Landlord in the Arctic

Chapter 314 - 255: Purpose

Chief Welta, his face wreathed in smiles, strode quickly toward Feng Mountain with an enthusiastic welcome. His hearty laughter seemed powerful enough to dispel the chill of the frozen landscape.

The Elder Chief opened his arms wide and gave Feng Mountain a big hug, patting his back as he spoke warmly.

"Feng, my distinguished friend, even though you’ve arrived early, I’m so happy to see you!"

With that, Chief Welta gestured for him to follow and personally led Feng Mountain toward a tent.

Feng Mountain followed the Chief, pushed aside a curtain made of animal bones and colorful feathers, and bent down to enter the tent.

As soon as he stepped inside, a wave of warmth washed over him.

The space inside the tent was quite spacious. A bonfire burned in the center, its leaping flames constantly licking at the air above, making CRACKLING and POPPING sounds. Sparks flew out from time to time, adding a lively atmosphere to the whole tent.

A circle of thick animal-hide cushions was arranged around the fire pit, each with exquisite embroidered patterns.

All sorts of objects hung on the tent walls: ancient weapons like bows, arrows, Long Spears, and Shields, as well as colorful hand-woven fabrics and taxidermied animal heads.

Feng Mountain examined the weapons on the tent wall with great interest. Beside him, Chief Welta explained with a smile.

"Feng, these weapons were used by the ancestors of the Wild Bull Tribe. The stains on them are the blood of our enemies, a testament to the fierce battles our tribe has fought."

"They’re very meaningful!"

In response, Feng Mountain forced a smile and muttered his agreement.

’Only foreigners would display bloodstained weapons in their homes.’

’Back home, most people would steer clear of objects stained with blood and symbolic of slaughter, let alone display them as meaningful mementos.’

Chief Welta didn’t notice Feng Mountain’s inner thoughts and continued to recount the stories behind the weapons.

As for Feng Mountain, he could only listen patiently, putting on a show of rapt attention. He nodded from time to time, playing along with the Chief’s narrative, but his mind had already drifted back to the Crown Territory.

"Chief, the food is here." Finally, the man named Lulu entered the tent, interrupting Chief Welta’s unending introduction.

The Elder Chief paused for a moment, then came back to his senses. An apologetic smile appeared on his face. "My apologies. I can’t seem to stop talking whenever I bring up the deeds of our ancestors. Come, try the special food of our Wild Bull Tribe."

With that, he invited Feng Mountain to sit on one of the hide cushions by the fire.

Lulu, without a word, turned and walked out of the tent.

A short while later, he returned with various tools and began building a frame over the bonfire. He went in and out of the tent twice, each time as if preparing for something important.

When he entered the tent for the third time, Lulu first went to the entrance and opened the tent flap completely. A gust of cold, crisp air instantly rushed in, mingling with the warmth inside.

Then, accompanied by a lively patter of footsteps, a group of tribesmen walked in, carrying a roasted ox.

The ox was truly massive.

The entire ox was spitted on a wooden rack. Its roasted hide was a tempting charred brown, glistening with oil as if it had been basted with a thick layer of fat, and it gleamed invitingly in the firelight.

The roasted ox was also covered in all sorts of spices. A rich aroma wafted off it with the heat, instantly filling the entire tent and making one’s mouth water just from the smell.

The tribesmen, dressed in traditional attire and with proud expressions on their faces, carried the roasted ox to the bonfire and placed it on the pre-built support frame.

The roasted ox rested securely on the frame, looking even more tempting under the firelight, like a meticulously crafted work of art.

Then, a few of the tribe’s women entered the tent carrying wooden platters.

They wore the distinctive attire of the Wild Bull Tribe, and the various ornaments made of shells and animal bones they wore made soft clinking sounds as they walked, like a pleasant accompanying melody.

The wooden platters held a dazzling array of food: dishes made from corn, beans, and squash, as well as what looked like roasted potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, and onions, their skins slightly charred and emitting a toasted aroma.

Soon, the small area in front of Feng Mountain was packed full of all kinds of delicacies. With the addition of the roasted ox on the fire, the scene was incredibly sumptuous.

Next, Lulu, with a solemn expression, drew a small knife from his waist. The blade glinted coldly in the firelight.

The other tribesmen in the tent followed Lulu’s lead, uniformly drawing small knives from their own waists. The blades flashed out at the same moment, and their cold glints converging together instantly made the atmosphere in the tent turn solemn.

Then, they began to perform a tribal dance. Their steps were strong and powerful, and with each footfall, they seemed to resonate with the earth, creating a dull yet rhythmic sound.

Their bodies twisted and swayed with the rhythm. At times they leaped high, like eagles spreading their wings to fly; at others, they bent and squatted low, as if embracing the earth intimately.

They brandished their knives in the air, tracing silvery arcs.

Meanwhile, the women of the tribe hummed a traditional tribal song in the ancient Indian Language.

The melody of the song was low and powerful, carrying a primeval charm. Although Feng Mountain couldn’t understand the lyrics, the emotional chanting seemed to narrate the history of the Wild Bull Tribe, the heroic deeds of their ancestors, and their reverence for and gratitude to nature.

At that moment, the tent was enveloped in a fervent yet solemn atmosphere. Even the flames of the bonfire seemed to have been infected, sending up flurries of sparks as if keeping time with the unique dance.