Industry began in 1937

Old Han's figure completely disappeared into the darkness, and Chen Yuan felt a chill, a mixture of lingering fear and exhaustion, wash over him again, even more intensely than before.

He gripped the crude wooden spear tightly, the rusted iron tip pressed against his palm, conveying a rough, cold, and realistic sensation.

This is what it relies on, even if it doesn't look that sturdy. Sharp.

The broken iron bucket weighed heavily on his arm, and the coal nuggets and charcoal inside rattled with each movement.

He steadied himself, forcing himself to snap out of the initial shock and the brief warmth of receiving help.

Old Han pointed in the direction of the cave, but first he had to deal with this—he looked back at the quietly dormant "Flint" platform.

To ordinary people, it might just be a strangely shaped boulder or wreckage, but Chen Yuan knew that it was his only means of survival in this era, and perhaps even the only means by which he could change the course of his life, as well as his most dangerous secret.

We must not expose it to the sight of potential passersby, especially during this chaotic time.

If someone else gets curious and tries to open it to take a look, they might just destroy it.

This is something Chen Yuan cannot accept.

He carried the bucket, gripped the spear, and walked around the platform once.

The platform is nestled in a mountain valley, with steep cliffs behind and on one side, while the front and the other side are relatively open.

Old Han came from the open side, which is where he could be exposed.

He needs some disguise, so that he can't be seen from a distance.

He put down the bucket and spear, gritted his teeth, and began to move the scattered stones of various sizes nearby by hand.

The stone was icy cold and had sharp edges; his palm was quickly cut in several places, and it burned with pain.

Moreover, his body had not engaged in physical labor for a long time.

After working for a while, I started to feel sore in my lower back and my hands and feet were numb and weak.

But he didn't stop. Driven by the burning will in his chest, he gritted his teeth and piled stones on the more exposed sides of the platform. He also tore up a lot of dry vines and shrub branches and haphazardly covered the metal surface of the platform and the pile of stones.

After doing all this, he was panting heavily, his sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, quickly turning icy cold in the wind.

Under the starlight, that future creation looked more like a haphazardly piled-up pile of fallen rocks and withered branches.

Although it's rough, it should provide some cover at night and from a distance.

He dared not rest for too long.

Picking up the spear and bucket, they walked along the general direction indicated by Old Han, their steps uneven.

The sky was gradually brightening.

The stinging pain in his feet had gone numb, and the cold seeped into his coarse cotton jacket, but at least he had a goal—a cave where he could start a fire and temporarily escape the wind, cold, and wild animals.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, and rounding a rocky slope, he indeed saw a dark cave entrance. It was not large, about the height of a person, and only wide enough for two or three people to walk side by side. It was located below a sheltered rock wall.

There were some animal bones and dried feces scattered near the cave entrance. The smell was not pleasant, but at least there were no traces of fresh, large animals.

He cautiously probed inside; the cave was deeper and drier than he had imagined.

Inside, there was some dry moss and unidentified fluff. He put down the bucket and groped around in the old satchel left by Old Han to find a flint and steel, as well as a small clump of soft, dry tinder, which was obviously also picked up.

Starting a fire is a skill.

Chen Yuan had only ever used a lighter and matches while camping. Facing these ancient tools, he tried several times before finally managing to strike out a few sparks and ignite the tinder.

He carefully blew on the fire, watching the faint flames lick at the small, dry twigs he added, before gradually adding larger pieces of firewood—things he had picked up casually outside the cave.

Finally, he cautiously added a few pieces of coal nugget and charcoal.

The orange-red flames finally began to leap steadily, illuminating the small cave and casting a precious warmth onto Chen Yuan's almost frozen body.

He greedily approached the fire, stretching out his trembling hands to warm them, feeling the heat gradually dispel the chill from his bones.

The flames crackled, and the light and shadow flickered on the rock wall.

Chen Yuan huddled by the fire, his gaze fixed on the rusty tin bucket and the wooden stick with the rusty spearhead.

Hunger belatedly crept in, my stomach was empty, but at that moment, getting food had to take a backseat.

He needs to sort out his thoughts.

First, there is the energy crisis of the "Flint" platform.

0.7%, 72 hours.

The human-powered generator solution is the only realistic option.

The material requirements listed in the plan list came back to mind clearly:

Structural metal (iron/steel ≥ 20 kg).

But the broken iron bucket in his hand, if smashed flat, would probably weigh two or three pounds? The rusty spearhead, less than a pound.

The gap is huge.

Timber (hardwood ≥ 15 kg) should be relatively easy to find.

Copper weighing ≥ 1.5 kg is likely to exist in this era, but it's also incredibly difficult to find. Perhaps dismantling some discarded electrical appliances or wires could help? But this is a mountain village in 1937…

He couldn't imagine where he could find it.

Leather/durable fabric ≥ 2 kg. These materials are not hard to find, but getting them back might not be easy.

The bill of materials is like a cold wall.

He also needed food, water, warmer clothing, and information about his surroundings and the times... each of which was fraught with difficulties.

His gaze fell on the broken iron barrel again.

The barrel is severely rusted, but it is, after all, an iron object.

And there's the spearhead.

What if... what if we could find more similar scrap metal? Old Han mentioned "junk that deserters used to throw away," so perhaps there are battlefield remnants nearby?

Or abandoned mines or ancient roads?

And Old Han himself.

This seemingly ordinary old hunter from the mountain village is currently his only social connection.

He mentioned "Gouzi Village".

Even the smallest village should have some basic resources: food, information, tools that may be idle or abandoned, and even... manpower.

But how do we reach out to the villagers?

How do you explain your origins?

A strange young man dressed oddly, penniless, appearing in the wilderness would inevitably arouse suspicion, especially during wartime.

Old Han helped him out of simple kindness, but what about the whole village?

He needs an "identity," a reason that people can accept, or at least not so quickly dismiss as a spy or troublemaker.

Skills? He said he had some skills.

What specific craftsmanship?

In this era, what skills do mountain villages need most? Carpentry? Blacksmithing? Repairmanship?

Chen Yuan's gaze swept over the campfire, the broken barrel, and the wooden spear, finally settling on his hands, which were scratched and covered in dust from carrying stones.

An idea gradually became clear.

He needs to demonstrate his value.

He used his only advantage over the average person in this era—his insight into the future and the potential for "manufacturing" that the unactivated factory might grant him, a potential that transcended his time.

But we must start from the smallest and most inconspicuous place.