Culinary God in Wilderness

After a quick overview of the new rules, Lin Chen was faced with a frustrating problem.

’What should I trade for?’

"My privilege lets me redeem one item, but what about trades? What’s the exchange rate?"

"It’s judged on a case-by-case basis, depending on the rarity and weight of the ingredients. Take the wolf you caught, for example. Daniel mentioned it’s not very tasty. If you just trade us the meat, we can’t make anything good with it, so its value is lower."

"In that case... ten kilograms of meat for one item?"

"Why don’t you go rob a bank?!"

"Hey," Robert chuckled. "That’s not how it works, Lin. You have to understand, these are things you can’t get in the Alaska Forest. They’re uniquely scarce, like how the price of gold only ever goes up and almost never comes down."

Ten kilograms of wolf meat for a single item. The exchange rate was so outrageous it made Lin Chen grind his teeth in frustration, wishing he could smash his fist into the old bastard’s face.

The average Yukon Wolf weighs a little over forty kilograms, with males being heavier. The four he’d captured were each around fifty kilograms.

After removing the hide, bones, and organs, the weight would be roughly cut in half.

In other words, two wolves would net him five items.

’The range of items surely won’t be anything too crazy, and there must be quantity limits. Otherwise, I’d basically be invincible. What would be the point of survival then?’

He opened the storage room door and went inside to take stock of his inventory.

Four Yukon Wolves, most of a Black Bear, half a lamb, over forty kilograms of potatoes, and more than five kilograms of various wild mushrooms.

"If I want to trade for a cookware set, what would that cost?"

After some thought, he decided to ask about the cookware first.

’No matter how many spices I trade for, it’s all pointless without enough pots.’

"A three-piece set just like this one?"

Robert pointed at the frying pan and stockpot piled on the mud stove, their bottoms already burned pitch-black.

"That’s right. Of course, if possible, I’d rather have a Great Xia wok—you know, the semi-circular kind."

"You mean the kind of round iron pot they use for street stir-fries? Let me think... The three-piece set would count as three items, so that’ll be thirty kilograms. If it’s just the wok, how about fifteen kilograms?"

"Deal!"

"Hold on, I’m not finished," Robert said, holding up a hand. "That’s the price for just the meat. But as you know, none of us are skilled cooks. We’ve been living on instant noodles almost every day lately, and we’re really getting tired of it."

"If you’re willing to cook it for us, I can offer you extra compensation. I could give you a discount on the price—for example, knocking off five kilograms."

"Of course, I can do that. But let me be clear up front: I won’t be using the seasonings I traded for to cook for you."

"That goes without saying. We’re not stupid. We wouldn’t do something foolish that would have the viewers chewing us out."

Since cooking for them could earn him a discount, Lin Chen decided not to bother calculating exactly how much his hoarded food could be exchanged for. Instead, he made a bold request.

"How about this: I’ll give you a list of ingredients I might need, and you can get them all in one go. We can figure out what I’m trading for later."

"Sounds good."

Robert thought that was a good idea too. Every round trip the plane made cost a fortune. If it weren’t for the audience’s enthusiastic demands, the bigwigs behind the production team would never have agreed to use a private jet as a transport plane.

He pulled out his phone, opened his notes app, and said, "Go ahead."

"Chili powder, cumin powder, whole cumin seeds, doubanjiang, soy sauce, aged vinegar, garlic, curry blocks or powder, green and red chilies... Not bell peppers. If you don’t know, just go to a Great Xia supermarket and ask for the kind used in stir-frying."

After rattling off a list of ingredients he could think of off the top of his head—ones that wouldn’t completely upset the balance of his survival challenge—he picked up the bag of sea salt, which was only half full.

"And this. I want to cure some meat. The exchange rate for salt can’t be too high, right?"

"We can go cheaper on that. Let’s say... 2.5 kilograms of meat for five hundred grams of sea salt."

Robert must have quoted such a high price because it was decided upon after internal discussions.

Judging by Lin Chen’s recent performance, hunting medium-sized game wasn’t a major challenge for him. Setting the exchange prices too low would make his life a little too easy and comfortable.

The main point of Wild Survival was survival, not luxury.

"Lin, your weight has dropped by four kilograms so far, which is a little fast. Have you been eating less salt lately? Remember to drink more water, and with so many potatoes, you need to keep your carb intake up, or you could easily have a nutritional imbalance."

Ariana delivered this conclusion solemnly after checking his vitals.

"There are no other major issues. The wound on your hand is healing very quickly, and it should be fully healed in about another week. Remember not to let it split open again. Try to keep it out of water and make sure it stays clean and hygienic."

"The blisters on your feet aren’t a major problem after these few days of rest. You can just peel off the dead skin. But for the next few days, you should still try to walk as little as possible. I personally recommend that any single outing not exceed one hour, with a daily cumulative total of no more than two hours."

"I’m referring to long-distance, continuous walking. It’s fine to just wander around the immediate area."

As the helicopter disappeared into the distance, Lin Chen went out to collect more firewood as usual. Afterward, he returned and wove several bark baskets of various sizes.

The water in his parachute reservoir was nearly gone. From now on, he would have to go to the river for water every day, which was a real hassle.

A round trip took an hour, and he could only use his stockpot as a container. This meant that to guarantee enough drinking water each day, he would have to make at least two trips to the river.

And that didn’t even account for water needed for washing his hair or bathing.

Once he started building the heated bed-stove, he would also have to haul clay every day. The thought of that weight, plus a heavy pot of water, made his head ache.

’Just snow already! The temperature drops below zero at night, so why isn’t it snowing yet? If it snowed, I wouldn’t have to worry about my water supply!’

It was the first time he had ever prayed to the heavens so piously, his hands clasped together. ’If it just snows in the next couple of days, I swear I’ll be a model citizen when I get back. I’ll help old ladies cross the street, stop at crosswalks to let pedestrians go first, help young women with their luggage on the train, and go to the supermarket after 8 p.m. to buy discounted products, leaving the fresh stuff for people who need it...’

After his prayer, he used his small egg pan to scoop the last of the clean water from the parachute. He planned to boil some lamb spine to warm his stomach and get a good start on the day’s labor.

His goals for the day were simple: collect firewood, fetch a pot of water from the river, and use the fishing line from the gill net to weave a fish trap and set it somewhere.

After finishing breakfast, he walked to the riverbank, only to see a familiar figure bathing, stark naked, in the icy water—and close to his side, no less.

"Good morning, Lin~"