「Half an hour later.」

A complete brown bear pelt was stripped off, leaving only the meat and bones.

Feng Mountain trimmed the fat from the lean meat, collecting it separately.

Lately, cooking had been either roasting or frying, which used up a lot of their three-oil blend. With this bear fat, plus the moose and reindeer fat, they could render a new batch.

As for the lean meat, he followed the usual procedure: half was set aside for smoking, and the other half was buried in a snow hole dug on the riverbank.

Seeing the bearskin had been stripped, Tom couldn’t wait to pack it up. He didn’t even stay for a meal, rushing off to return to Fairbanks.

In his eyes, delaying even a minute would be a sign of disrespect to Franklin.

As for the price they’d agreed on, Feng Mountain didn’t care, nor would he ask.

Spotting a brown bear tenderloin that Nash had specially left on the worktable, he asked everyone,

"How about roasted bear meat for dinner?"

’Eat bear meat?’

’Roasted meat last night, reindeer soup this morning, air-dried moose sausage on the plane for lunch, and now bear meat again for dinner.’

They really couldn’t take eating meat for every meal.

Besides the members of Crown Territory, Zhang Kai’s group of four and Xiaohua’s group of three all wore pained expressions. Even Su Ziweng, who had always proclaimed himself the king of carnivores, waved his hands in refusal.

"Brother Feng, I really can’t eat anymore!"

"Even my farts smell like reindeer meat now."

"Can we have something lighter? I’d even be happy with a plate of sliced onions and some soy sauce to dip them in."

"If that’s too much, just wash a carrot, and I’ll eat it raw."

"Bro, I seriously can’t eat any more meat."

"Brother Shan, the smell of meat makes me sick now."

Faced with his guests’ desperate pleas, what could Feng Mountain say?

He picked some lettuce from the vegetable patch, tossed it with sliced onions and shredded carrots, and drizzled it with vinegar, soy sauce, a bit of chili oil, and the fermented bean paste Xiaohua had brought from China.

Then he steamed a pot of mantou buns.

Back in China, Zhang Kai, Su Ziweng, and Feng Yang wouldn’t have given these dishes a second glance, but now they were all grinning from ear to ear as they ate.

The members of Crown Territory watched, completely baffled.

’Serving meat is the best form of hospitality. Why are they all eating vegetables and stinky beans instead? And they look so happy about it.’

This also served as a reminder for Feng Mountain.

Tourists from China didn’t have a high demand for meat; a balanced diet of meat and vegetables seemed more suitable.

The light of the Fire Seed now enveloped the entire triangular area of the camp.

It looked like it would continue to expand outward, improving the land for large-scale agriculture.

’That’s right!’

’It seems I can plant trees in the new camp area.’

At this thought, Feng Mountain immediately pulled out his phone and called Crown Territory’s chief supplier, Tom.

When Tom learned that Feng Mountain wanted to plant fruit trees in Crown Territory,

he was completely stunned.

’Planting fruit trees on the Arctic Circle’s Tundra... only someone who wasn’t right in the head would come up with an idea like that.’

’If those fruit trees survive, I’ll eat my hat.’

After hanging up, Tom started using his connections and found a botany professor at the University of Alaska Fairbanks to ask about fruit trees suitable for cold regions.

It turned out there really were some.

Things like cold-hardy apples that could be planted at minus 30 degrees Celsius, and blue-berried honeysuckle, which was extremely cold-resistant and could withstand temperatures as low as -50°C.

There were also Russian No. 8 cherries, Black Phoenix plums from Eastern Europe, American citruses, blueberries, and so on—all capable of growing in cold, harsh environments.

However, could these fruit trees adapt to the climate of the Far North Tundra?

The botany professor tactfully suggested that Tom get a psychological evaluation at a hospital.

’Only a sick person would ask such a question.’

’If you could grow fruit on the Tundra, it would have been done long ago.’

