Landlord in the Arctic-Chapter 90: Musk Ox

The scent of fresh blood filled the air.

The White Wolf Pack immediately gathered around, excited.

Their eyes gleamed with desire, and they let out eager, low howls, but not a single White Wolf dared to fight for the kill.

In their eyes, Feng Mountain was the leader of the pack, the Alpha Wolf.

The leader was entitled to all sorts of privileges.

First rights to food, first choice of a mate, control over resources, and the respect and obedience of the pack. When facing an outside invasion or competing with other packs, the leader commanded the battle, deciding whether to attack or defend.

These privileges were etched into their very bones, knowledge they were born with.

An adult male wolf who wanted these privileges had two choices: either defeat the leader and become the new alpha, or leave the pack to become a lone wanderer and start a new one.

Feng Mountain carried the reindeer to the White Wolf Pack, tossed the carcass onto the snow, and pulled out his knife to slice open its abdomen.

Steaming entrails mixed with reindeer blood spilled out.

Aroused by the scent of blood, the White Wolves grew restless. They sniffed the air, low whimpers rumbling in their throats, eager to devour the feast.

"Go on, eat up. You’ll be pulling the sled with full bellies." Feng Mountain’s voice was a bit hoarse in the cold wind.

The next moment.

The White Wolves swarmed forward, excitedly tearing into the reindeer carcass.

The scene was quite bloody, so Feng Mountain walked to the side and gazed into the distance. The continuous mountain range was faintly visible through the hazy snow, like a landscape painting.

Half an hour later, Feng Mountain turned and walked back.

The reindeer, which had weighed over two hundred pounds, was now reduced to a tattered hide. Large bones were scattered about, some with scraps of meat still clinging to them, standing out starkly against the white snow.

The White Wolves lay satisfied in the snow, their bellies swollen. They squinted lazily, occasionally licking their chops and savoring the memory of their recent meal.

’What a waste!’

’I forgot wolves don’t eat hide. I would have skinned it beforehand if I’d remembered. A perfectly good pelt, ruined.’

Feng Mountain picked up the hide to inspect it. Seeing it was unusable, he regretfully tossed it away.

After a rest, he reattached the wolves’ harnesses to the eyelets, stood on the sled’s runners, and called out, "Slow down, no rush. Mush."

With full bellies, the White Wolves’ spirits returned. Their bodies were filled with strength again as they pulled the sled at a leisurely pace across the snow.

Along the way, Feng Mountain noticed something strange.

Usually, he could travel for half a day without seeing a single reindeer, but today he’d come across several small herds, one after another. Although the groups weren’t large, they totaled more than thirty reindeer. They were appearing far too frequently.

’It’s definitely a good thing that large reindeer herds are appearing in the Crown Territory. At least I won’t have to travel so far to hunt in the future.’

’And I happen to have the sled today.’

’Maybe I should hunt a musk ox to celebrate. I haven’t tasted musk ox since I moved to the Crown Territory.’

At this thought, Feng Mountain called for the White Wolves to change direction and sped toward the musk ox territory.

Half an hour later, the White Wolves pulled the sled to the top of a high ridge.

The cold wind howled in his ears, making the corners of his clothes flap loudly.

Feng Mountain took out his binoculars and soon spotted a small cluster of dark shapes in the distance, but he couldn’t tell if it was a herd of reindeer or musk oxen.

He then steered the wolf sled down the ridge, heading toward the dark shapes.

As the distance shortened, the outlines of the dark shapes gradually became clearer.

It was a herd of musk oxen.

Feng Mountain’s gaze sharpened instantly. He slowed the sled, planning his next move.

Against the backdrop of the snow, the herd of sturdy musk oxen looked like a cluster of brown boulders. They stood placidly in the snow, leisurely pawing it away with their hooves to find the moss and vegetation underneath.

The musk oxen’s long hair was thick and shaggy, forming a heavy mane, especially around their necks and shoulders, which allowed them to withstand the extreme cold of the Arctic Circle.

The previously relaxed herd of musk oxen also spotted the wolf sled. They became instantly tense the moment they saw the White Wolf Pack, their bodies tightening and muscles bulging.

On the Tundra, wolves and musk oxen are natural enemies.

Whenever winter arrives and food becomes scarce, the conflict between wolves and musk oxen intensifies. Most musk ox calves are preyed upon by wolf packs during this season.

The few leading bull musk oxen lowered their heads, aiming their sharp horns at the White Wolf Pack. They let out low warnings, their hooves digging shallow pits in the snow.

At the same time, the musk ox herd huddled tightly together, the adults protecting the calves in the center, their wide eyes filled with terror and vigilance.

The White Wolves, on the other hand, showed no tension toward the herd at all, lying lazily in the snow to rest.

Some squinted their eyes, while others casually stretched their limbs, as if hunting musk oxen was nothing more than an easy game to them.

And those musk oxen were like cuts of meat, already portioned and waiting to be tasted.

Unfortunately for them, the musk ox herd was so focused on the White Wolf Pack they never imagined there was a Lao Liu nearby.

Just then.

Feng Mountain raised his Type 56 semi-automatic rifle, quickly aimed at a stout bull in the herd, and pulled the trigger.

BANG! The gunshot shattered the silence of the Tundra.

The bullet whizzed out, racing toward its target.

In that instant, the bull seemed to sense the danger and twitched slightly, but it was too late to dodge.

The bullet struck its body true. The bull let out a pained roar, its massive frame trembling before it collapsed heavily onto the snow.

Bright red blood spread across the pure white snow.

Terror and unwillingness lingered in the bull’s eyes. As its breathing grew faint, the warmth slowly drained from its body.

The herd instantly descended into panic. They scattered in all directions, their hooves kicking up clouds of snow.

The young musk oxen shrieked in terror, stumbling as they tried to follow the adults. But their bodies were weak, and the calves were soon left behind, whimpering helplessly.

The White Wolves all rose from the snow, eager to make a move.

During a typical musk ox hunt, the pack leader would cause the herd to stampede, separating the old, weak, sick, or disabled to be targeted.

Now that the adults had scattered, these abandoned calves were the most delicious spoils of war.

"Don’t touch them!" Feng Mountain quickly stopped the White Wolves.

’These little musk oxen can’t be harmed.’

’Once they grow up, they can provide meat for the Crown Territory and even reproduce, providing for the Crown Territory for generations to come.’

Feng Mountain then pulled out his knife and went to the dead bull. First, he slit its throat to bleed it out. Then, he cut open its abdomen, allowing the cold air to enter the cavity and cool the carcass down faster.

After finishing this initial prep work, Feng Mountain finally breathed a sigh of relief. The bull before him likely weighed around five hundred and fifty pounds, and its meat yield would be double that of a reindeer.

The cut he had just made on the musk ox’s belly revealed brisket marbled like a snowflake.

’It must taste incredible.’

He imagined the brisket’s deliciousness after being cooked: grilled over charcoal until golden brown, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, a single bite releasing a burst of juices; or stewed into a rich, fragrant broth.

Feng Mountain couldn’t help but swallow, speeding up his work on the musk ox, eager to get back to camp and taste its delicious meat.

He moved the bull’s carcass onto the sled, tied it down tightly with rope, and covered it with a waterproof tarp. Then, Feng Mountain stood on the sled’s runners, grabbed the handlebar, and shouted.

"Back to camp! Mush, mush!!!"

Hearing the command, the White Wolves perked up and charged forward with all their might.

The sled sped across the snow, kicking up flurries of flakes and leaving two deep tracks in its wake.

....