Culinary God in Wilderness

The moment he heard the sound, Lin Chen’s heart skipped a beat.

He stiffly turned his neck and, sure enough, saw the familiar white figure in the familiar spot.

The Little Snow Fox’s fluffy paws were digging around in the gaps between the branches. Its little nose would occasionally poke into a crevice to sniff around, and its pearl-like, pitch-black eyes peered furtively inside.

"I swear..."

Lin Chen didn’t even have the energy to curse anymore. He sighed inwardly and pointed the camera in its direction.

"See this? This is how brazen a legally protected animal is. It knows I can’t touch it, so it comes to harass me every single day!"

The Little Snow Fox, of course, couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Its big, innocent eyes stared at him pitifully, as if to say, ’Kind sir, please spare some meat.’

"Shoo, shoo!" 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Lin Chen strode forward, waving his arms and shouting.

He didn’t want to keep a time bomb around like Connor did. This was a wild fox, and who knew what kind of germs it might be carrying.

More importantly, another mouth to feed meant more food consumed. His goal was to survive for a hundred days; holding out until the very end was the ultimate objective.

’Why should I give my precious food to a thief?’

Seeing him approach, the Little Snow Fox scurried away a few meters in fear, but it didn’t go as far as it had yesterday. It was as if it had already figured out that this human wouldn’t do anything to actually harm it.

Its behavior was giving Lin Chen a massive headache.

No one wants a restless little thief prowling around their home every day, especially one they can’t do anything about.

’I’ve got it! I’ll try this!’

He grabbed the Engineer Shovel that was leaning against a wooden post, scooped up the red-stained snow from where he had left the white-tailed deer’s entrails yesterday, and flung it forcefully over the fence.

The bloody snow falling from the sky did the trick. The Little Snow Fox zipped away again. SWOOSH.

But before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, the Little Snow Fox’s dark nose twitched. It had caught the scent of deer blood and entrails and, growing bold, it crept up to the scattered crimson spots on the ground and began sniffing them intently.

"Fine, you win."

Lin Chen was completely out of ideas. He clutched his head and sat down in the yard, staring at the little creature through the fence.

He hadn’t expected that the smell of blood, instead of scaring it off, would actually increase its interest in the shelter.

’My main door is locked, anyway. Unless I open it and let you in, you can forget about sneaking in to steal food!’

Outside the fence, the Little Snow Fox tilted its small head, its fuzzy, triangular ears twitching. It let out short, soft, plaintive cries, "Ah~ Ah~" It sounded like a little girl whining sweetly.

It was the first time Lin Chen had ever heard a fox cry, and he froze on the spot.

’That sound... How is it any different from a person’s?’

Combined with the Little Snow Fox’s adorable appearance and snow-white fur, for a fleeting moment, his heart truly softened. He hesitated, wondering if he should toss it a little food to tide it over.

The moment the thought appeared, he snapped back to his senses.

’No, no way. It’s common sense not to feed wild animals. If they develop a habit of begging for food, they won’t be able to survive in the wild.’

The Little Snow Fox placed its two paws on the branches of the fence, resting its snout on top and whimpering from time to time.

Lin Chen steeled his heart and grabbed his hunting bow.

THWIP—

The fletched arrow streaked through the air, embedding itself heavily in the fence.

The sudden attack startled the Little Snow Fox. Without a backward glance, it vanished into the swirling snow.

"Finally gone. Phew... I hope it doesn’t come back."

He walked over and pulled out the arrow. Looking at the noticeable scratches on the arrowhead, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

...

"Today is day thirty-five. The competition is finally more than a third of the way over."

Having just gotten up, Lin Chen carved another stroke on the wooden wall, completing his seventh five-stroke tally mark.

"Yesterday, I went looking for the Musk Ox herd. I found them, but just as their behavior would suggest, at least forty or fifty of them were huddled tightly together, leaving me no opportunity to strike."

"If this is how it’s going to be every day, I’ll have to change my strategy."

He made himself a simple potato and bone broth, adding a spoonful of chili powder and sea salt, plus a bit of soy sauce.

The slightly spicy broth was excellent for waking up his not-yet-fully-conscious body, getting his blood circulation going.

While the warming effect was just kicking in, he shouldered his pack, took his weapons, and once again ventured out into the wind and snow.

"This snow still shows no sign of stopping, but fortunately, the snowfall rate doesn’t seem to be increasing either."

The snow in the forest was only about a knuckle-length deeper than a few days ago, so it didn’t hinder his movement too much.

But running or even walking quickly was still unrealistic.

It was because of this that he hadn’t rashly attacked the Musk Ox herd.

He had been eating very simply the past two days, deliberately not making himself anything tasty, holding to the attitude that as long as his stomach was full, it was okay.

He hadn’t touched the remaining two hundred grams of flour. He had tried making dumplings with venison filling the night before, but the taste was a bit strange. Plus, without any side vegetables to add and it not being suitable for too many spices, the gamy taste was a little strong.

Connor, on the other hand, wouldn’t have had a problem with it. Being used to eating venison, he would have probably found it quite good.

As one of the Da Xia People, he didn’t want to waste precious flour. If he couldn’t get beef, he’d have to use mutton for the dumplings.

The only good news was that the troublesome little thing from yesterday hadn’t come back to bother him.

Following the route he had scouted yesterday, it took him only about an hour to reach the forested slope where the Musk Ox herd was located.

