Landlord in the Arctic-Chapter 82: Good Deeds

A satellite phone?

Feng Mountain pulled it out, gave it a shake, and said calmly, "I blocked you!"

Huh?!

Frank was stunned for a long moment, but Tom jumped in and switched to taunt mode.

"Who’s this? A thief? Feng, quick, call the police."

"Bullshit, Tom! Are you blind? Or did you leave your eyes on the plane?"

"Frank? God save us, what happened to you? Did you secretly go film a movie in the San Fernando Valley? You’re a selfish man. Why didn’t you take me with you? You know I’ve always wanted to play a plumber."

Hearing Tom’s teasing, Frank’s face turned an even darker shade of green. If he weren’t feeling so unwell, he would have had Tom on his knees begging for forgiveness within three sentences.

Right now, the most important thing was getting his body back to normal. If he let this drag on any longer, he’d soon be checking into a nursing home—or a single-person room in a cemetery.

"Feng, help me."

"Tsk tsk." Feng Mountain turned and looked Frank up and down. ’Everyone here knows I can use Witchcraft,’ he thought. ’This is a good opportunity to scare them a little.’

His expression immediately grew serious as he spoke in a low, mysterious voice.

"In our world of the Witch, Witchcraft is divided into good and evil. If you use Witchcraft for evil, you must pay an equal price. If you use it for good, the price is not so great."

"And you, relying on Witchcraft to protect your body, have been fooling around with women and harming so many unborn lives. Now, you’re suffering from the Witchcraft’s backlash."

"Then what do I do?" Frank panicked.

Compared to the United States’ history of just over two hundred years, China’s thousands of years of culture seemed far more credible. Especially after witnessing Feng Mountain’s Witchcraft, he’d admit God was a woman if he had to—any hesitation would be a sign of disrespect to the Witch.

Feng Mountain asked, "How many women have you been fooling around with lately?"

"Five!" Frank held up his hand, looking guilty.

"Really?"

Feng Mountain didn’t believe for a second it was only five women.

He himself had seen the Walmart Supermarket cashier, the governor’s assistant, the female aircraft salesperson, and a female reporter. That was already four.

Knowing Frank’s shamelessness, the real number was probably double that.

"Deceiving a Witch carries a heavy price. Think carefully before you answer."

Frank shrank back, his expression grim. "Nine," he said. "That’s really it. I even counted Winnie, and I swear to God I didn’t hit on her. She’s the one who took advantage of me when I was drunk and carried me into a hotel! She’s the one who did this to me. So cruel... She didn’t let me rest the entire night."

Winnie?

The female tyrannosaurus with the barrel waist and solid, sinewy muscles—the 2009 Alaska women’s fighting champion?

An image of the waitress he’d seen at the restaurant surfaced in Feng Mountain’s memory.

He looked at Frank with pity.

’She’s a kickboxing tyrannosaurus, and you’re, at best, a little puppy.’

’No wonder he ended up in this sorry state with such a huge difference in their combat power.’

"How about this: I’ll treat you for now, but the effect is temporary. This backlash will only end once you’ve done nine good deeds. Otherwise, your fate will be very grim."

Nine good deeds??

Making the sharp-tongued Frank of Fairbanks do good deeds?

If word got out, those bastards would laugh themselves to death.

Frank was about to object when a sharp pain shot through his kidneys, forcing him to swallow his complaints. He nodded in sullen agreement.

"Nine good deeds... Are there any requirements?"

"No requirements. Even helping an old lady cross the street counts." Feng Mountain only wanted to cure Frank of his womanizing habits. He turned to Nash. "Go inside and get a brush and an animal hide. While you’re at it, help Frank bleed a little."

Nash nodded and went into the bus.

He came back out holding a strip of animal hide about three fingers wide and a writing brush. These were things Feng Mountain made in his spare time. There wasn’t much in the Crown Territory, but there were plenty of animal hides. The brush was made from the softest fur of a fox’s tail.

