Free Web NovelChapter 221: Chapter 195: Inventions Are Always Made Inadvertently
The first-ever Chinese dictionary in the history of the Feilin Continent was born.
Its author was Zog.
He’d achieved the milestone of becoming an author, making him a proper cultured Dragon now.
Of course, the little booklet didn’t contain that many Chinese characters.
So, its proper title should have been *Commonly Used 500 Characters of the High Level Magic Language*.
The original plan was for 300 characters. For programming, 300 characters would have been more than enough to create words.
But after some thought, he decided to increase it to 500 to provide a richer selection of characters for naming variables.
Writing variable names with precise meanings could make them serve as partial comments.
The Mages here probably wouldn’t stoop to using Pinyin initialisms as variable names.
’That’s just double encryption.’
Zog hated all uses of Pinyin initialisms with an equal passion.
GOAT, IYKYK, NGL, TBH!
He couldn’t for the life of him understand the purpose of such abbreviations; it wasn’t like they were banned words.
In any case, Zog worked around the clock for three days to finish the reference book and hand it over to the development team.
With his great constitution, he wasn’t afraid of pulling all-nighters.
He only explained one or two of the most common meanings for each character to keep the learning curve as gentle as possible.
For the most part, Zog wasn’t needed for the remaining development work.
It was all up to the masters to work their magic.
The more respectable way to put it was that as the boss, Zog didn’t need to control every detail of the project.
A more accurate explanation was that Zog’s skill in Magic wasn’t high enough to even sit at the same table as those overachievers.
Sitting in on their meetings reminded Zog of how he’d felt listening to the goblins’ project proposal.
He couldn’t understand a thing either way.
With the goblins, it was because their thinking was chaotic and all over the place. With these guys, it was because the topic was too profound for him to comprehend.
Furin’s fondness for saying "easily proven" and "easily obtained" during her lectures might not have been entirely her fault.
Everyone in their circle talked like that.
What was even more terrifying was that they could all understand each other. Trying to hang with this group of Mages truly had an incredibly high barrier to entry.
’Huh, now that I think about it, maybe people who like using initialisms are also trying to artificially create a barrier to entry for their circle.’
’Forcibly creating a sense of being special to spice up their own dull and uninteresting lives.’
’What a cheap sense of "uniqueness."’
’Might as well go bite a lighter.’
Meanwhile, Zog, with some time on his hands, found a new hobby.
Fishing.
He had no idea why, but he suddenly found fishing to be a very interesting activity.
’Maybe I’m just getting older.’
When he was younger, he thought fishing was a complete waste of time.
If he wanted to eat fish, couldn’t he just roar at the water’s surface? Scores of fish were guaranteed to float up, belly-up.
A sonic attack!
It was faster than draining the water.
Fishing for them one by one, with no guarantee of a catch, and sometimes using bait more expensive than the fish themselves... it all seemed like bizarre behavior to his younger self.
But now, he had an epiphany.
The whole point *was* to waste time.
The peace, the freedom, and after a long wait and a thrilling struggle, the satisfying reward.
Although, most of the time, there was no reward.
But that didn’t diminish the joy.
No catch was definitely because of bad luck, the wrong weather, a bad fishing spot, terrible bait, a rod with poor feel, a poorly chosen position, or other amateurs chumming so much they raised the water level by two centimeters and fed all the fish so they wouldn’t bite...
In short, it could never be his own fault.
Zog arrived at the seashore.
Twin Tower City’s tourism development was quite comprehensive. The coastline was divided into various zones, including beaches with different price points, tidal flats for foraging, and areas specifically for anglers.
As a famously wealthy dragon, Zog naturally believed that to do a good job, an artisan needs the best tools.
First, he pulled a rod from his Treasure Chest Monster. It was made of mountain copper, also known as Orichalcos, and hand-forged by Master Simon himself.
Young Simon was considered a master now.
With Enchantments for Durability and Bait Luring, it would probably last until the end of time unless someone deliberately snapped it.
It wasn’t light at all, but it was incredibly resilient.
Zog didn’t need it to be light.
The fishing line was a steel cable woven from frostiron; catching a shark with it should be no problem.
On top of that, he had bait specially developed by the Druids after a careful analysis of the local water quality and fish populations.
Filling his bucket would be a piece of cake.
The Treasure Chest Monster also happened to make a perfect stool.
The moment he brought out this setup, the other anglers around him gasped in amazement.
"What kind of fishing rod is that?"
"I don’t know! It’s so shiny, it must be made of some kind of gemstone!"
"Are you stupid? A rod made of gemstones? What if it gets splashed with seawater and corrodes?"
"That’s where you’re wrong. What rich person uses the same fishing rod twice? They obviously throw it away after one use."
"I see... You really know your stuff..."
The idle chatter reached Zog’s ears, completely maxing out his sense of validation.
Zog made a stylish cast, putting on his most professional air.
The hook hit the water. Three hours passed in the blink of an eye.
He hadn’t caught a single thing.
But it wasn’t a big deal. Getting skunked was common for fishermen. Worst case, he’d just grab a handful of seaweed on his way out.
His mood was still pretty good, at least until a little kid showed up at the spot next to him.
The child was wearing large, ill-fitting clothes made of what looked like coarse fabric.
He took out a wooden stick, most likely a random branch he’d picked up somewhere and trimmed into a rough shape.
A hemp rope—the most traditional material for a fishing line—was tied to the end.
A hook hung from the end of the line, its bend not even smooth. It was, in all likelihood, homemade.
There wasn’t even a bobber; he’d have to rely entirely on feel to know if he had a bite.
The child put a small piece of bread on the hook and tossed it into the sea.
"Ahem." Zog coughed. He decided to teach this kid a little lesson.
"The fish in this part of the sea don’t eat bread."
