As the morning sun just climbed the rock face above the cave entrance, the Flame Stone Tribe’s cave entrance became lively.
Over a dozen able-bodied men, carrying stone axes and animal skin bags on their backs, gathered around Alex.
Their eyes were full of anticipation — yesterday, Alex returned with the water-finding team.
Not only did he bring back sweet spring water, but he also said he would teach everyone how to make something called a “fish trap”.
It could catch fish in the frozen river.
This news was like a fire, igniting the long-dormant hope of the Tribesmen.
Even a few elderly people with inconvenient legs moved to sit on the stone slab at the cave entrance.
They wanted to see what this miraculous “fish trap” looked like.
“Alex, can we really catch fish without breaking the ice?”
Mark, carrying his stone axe, couldn’t help but ask again.
Last time he followed Shi to the western river to break ice, the ice was thick enough to stand on.
His stone axe only left a white mark, and in the end, they only caught two small, finger-long fish.
They were also frozen solid.
Just thinking about going to the river, he felt both anticipation and apprehension.
Alex smiled and patted his shoulder, holding two vines he had specifically saved yesterday:
“You’ll know soon enough.
The fish trap is woven from vines and can be lowered into the water through an ice hole.
Fish swim in and can’t get out; it’s much less effort than breaking ice.
First, we’ll go to the mountain forest to cut some fresh vines, then find some softer tree bark, and then we can weave them.”
The Old Shaman walked over, leaning on his wooden staff, clutching a smoothly polished stone in his hand:
“I’ll go with you.
I’m familiar with the vines in the mountain forest; I can tell which ones are tough and which ones break easily at a glance.”
He had drunk the herbal medicine steeped in spring water last night and felt much better.
A glimmer of energy shone in his cloudy eyes — the Tribe’s food crisis hadn’t been completely resolved yet.
If they could really catch fish, this winter would be half secured.
The team quickly set off, Alex walking at the front, the Old Shaman beside him pointing the way.
Mark and Ashi brought up the rear with the able-bodied men.
The snow path made yesterday when searching for water was still there, making the walk much smoother than the first time.
Before long, the Old Shaman pointed to a patch of low shrubs ahead:
“That’s it!
This vine is called ‘Tough Vine’; it doesn’t wither in winter and is the strongest for weaving things.”
Everyone hurried over and indeed saw many dark green vines entangled in the shrubs.
They were about the thickness of a finger, and felt tough and smooth to the touch.
Mark immediately raised his stone axe, ready to chop at the base of a vine, but Alex quickly stopped him:
“Don’t use a stone axe; it’ll split the vine.
Find a pointy wooden wedge, pry it from the root, and pull the whole vine out; that’s better.”
Mark paused, then quickly put down his stone axe, found a sharpened piece of hard wood, and followed Alex’s instructions.
He inserted the wooden wedge into the soil at the base of the vine, gave a gentle pry, and the vine, with its roots, came out.
“It really works!” he exclaimed in surprise, and the other able-bodied men followed suit.
In a short while, they had pulled out dozens of vines, piled on the snow like a small green mountain.
“The vines need to be processed first,”
Alex picked up a vine and used a stone knife to cut off the mud and small branches from the root.
“Peel off the old vine skin, leaving only the inner vine core, then soak it in spring water for half an hour; it will become softer and less likely to break when weaving.”
He demonstrated as he spoke, his fingers nimbly peeling the vine skin, revealing the milky-white, very tough vine core inside.
The Tribesmen followed suit, some peeling vines, others going to the nearby spring to fetch water.
The Old Shaman sat nearby, helping to sort out the vines that were too thin or too old.
The snowy ground was bustling with activity, and the sunlight filtered through the tree branches, falling warmly on everyone’s hands and faces.
Ashi, peeling a vine, suddenly sighed with emotion:
“Before, we only knew vines could tie things.
I never thought they could be woven into fishing tools.
Alex, how do you know so much?”
Alex didn’t stop his hands, smiling as he tied a simple knot:
Before, the Tribe only thought about hunting and gathering wild vegetables.
Actually, fish in the water are also good food.”
He didn’t mention modern knowledge, only borrowing the name of the original owner’s father, which both explained his “ability” and prevented anyone from being suspicious.
Half an hour later, the softened vine cores became incredibly pliable.
Alex selected a few of the thickest vine cores and laid out a half-human-height conical frame on the snow:
“The fish trap needs to be woven into a conical shape, with a small bottom and a large top, so it’s stable when placed in the water.
Most importantly, the top needs to have an ‘inverted barb’ — that is, an opening that narrows inward.
Fish swim in through the opening, but when they try to get out, they’ll be blocked by the inverted barb and won’t be able to escape.”
As he spoke, he began to weave, his fingers flying, the vine cores forming intricate patterns on the frame.
First, he wove the bottom circle, then circled upward, narrowing it slightly every three rounds.
At the top, he deliberately left a fist-sized opening, then used thin vine cores to weave several slanted “barbs”.
It looked like a small door opening inward.
The Tribesmen gathered around.
Their eyes were wide with amazement — normally, it would take them half a day to weave a simple vine basket.
This “fish trap” Alex wove was not only uniquely shaped but also had such a clever “inverted barb.”
“Let me try!” Mark’s hands itched, and he picked up a few vine cores, weaving them like Alex.
But after just two rounds, the vine cores became crooked, and the bottom circle deformed.
He scratched his head, a little embarrassed: “It looks simple, but it’s really hard to weave.”
Alex walked over, held his hand, and taught him to adjust the tension of the vine cores:
“When weaving, you need to pay attention: the force on each vine core must be the same, and you need to narrow it slowly, otherwise the shape will be crooked.
You’ll get it after practicing a few times.”
