Chapter 067: The Bow Saw and Ink Line

The bronze clasps awarded this time were about the size of a one-yuan coin—small, yet intricately crafted in the shape of a wolf's head. Though not particularly practical, their symbolic value was immense. These tokens of valor, earned through battle against the wolves, bore the weight of a warrior's honor, akin to medals of distinction.

The women who participated in the fight received bronze hairpins, a reward they accepted with great satisfaction.

And then came the most anticipated prize—the longbows. Every adult, regardless of gender, would receive one.

"Is this true? Every one of us gets a bow and arrows? That's amazing! Is it the same as the chief's?"

"I only killed three wolves—do I still get a bow?"

The news spread through the tribe like wildfire, sparking animated discussions. The power of the bow was something they had all witnessed firsthand, and every tribesman had long coveted one of Luo Chong's weapons.

Compared to the brutal melee combat of old, ranged weaponry provided unparalleled safety. The ability to strike a target from a distance while remaining untouchable in return was a game-changer. The tribe had already grasped the advantage of ranged attacks through their experience with throwing spears.

Thrown spears were deadly; a single well-placed strike could be fatal. However, they were cumbersome, and each hunter could only carry three at a time. Arrows, though slightly weaker in impact, could be carried in far greater quantities—precisely why Luo Chong was keen on promoting archery.

Initially, he had announced that only those who had slain five or more wolves would receive a bow. However, the total number of wolves slain at the battleground was just over seventy. With dozens of warriors sharing the kills, reaching five per person was impossible. In reality, this condition had merely been an excuse to introduce bows to the tribe.

This defensive battle had exposed a critical flaw—despite having nearly three hundred bronze spears, the Han Tribe still struggled against the sheer numbers of the wolf pack.

Consider this encounter: the wolves numbered over two hundred, and the tribe's spears matched that count. But how many of those spears could actually be thrown before the wolves closed in? Even setting aside the issue of accuracy, what would a warrior do after hurling all their spears? What weapon would they be left with?

Bows changed everything.

In medieval Europe, English longbowmen were equipped with an average of twenty-five arrows each—the maximum most soldiers could shoot in rapid succession. But this was the prehistoric era, and the people here possessed far superior physical endurance. Their diet alone—rich in meat and sustenance—far outmatched the malnourished medieval foot soldiers who lived on stale bread and rarely saw a piece of meat or an egg.

Imagine the impact: if every warrior could fire just thirty arrows, accuracy wouldn't even be necessary. A sheer downpour of arrows alone could wipe out the entire wolf pack. That was the overwhelming advantage of archery.

With one month of winter remaining, Luo Chong resolved to arm as many warriors as possible with bows and arrows.

The new standardized bows were once again made from yew wood, designed as single-piece longbows. Their bowstrings were crafted from sword-leaf hemp fibers—utterly inelastic yet incredibly durable. Every bow measured 1.75 meters, ensuring they suited most adults while retaining formidable power. With abundant timber and an established set of woodworking tools, mass production was no longer just an idea—it was entirely feasible.

However, in practice, Luo Chong soon encountered a major challenge: cutting the wood.

Longbow materials had strict requirements. They needed to be made from hardwood with a degree of flexibility—yew was ideal. The best composition was a 2:1 ratio of outer sapwood to inner heartwood, as the core of the tree lacked the necessary elasticity and could lead to structural fatigue, reducing the bow's lifespan.

Most crucially, the wooden strips had to be perfectly straight. A simple-sounding requirement, but one that was immensely difficult to achieve.

The problem was the lack of suitable saws.

The Han Tribe currently had only two types of saws:

1. The large felling saw—massive, requiring two people to operate. Completely unsuitable for precision work like crafting bows.

2. The small hand saw—effective for trimming branches but painfully inefficient for slicing through logs.

Luo Chong, having grown up in the 21st century, had rarely encountered traditional woodworking. Even when he did, modern carpenters used electric tools. But how did ancient craftsmen cut logs into precise wooden strips?

More importantly, what kind of saw could be crafted with the current resources of the Han Tribe?

After much deliberation, Luo Chong found the answer—the bow saw, or the "工"-shaped saw.

This tool, with a wooden frame tensioning the saw blade at an angle, was specifically designed for cutting straight planks and strips of wood. Luo Chong had vague childhood memories of it, but those recollections were enough.

With a clear objective, production began.

Luo Chong devised the design. The cripple, a skilled metalsmith, was tasked with forging new saw blades with holes at both ends. The wooden framework was left to Wood Barrel, who had gained ample carpentry experience. These men were competent craftsmen; making a small tool was well within their abilities.

Meanwhile, Luo Chong turned his attention to another problem—how to mark a straight cutting line on a log.

His first thought was the ink line snapping technique—an ancient Chinese invention that allowed craftsmen to mark perfect straight lines with ease. A taut string, dipped in ink, when snapped against wood, would leave a flawless guide.

The Han Tribe already had the necessary string—hemp twine would suffice. But the real issue was ink.

Without the means to produce paper, Luo Chong had yet to prioritize writing materials like ink and brushes. But now, ink became a necessity.

Ancient Chinese ink was made by grinding ink sticks with water, but at its core, ink was nothing more than soot—the residue of incompletely burned oil or wood.

Historically, pine soot ink was widely used. Pine trees, rich in resinous oils, produced dense, tarry smoke when burned—an ideal source for ink.

Collecting this soot was simple. Typically, a kiln was built with an extended chimney. As pinewood burned inside, the thick black smoke would cling to the interior walls of the chimney, accumulating over time for later harvest.

But Luo Chong didn't need large-scale production—he just needed enough ink for a few guide lines.

He quickly improvised, stacking a few green bricks into a makeshift stove with no cooking pot, just a covered top. Beneath it, he set a pile of pine branches ablaze. Within minutes, thick black smoke billowed out. An hour later, the bricks above were completely blackened with soot.

Carefully scraping the accumulated soot into a ceramic bowl, he mixed it with water, creating a rich, dark ink solution. Soaking fine hemp twine in the ink, he produced his very first ink line for snapping.

Without a specialized ink pot, the process had to be done by hand, but it worked.

Luo Chong personally handled the bow-making and line-marking, with Mu Tun assisting him. Before long, their hands were as black as if they had just emerged from a coal mine.

"Chief! Chief! The new saw is ready!"

As Luo Chong and Mu Tun finished marking the wood, the cripple and Wood Barrel arrived, carrying the first completed bow saw. Their faces were filled with excitement as they prepared for the first test of their new tool.