Chapter 261

After simmering the tree bark for an entire day and rinsing it clean from the stone troughs and stone pots, the next step was to pound it into pulp.

Children’s curiosity knew no bounds. Qi Bai had barely started pounding when the cubs swarmed over, eager to help.

This time, Qi Bai had boiled three batches of bark. Since he couldn’t possibly pound all the pulp alone, he cleared out one of the larger stone pots and troughs.

With his permission, the little ones ran around picking up sturdy sticks, chanting nonsense slogans like “Yi-ya, yi-ya!” as they pounded away with great enthusiasm.

Qi Bai couldn’t help laughing aloud at the sight.

The cubs, clutching their sticks in both arms and pounding into the stone troughs, looked exactly like little rabbits pounding mooncake paste on the moon.

Everyone toiled in high spirits under the open sky. By about mid-afternoon, around two or three o’clock, all the pulp had been beaten.

After gathering the three batches together, Qi Bai pushed a small cart back and forth twice to refill the large stone trough with water.

Now came the final step of papermaking—casting the pulp onto the paper mold.

Compared with the exhausting pounding, this part was easy.

Qi Bai secured the bamboo screen onto the mold frame, lowered it into the water, then poured in some pulp and stirred it apart with his hands.

The brownish-yellow pulp swirled and dispersed evenly through the water. When he lifted the frame, the pulp clung firmly to the screen.

Qi Bai’s eyes lit up. Never mind the quality—just the sight of this sheet alone looked convincing enough to be called paper.

He set the mold down on the ground. At once the cubs crowded around.

“This is paper?” one scratched his head, looking puzzled.

He didn’t dare damage the sheet Qi Bai had just made, but curiosity won out—he extended a finger and poked lightly at the edge.

“How do you use it?” another cub hugged his knees and looked up at Qi Bai, who was already back at the trough.

Qi Bai dipped another frame, scattered pulp into the water, and said, “This thing has countless uses. One day, you’ll probably use it every single day. But we have to wait until it dries first.”

The cubs nodded vaguely, eyes brimming with even greater curiosity.

Qi Bai hadn’t made much pulp in this first trial. He wanted to see how the finished sheets turned out before deciding how to scale production.

Altogether, he used 57 frames. Spread out in the square to dry, the sight was spectacular. Qi Bai felt a swell of accomplishment.

Unfortunately, pride didn’t erase fatigue.

Leaning against a tree trunk, he exhaled heavily. Some work didn’t look like much until you actually did it—it was backbreaking.

Now he understood why paper in ancient times had been so expensive.

True, vegetation had been abundant, but without mechanization everything relied on sheer manual labor. Add in the fact that paper was consumable, and the time and effort cost naturally pushed the price far beyond ordinary households.

Qi Bai couldn’t help longing for a modern grinder—drop bark in, press a button, and out came perfect pulp.

But here, in the Beastman Continent, woodworking and blacksmithing were one thing—electric appliances were far beyond his reach. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he could never build one.

Still, solutions were always more numerous than problems.

Qi Bai’s gaze roamed the surroundings. After some thought, an idea struck him.

Niu Xi was busy unloading stone from carts at the quarry.

When she spotted him, she called across, “How’re those stone pots and troughs I gave you? Useful?”

Indeed, the stone tools Qi Bai had used for papermaking were all her handiwork. As one of her regular customers, he was greeted with concern right away.

Qi Bai helped steady a worker carrying stone and smiled. “Very useful. But now I’ll need a big stone mortar, so I’m here to trouble you again.”

Niu Xi chuckled. “This is nothing fancy. When we quarry, we always chip off plenty of stones too rough for bricks—better to grind them into other tools than waste them. What shape this time? Another pot or trough?”

Qi Bai shook his head and described a massive mortar. Niu Xi thumped her chest. “Easy. I’ll have it sent to you by tomorrow afternoon.”

Qi Bai smiled. “If my papermaking works out, you’ll be the first I gift it to.”

Her eyes lit up. “Deal!”

Knowing Qi Bai’s projects were never pointless, she grew even more motivated. Sure enough, by noon the next day, she personally delivered a half-man-high stone mortar.

With it, Qi Bai spent two more days rigging a pounding machine.

Its principle was simple: a lever. One end held a pounding stick; the other, a rope. Pull the rope, the stick rose; release, it slammed into the mortar, hammering whatever bark lay inside.

With repeated tugs, even a sub-beastman could pound a full mortar of bark with ease.

The old priests, seeing it, were dumbfounded.

“By the Beast God!”

“This… this is incredible!”

They circled the contraption, hands trembling, speechless with awe.

Qi Bai himself was pleased—not only with the tool, but with the inspiration it sparked. Levers had endless uses.

This pounding machine could just as well process grain after harvest—or, with some adjustments, become a catapult.

