I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 807: Divine Child, There’s No More Oil
Chapter 807 – Divine Child, There’s No More Oil
Right now, there are roughly two key problems that need solving.
One was how to make a larger wooden pit on the log to hold more material, and the other was how to deal with wooden wedges once they were hammered into the pit—there was no way to pull them back out.
The second problem, about the wedges, was particularly critical.
If this issue wasn’t resolved, the whole oil pressing process couldn’t proceed.
Even in a primitive era where time and labor were cheap, spending so much effort and time to make a single-use tool that could only yield ten or so jin of oil was unacceptable.
Even Han Cheng, accustomed to a slow-paced, low-efficiency life, couldn’t accept such a disproportionate relationship between effort and result.
“Divine Child, can we carve the pit along the tree trunk?”
Upon hearing Han Cheng mention that a pit large enough to hold more tung fruits might require felling an even thicker tree, Mao Er twitched a bit, his childish face showing his worry.
Felling an already large tree had been difficult enough, and felling an even bigger one would be far more troublesome. Not to mention, the tribe’s bronze saw wasn’t long enough—they would need to forge a longer one.
Not wanting to cut an even bigger tree, Mao Er focused on the thick trunk lying on the ground, thinking about how to make a bigger pit without felling a larger tree.
After pondering for a while, he actually came up with a solution.
Hearing Mao Er’s suggestion, Han Cheng looked at the thick trunk and was immediately enlightened.
How could he have forgotten this method!
Instead of carving the pit perpendicular to the trunk, which limited its size due to the trunk’s diameter, carving along the trunk—from one end to the other—meant that the pit could be made much deeper, and its capacity would naturally increase.
“Excellent! Mao Er, this idea of yours is brilliant!”
Han Cheng smiled broadly and patted Mao Er on the shoulder, lavishly praising him.
Mao Er, initially anxious, saw that the Divine Child was not only not angry but lavishly praising him. All his worries vanished, replaced by joy and excitement.
He had solved a problem!
“But once upright, it’s too tall. We’d have to stand on the wall to hammer the wedges in.”
Shaman, who had been observing and thinking about how to do it, scratched his head and spoke.
“No need to stand on the wall—we can build a frame and hammer from it, just like when we cut planks.”
Excited after receiving praise, Mao Er’s mind was very active. He immediately proposed this alternative solution.
When the tribe’s logs were being sawed into planks, for tall trunks, they would build scaffolds on both sides and saw from above. So Mao Er’s idea made perfect sense.
Han Cheng laughed and waved his hand. There was no need to stand the trunk upright; it could remain horizontal, and the wedges could still be hammered in. After all, this was a task for one person, unlike the two-person sawing method.
After Han Cheng explained, Shaman, Mao Er, and the others around him lit up. It was indeed a good solution.
Han Cheng then arranged for work to begin from the intact end of the oak trunk, carving the pit, while the ruined end, which had already been hollowed out, was to be sawed off.
When choosing this tree initially, it wasn’t just the diameter that mattered—it was tall, straight, and handsome. Even after cutting a segment off, nearly six meters remained, sufficient for use.
By this point, Da Jiao’s body was recovered, and having discovered the tung fruits, Han Cheng had immediately lifted his slave status, promoting him to a second-tier citizen. Da Jiao was now full of energy, eager to contribute to the Green Sparrow Tribe’s outstanding construction.
With his upper body healthy, he asked to repair the road again. Han Cheng, seeing his enthusiasm, agreed but reminded him to rest.
The few people who had brought Da Jiao back returned to road repair the next day. He wouldn’t be alone, as part of the trade team, some women, and minors accompanied him to collect more tung fruits to bring back.
A group of over twenty people set off along the newly built road toward the west, accompanied by four donkey carts.
The minors rode in the carts, full of curiosity and joy. Some lay across the boards, peering through the gaps to watch the ground rush by. Others watched clouds moving along with them. Some pointed excitedly at unfamiliar scenery along the way.
The carts moved forward, leaving laughter in their wake…
Back at the tribe, the pit-carving work reencountered problems.
Initially, it went smoothly, as Lame and the others were seasoned carpenters. But as the pit deepened, difficulties arose.
By the time the pit reached nearly two meters deep, they couldn’t dig any further.
Meanwhile, about four meters of the trunk remained untouched. Even leaving a bit at the end, three meters remained to be dug.
“Divine Child, we need a longer tool…”
Lame, aspiring to be like Lu Ban, grew anxious.
Han Cheng shook his head. Making an excessively long tool was too troublesome. Even if they crafted a five-meter chisel, carving a proper pit would demand tremendous skill and strength.
“Cut the trunk in half—from middle to end.”
Han Cheng said to Lame.
Lame hesitated. He worried that sawing the trunk might make it unusable for oil pressing, as previously, Han Cheng had stressed not to damage it when carving the pit.
“Don’t worry—let’s try sawing it.”
Understanding Lame’s concern, Han Cheng smiled and waved him off.
Han Cheng had never used a manual oil press before, so this was trial and error. With no other way to deepen the pit, cutting it was necessary. How to rejoin the two halves afterward was another problem to solve.
Lame obeyed.
Soon, under everyone’s efforts, the damaged trunk was ‘stood up’ again. Two experienced sawyers climbed the scaffolding and began sawing from top to bottom.
