't that perfect for protecting the axe handle? Moisture-proof and crack-proof, all in one step."

He jumped to his feet, ignoring the numbness in his legs, and headed straight for a small patch of low bushes not far away. The wax-leaved bushes were not tall, with thick, glossy leaves that felt slippery to the touch.

He picked a piece and held it up to the light. "If this stuff were boiled down, could it be used as a natural varnish?"

“It’s possible,” Nana responded. “Further purification and heat treatment experiments are needed.”

"Let's collect some to take back for later use." He moved quickly, digging up three plants with roots and soil, and carefully put them into a specially made compartmentalized bag. "We're not aiming for instant success; let's gather the materials first."

The afternoon progressed even faster. With the experience from the previous rounds, he learned to observe the growth status, assess soil moisture, and avoid dense swarms of insects. After collecting each type, he would mark it on the burlap sack with charcoal sticks: "fiber," "vine," and "wax."

The final check was at the edge of a gentle slope. He sat on a rock and spread out all the samples to count.

“The stone—a flint flake that we knocked down at the foot of West Mountain yesterday; it’s quite thick.”

"The handle material - although we couldn't find an ideal whole piece of wood, splicing two pieces of hardwood together with shellac shouldn't be a big problem."

"The binding material—the rattan—is soaked and has passed the flexibility test."

“Auxiliary components – insect shells can be used as protective sleeves, and insect glue can be used as adhesives.”

"Finally, there's plant fiber—a rope-making alternative, providing double insurance."

He read through each item one by one, then let out a long breath, as if a stone that had been weighing on his heart for a long time had been lifted.

“It’s all here.” He shook his head with a smile. “You know, I was worried about not having enough wood, but after going around in circles, I even used insects and grass. This isn’t just making stone axes, it’s clearly setting up a cross-species joint engineering team.”

Nana's blue light flashed softly. "Resource utilization efficiency has increased to 76%, far exceeding the predictions of the original survival model."

“That’s right.” He patted the bulging burlap sack. “I used to think that tools had to be used hard, but now I understand that soft tools can also hold their own.”

He stood up, tied the last bundle of processed fiber grass to the top of the bag, and tugged at the knot to make sure it wouldn't fall apart halfway through.

"Let's go," he said. "Back to base and back to work."

He stopped abruptly as soon as he spoke, his gaze falling on a patch of inconspicuous low grass in front of him. The grass was dense, dark in color, with a faint brownish-red net-like structure visible at its roots.

He squatted down, brushed away the surface soil, and his fingers touched a layer of interwoven fibers, as solid as a carpet woven from hemp rope.

"Wait a minute..." he frowned, "It seems like this area below has become a continuous stretch?"

Nana immediately stepped forward to scan. "In progress... This plant is a perennial herbaceous plant with horizontally spreading underground stems and a fiber density 42% higher than that of the surface part."

He stared at the tangled, intricate structure, his eyes gradually brightening.

"You mean... this thing doesn't grow one plant at a time, but rather the whole area is weaving a web?"

"correct."

He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Then why should I bother picking individual plants? Why not just dig up a piece of 'natural woven carpet' and take it home?"