Landlord in the Arctic

After crossing the Melting Ice River, the rescue team arrived at the Mossy Wasteland.

Who could have imagined that only yesterday, this place had been teeming with life, a soft, green carpet spread across the land.

But now, everything had been devoured by the merciless snow.

It was utterly shrouded in a world of white.

As far as the eye could see, there was only a vast expanse of white.

The howling, frigid wind savaged their ears like a wild beast, letting out a terrifying shriek as if trying to tear the very world apart.

The pristine white snow was over a meter deep, completely burying the moss beneath it.

The distant, rolling snow-capped mountains blended into the white wasteland, their borders impossible to discern.

Feng Shan parted his lips slightly, a puff of warm air escaping his mouth.

But the moment it hit the freezing air, the warm breath passed through his mask and instantly crystallized into fine shards of ice.

Some of the crystals clung to his mask, glinting brightly, while the rest fell silently to the ground, vanishing into the endless white.

They were still several kilometers away from the Bear Tribe.

He’d established their camp in this remote area specifically because the Bear Tribe disliked commotion and he wanted to provide them with a quiet living environment.

But now, it seemed his good intentions had backfired.

With the Mossy Wasteland losing the protection of the tribal Fire Seed, the Bear Tribe bore the brunt of the cold snap’s assault.

The temperature had plummeted from minus 10 to minus 50 degrees in less than two hours.

The Bear Tribe normally relied on tents for protection from the cold.

’But how much good could a tent do in this extreme weather?’

’And they probably didn’t have much firewood stored up. Would it be enough to see them through this ordeal?’

As he thought of this, Feng Shan’s heart filled with worry.

’As for the cattle and sheep... they had almost no chance of survival in minus-50-degree temperatures. They were probably all dead by now.’

’The cattle and sheep didn’t matter. All that was important was that the people of the Bear Tribe were safe.’

With a heart full of anxiety, Feng Shan clenched his jaw and braced himself against the howling blizzard.

He struggled toward the Bear Tribe’s camp, taking one difficult step after another through the deep snow.

The snow often came up past his calves, and icy slush seeped through his pant legs, the cold a biting pain against his skin.

A journey that would normally take half an hour took the rescue team nearly twice as long in these horrendous conditions.

Every step felt as heavy as lead. The shrieking wind cut at their faces like knives, making each movement an ordeal.

Finally, just as exhaustion was about to overcome them, they spotted a wisp of black smoke in the distance.

At first, the black smoke curled gracefully upward, carrying a hint of warmth, but the biting wind quickly tore it to shreds, scattering it into the blizzard.

The moment he saw the smoke, the heavy, anxious weight on Feng Shan’s heart finally settled.

Smoke meant people. It meant there was still hope.

If there had been no smoke, the Bear Tribe’s situation would have been dire indeed.

An almost imperceptible wave of joy washed over him.

The motley rescue team—composed of humans, tigers, and a Wolf Pack—supported one another, their spirits renewed as they pressed on resolutely toward the smoke.

WOOF! WOOF!

Just as the rescue team was struggling toward the smoke, Prince suddenly stopped in his tracks.

His ears shot up, and he stared intently at the snow at his feet. Then, he began to dig furiously, as if certain something important was buried underneath.

Hearing Prince’s urgent barks, Tyson, who had been leading the way, immediately turned and padded back with agile strides.

Tyson’s claws were far stronger than a dog’s. With a single, casual swipe, he carved out a sizable pit in the snow.

As he kept digging, the pit grew larger and deeper.

Once Tyson had cleared the snow, Feng Shan stepped forward and peered in. A beef cow lay stiffly in the pit, its body frozen solid and devoid of life.

Moreover, the tracks of other cattle were clearly visible at the edge of the pit.

Clearly, more of the herd were buried under the thick snow.

Feng Shan sighed silently, a mixture of emotions churning within him.

This was just as he had feared. In such extreme cold, the cattle and sheep truly had no chance of survival. A total loss was almost inevitable.

Although he had been prepared for it, seeing the scene firsthand still sent a pang of loss through him.

He had invested a great deal of Soul Power into raising these cattle.

Under normal circumstances, they would have fetched over a hundred US Dollars a pound on the market, and that would have been a bargain.

But now, they had simply frozen to death. The immense loss.

It was heartbreaking for Feng Shan.

AWOOOO!

Tyson stared at the cow frozen in the snow, startled for a moment.

Then he slowly raised his head and looked at Feng Shan with his large, copper-bell eyes. A look of intense craving flashed in them.

It was a look that spoke of a desperate hunger.

Siberian Tigers, also known as Northeast Tigers, are generally thought to adapt well to temperatures between minus 40 and minus 50 degrees, though no definitive research has established the absolute lowest temperature they can endure.

Through a long process of evolution, Northeast Tigers have developed physiological traits and behaviors to adapt to the cold.

Physiologically, Northeast Tigers have thick coats with long fur.

When winter arrives and the temperature drops, their fur grows even denser, layering over their bodies like an exceptionally warm fur coat.