Though a catapult’s range was shorter than a ballista, for siege and defense it would be invaluable—perfect for their soon-to-be-finished city.

Its only flaw: it still relied on manual effort.

Qi Bai rubbed his chin. In ancient Huaguo, water-powered hammers had replaced manpower. If he could design a waterwheel… why stop at paper? He could build an entire paper mill.

So, ironically, the actual paper he’d made was overshadowed by the pounding machine. Everyone was far more fascinated by the tool than the sheets themselves.

But as spring warmed and days of sun followed, the sheets dried fully within just two days.

Made from bark without bleaching, they retained their natural hues.

Of the three types Qi Bai tried, each came out a different shade, from pale to dark.

But handling them revealed stark differences.

The worst was the pale whitish bark—ironically the one Qi Bai had pinned hopes on. Its pulp was loose, flaking into dust at the lightest touch. Clearly its fibers lacked toughness or adhesive. Regretfully, Qi Bai rolled them up for later study.

The other two held up.

Hemp bark paper was coarse but tough—not great for writing, but excellent as toilet paper.

Paper from mulberry bark was finer, though dark brown. But Qi Bai shrugged—color didn’t matter. Charcoal was blacker still, so it worked fine for writing.

At last, they had paper for writing and for toilets. His days of toil weren’t wasted.

Qi Bai sorted the sheets: mulberry for office use, hemp all cut neatly into small squares.

He gave Niu Xi her promised share, and distributed the rest as toilet paper to the old priests and Shu Lin’s group.

Since they knew it came from inedible bark, no one treated it as precious. Told to use it for toilets, they did.

Qi Bai only wanted to gauge acceptance—but soon realized no follow-up was needed.

At first they found it odd. But after finishing the hemp supply and returning to bamboo slats and stones… the difference was undeniable.

Even those too shy to ask gave him longing looks whenever they saw him.

But Shu Lin and Niu Xi, familiar enough to skip propriety, outright begged him to make more.

Shu Lin trailed him pitifully: “Didn’t you build a pounding machine? Use it to make us loads of toilet paper!”

Qi Bai spread his hands. “Paper needs bark soaked for days before pounding. The bark’s still in the river—you can’t rush it. If I had pre-soaked bark, I’d be making some right now.”

Quan Nan nodded solemnly. “Leopard Bai is right. We must soak bark in advance, not wait until we run out.”

Niu Xi cut in, anxious: “Does anyone have extra bark to spare? Share some with me!”

But Qi Bai forbade random stripping of trees—only half the bark at most, and carefully taken.

Since she ran the quarry, Niu Xi rarely cut trees herself. She had no way to gather enough.

Shu Lin whined: “There’s no bark left! The trees we chopped for houses—every scrap of bark was confiscated by Priest Yang Luo. He said it’s the tribe’s property. If we want more, we’ll have to cut fresh ourselves.”

Quan Nan nodded. “I heard the other tribes’ bark was collected too.”

They looked at each other, then burst into laughter.

Once ignored as worthless, bark had suddenly become treasure thanks to Qi Bai’s paper.

Qi Bai laughed with them. In fact, it was better—the priests gathering bark meant he wouldn’t have to. Once they handed it over, he’d process it and redistribute.

While laughter echoed in the city, less than a day’s march away in a valley, another great commotion stirred.

“Once we cross this gorge, the land flattens—we’ll be at the city soon!”

Standing atop a cart piled high, Ma Ling shouted encouragement.

This endless stream of men and wagons was the Heiyao Hunting Party, returning after more than a month.

“Awroo!” “Moo!”

At his words, cheers erupted, carts seeming to grow lighter.

Some warriors fresh off rotation, gnawing cheese curds, laughed wide-toothed: “We’ve brought back so much game—the city will be thrilled!”

Another bellowed, “Captain Niu Shuo praised me this time. Said I’d get more meat! With that, I can trade for a house! Hahaha!”

“Trade for what house—you don’t even have a mate. A big house all for yourself? Unlike me—I’ve got two cubs already!”

The first warrior glared. “Two cubs? I’ll find a mate this year, and I’ll raise four, five if I want!”

“Boaster!” “Yeah, even I wouldn’t claim five.”

“I’ll prove it—you’ll see!”

The rocky road jolted them constantly, nearly tossing some from the wagons. But everyone was long used to the hardships of travel, laughing and bantering as they rolled on.

“We’ve been gone so long. I wonder how the houses are coming along in the city.”

One Heishan warrior worried, “The houses aren’t urgent. What matters is our farmlands. I wonder if those left behind managed the fields…”

Their chatter grew more anxious until a few began shouting at the ox pulling their cart.

“Xiong Chong! You’re too slow—your cart lags behind the others!”

The great war-bear hauling the load straightened, thumping his chest. He deliberately swerved in an “S,” nearly throwing his riders.

Hmph. Slow? Not me. I’m the strongest of all!