Nash then took out a small knife and gestured for Frank to hold out his hand.

Frank tremblingly held out his palm and pleaded weakly, "G-gently..."

Nash paid him no mind. With a flick of the knife’s tip across Frank’s palm, a centimeter-long cut appeared, and blood gushed out. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

It hurt!!

Already feeling faint, the sight of blood made Frank’s vision blur, and his body swayed unsteadily.

Feng Mountain quickly dipped the brush in the blood and, with a flick of his wrist, scribbled a talisman on the strip of hide. He secretly activated a Healing Technique using a Witchcraft Artifact, then tossed the hide onto Frank’s body.

"This spell will only last for half a month. If you haven’t completed your nine good deeds by then, I’ll help you find a gravesite with the best view in the Crown Territory, free of charge."

As soon as the hide was placed on his body, Frank felt the pain in his hand disappear.

A stream of fire seemed to shoot through his body, spreading a pleasant warmth wherever it passed. His two kidneys felt like they’d been electrified, a tingling numbness spreading through them, and the color gradually returned to his face.

"This is simply magical! By the way, don’t I need to shout a slogan or something?"

"Emergency treatment doesn’t require a chant." Feng Mountain, afraid Frank would forget the pain once the scar healed and go back to his womanizing ways, reminded him again, "Remember what you promised."

"Don’t you worry!" A revitalized Frank patted his chest. "With my abilities, nine deeds will be a piece of cake. I could do ninety! Frank loves doing good deeds. Does saving homeless girls count?"

"You can try."

Feng Mountain sneered and paid him no more attention. There was a pile of chores waiting to be done around the camp, especially the stack of animal hides. He still hadn’t finished processing the hides from his recent hunts, and now Old Swan had sent over so many more.

There were over a dozen reindeer hides. Although they were badly damaged from gray wolf bites, they could still be used after some repairs. There were also more than twenty gray wolf pelts, all taken down with a single shot, so they were actually in better condition than the reindeer hides.

"Feng, how about you let me handle these hides? Tanning them by hand would take a few months at least. I can take them back to Fairbanks and machine-tan them. They’ll be ready in a week, and it’s cheap." Standing to the side, Tom, who had been intimidated by the talk of good and evil Witchcraft, quickly tried to curry favor.

Machine-tanning?

Feng Mountain thought for a moment. ’The damaged reindeer hides aren’t really worth tanning by hand, so machine-tanning them is a better option. As for the wolf pelts, I can pick out some of the better quality ones to tan myself.’

But these were minor details.

Since Frank and Tom were both here, he could let them have a look at the cave, especially the batch of antique firearms. He could get them to give him an appraisal at the same time.

"Frank, I’ve got a gun to show you!" Feng Mountain called out, heading into the bus. When he came back out, he was carrying an old-fashioned rifle.

"A Mosin-Nagant M91?" Tom blurted out before Frank could speak.

In the United States of America, a country that championed gun culture, Alaska had the highest rate of gun ownership. The percentage of gun owners was as high as 61.7%, with nearly every adult possessing high-powered hunting rifles and various other firearms.

The funny thing was, there were only 11,167 registered firearms, but the per capita number of guns among the populace was 15.2.

Even a self-proclaimed "peace-loving, righteous lawyer" like Frank owned twenty long and short guns, including hunting rifles.

"Feng, where did you get this old antique?" Frank took the old-fashioned rifle, skillfully worked the bolt, and inspected the action and magazine, occasionally chatting with Tom about it.

"This gun has been maintained very well."

"Traditional grease packing for storage. It’s definitely an original antique."

"Overall length is 51.5 inches, barrel is 31.6 inches. It’s got a tangent rear sight and a socket bayonet. Chambered in 7.62x54mmR... and look, the mark of the Izhevsk and Tula Arsenals."

"Feng, this is a fine gun."

...