Chapter 125
Bronze was not cheap at all!
Not far from the iron store was a metal goods shop. Inside, Jiang Jitang found the alloy bronze items he wanted—but the prices were truly steep.
Among these alloy items, those that were true bronze—copper-tin-lead alloys—were even fewer, and none were available for selection.
“It’s cheap enough! There’s a war outside lately, bullets are in demand, copper’s international price has skyrocketed! I haven’t really raised mine at all,” the shop owner protested when Jiang Jitang complained it was expensive.
In reality, copper was scarce in the C-Nation, so high prices were normal—Jiang Jitang was just poor.
The bronze was expensive, but this was the only metal item suitable for the task. Jiang Jitang dawdled a bit, finally finding a small copper-tin alloy knife.
A single-piece bronze meat-cutting knife: total length 16 cm, handle 8 cm, blade 8 cm, with exquisite engraving of “XX Knife” and logo on the blade.
The un-rusted bronze, a copper-tin alloy, had a golden color, not the greenish patina of corroded bronze. Jiang Jitang ran his hand over the smooth blade: “Boss, what’s the price?”
“Eighteen.”
“Less?”
“That’s wholesale, young man. Comes with a real sheepskin sheath—I’m not making any profit.”
The brass price stayed as is. Jiang Jitang haggled in vain, eventually buying five knives for 80 yuan.
The sheaths only revealed the rounded handles, gleaming and visually appealing—functional and aesthetic.
After buying the knives, out of 180 yuan, only 100 remained.
The alloy store had bronze scissors—but scissors didn’t exist in 1000 BCE; they appeared in the 3rd century BCE.
Saws were similarly unavailable, as they were later tools.
He had also considered buying a wooden-wheel cart. Wooden-wheeled carts existed as early as 3000 BCE. But after researching, he found pure wooden carts (no nails) were “art pieces,” made of teak, fully handmade, costing at least 1,800 yuan.
Too expensive. Forget it.
“System, do fishing nets exist in the task world?” Jiang Jitang wondered how to spend the remaining money.
The Otter Tribe’s fishing methods were primitive: they used dugout canoes to reach shallow sea, then either stunned sea animals with stones or speared them with long sharp poles.
Some remained onshore, hand-gathering shellfish from tidal pools, or diving for edible seafood.
The Otter Tribe didn’t know of fishing nets, let alone the lethality of nets with sinkers.
Unlike the grinder, a net wasn’t just an upgraded life tool that increased happiness—it was a real labor productivity tool.
With a net, their fish yield would multiply, meeting survival needs, providing surplus for trade, and even accelerating private ownership—a real technological revolution.
If the world lacked nets, he wouldn’t introduce them.
“Nets exist,” said the system. “Even in primitive worlds, development is uneven. Don’t worry too much. Reality is harder to explain than fantasy. No matter how outsiders flap their wings, they can’t outdo fate’s sweep.”
“Thanks.”
Thanks for the comfort, little work buddy.
Jiang Jitang used 100 yuan to buy a fishing net made of hemp rope: 3.5 yuan per square meter, 30 square meters total.
It was actually a safety net—3 mm hemp was weaker than nylon, not water-resistant, and too visible underwater, unsuitable as a real net.
Having a net wasn’t enough—sinkers were needed to spread and sink it.
In his backyard, piles of unused rainflower stones remained. He spent the last bit of money on tools (manual labor too expensive—he had to do it himself), drilling holes in each stone.
Though the task looked simple—press drill down on fixed stone—the stones were smooth ovals and needed assistance to hold in place. Drilling numbed his fingers and could cause accidents.
Initially, the boss wouldn’t allow him to do it himself.
“No money for labor!” Jiang Jitang argued. Eventually, the boss relented. At first, the holes were crooked, but he gradually got the hang of it—hands steady, holes centered on the stones’ weight points.
“Not bad!” the boss nodded, even asking where he worked, seeming to consider hiring.
The drilled stones were transported to the backyard and fixed along the net’s edges as sinkers.
Jiang Jitang squatted for over an hour, threading stones, legs numb.
Finally, one hemp rope fishing net was completed.
On the surface, the task was to make a special soup; behind it, it helped a struggling small tribe integrate into the larger tribe.
With the net, salt, and sweets, the tribe’s happiness increased, and they were more emotionally receptive to newcomers.
Considering this, Jiang Jitang prepared these items.
After tidying the net, carefully tying it, night fell—the day ended.
He had already stayed up all night cooking yesterday, so he needed to sleep early for the early-morning task. Set alarm for 5:00.
After reviewing everything in his mind, he cooked a simple fish porridge with prepared black fish slices, and had two small steamed buns—enough for dinner.
After a half-hour walk, shower, he collapsed into bed, waking at 5:00 the next morning.
“Full health restored.” Looking at his rosy reflection in the mirror, he felt ready for today’s task.
After eating and organizing task items, Jiang Jitang entered the task world.
Though he had been at the seaside recently, opening his eyes, he saw the sun rising over golden waves crashing on rocks—he paused for a moment to admire it.
An unprecedented sense of freshness enveloped his senses.