The snow pit he had dug earlier had been mostly filled in by the wind. He dug out the snow at the bottom again, then picked up a few nearby branches and stuck them in the ground as markers before heading toward the forest.

He had arrived especially early today; the sun had only just peeked halfway over the horizon.

During the snowy season, Musk Ox activity drops to a minimum. They even lie down to eat, and when they need water, they just munch on a few mouthfuls of snow. The rest of the time, they sleep.

It’s because of this trait, coupled with their thick fur, that they can survive so easily in the severe cold of the Arctic.

The orange-gold morning sun scattered across the snow, reflecting a similar luster off the Musk Oxen’s fur.

A few scattered Musk Oxen stood up from the ground but didn’t move much. They pawed at the snow with their front hooves, occasionally leaning down to take a couple of bites.

Most of the other Musk Oxen were still lazing in a circle on the snow. The strong bulls were positioned on the outside, tightly protecting the cows and calves in the center.

Lin Chen hid behind a tree trunk, his sharp brows furrowed as he scanned them from a distance.

’Damn, the number of Musk Oxen has increased again.’

"Yesterday I did a rough count, and there were only about forty-five of them. But now, a quick glance tells me there are definitely more than sixty."

And that wasn’t even a large number.

According to the information in his head, Musk Ox herds in winter typically numbered around a hundred.

This meant there were likely other Musk Ox herds nearby that would gradually gather here in the coming days.

"This is not going to be easy..."

He lowered his voice, "Musk Ox behavior is different from most animals. When attacked, they don’t choose to flee. Instead, they form a defensive formation, with the strong bulls creating a line of defense at the front."

"Once they find an opening, the bulls will charge. Their sharp, curved horns, combined with their four-hundred-kilogram weight, can easily gore an animal. And after charging, they immediately return to the formation, giving you no openings to exploit."

"Although this defensive formation once led to them being hunted on a massive scale, driving them to the brink of extinction. Here in Alaska, especially, the Musk Ox went extinct as early as the mid-19th century."

"The ones we see now are a population that the government paid to transport from Greenland Island in the 20th century for artificial breeding and rewilding. After nearly a hundred years of recovery, their numbers have returned to over three thousand."

"To hunt Musk Ox here, you must have a permit. Of course, our show’s production team has obtained permission, so we don’t have to worry about that."

"After all, the only weapons we have are an Engineer Shovel and a hunting bow, and only the latter is really useful. We can’t exactly fight them hand-to-hand, can we?"

"With the killing power of a bow and arrow, although it can pierce the thick hide of a Musk Ox, it would at most cause a superficial wound—unless I can land a precision strike, like when I hunted the Black Bear."

He continued to explain in a low voice, his eyes sweeping back and forth across the Musk Ox herd.

He waited for over an hour, staying until his limbs were so cold they were almost numb, before he was forced to head back.

’No wonder even an excellent Hunter like Andre needs a partner to hunt Musk Ox. Forget one person, I doubt even two could do much.’

It was no surprise that for the past several thousand years, the Musk Ox had been the largest herbivore in the Arctic Circle. With their size, herd numbers, and defense mechanism, there really weren’t many creatures that dared to challenge them.

Even a polar bear, the king of the Arctic, couldn’t withstand a collective charge from two or three strong Musk Oxen.

If Europeans hadn’t shown up with hunting rifles, Musk Oxen would still be a common sight in the Arctic Circle today.

On the way back to the shelter, he casually hunted two spruce grouse to take with him. He cleaned them by the river and used the discarded entrails as bait to set up his gill net.

He couldn’t come back empty-handed every time he went out; that would be a pure waste of energy.

’Looks like if I want to hunt Musk Ox, I’ll have to wait to team up with Andre. Either that or just give up on the idea completely.’

’Or... is there some way I can get more happiness points? If I can get to 15, I could redeem Trap Mastery and see if that’s useful.’

He returned to his hut, lit the stove, and filled the iron pot to the brim with snow to keep it from being damaged by the direct heat.

Without the iron pot covering the opening, excess carbon dioxide could lead to poisoning. Sealing it with the pot forced the smoke through the flue into the heated sleeping platform, which was then vented outside through an opening at the platform’s base.

’Should I make a lid for the pot... but would a wooden one be able to withstand the heat?’

After thinking it over, he decided not to waste his energy.

If he made a wooden lid and it was ignited by the coals below, a single careless moment could lead to the entire shelter burning down.

The firewood under the stove burned quietly. The snow in the iron pot slowly melted, and a ring of fine bubbles appeared along the pot’s inner edge.

He stared blankly at the pot of melted snow, lost in thought.

What on earth could he do to feel happy?

As for food, he had been making all sorts of things lately. He’d had dumplings, mutton soup, salmon patties, and even braised Black Bear paw with noodles.

But he hadn’t felt the slightest bit of happiness.

’Is it because the novelty has worn off?’

He thought about it, but couldn’t come up with a concrete answer.

The feeling of happiness could be linked to many other feelings: satisfaction, triumph, excitement, the thrill of turning defeat into victory, and so on.

But before achieving that happiness, there seemed to be a common prerequisite.

Hardship.

It was just like in those power fantasy novels. Just giving the main character a treasure feels okay, but the thrill is amplified immensely if you first plunge him into a crisis where he desperately needs to turn things around before he gets the treasure.

Following this line of thought, if he wanted to gain happiness, he first had to make himself unhappy—or rather, put himself in a troublesome predicament. Only then would he have a chance to earn points again.