He carried the three chickens back to the kitchen, butchering them into pieces to make them a bit more "slender."
He filled the stove with firewood.
He heated the wok and added oil. Unfortunately, without ginger or garlic, he could only use chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns for flavor.
He placed the now "slender" chicken pieces into the hot oil to sear them, the high heat rendering the fat and tightening the skin. Then, he added soy sauce, giving their "skin" a more natural complexion.
He poured in mountain spring water for a "bath," adding a suitable amount of salt and thirteen-spice powder. The main purpose: to aid in fat metabolism and boost protein absorption.
As the broth in the pot began to BUBBLE, he brushed more seasoning onto the chicken pieces to further "moisturize" them.
To the tune of Coca-Cola's repeated meows, Feng Shan removed the pot from the heat, dished out the contents, and expressed his gratitude to the chickens.
The aroma of the sauce was intoxicating. The chicken was savory, smooth, and tender, carrying a clean scent that could only come from nature.
He ladled it over white rice.
Having been tormented by canned fish and bread for days, Feng Shan was finally tasting the flavors of home again. A shameful tear of drool escaped the corner of his mouth.
After a proper Chinese lunch, it was time to rest.
The lingering heat from the stove kept the cabin nice and warm.
Feng Shan lounged in his rocking chair, admiring the view outside. Coca-Cola, with a round, full belly, lay asleep in his lap with all four paws pointing toward the ceiling.
'Perhaps this is why so many people in the city want to run off to the countryside,' he thought.
Feeling a bit bored, Feng Shan noticed the two-way radio and the Chinese-English dictionary on the square table.
'Since I've decided to stay in the Crown Territory, I have to learn the foreigners' language. Otherwise, how will I communicate with the locals? I can't just live out my days as a hermit with only a cat for company.'
With that thought, he reached out and picked up the dictionary.
To study.
The word itself felt so strange.
The last time he'd properly studied was back in middle school. Then he'd discovered that collecting scrap made more money than getting an education, so he'd dropped out to enter the real world. Besides, no one really cared if an orphan from the group home went to school or not.
Only after entering the workforce did he truly learn the bitter lessons that came with a lack of education.
He couldn't do basic accounting, so even the scrap dealers he sold to dared to swindle him.
From then on, Feng Shan used brute force to make the younger kids from the home go to school. Even if the material didn't stick, they had to go. Anyone who dared to play hooky would get a good thrashing from him.
Once those kids he'd forced through school grew up and found their own success, they mostly left him behind. They'd call occasionally, but he could feel their distance and condescension even over the phone.
Feng Shan wasn't angry about it. After all, they were university graduates, while he was just a coarse thug who hadn't even finished middle school, someone who only knew how to be tough and fight.
Sigh.
After a resigned sigh, Feng Shan opened the thick dictionary.
In the past, looking at these crooked, squiggly English words would put him to sleep in under a minute. But now, he not only understood them at a glance, he could even sound them out based on the phonetic annotations.
'A photographic memory?'
'I must be seeing things!'
'Could it be I actually have a talent for studying?'
Feng Shan sat up straight, grabbed Coca-Cola by the scruff, tossed the cat aside, and began flipping rapidly through the dictionary. The words seared themselves into his mind like brands; he could recall them instantly just by thinking about them.
By the time he reached the last page, he was utterly stunned.
After pondering for a long time, he could only attribute his sudden cleverness to the Warlock inheritance. He remembered his ancestor saying in a dream that upon becoming a Witch Queen, one would be granted an opportunity for enlightenment.
'Perhaps this is the change that comes with enlightenment.'
'If I had gotten this Witchcraft Bone Ring years ago, why would I have even bothered with the streets? I might have become a high-flying professional, walked down the aisle with Ms. Hong, and had a kid who's already potty-trained by now.'
But it was too late for all that now.
He set the dictionary down.
He picked up the note with the radio frequency left by Lawyer Frank, turned on the two-way radio, and adjusted the channel.
He picked up the microphone.
"Hello? Hello!"
A response came through quickly.
"Who are you?"
"Fine, thank you, and you!" Feng Shan replied, narrowing his eyes and gripping the microphone with forced composure.
