「The next morning.」
Feng Mountain woke from his dream, sat up, and stretched comfortably. The mont he turned his head, he jumped in fright.
Nash was sitting on the right side of the bed, clutching his rifle with a stern, vigilant expression.
"What are you doing?" Feng Mountain couldn’t figure out what kind of shenanigans Nash was up to now. He subconsciously glanced at the left side of the bed.
Wawa wore the sa vigilant expression, his eyes fixed on their surroundings as if guarding against so imminent danger.
"What is wrong with you two?" Feng Mountain asked the two clowns, a headache coming on. It looked like they hadn’t slept all night and had just sat on either side of his bed.
"Khilla, we are protecting you," Nash said coldly. Wawa nodded emphatically.
"Protect my ass!"
Feng Mountain couldn’t help but curse. Two n sitting by his bed while he slept.
If he got up in the middle of the night to take a piss, he’d have a heart attack.
"Listen to , nothing is going to happen, and I don’t need protecting. If you two dare to sit by my bed again tonight, believe , I’ll whip both of you."
"Put the guns away. Don’t scare Lady Margaret."
Hearing this, Nash and Wawa tucked their rifles inside their animal-hide coats, their expressions making it clear they were ignoring every word he said.
’You guys are unbelievable!’
Feng Mountain shook his head helplessly.
If he had known it would turn out like this, he would have kicked them out of the room last night and secretly carved the Totem Wooden Statue.
After quickly washing up, he went to the inn’s first-floor dining room, where Lady Margaret had already prepared breakfast.
Fried halibut fillets, fried eggs, and homade toast.
The three had just started eating when Alvin limped into the inn. After shalessly mooching a free breakfast, the group left.
They followed the village path to the comrcial dock.
The Crabbing Boats had just left port. The empty dock was a great disappointnt to Feng Mountain; he had missed his chance to harvest a wave of Soul Power. All he could do was stand on the pier and admire the sea view.
The weather was quite nice today, with no clouds in the sky.
Sunlight scattered across the surface of the sea, making it glitter like countless sparkling jewels.
A gentle sea breeze blew, carrying a salty scent that lifted one’s spirits.
"Boss, the people from the rcedes-Benz Group Ship Company will be here soon. Should we go pick them up from the airport?" Alvin was quick to get into character.
"Pick them up, my ass. We’re paying for a boat, not for them to deliver it." Feng Mountain rolled his eyes and pointed to the dense crowds of sea dogs and seals on a nearby beach. "With all this food on Saint Paul Island, why do they still bother with the hard work of fishing and crabbing?"
"They used to hunt them. But then the Fish and Ga Departnt designated Saint Paul Island as a marine animal sanctuary, forbidding the hunting of sea dogs and seals. In exchange, the Fish and Ga Departnt gives Saint Paul its own special seafood quota."
Alvin glanced at Nash and Wawa. "However, the Indigenous People have a certain hunting quota each year. Boss, are you interested in Sea Dog Whip? I hear Chinese people really like it. Chinese tourists who used to co to Saint Paul Island would always buy a few to take with them."
Sea Dog Whip!
That was a top-tier ingredient for making dicinal wine.
A Five-Whip Wine steeped with Bear Whip, moose whip, Sea Dog Whip, reindeer whip, and Sea Dog Whip would surely be absurdly potent.
It would make that son of a bitch Tom explode on the spot.
Damn it!
How could I have forgotten to get a walrus whip back in Point Laya? That thing must be even more powerful.
Feng Mountain slapped his forehead in frustration. Nash and Wawa subconsciously pulled two AR-15s from their animal-hide coats, making Alvin’s eyes go wide.
Although Alaska had no restrictions on concealed carry, carrying a pistol was one thing, but who brings two rifles?
"It’s nothing. They’re used to hunting on the Tundra, so they like to carry their guns everywhere," Feng Mountain said with a smile, shooting a glare at the two as he explained.
’I’ll be damned if I believe you.’
Alvin laughed awkwardly.
"Judging by your na, you must be Russian? How did you end up living on Saint Paul Island?" Feng Mountain changed the subject.
Alvin shrugged and said calmly.
"I’m a third-generation Aleut. My grandfather was a Russian who fled all the way from Yakutsk to the Aleutian Islands. He married a local Aleut woman and settled down. But now, it’s just ."
A hint of sympathy appeared in Feng Mountain’s eyes. "Living all alone... it must be tough."
Alvin gave a carefree smile. "I’m used to it. I have the sea, the blue sky, and my mories here."
Feng Mountain was silent for a mont.
He could feel Alvin’s deep attachnt to this land and his commitnt to staying.
Perhaps, in Alvin’s heart, this place wasn’t just sowhere to live, but his roots, his spiritual anchor.
Just then, Alvin’s phone rang.
He answered, gave their location, and hung up.
"Boss, the people from the ship company have arrived. They’re on their way over now."
A mont later, a Pickup Truck appeared at the dock. A portly man in a suit got out and seed to be shouting sothing at the truck.
The Pickup Truck driver was none other than that energetic young guy from the airport.
Looks like he had successfully fleeced another fat sheep.
Just as Feng Mountain was speculating, the portly man walked onto the pier, still muttering, "My God, a two-minute ride and he charged 20 US Dollars. That damned Vampire."
"Mr. Eugene Weasley, we’re over here," Alvin said, holding up his phone.
The portly man’s expression changed in an instant. A friendly smile blood on his face as he strode toward Feng Mountain’s group.
"Gentlen, what a lovely day."
Before the words had even left his mouth, SPLAT! A dollop of bird droppings fell from the sky, landing squarely on the portly man’s shoulder.
