Making a Stone Axe

Chapter 11: Making a Stone Axe

The plan was set, the goal clear. Chen An stood in the morning light, feeling the strength restored to his body by the well water and beast meat, and swept his sharp gaze across the small yard. The first key node on the blueprint—crafting better tools, especially a stone axe capable of efficiently processing wood—became the challenge he had to overcome right now.

The existing chopping knife was passable for thin branches, but when faced with the thicker, harder trees in the yard, it proved inadequate—inefficient and prone to dulling or chipping. He needed a tool with more destructive power, better suited for splitting.

He first searched the yard carefully for usable materials. Among the pile of rubble in the corner were a few pieces of flint and basalt that looked hard and had relatively sharp edges. He picked up a heavy, dark gray stone and struck its edge with another rock. The stone cracked open with a sharp sound, revealing a shell-like fracture and sharp ridges.

"Hard enough, but too brittle—easy to chip, not good for an axe blade." He shook his head and abandoned the flint. His instincts as a materials engineer were working on a subconscious level.

His gaze shifted to another stone, darker in color and finer in texture, a deep greenish-black. It felt cold to the touch and seemed denser. He struck it hard; only a small corner broke off, showing good toughness.

"This is it!" Chen An's heart leaped. This stone had both hardness and toughness—the ideal blank for making an axe.

Next came the handle. The low, gnarled old trees in the yard caught his eye. He needed a thick, straight branch with tough wood that wouldn't crack easily. After careful comparison, he chose a bowl-thick branch from an unknown tree species, its wood a deep brown with tight grain.

He used the chopping knife to cut it down, laboriously. This time, he didn't use brute force blindly. Instead, he found the right angle, applied leverage, first cut a notch, then shook it repeatedly to let the wood fibers gradually snap. Though still time-consuming and exhausting, it was far more efficient than his earlier reckless efforts. Sweat soaked his forehead, but when the heavy wooden rod finally snapped off with a "crack" and fell, a strong sense of accomplishment surged within him.

With the materials ready, the real challenge began: how to firmly bind the stone to the wooden handle?

He needed rope. The yard walls and old trees were covered in various vines. He picked several types and tested their toughness. One vine with rough, gray-brown bark caught his attention. He pulled hard—it was highly elastic and didn't break easily. He cut a few long vines with the chopping knife, stripped off the bark, and revealed the tough fibers inside. This was it!

Now came the most critical step: processing.

Step one: shaping the stone axe head. The dark green stone he'd chosen was irregular and needed trimming. Without a proper hammer or chisel, he had to use the most primitive method: he found a large, rough sandstone slab as a "grinding bed," dipped the stone in water, and began grinding it back and forth against the sandstone.

"Scrape... scrape..." The harsh grating sound echoed through the silent yard. It was an extremely tedious and physically draining process. Stone powder mixed with water formed mud, splattering all over him. His arms soon began to ache, but he gritted his teeth and persisted, with only one thought in mind: he had to grind out a wedge shape that could fit into the wooden handle, and a relatively sharp curved edge.

Time passed in monotonous grinding. The sun rose to its zenith, then gradually sank westward. Chen An was completely focused, sweat dripping onto the stone and evaporating instantly. He kept adjusting the angle, washing the stone with water to check his progress. Finally, the stubborn rock began to take shape: one end had a rough but distinct blade edge, and the other had been ground into a neck suitable for binding.

Step two: processing the wooden handle. He needed to split one end of the wooden rod to create a gap for clamping the stone axe's neck. Carefully, he used the chopping knife to split along the wood grain, gradually widening and trimming the gap until the axe head's neck fit snugly inside. This required immense patience and precise control; one mistake could split the rod entirely. He held his breath and concentrated, as if performing delicate surgery.

Step three: assembly and binding. This was the most skill-demanding step. He inserted the stone axe head into the gap in the handle and secured it roughly. Then, he picked up the prepared vine fibers. He used an ancient "figure-eight" wrapping method, crossing the vine repeatedly around the axe head's neck and the handle joint, pulling tight with each loop to ensure every strand bore tension.

He wasn't just wrapping; he was applying mechanical principles, distributing the binding stress evenly to maximize firmness. After one layer of wrapping, he drove in small wooden wedges he'd carved earlier at key points to further tighten it. His fingers were rubbed raw and even broken by the rough vine fibers, but he paid no attention.

The entire afternoon, he repeated the motions of wrapping, pulling tight, and hammering wedges. The setting sun stretched his shadow long across the yard wall, making him look like a focused primitive craftsman.

When the last vine fiber was knotted and secured, and the final wooden wedge hammered in, Chen An stopped.

A crude but structurally complete stone axe lay quietly in his hands.

The axe head was dark green, its edge reflecting a faint gleam in the sunset; the handle was thick, and the wrapped vines showed a deep brown, exuding a raw, primal strength. He weighed it in his hands—the balance was good, the center of gravity just right.

He took a deep breath, walked to a dead branch as thick as an arm that he'd had his eye on, gripped the axe handle firmly, steadied his stance, engaged his core, swung the stone axe, and brought it down hard on the dead wood!

Crack!

A crisp breaking sound! Unlike the dull thud of the chopping knife biting into wood, the stone axe, carrying weight and momentum, cleanly split a deep gash into the dead branch, sending wood chips flying!

Chen An pulled back the axe and checked the blade—intact! The joint was also solid, with no sign of loosening.

He had succeeded!

A wave of immense joy and pride flooded over him! He couldn't help raising the axe and letting out a low roar at the sky. This wasn't just a tool; it was a weapon he had created from nothing with his own wisdom and hands—his foothold in this Primordial World, a symbol of his shift toward active survival!

He stroked the rough axe surface, feeling its reassuring weight. With this, he could cut wood more efficiently, repair the roof, make more complex tools, and even... if necessary, possess a sliver of self-defense capability.

Night began to fall, and the terrifying sounds from outside the yard once again drifted faintly in. But this time, Chen An stood in the yard, stone axe in hand, and what surged in his heart was not just gratitude for the Safe Zone's protection, but more so a newfound confidence to face the unknown with his own strength.

The flame of civilization began with stone tools. And here, in this wild primordial land, he had kindled that first spark with his own hands.

(End of Chapter 11)