After seeing the polar bears, Feng Shan and Nash returned to the tavern, led by Bruce.
Bruce had guessed right. His bottle of rum had been drunk down to the last drop, leaving only an empty bottle on the table. He instantly shot an angry look at the other patrons.
"Fuck! Which one of you bastards stole my rum!"
The patrons, all flush-faced and letting out the occasional hiccup, were determined to deny everything.
"Bruce, don’t make baseless accusations. Careful, or I’ll sue you for slander."
"Yeah, that’s right! Show us so proof."
"Who saw your rum? All I see is an empty bottle on the table."
Bruce had to laugh at their excuses.
He could only chalk it up to bad luck.
Just then, the tavern door was pushed open, and several Indigenous People dressed in reindeer hides walked in.
The patrons, who had just been brazenly denying the theft, all lowered their heads, afraid of being noticed.
A middle-aged man with a square jaw, Asian features, and a serious expression scanned the tavern. His eyes landed on Feng Shan’s table, and his face instantly broke into a warm smile.
"Feng, why didn’t you co find when you got to Kaktovik? If Kyhi hadn’t been feeding the whales fat and ntioned seeing soone who looked just like you, I wouldn’t have even known you were here."
"Old Pete from Point Laya also said he wants to thank you personally for finding his son’s killer."
Feng Shan stood up with a helpless sigh. "Mayor Robert, I was planning to rest for a night and then head back to the Crown Territory. I didn’t want to disturb you."
"My friend, that’s no way to do things. The Sheriff of Kaktovik himself is here; how could we not offer you our hospitality?" Mayor Robert said with a smile, waving his hand dismissively. "Co on. We’re having a whale feast on the beach today. You’re the only one missing."
The Sheriff of Kaktovik!!
Bruce froze.
The patrons in the tavern froze.
And that talkative Indigenous Person with the racist streak froze.
The man before them was actually the Sheriff of Kaktovik.
How had they never heard of him before?
"Bruce, you should co too. This might be the last whale hunt," Mayor Robert said, looking at the stunned Bruce.
As for the other patrons in the tavern, Mayor Robert didn’t even give them a second glance.
Drunks, gamblers, and potheads were the cancers of the tribe.
Feng Shan knew the Inuit’s culinary habits all too well. Everything was either eaten raw or boiled, and it was always fishy and unappetizing.
Faced with Mayor Robert’s enthusiastic invitation, Feng Shan knew that refusing again would be disrespectful. He had no choice but to nod and agree.
But when Bruce heard the mayor’s last sentence, a look of pleasant surprise appeared on his face.
"Mayor, what do you an by that?"
"That’s right. We’re planning to cancel the whale hunt starting next year. Let’s go."
....
As an Indian, Nash certainly wasn’t going to attend an Inuit ceremony. He volunteered to stay behind at the tavern to watch their luggage, as well as the Prince and Princess.
The group left the tavern and walked along the street toward the sea.
Thanks to the North Slope Petroleum Company a hundred kiloters away, Kaktovik not only had electricity but also well-developed infrastructure. More than half of the town’s residents worked for the company.
They earned a salary of no less than 2,000 US Dollars a month, plus an annual oil dividend from the governnt. The standard of living for the residents of Kaktovik Town was significantly higher than in Kivalina.
The whale feast was being held on the shore of the Beaufort Sea.
Under the sun, the Beaufort Sea was stained a golden yellow.
The surface of the sea sparkled, the golden afterglow dancing and shimring on the rising and falling waves.
A gentle sea breeze blew past, carrying the unique scent of the ocean.
In the distance, the horizon t the sun, making it seem as if the entire world was imrsed in this tranquil yet magnificent atmosphere.
However, amidst this tranquility, there was an unusual sight.
On the snow-covered beach, neatly cut pieces of whale at were arranged in an orderly fashion on the snow.
Feng Shan’s gaze shifted to the part of the beach closer to the water, where a whale, so massive it looked like a small hill, lay silently.
Its once-magnificent body had been hacked to pieces by sharp blades, a grueso sight to behold.
Feng Shan recognized it by its head; he had seen it before in the Kivalina Ice Sea.
A bowhead whale, weighing over a hundred tons.
Deep red whale blood stained the surrounding snow and seawater. The sll of blood filled the air, forming a stark contrast with the otherwise pure, icy landscape.
Dozens of Indigenous People in insulated clothing had excited smiles on their faces.
So of them brandished long, sharp knives that glinted coldly in the twilight, skillfully carving one piece of at after another from the bowhead whale’s enormous body.
Others hoisted the cut whale at onto their shoulders and placed it neatly to the side.
The whole process looked practiced and orderly, as if it had been rehearsed countless tis.
"A bowhead whale. At least 100 years old." Bruce said, gritting his teeth. He forced the words out, his fury suppressed deep down but still evident in his slightly trembling voice.
Feng Shan silently watched everything unfold before him.
Though his heart was troubled, he knew he had no right to condemn them.
After all, this was a tradition passed down through tens of thousands of years of struggle for survival in a harsh environnt. It was their way of life.
Mayor Robert sighed quietly beside them. "Bruce, I understand perfectly where your anger cos from. But I also hope you can understand that this is the Inuit way of survival."
"That was in the past! Now, the Indigenous People can work at the oil company, they get dividend subsidies, there’s the tourism industry... there are many ways to make a living," Bruce said emotionally.
"We’ve had this debate about survival many tis. For today, let’s just finish the final ceremony."
Mayor Robert waved his hand, stopping the conversation.
He and Bruce had argued about the topic of whales countless tis over the past twenty years.
"Chief," said a middle-aged Inuit man, his insulated suit stained with whale blood, as he walked over.