Humiliated, Tom didn’t say a word. He immediately tried to call Feng Mountain back, but the satellite phone was busy.

Just then, Feng Mountain received a call from an unknown number from Fairbanks.

The caller was Old Pete, the village chief of Point Laya Village. His wife, due to health reasons, was in her final days.

The reason he was calling Feng Mountain was that his wife hoped to find their son’s murderer before she passed away.

Faced with the final request of a dying mother, Feng Mountain found it impossible to refuse.

He agreed to go to Point Laya Village to investigate.

After hanging up, Feng Mountain looked at everyone in the cabin and said apologetically, "Sorry, a case just came up that I need to handle. Yves, show our guests around. Nash and I have to make a trip."

After speaking, he took Nash upstairs to get their weapons and gear.

’Handle a case?’

’You’re Chinese, not a cop. What kind of case are you going to handle?’

The group from China was completely confused.

Seeing their puzzled expressions, Yves explained, "Feng is now the Sheriff for the Alaska Far North Taiga Tribe Alliance. He’s responsible for handling all major cases in the towns, communities, and villages within the Far North Tundra Region."

’The head Sheriff.’

’He’s that much of a badass?’

’Isn’t that equivalent to being the... you-know-what... for half a province back in China?’

’Never would have guessed!’

’Feng Mountain is really making a name for himself in Alaska.’

’No wonder he had so much pull at the airport.’

’Getting a special lane and breezing through security.’

Just as everyone was marveling at this, Feng Mountain and Nash came down from the second floor. After giving Jenny a few instructions, they got on a snowmobile and left.

"Brother Kai, is that, uh, Tundra place safe?" Xiaohua asked worriedly.

’Safe?’

’In a place like the United States, there’s no such thing as absolute safety.’

’Alaska is the most lawless state anyway. Didn’t you see the bulges under Feng Mountain’s and Nash’s clothes when they came downstairs? You don’t think they were hiding baguettes, do you?’

Of course, Zhang Kai wouldn’t dare say this to Xiaohua. He just put on a reassuring expression.

"Don’t worry, Alaska is safer than China. People don’t even lock their doors at night."

"Oh, that’s good!!" Xiaohua smiled, relieved.

...

Crown Territory was 360 kilometers from Point Laya Village.

Point Laya Village was located at the confluence of the Chukchi Sea and the Beaufort Sea, and its climate was even colder than Kivalina’s.

The Carnation flew over the vast snowfields. Through the windshield, the white surface of the distant sea was already visible.

Compared to the scattered ice floes near Kivalina, the ice near Point Laya drifted on the sea in huge sheets.

Looking at the data from the cabin’s external thermometer, it read minus 30 degrees Celsius.

He couldn’t help but admire the Inuit people for being able to survive in such a desolate place.

Just then, the radio crackled with static, followed by an unfamiliar male voice.

"Carnation, this is the Point Laya Distant Early Warning Radar Station. You are currently in a restricted area. Please state your flight’s purpose, over."

Feng Mountain picked up the handset. "This is Carnation. I am the Sheriff of Point Laya Village, en route to Point Laya to investigate a case, over."

"Sheriff of Point Laya Village? God bless, those Inupiat people finally have the money to hire a sheriff. Alright, buddy, have a safe trip."

"Thanks!"

Feng Mountain hung up the radio. He watched on the navigation screen as they got closer and closer to their destination, until a village covered in white snow appeared below them.

Unlike Kivalina, which was crammed onto a narrow sandbar island, Point Laya Village didn’t have that problem. The village area was relatively larger, and the roads, at least, were laid out in a grid, looking somewhat more orderly.

After circling over the airport runway once and confirming there were no other planes parked on it, Feng Mountain began his descent.

The tires touched the runway, and after a slight jolt, the fuselage came to a steady stop.

He taxied the Carnation to a parking spot and pushed open the cabin door.

Just then, a group of children walked toward the runway, their cheeks red from the cold, curiously observing Feng Mountain and Nash.