With Alex’s guidance, the Tribesmen gradually found the knack.
Ashi wove most diligently; his hands were steady, and the patterns he wove were neat and tight.
Several young women also learned quickly, weaving small, delicate fish traps that could fit into smaller ice holes.
The Old Shaman sat watching, a smile playing on his lips — he had lived for decades.
He had never seen the Tribe members learn something so unitedly, nor had he seen such a clever fishing method.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, the Tribesmen had already woven eight fish traps.
Some were larger, capable of holding several big fish.
Others were smaller, suitable for narrow ice holes.
Alex picked up the largest fish trap, shook it; the vines were very sturdy, and the inverted barb was perfectly snug:
“Let’s go!
To the river!
Today, everyone will have fresh fish!”
The procession marched majestically towards the western river, each person carrying one or two fish traps, their steps light.
Mark walked at the very front, humming a hunting song, much more energetic than when he went to break ice last time.
Before long, they heard the
The river was thickly frozen, like a huge white jade, extending into the distant mountain forest.
Where Shi and the others had broken ice last time, there were still a few small pits, and a thin layer of snow covered the ice surface.
Alex walked to the edge of a slightly larger ice pit, squatted down, and touched the ice surface:
“The ice here is thinner; we’ll make the hole a bit bigger, just enough to fit the large fish trap.”
Mark immediately raised his stone axe; this time, with a goal, he chopped with extra effort.
“Thump!
Thump!
Thump!” The stone axe struck the ice, ice chips flew, and in a short while, the small pit was chiseled into an ice hole the size of a bucket.
The river water in the hole emitted cold air, clear to the bottom, where shadows of small fish occasionally swam past.
“When lowering the fish trap, be slow,”
Alex held the large fish trap, carefully lowering it into the ice hole.
“Point the inverted barb opening upstream; fish swimming with the current are more likely to enter.
Then tie the top of the fish trap with a long vine and secure it to the ice surface, so it won’t be washed away by the current.”
The Tribesmen followed suit, placing the fish traps one by one into the ice holes, some upstream, some downstream. The source of this chapter is g.com.
The ice surface was soon covered with tied vines, like green ropes.
A He also came along; he squatted by the ice hole, staring wide-eyed into the water: “Fish, come in quickly, come into the fish trap.”
After placing the last fish trap, Alex stood up and clapped the snow off his hands:
“Now we wait for half an hour.
The fish need to swim into the fish trap slowly; don’t rush.
Everyone rest for a bit and eat some jerky to regain strength.”
The Tribesmen sat on the snow on the ice, took out the jerky they carried, and chatted while eating.
Mark gnawed on his jerky, his eyes occasionally glancing at the vines in the ice holes:
“Alex, how many fish do you think will be in these fish traps?
If we can catch ten, the Tribe can have fish soup today.”
“Definitely more than ten,” Alex said with a smile.
“The fish in this river hide underwater in winter, are less active, and easily enter the fish traps.
When we retrieve the fish later, I guarantee you’ll be surprised.”
Half an hour passed quickly.
A He was the first to jump up: “Can we retrieve the fish traps now?
I can’t wait!”
Alex nodded, walked to the first ice hole where a fish trap was placed, grasped the vine tied to it, and slowly pulled it up.
As the vine was pulled halfway, he felt a heavy weight below, accompanied by a “splash” of water.
“Got something!” His heart leaped with joy, and he pulled it up with force — as the fish trap emerged from the water, the Tribesmen let out a gasp of surprise!
The fish trap was packed with shimmering silver fish, some as long as a palm, others as thick as a finger.
There were easily over a dozen of them, leaping and thrashing in the fish trap, splashing water onto the ice, which instantly froze into tiny ice crystals.
“So many!” Mark rushed over, his eyes wide, reaching out to grab a fish, but Alex stopped him:
“Don’t rush yet.
Pour the fish from the trap into the animal skin bag, then put the trap back in the water; you can catch a second batch.”
The Tribesmen quickly took out their animal skin bags and carefully poured the fish into them.
Ashi, holding the animal skin bag full of fish, weighed it, and said excitedly:
“This bag has at least thirty catties!
Enough for everyone in the Tribe to have a full meal!”
Then they retrieved the second and third fish traps — each trap was full of fish.
Some traps even had one or two large fish weighing half a catty, their scales gleaming in the sunlight.
The Old Shaman stood nearby, watching the animal skin bags filled with fish, so excited his hands were trembling, muttering:
“A miracle!
This is truly a miracle!
A miracle brought by Alex!”
By the time the last fish trap was retrieved, the sun was almost setting.
The five animal skin bags the Tribesmen brought were all filled with fish, heavy and making the ropes of the bags tremble slightly.
Mark carried an animal skin bag, his steps so light he seemed to be flying:
“Let’s go back!
Quickly go back!
Let everyone in the Tribe see the fish we caught!
Tonight, we’ll have fish soup!”
Alex followed behind the team, watching the cheering figures of the Tribesmen, a smile playing on his lips.
Just then, the familiar system prompt sounded in his mind:
“Detected that the host invented and taught the ‘Fish Trap Fishing Technique’, successfully solving the Tribe’s food crisis.
Meets the ‘First Invention (Fishing Tool)’ standard, rewarding civilization points: 50 points.
Current civilization points: 200 points.”
200 points!
Alex felt a warmth in his heart — this was not only a system reward but also the foundation for the Tribe to survive.
He looked up at the western sky, where the sunset glow dyed the ice orange-red, like a warm painting.
He knew that the fish traps brought not just a full meal, but the first step for the Flame Stone Tribe to escape its predicament.
“Let’s go!
Back for fish soup!”
Alex quickened his pace, catching up with the team ahead, his laughter echoing across the vast snowy ground, carrying far, far away.