Once split, carving became much easier. Several carpenters followed Lame’s markings, working in batches. Progress increased four or five times compared to before.
Although the work was faster, they weren’t excited—they worried that the rejoined trunk might not work well.
After over two days of labor, both halves were fully hollowed, forming a semi-circular groove on each. Combined, they made a hollow cylinder.
“Let’s test it with tung fruits.”
Lame wanted to figure out how to bind the halves tightly, but Han Cheng, instead, ordered them to fill the pit with tung fruits to test.
The trunk, even partially hollowed, was still hefty. Pressing one half against the other was heavier than a coffin lid.
Han Cheng wanted to see if its weight alone could withstand the pressure—if so, it would save much trouble.
The road team returned with four donkey carts full of tung fruits. Those accompanying them also brought some along.
If this press worked, the oil from this batch alone would be enough to coat the tribe’s rattan armor.
Following Han Cheng’s instructions, the tung fruits were roasted, shelled, crushed, and wrapped into packages, then placed into the horizontal, experimental press.
Two packages, totaling over thirty jin, were inserted.
A circular wooden board, roughly matching the internal diameter, was placed on top, and wooden stakes were inserted, hammered with bronze hammers when hand-packing was insufficient.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
The sound of hammering filled the air. Everyone watched silently, anticipating a miracle.
Lame, Mao Er, and others involved didn’t even breathe, staring intently.
Yet a mistake occurred.
It turned out the “lid” (upper half) couldn’t hold without nails. Initially, the weight was enough, but as more stakes were hammered in, pressure built, and the upper half lifted slightly.
“Ah~”
Lame and others sighed in disappointment.
Han Cheng was slightly disappointed but not much—it was expected in trial and error.
He ordered the top plank lifted, stakes removed, and refilled.
Ironically, sawing the trunk in half to ease pit carving also solved the wedge problem—once the upper half was removed, the pressure disappeared, and the stakes loosened.
After refilling, Han Cheng ordered thorny vines to bind the halves tightly—ten wraps in total.
They continued hammering stakes in.
“Oil! Oil! There’s oil!”
With the vines, the upper half didn’t lift, and soon keen eyes spotted yellowish oil dripping from pre-made holes into a clay basin.
Han Cheng and the others cheered. Lame and Mao Er, who had participated in building the rudimentary press, jumped and shouted in excitement.
The second brother hammered stakes continuously. The pressure forced more oil out, initially dripping, then in thin streams, filling the basin.
Joy radiated across everyone’s faces. This was the taste of success!
Before success, there’s effort, pain, and endurance. Once it arrives, all that toil turns into pure joy—especially for those who suffered most.
Lame, spry despite his legs, jumped with delight. The tribe erupted in celebration.
The tung fruit powder was fully pressed, amber oil collecting in the basin.
“Roasted, shelled, crushed, and now pressed!”
Han Cheng shouted, and others joined in. Everyone worked enthusiastically, roasting, shelling, and crushing.
After the initial oil flowed, the clay basin was filled, then measured. Minus the container, they obtained just over five jin—about a seventh of the 35 jin of tung fruit powder used.
The yield wasn’t high, but for now, it was fine. Most oil was extracted; the rest could be wasted—the press was crude, but the tung fruit supply was plentiful.
Han Cheng looked at the oil in the jar with a sense of grandeur—rich and plentiful.
After more work, 350 jin of tung fruit powder was processed.
To pack more efficiently, the powder was stomped into cakes with feet.
This created a new problem: uneven cakes left gaps, lowering pressing efficiency.
Han Cheng scratched his head, then devised a solution.
He called Lame to weave bamboo rings, uniform in size: 45 cm diameter, 4 cm thick.
With these, the cake size variation was resolved.
A thin cloth was laid, the ring placed on it, powder filled, the cloth folded over, stomped, and tied. The bamboo rim prevented deformation.
This time, they filled the bottom with cakes first, placed the circular board last, then the top half of the trunk, binding tightly with vines.
“Press!”
They inserted wooden stakes.
Because more powder was used than last time, the stakes protruded further.
“Bang! Bang! …”
The second Senior brother hammered, initially fast, then slower, as oil began dripping.
This batch was ten times larger than the first, so soon oil flowed in streams.
Everyone cheered. The second Senior brother continued hammering, pressing the powder.
Human strength is limited; he was tired, and the eldest senior brother took over.
Looking at the whole basin of tung oil, Han Cheng and the others were ecstatic.
With this oil, the Divine Child could finally start coating rattan armor, improving their quality!
After weighing, the total oil came to only 35 jin.
Based on previous tests, it should have been 50 jin. Even if this batch of fruits wasn’t as plump, 15 jin missing was too much.
Where had the missing 15 jin gone?
“Keep hammering.”
Han Cheng thought and ordered the recovered second senior brother to continue.
However, the stakes no longer went in; only a few drops came out.
“Divine Child, there’s no more oil inside,” said Shaman.
Yuan didn’t speak, her expression thoughtful.
After nearly a year in the Green Sparrow Tribe, Yuan had been introduced by Han Cheng to the basics of mathematics.
From Han Cheng’s weighing just now, she could already see some patterns.
.
!
Chapter 807: Divine Child, There’s No More Oil
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