Culinary God in Wilderness

The roof was covered with two layers of waterproof tarp. The layer closer to the eaves was on the bottom, while the one against the cliff face was on top. He was lifting the layer by the eaves.

If it did rain, the water flowing down the cliff face would be blocked and diverted by the remaining tarp, then channeled away completely along the spruce branches.

If it snowed, the section next to the cliff face would bear more of the snow’s weight, so it needed to be sturdy. Therefore, that tarp layer had to be kept for now.

After repairing the outer edge of the roof, he took the rolled-up tarp into the yard and began searching his memory bank for techniques on how to make tools like water buckets from a waterproof tarp.

"Got it!"

Several ways to make a simple water bucket quickly came to mind, but almost all of them required tape to secure.

He wasn’t the type to be stuck in rigid thinking. He had honed his ability to adapt to circumstances long ago while working in the kitchen of a Western restaurant.

Compared to the high-pressure environment back then—facing an endless stream of bizarre problems from customers while needing to get dishes out on time and find immediate solutions—he had plenty of time now.

First, he dug a suitably sized log out of the storage area and placed the tarp underneath it.

He adjusted the distance, left a similar length on the other side, and sliced it open with his combat knife, cutting out a square piece of fabric.

He tied the bottom-left and top-right corners together, then the top-left and bottom-right corners. After pulling out the log from the middle, a simple water bucket was made.

This cross-tying method not only ensured the bucket walls were equidistant but also distributed the weight evenly to all four corners when carried, preventing it from tilting and falling apart because one side was too heavy.

’Since I’m going to the river, why not just build the stove as well?’

He had originally thought Andre would come begging for food tomorrow, but he had shown up today instead.

Since he had persuaded him to wait for three days, it didn’t seem right to be idle during that time. It felt like a waste, and more importantly, it would wear down the audience’s patience and interest.

When he used to watch the show himself, he’d hoped the wilderness survival contestants would challenge themselves more—not just by hunting, but also by enriching their shelter’s facilities. Otherwise, what was the point of watching them in a single dilapidated hut from start to finish?

Unfortunately, most North American foreigners had laziness etched into their bones. As long as they weren’t starving or freezing to death, they wouldn’t waste time and energy putting any thought into their shelters.

Not like the Da Xia People, for whom farming was in their genes, infrastructure was a talent, and finding endless work for themselves was an instinct.

It was as if they felt they owed a debt if they weren’t working, driven by thoughts like, ’If I can make my life more comfortable, why not do it?’

He had joined this program for two reasons. On one hand, encouraged by his old customers, he had submitted his application with a ’what have I got to lose’ attitude. On the other hand, it was also to challenge himself.

Choosing to go abroad had been the biggest challenge of his life. Back then, he was a completely withdrawn child and had only slowly returned to normal after being forced to socialize.

It was the same this time.

His right hand couldn’t take much strain, so he would train his left.

The blisters on his feet had broken long ago anyway. Ariana had said it wouldn’t be a problem as long as he didn’t walk for long periods, so it certainly couldn’t be an excuse for him to be lazy.

Having made his decision, he immediately shouldered all his gear, put the Hat Lamp on his head, tossed the stockpot and the tarp bag into his back basket, and set off toward the river again with a steady stride.

’If I’m going to do it, I might as well do it to the best of my ability.’

In one afternoon, he made two round trips to the river, bringing back four buckets of water to pour into the parachute and two baskets of clay.

Through trial and error, he found this level of exertion was pretty much his limit. After all, it was a load of over thirty kilograms.

After a short rest, he began to mix the mud. He still added weeds, but the feeling of mixing the clay was completely different from ordinary soil. There was a distinct force resisting him.

He first laid a layer of clay on the ground, then stuck the wooden planks he had split a few days ago into it side by side, connecting them to the opening reserved on the side of the stove.

After arranging the planks in an arch, he plastered them completely with clay. This would prevent the planks from being damaged when the kang was fired and also provide structural support, stopping the wood from cracking under load after being dried out by the heat.

He laid more wood horizontally across the planks to act as a load-bearing skeleton, then plastered more clay on top. This way, the mud wouldn’t fall into the flue and block the airflow.

Once the underlying structure was complete, all that remained was to finish the surface, which meant plastering the entire top with mud.

For the next two days, he threw himself into the work. Making two trips in the morning and two in the afternoon, he actually managed to gather enough clay, bit by bit, to build a two-meter-long mud kang.

The height of the kang couldn’t be higher than the stove, and the size of the smoke outlet was also crucial. Any single detail done wrong would cause problems when the kang was fired up.

He had never even slept on a kang, let alone built one. He was relying entirely on vague memories of video clips he’d once seen.

After plastering and smoothing the last shovelful of mud, Lin Chen let out a long sigh, his apprehensive gaze fixed on the pitch-black opening beneath the stove.

Soon, a bright flame flickered to life in the pile of firewood.

This step was crucial. If the surface of the newly built kang leaked smoke, it would seriously compromise its heating efficiency. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

If no steam rose after it had been burning for a while, it meant the heat conduction was poor, or there was a problem with the flue, or perhaps the smoke outlet wasn’t made correctly, and so on.

But no matter what, there was no way he was going to build it all over again. Regardless of the outcome, he would just have to make do. In any case, it had to be better than sleeping directly on the wooden planks.

The firewood in the stove crackled, sending out sparks from time to time.

He added a few more sticks of firewood and blocked the feed opening. The smoke inside would then automatically drift toward the flue under the kang.

He sat patiently in front of the stove, his eyes glued to the mud-plastered ’bed’, terrified that a wisp of blue smoke might emerge from some crack.

"The large amount of carbon dioxide produced by burning wood can cause poisoning. Although the shelter isn’t completely sealed, it’s close enough. This is a problem that must be taken seriously."

An unknown amount of time passed—it could have been a few minutes, or it could have been ten or more.

A wisp of white steam rose from the surface of the mud bed.

The moment he noticed the wisp of vapor, Lin Chen’s hand, which was gripping the Engineer Shovel, trembled violently. He thought a crack had really formed somewhere.

Looking closely, he saw that it was just the clay heating up and naturally evaporating moisture.

"That scared me to death," he said, patting his chest, feeling like he could barely breathe. "Do you guys get it? That feeling of apprehension and nervousness when you’re waiting for the results after working or studying hard for days on end, from morning till night? It almost made me suffocate!"

The moment the words left his mouth, a familiar voice sounded in his mind.

[Successfully crafted a simple earthen kang in the cold wilderness of North America. Survival rate in the extreme winter has increased. Happiness +3]