Chapter Fourteen: Bear Hunt (Part One)

The entire day had been spent forging, and by now night had fallen outside. Qin Fei decided to rest there for another night.

Early the next morning, Qin Fei left the Ricken. He truly couldn't bear to stay any longer. The ship was devoid of light; whether it was day or night, one could barely see a hand in front of their face. Moreover, the entire vessel was tilted, making it extremely uncomfortable to live in. After just two days, Qin Fei was already feeling somewhat dizzy.

Heading north from the Ricken, it took him about twenty minutes to reach the vicinity of the Irish Processing Plant. The factory was built right on the coast, and outside, two dead whales lay beached on the shore. The compound consisted of two buildings: the smaller one was the employees’ quarters, while the larger was the main processing workshop.

Inside the workers’ building, he found nothing of value—just rows of bunk beds and some clothing. He then moved on to the workshop. The interior was spacious, cluttered with all manner of miscellaneous items in utter disarray. On either side of the factory, along the walls, were two processing lines for whales.

On these lines, Qin Fei discovered a few cans and some soap. Judging from the labels, the cans seemed to contain whale meat. It appeared this factory produced canned fish and soap. There were quite a number of cans, but they were all semi-finished products, and most had expired. When Qin Fei pried one open, a putrid, fishy stench wafted out—it was clearly inedible.

The soap, on the other hand, was still usable. It had been over half a month since Qin Fei last bathed. Though the cold weather made sweating rare, going that long without washing was uncomfortable for anyone.

Near the production lines, he also found a barrel of glycerin—likely extracted from the whales and used as a soap ingredient. Glycerin could serve as fuel, and if it hadn’t spoiled, it was even edible. However, this particular barrel had clearly been stored too long, for a foul odor greeted him when he pried off the aluminum lid. He didn’t need much for fuel, so he took only a small amount, sealed it in a jar, and stowed it in his backpack.

After thoroughly searching the factory, Qin Fei made his way back to the fishing camp.

Outside, a light snow was falling from the sky. Even so, it was close to noon, so the temperature wasn’t too low. Qin Fei trudged back through the snow, taking his time and resting as needed. It took him two full days to return to his cabin.

Upon entering, he found that the items he’d left out to dry—maple saplings, reindeer hides, intestines—were nearly moisture-free. Now that the maple saplings were dry, he could begin crafting his wooden bow.

The maple sapling was thicker at the base and thinner at the top. To make a bow, the stave needed to be of equal thickness at both ends. Using his knife, Qin Fei carefully whittled both ends of the sapling. Once shaped into a bow, he cut notches at either end for attaching the bowstring.

Dry animal intestines, twisted into cord, would serve as the bowstring. In the polar region, there were no vines or fibrous plants, so animal intestines were the best material available. Once dried, they became incredibly tough.

As he worked on the bow, Qin Fei would occasionally sneak up to the mouth of Bear Creek Cave to check if the brown bear had left. But the bear seemed to have an endless capacity for sleep. It had already been sleeping before Qin Fei left for the Ricken to forge arrowheads, and even after all those days, it hadn’t stirred.

He checked several times a day, each time finding the bear still asleep. Though he’d heard polar brown bears didn’t hibernate, he guessed this one wouldn’t wake for another day or two.

With the bow finally finished, Qin Fei was unwilling to wait any longer. Eager to obtain birch saplings for arrow shafts, he packed the shotgun he’d found in the stone church, along with the flare gun, and made his way toward the bear’s cave.

Sure enough, when Qin Fei returned to Bear Creek Cave, the brown bear was still inside, snoring away. The cave’s entrance lay in a depression, forming a natural windbreak, so cold air wouldn’t blow directly in. The bear, while sleeping, lay with its head facing the outside.

Qin Fei took a small piece of charcoal from his backpack and rubbed it on the shotgun, leaving a fine layer of black dust. Lacking iron sights, he marked the shotgun with two black dots, front and rear, to serve as makeshift sights.

He had to find the perfect shooting distance: too close, and if the bear awoke, he’d be caught and killed before he could escape; too far, and his accuracy would suffer—if he missed, the gunshot would wake the bear and he’d be in just as much danger.

He needed an absolutely safe position. Scanning his surroundings, Qin Fei noticed a sturdy birch tree directly facing the cave entrance. Most bears can climb trees, but as luck would have it, polar brown bears are an exception. When young—one or two years old—they might manage, but adults are simply too large.

This was something Qin Fei had read online, though he didn’t know one important detail: with their size, such a bear could easily topple the tree altogether. If that happened, he’d be doomed.

Oblivious to the risk, Qin Fei tied himself to the trunk with a fishing net, using it for leverage to climb up and lie flat on a lower branch. From here, he could see the bear’s head inside the cave.

It was getting cold after lingering outside for so long. Qin Fei wasted no more time; he shouldered the shotgun and took aim at the bear’s head…

Bang!

A shot rang out through the mountain forest.

From within the cave came a chorus of bear howls.

The brown bear roared as it emerged, blood streaming down its head. Overwhelmed by pain and panic, it ignored Qin Fei in the tree, instead circling the cave in confusion before howling in agony and fleeing up the mountain.