Landlord in the Arctic

Chapter 313 - 254: Leaving (Part 2)

The Wild Bull Tribe’s settlement was located near Clark Lake National Park, only an hour’s journey away.

The Clark Lake region was also known in Alaska as "Little Alaska."

Here, one could find not only glaciers, volcanoes, and jagged mountain peaks, but also wild rivers where grayling played in the lakes. Countless seabirds flocked to the intricate coastline, dense forests and vast tundra stretched out, and herds of reindeer and great bears roamed the land.

Nearly all of Alaska’s natural elements were concentrated in this single area, which comprised less than 1% of the state’s total land.

Feng Mountain flew the Carnation over the snow-capped Chigmit Mountains and through the Clark Lake Pass, revealing giant blue glaciers and winding rivers below.

Compared to the Clark Lake region, Feng Mountain really couldn’t find anything remarkable about his own Crown Territory. ’Without the tribe’s Fire Seed, it would probably just be a barren wasteland.’

The plane continued onward, finally arriving in the airspace above the lake district.

Following the coordinates Jeff had provided, he came to the snow-covered Terra Quana Plateau. It was similar to Alaska’s North Slope, with patches of coniferous forest scattered across a flat expanse of snow and ice.

Beside a frozen river, a town appeared before his eyes.

Feng Mountain picked up the intercom and switched to the public radio channel.

"Wild Bull Tribe, Wild Bull Tribe, this is the Carnation, requesting guidance to a landing strip."

A burst of static crackled over the radio, followed quickly by the response of an unfamiliar man.

"Wild Bull Tribe copies, Carnation. You can land on the river surface. The ice is very solid right now."

"You’re not joking, are you, buddy? My plane isn’t fitted with skis." Feng Mountain looked down at the winding white ribbon of the river in the distance. He had never landed on an ice river before.

"Don’t worry, the ice thickness is absolutely no problem. If you’re scared, you can divert to Alswater Port to land, then take an air taxi to our Tatanka Tribe."

The stranger’s voice came through again, tinged with confidence, as if he had absolute certainty about the condition of the ice. But he also offered Feng Mountain another option.

It was just that doing so would be a lot more trouble.

Feng Mountain was speechless and annoyed. He furrowed his brow, and after a moment’s thought, he gritted his teeth and steered the Carnation toward the ice river.

As the Carnation slowly approached the ice river, the distance between the plane and the ice shrinking, Feng Mountain gripped the control stick tightly. He was completely focused on piloting the aircraft, constantly making micro-adjustments to its attitude based on the specific conditions of the river.

The plane’s landing gear gradually extended toward the ice. In the instant before it made contact with the ice layer, a tense atmosphere seemed to fill the entire cabin.

With a CREAK, the landing gear touched down securely on the ice. The plane continued to glide forward, the surface hissing and scraping under the friction of the wheels as Feng Mountain struggled to control the stick.

Fortunately, the ice was indeed as solid as the man had claimed. The Carnation landed successfully on the ice river and, after sliding along the surface for some distance, came to a steady stop.

Feng Mountain let out a long breath, his tense nerves slowly relaxing. He raised a hand to wipe away the cold sweat that had unknowingly beaded on his forehead, silently thankful that the landing had gone relatively smoothly.

Soon, the roar of an engine shattered the silence around the ice river as a snowmobile shot from the riverbank like an arrow released from a bow.

When the snowmobile reached the Carnation, it came to a halt with a stylish, sharp brake.

A moment later, an Indigenous man wearing an animal-hide hat hopped off the vehicle. He walked over to the cockpit in a few steps, rapped on the window with a cheerful smile, gave two thumbs up, and praised him loudly.

"Buddy, that was a beautiful landing."

Hearing this, Feng Mountain pushed open the door and jumped nimbly out of the plane.

After landing on his feet, he looked at the Indigenous man, annoyed. With a hint of impatience in his eyes, he asked bluntly, "Where is Chief Welta?"