“System, what’s this feeling? A little dizzy… oxygen sickness?” The primitive world’s negative ion concentration was extremely high. Breathing it felt like inhaling divine energy—he was invigorated.
The last time he experienced such a mental “spa” was in the semi-primitive forest of the Magical Beast World.
Suddenly, his pocket moved—it was the Magical Beast egg. So quiet he had almost forgotten it, now it showed its presence.
“You like it here too?”
The egg moved, seeming to answer.
“I found you a reliable owner, they’ll take you to scenic spots—long-term if needed.” He wouldn’t give up city convenience, so he left the task to Parsons.
He stored the egg, then looked for the task’s “red line” marker—it appeared on a man-made stone path. Nearby were uneven fallen rocks; only this path was leveled.
Otter Tribe members went barefoot, polishing stones with their feet. They had clearly lived here a long time.
He followed the path, past rubble and weeds, until the view opened.
It was a small, human-made plain. No cultivation, but day activities for otters living in caves at night. Some polished stones in shade, some polished shell knives, some prepared today’s food—mostly leftovers from yesterday.
Among the crowd, the small tribe was clearly separate from the larger one, huddled in corners, lifeless.
“Who?!” Several spear-wielding warriors surrounded him.
Male and female, athletic, muscled, black-skinned—their bodies painted with white clam powder patterns, very wild.
Most striking were shoulder-to-chest “totems.” Not drawn on, but seemed to shine from under the skin.
The totems were blue-green, glowing and shifting with movement. Shapes abstract—Jiang Jitang couldn’t link them to otters.
Their eyes seemed coated with a film, giving a blue tint from afar.
‘Is the Otter Tribe’s totem power linked to the eyes?’ he wondered.
Surrounded, he raised his empty hands, showing he was harmless.
Seeing him unarmed and in strange but nice clothes, their hostility lessened, but spears remained pointed. One stepped forward to call someone.
“Who’s there?” A long-bearded, dyed man appeared.
“I’m here to find someone. Where is ‘Man’?”
The warriors whispered among themselves. Jiang Jitang, with keen hearing, understood everything.
Primitive vocabulary wasn’t rich; one word could have multiple meanings. Auto-translation made it sound like classical text. He spoke in modern style; they didn’t find it odd.
It was like a conversation between ancient and modern people—interesting, but he used the system to simplify into understandable language.
After discussion, the warriors allowed “Man” to come out and see the situation.
Man arrived, spirits low, but still looked at Jiang Jitang, unsure. Nearby warriors became alert again, scrutinizing the “weakling.”
Compared to these warriors, Jiang Jitang’s smooth skin and untrained body looked non-threatening—like a pampered beauty from the big tribe.
The Otter Tribe of the small tribe didn’t appreciate such delicate beauties.
“‘Man’ once prayed, offering sea pearls to gain divine favor and resolve your plight. The deity didn’t come, but I accepted the task. Today, I am here as invited.”
Jiang Jitang spoke boldly: “Fishing, bird hunting, seawater soup—boneless fish, meatball soup, suitable for all. I can make this soup.”
Only the chief knew the task—few others were shocked. Man looked him over, half-believing: “You have nothing on you…”
Jiang Jitang opened his palms, revealing a full steam pot set.
Man gasped: “Divine envoy! Respect is due!”
As a former leader, she was initially alarmed, but happy. Her statement defined Jiang Jitang: he came alone and had the ability to solve the problem, and vindicated herself.
She could pray for a divine envoy, showing she and her remnant weren’t “abandoned by the gods,” as some conspirators claimed.
Man set up a ladder; Jiang Jitang accepted his identity and requested an open space and cooperation from others.
Some Otter Tribe members had gone hunting and foraging; those left surrounded him. Every time he produced an item, they cheered.
He then presented a date, cut with a bronze knife, sharing with a few intricately patterned warriors—the higher-ranking ones.
One warrior ate first, screamed in delight, scaring the others. The tall black-skinned warrior ran over to lift Jiang Jitang, spinning him around.
“Sweet fruit! Delicious!”
Jiang Jitang stepped aside, watching the warrior joyfully share the chewed dates. He silently reminded himself: primitive world, stay normal.
Other warriors ate their small date pieces, less exaggerated, but their expressions said it all: “Delicious!”
The Otter Tribe rarely found such sweet food like honey.
Fruits they could obtain weren’t yet domesticated—unlikely very sweet. A little dried date impressed them immensely.
Jiang Jitang silently cursed again—couldn’t use sugar, the ultimate weapon.
“I offer this as payment. Please get me fresh fish, birds, and eggs.” He produced a small turtle shell—a cooking pot for the tribe.
“One pot per three fruits, acceptable?”
“Yes! ‘Ci’ will serve the esteemed guest!” The first black-skinned warrior cheered, beating his chest.
Other warriors deliberated, sending ten experienced hunters: “These people are skilled; they will fulfill your wish.”
“Then thank you. I’ll wait here for good news. By the way,” he added, “I have something to catch several big fish at once. Want to try?”
They looked at the net Jiang Jitang held—hemp rope with rainflower stones as sinkers, glimmering like jewels in sunlight. Unlike anything they knew for fishing.
“What is this?”
“It’s called a fishing net.”