"Has the whale at been distributed?" Mayor Robert asked.
The middle-aged Inuit man shook his head slightly, his voice a bit low. "Most of it has been taken, but so of our people didn’t want any."
His eyes held a hint of confusion, not understanding why those tribe mbers would refuse what was once considered such a precious food source.
This was the result of a change in lifestyle and perspective.
Year after year, fewer and fewer people ca to claim their share of the whale at.
Mayor Robert sighed again and said no more, leading Feng Shan and Bruce to the bowhead whale’s carcass.
Near the bowhead whale’s head, a pile of firewood had been stacked, and reindeer hide blankets were spread on the surrounding snow.
Farther down the beach, Feng Shan was surprised to see a group of polar bears. The most conspicuous among them was Fat Albert.
The ceremony began.
All the Inuit stood silently around, their expressions solemn and devout.
All eyes were fixed on the bowhead whale’s carcass, as if they were entrusting their deep respect and complex emotions to its massive body.
At that mont, the air itself seed to grow heavy. Even the sea breeze, as if sensing the solemn atmosphere, quietly ceased to blow.
Feng Shan stood to the side, secretly observing the Indigenous People.
He noticed that almost all of them were middle-aged, with even so gray-haired, weathered elders among them. The few young people present wore expressions of indifference.
WHOOSH!
An Inuit man, with a solemn expression, struck a match and lit the waiting pile of firewood.
Instantly, a raging fire shot into the air. The leaping flas licked at the woodpile, radiating intense heat.
The firelight reflected on every Inuit’s face, the flickering flas mirrored in their eyes as if the light had bestowed upon them a sacred power.
In the firelight, the silhouette of the bowhead whale’s carcass beca even clearer, like a totem being worshipped.
Mayor Robert’s expression was solemn as he gravely accepted a stone covered in black patterns from a tribe mber.
Slowly and reverently, he raised it high above his head.
Then, Mayor Robert left the crowd, his steps slow and steady.
Each step seed to have its own unique rhythm, as if following the beat of an ancient ritual.
Mayor Robert walked step by step toward the bowhead whale’s carcass. As he drew near the massive body, the surrounding atmosphere grew even more solemn.
Reaching the bowhead whale’s head, he bent down slightly and carefully placed the patterned stone upon it.
Then, a lodious song gradually rose from the crowd.
It was a chant sung in the Inuit language, its ancient lody echoing in the air.
The singing was ethereal yet carried a primal power, as if it had traveled through the long river of history.
Every note seed to carry the stories of the Inuit people, their emotions, and their reflections on life.
The voices intertwined—high and low, rousing and gentle—surrounding the whale’s body. It was as if they were speaking to the departed life, or perhaps praying to their ancestors and spirits.
Next, the crowd began to move in rhythm.
They circled the roaring bonfire with slow, orderly steps.
Their figures swayed in the firelight, like a group of dancers entrusted with a special mission.
Every step was filled with reverence for tradition, and every movent held a unique aning.
Amidst the fire and song, the scene around the bowhead whale’s carcass and the burning pyre ford a picture rich with mystery and cultural heritage, like a sacred dialogue with the heavens, the earth, and the ancestors.
Standing to the side, Feng Shan’s thoughts suddenly returned to his ancestral dream.
That, too, had been a ritual where his ancestors made offerings to the spirit of Houtu.
A bonfire, tribespeople, singing, dancing...
Bruce, who was watching the ceremony from the side, was stunned to see Feng Shan’s blank expression. As if in a trance, Feng Shan slowly walked into the circle ford by the firelight.
The Inupiats, though imrsed in the solemnity of the ceremony, quickly noticed Feng Shan’s strange behavior.
However, the sanctity of the ritual could not be easily interrupted, so they could only watch Feng Shan with confusion.
Feng Shan walked step by step into the circle of fire.
At this mont, his mind was being pulled by a mysterious force, completely fixed on the vague yet solemn ritual from his ancestral dream.
In this dazed state, his hands and feet began to move of their own accord.
It was a dance with a primitive rhythm, as if awakened from the deepest, most ancient mories of humanity. Every movent was simple and pure, yet seed to contain so mysterious power that blended with the surroundings and the ongoing ceremony.
Whenever Feng Shan raised his arms high, the raging flas would leap violently. The firelight would instantly intensify, and the shadows it cast flickered wildly across Feng Shan’s body, stretching and shortening his silhouette.
The bonfire spewed a great number of sparks, which gradually gathered and combined in the air.
They outlined the shape of a lifelike whale, which materialized in the air.
The whale made of sparks swam slowly through the air, its ethereal form possessing an otherworldly beauty.
As it swam, it began to slowly ascend.
During its ascent, the whale’s outline gradually blurred, and the sparks began to drift apart.
Another whale swam out from the flas and flew toward the sky.
One after another.
Faced with this magical sight, the Inupiats around the fire unconsciously stopped in their tracks.
Their faces were filled with astonishnt, their eyes wide.
They stared at the bizarre scene of the spark-whales rising into the sky and then dissipating, as if they had been hit by an Immobilization Spell.
In all their long history of traditional ceremonies, a scene so far beyond imagination had never occurred.
"The Spirit of All Things!" an Inupiat elder exclaid, his body beginning to tremble as he slowly knelt.
After seeing the elder’s action, the others, as if answering a call, also began to kneel one by one.
Their movents were uniform, filled with reverence for the Spirit of All Things and adherence to their ancient beliefs.
One after another, all the Inupiats present, including Mayor Robert, fell to their knees, pressing their foreheads tightly to the ground.
Only Bruce remained standing, watching Feng Shan dance before the fire as he subconsciously pulled out his phone.
....
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