"..." The radio went dead silent.
Then, a moment later.
A burst of laughter erupted from the radio.
"You must be Feng's grandson, right? No need for such a formal tone."
"God, that accent takes me right back to the classroom."
"Easy there, pal. Are you settling into the Crown Territory all right? Need any help?"
"Hey, young man, do you still need that seal oil your grandpa pre-ordered? It's all paid for."
Listening to the easygoing chatter, Feng Shan felt a flush of embarrassment, but also a thrill of excitement. He held the microphone and joined the conversation.
"Sorry, everyone. I'm new to the Crown Territory and still figuring things out. Please bear with me."
"No problem. How are you adjusting to life out here? What are you eating?"
"I shot three old mother chickens in the forest this morning. They taste pretty good."
"Old mother chicken? What the heck is an old mama chicken? Buddy, what animal are you talking about?"
"You know, the chickens with black and white feathers. They're really stupid, they don't even run away."
"Son, those are called Thunderbirds. And Susan, that officially makes you the Hunter with the worst aim in the entire Far North Tundra."
"Oh, shut up! I'm a peace-loving animal rights advocate. Hey Feng, you want to come to Kevik Camp for some seasonal work this winter?"
"I'll think about it. Hey guys, it was great talking with you all, but I've got to go tidy up the place."
"Catch you later. Drop by my tavern sometime, drinks are on me."
"Hey kid, if you bag a reindeer or a moose, let me know. I've already maxed out my deer tags, but I'm still short on venison."
"Okay!"
He switched off the radio.
A faint smile on his face, Feng Shan looked toward a photograph on the bookshelf and murmured to himself.
"Ms. Hong, I like it here."
Meow!
Coca-Cola poked his head out of his deerskin bed and added a meow of his own.
...
「Five days passed.」
Feng Shan gradually adapted to his surroundings at the camp. He even began to feel that coming to the Far North was the smartest decision he had ever made.
Facing the endless Tundra and the perpetually snow-capped peaks of the Brooks Range, his initial sense of hesitation and unease had vanished.
His daily life was simple, even monotonous, but it had a steady rhythm.
He would wake up in the cold morning air, wash his face, and start preparing food for the day—maybe a pot of chicken soup, or perhaps he'd bake some bread.
Then, he would brew a pot of the chrysanthemum tea his grandfather had left, move his lounge chair out into the open, and read his grandfather's journal. It was a way to experience his grandfather's life while also learning survival skills for the Far North Tundra.
In his spare time, he'd shoulder his rifle for a walk along the edge of the Moonlight Forest, hunt a few Thunderbirds to supplement his diet, use the Witchcraft Artifact to gather some Soul Power, and occasionally go fishing at the lake.
And if he wasn't out hunting or fishing, he'd be on the radio, trading off-color jokes with the other gruff men.
All in all, life was peaceful and pleasant.
Unfortunately, the Thunderbirds provided too little Soul Power for Feng Shan to feel any major change. There might have been a marginal increase in his strength, but it was so small as to be unnoticeable.
The red patterns on the Witchcraft Bone Ring on his finger remained faint and indistinct. Still, Feng Shan firmly believed that every little bit counted. He was sure that once he accumulated enough Soul Power, he could wield mysterious and powerful Witchcraft, just like his ancestor.
As time passed, the weather grew steadily colder.
The one thing Feng Shan still hadn't adapted to was the daylight cycle, which was completely different from back home. During autumn in the Far North Tundra, the sun rose at eight in the morning and set after nine at night, and the days were growing shorter while the nights grew longer.
The topic of winter came up more and more frequently on the radio.
One of the main voices was Aunt Susan, who managed Kevik Camp. Kevik was a comprehensive outpost that included a weather station, a gas station, and a search-and-rescue station.
The camp's owner, Susan, was a forty-year-old woman who was especially kind to Feng Shan, often sharing little tips with him about life in the Far North Region.
Just yesterday, Aunt Susan had broadcast the latest weather alert over the radio to all the small towns within the Arctic Circle: the Far North Region was about to be hit by a major blizzard, accompanied by extremely cold temperatures. She urged everyone to prepare for the deep freeze and to stock up on winter food supplies as quickly as possible.
...