"The Inupiat people are also Inuit," Nash grumbled with a hint of resentment.

Feng Mountain smiled and pulled a handful of chocolates from his pocket. "Fellas, I have a question. Who can help me?"

The kids didn’t seem to be buying it. One small boy stepped forward, his face wary.

"Who are you? Why did you come to Point Laya? Are you here for the walruses?"

’What walruses?’

Feng Mountain didn’t understand. He put away the chocolate, took out his sheriff’s badge from inside his animal-hide coat, and pinned it to his chest. "Where’s the village administration office? I’m Sheriff Feng. I was invited by Old Pete to investigate a two-year-old case."

’Sheriff?’

’Isn’t Old Pete at Fairbanks Hospital taking care of Aunt Neli?’

The little boy eyed Feng Mountain suspiciously. After his gaze lingered on the badge for a long time, he waved and turned toward the village.

"The administration office is over there. Follow me, I’ll take you."

"Thanks, fella!" Feng Mountain grinned and followed.

As the boy led him through the streets, Feng Mountain noticed something interesting. All the buildings along the way, whether they were wooden cabins or container homes, were built on stilts over a meter high.

"Here, this is the administration office. The adults have all gone walrus hunting. Only Vera is here." The boy stopped and pointed to a rusty metal shed by the roadside.

"Thanks!" Feng Mountain pulled out the chocolate and stuffed it into the boy’s hand, then stepped onto the creaking stairs and pushed open the door.

The room was a mess. Books and documents were piled on top of the file cabinets, and the ashtray on the only desk was overflowing with cigarette butts.

A disheveled, black-haired woman in a dirty winter coat sat with a cigarette dangling from her lips, her boots propped up on the desk, lazily flipping through a fashion magazine.

AHEM!!

Feng Mountain coughed deliberately, hoping to get the woman’s attention.

But the woman didn’t seem to care that someone had entered. In her eyes, a visitor was probably less important than the magazine in her hands.

After coughing a few more times with no reaction, Feng Mountain had no choice but to raise his voice.

"Excuse me, is anyone here?"

The woman lifted an eyelid but didn’t bother to look directly at Feng Mountain. "Bullshit. Are you a blind walrus? Can’t you see a living person sitting right here?"

"If you’ve got business, sign yourself in. You’ll have to wait for Old Pete to get back from Fairbanks to handle it. If you can’t wait, handle it yourself!"

"Apologies. I’m Feng, the new Sheriff for Point Laya Village. I’m here to investigate a case." Feng Mountain, long accustomed to the laid-back nature of the Inuit, unfastened his collar and pulled down his face mask.

’The new Sheriff for Point Laya Village.’

The woman seemed to freeze for a moment. She then tried to jump to her feet but forgot her position and, with a THUD, tumbled to the floor. Grinning, she scrambled up, tied her messy hair back with a rubber band, and laughed awkwardly.

"I got a message from Uncle Pete. I just didn’t expect you to get here so fast."

"I’m Vera, the administrative assistant for Point Laya Village."

It was only then that Feng Mountain got a clear look at the woman’s face.

She wasn’t stunningly beautiful and was probably in her mid-twenties, but if she cleaned herself up, her features looked more Asian.

"It’s fine. If it’s convenient, please tell me about the murder of Old Pete’s youngest son. It would be even better if you could take me to the crime scene."

"Of course. Follow me, we can talk on the way. The place where it happened is a bit far from the village."

Vera nodded repeatedly, then suddenly smelled the nasty stench of burnt fur. She looked down and saw that her cigarette butt had set the leather seat cushion on fire.

Unflustered, Vera raised her foot and stomped on the seat a few times to extinguish the butt, then grabbed her hat from the wall.

"Let’s go, I’ll get the car!"

At the same time, Feng Mountain noticed that the poor animal-hide cushion was already covered in a dense pattern of cigarette burns.

...