The portly man let out a wail, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away the droppings. "Fack! My suit! Damned sea birds!" he cursed as he scrubbed.
The sudden accident made the scene rather comical.
Feng Mountain and the others were stunned for a mont, then couldn’t help but break into amused smiles.
Eugene’s face was full of chagrin. His carefully crafted image had been utterly ruined in an instant by the bird poop.
He scrubbed furiously at the stain on his shoulder, complaining nonstop.
However, no matter how hard Eugene tried, the mark seed impossible to remove completely. In fact, the more he wiped, the larger the stain grew.
In the midst of this awkward atmosphere, Feng Mountain cleared his throat. "It seems the weather isn’t quite as lovely as you said."
Eugene sighed helplessly, put away his handkerchief, and forced a smile. "Yes, just my luck. But no matter, it’s just a minor incident."
"Gentlen, I am Eugene Weasley, sales manager for the rcedes-Benz Group Ship Company. I hear you’re in need of a reliable, stable, and outstanding Crabbing Boat."
"That’s right. What do you recomnd?" Feng Mountain replied with a smile.
"Then you’ve co to the right place! The rcedes-Benz Group Ship Company is your best choice. Our company does business with hundreds of shipbuilders around the world. We’re sure to have the model you need. Let’s see which one you’d like."
Eugene had a sharp eye and could tell at a glance that Feng Mountain was the decision-maker of the group. He imdiately picked up his briefcase, took out a stack of docunts, and looked around, only to find there was nowhere on the pier to sit and talk.
"Fellas, are we really going to talk right here? Let treat you to a cup of coffee. Or red wine, that’s fine too. Don’t be shy, I can expense it."
’An interesting guy.’
A smile played on Feng Mountain’s lips. He pointed to a temporary rest area for the dock fishern. "We can go over there. If we’re quick about it, I’m hoping to finalize the boat today."
’That fast?’
Eugene’s face lit up with joy, and he nodded quickly. "No problem, absolutely no problem."
The group went over to the so-called rest area, which was just a row of connected chairs.
As soon as they were seated, Eugene placed a brochure of fishing boats on the table. "These are our company’s best Crabbing Boats at the mont. They’ve been tested for years in Alaska, and their quality is superb."
Feng Mountain reached out, picked up a brochure, and opened it.
He couldn’t understand any of the technical specifications, so he could only choose based on the pictures of the boats.
He pointed to a handso-looking fishing boat and asked Alvin.
"What do you think of this one?"
Alvin glanced at it and sighed helplessly. "Boss, that’s a coastal fishing boat. It can only putter around near the shore. It wouldn’t last three days in the deep sea."
"Oh, is that so? Never mind then!" Feng Mountain blinked, muttering to himself internally.
’Since when is buying a fishing boat asured by its survival rate?’
However, Alvin could see it clearly.
This new boss knew how to spend money, but he didn’t know the first thing about ocean fishing.
No wonder he asked for his help. If he’d hired soone else, he’d probably lose his shorts.
’Sigh!’
He sighed silently and pulled a few specific brochures from the pile on the table.
"Boss, these fishing boats are suitable for deep-sea fishing."
"Hm."
Feng Mountain nodded and picked up one of the new brochures.
There were basically two hull types: a long-bodied boat and a sowhat cute, chubby-looking one.
"Which type do you think is better?"
"This one." Alvin pointed to the chubby boat. "My Yekaterina II is this type of Crabbing Boat. The short, round hull provides good stability. The waves in the Bering Sea are huge, so a stable hull reduces rocking and improves operational safety."
"It also has a higher carrying capacity. This model of Crabbing Boat can carry a full load of 40 tons of snow crab. Although its speed is slightly lower than a pointy-hulled boat, the balance between speed, stability, and capacity is more important for a Crabbing Boat."
"Most importantly, the Bering Sea environnt is complex and ever-changing. A Crabbing Boat needs to be able to operate steadily in all kinds of sea conditions. The short, round design helps it maintain stability in wind and waves, reducing the safety risks they cause."
"Mr. Alvin is right," Eugene said, clapping his hands in appreciation. "Although I’d love to sell you a more expensive boat, this short, round Crabbing Boat is indeed the most suitable for the Bering Sea."
Since both professionals recomnded the sa type of boat, Feng Mountain wasn’t about to make things difficult for himself. He leaned back in his chair. "Please tell about this boat."
"Of course, no problem." Eugene sat up straight, and the chair groaned and squeaked, struggling under his weight.
"This Crabbing Boat is 100 feet (33 ters) long and costs 2.8 million US Dollars. It has a sonar system, a sorting system, a storage system, a lighting system, and a crew lounge. The fish hold has a capacity of 100 cubic ters and can carry a full load of 90 tons. It’s powered by a diesel engine of around 1,000 horsepower and has an operational endurance of 14 days."
After finishing his introduction, Eugene looked at Feng Mountain nervously. If he could close the deal on this boat, he would get a huge commission.
The company’s sales hadn’t been great lately. After all, a fishing boat isn’t a consumable item. With a few repairs, one could last for decades without issue. The problem was that there were only so many buyers. Every boat sold ant one less buyer, and the pie was only so big.
’This boat...!!’
Feng Mountain narrowed his eyes, lost in thought.
It was a bit different from what he had planned. Not that the boat was bad, but it was too small.
With the protection of the Totem Wooden Statue, his fishing trips were guaranteed to never co up empty. A 100-cubic-ter fish hold was clearly not going to be enough.
"Mr. Eugene, do you have any bigger Crabbing Boats?"
...
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