"You’re looking for the Chief? He’s arranging the welcome ceremony for tomorrow," the Indigenous man said, pointing toward the small town.

In the direction he pointed, a few wisps of smoke could be faintly seen rising from the town.

Without another word, Feng Mountain strode over and sat on the back of the snowmobile, urging him, "Take me to him. I’m in a hurry. I have to get back to the Tundra."

The Indigenous man was completely baffled, his mind filled with confusion.

But he didn’t ask any questions. He just shrugged helplessly, started the snowmobile, and sped off toward the town.

Unlike the backward towns of the Far North Tundra Region, this town showed no signs of decay. On the contrary, it was full of life.

Wooden cabins were arranged in a picturesque and orderly fashion on both sides of the street, each with its own unique charm.

Children occasionally ran past, laughing and playing, their rosy little cheeks red like ripe apples from the cold. They held simple, homemade sleds, shouting excitedly as they ran.

Because of them, the Indigenous man had to stop the snowmobile. He watched the group of laughing, playing children helplessly, and after letting them pass, he put on a look of mock seriousness and yelled.

"HEY, HEY, HEY! Go sled somewhere else! This is a road."

But the children, each one clever and mischievous, showed no fear at all. Instead, they made all sorts of funny faces at the man.

Then, giggling, the children continued to play with their sleds, chasing each other as they ran off somewhere else.

The Indigenous man watched the children’s retreating figures and shook his head helplessly, muttering.

"These little rascals. There’s nothing you can do with them."

With that, he started the snowmobile again and continued driving Feng Mountain deeper into the town.

Soon, the snowmobile pulled to a stop in front of an enormous tent. It was the largest tent Feng Mountain had ever seen, at least as tall as a two-story building and covering a vast area. It looked like it could hold hundreds of people.

The tent’s outer layer was made of thick, stitched animal hides. The hides had been specially tanned, giving them a unique luster, and were painted with all sorts of colorful, mysterious patterns.

At the entrance hung strings of curtains made from animal bones and colorful feathers. As a slight breeze blew past, the curtains swayed gently, making a soft, crisp, and pleasant clinking sound.

Around the tent were several primitive-looking stone piers and wooden carvings. They stood like sentinels, silently guarding the great tent and adding to its solemn and mysterious air.

"Wait here. I have to inform the Chief that you’re here and ask if he will see you."

As he spoke, the Indigenous man nimbly hopped off the snowmobile. He gestured for Feng Mountain to wait where he was.

Then, the man walked briskly toward the large tent.

When he reached the entrance, he first stopped respectfully and straightened his slightly disheveled animal-hide coat. Then he gently pushed aside the curtain of bone and feathers and ducked inside.

The faint sounds of conversation drifted from within the tent, but the voices were muffled and indistinct.

Feng Mountain stood by the snowmobile, waiting quietly. He tilted his head back slightly to survey the imposing tent before him, his gaze sweeping from its top down to its surroundings.

’I need to wrap things up with the Wild Bull Tribe quickly,’ he thought.

’There’s a ton of stuff waiting for me back at the camp.’

’Tourists, the Bear Tribe, the livestock, the adopted tiger...’

"Feng, what are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to arrive tomorrow?" Just as Feng Mountain was lost in these thoughts, Chief Welta’s loud, somewhat surprised voice suddenly rang out, jolting him from his reverie.

Feng Mountain quickly snapped back to reality and looked toward the voice. He saw Chief Welta appearing at the tent’s entrance with several elders, a look of confusion and curiosity on his face as his eyes fixed on Feng Mountain.

"Sorry, something came up in the Crown Territory. I decided to come early so I can head back early."

"Spirit of All Things, do you need my help? Come in, quickly! You are the Wild Bull Tribe’s most honored guest." Chief Welta greeted Feng Mountain enthusiastically, then turned to look at the Indigenous man. "Lulu, bring the food for tomorrow’s ceremony."

The Indigenous man looked completely bewildered.

’That food is for tomorrow’s honored guest,’ he thought. ’Why are we bringing it out now?’

...