Chapter 393: Chapter 293: Assistant 2
"Fine, let’s go. One more person won’t matter."
Feng Shan sighed in resignation. Since things were already like this, he’d just bring him along. He couldn’t be bothered to argue any further.
With that, he led the way out of the camp.
...
The group arrived at the airport.
The P750 aircraft was already parked quietly on the runway.
Everyone boarded the plane and found their seats. After they were settled, Yves got busy running the plane’s system self-check.
As Yves monitored the data from the system self-check, he took a moment to turn and ask Feng Shan.
"Boss, are we flying to Fairbanks International Airport? Did you book our tickets from there ahead of time?"
Plane tickets?
What plane tickets?
When Feng Shan heard this, he was instantly baffled.
"What? We’re flying our own plane to Texas. Why would we need tickets?"
WHAT!
When Yves and Director Roland heard this, their eyes went wide in unison. They stared at Feng Shan in utter disbelief, as if looking at an alien.
"Buddy, you’re not actually planning to fly the P750 straight to Texas, are you?" Director Roland asked, astonished. His voice rose a few notches unconsciously. ’Feng Shan can’t really be this clueless,’ he thought. ’This is no laughing matter.’
"Yeah, I am. Is there a problem?"
Feng Shan, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm and even found their reaction a little strange.
’I don’t get why they’re overreacting. We have a plane, so we can just fly there directly.’
"A huge problem!" Director Roland was speechless at Feng Shan’s response. ’He seems like such a sharp guy, how can he not know basic common sense?’
"Buddy, Alaska is over 7,000 kilometers from Texas. How are you going to fly this little plane all the way there?"
"Its range isn’t nearly that long. It just can’t make it."
Yves, sitting in the cockpit, seemed on the verge of a breakdown. "That’s right. The P750’s cruising speed is only 300 kilometers per hour. Barring any incidents, it would take us at least 26 hours just to reach Texas, and we’d still be a ways from Baird."
"Boss, are you serious?"
"Is that so?"
Only then did Feng Shan realize the severity of the problem. He really hadn’t considered any of this before. He had been so focused on just taking off in the plane that he never bothered to research if it could actually fly that far.
However, Feng Shan didn’t panic.
’When you run into a problem like this, you just have to call for backup. My network is pretty extensive; I can always find someone to help solve this.’
Thinking this, he unhurriedly took out his phone and directly called his all-purpose assistant.
Jeff.
...
「Clark Lake District.」
At that moment, the Wild Bull Tribe was holding a grand sacrificial ceremony.
The sky was filled with thick, dark clouds, as if a heavy curtain had been drawn over the world. On the snow-covered Terra Quana Plateau, the Indigenous People of the Wild Bull Tribe had all gathered, dressed in colorful, festive attire.
More than ten pyres, each three meters high, were carefully arranged in a circle. Each pyre stood like a loyal guard, surrounding the center.
In the center of the circle stood a tall wooden platform, drawing everyone’s attention.
On the platform rested the Tribal Guardian Spirit, a Tatanka—an American Bison. The taxidermied bison was lifelike, and a huge floral wreath hung from its thick, slightly twisted neck.
The wreath was woven from a variety of vibrant flowers, appearing especially striking against the icy, snow-covered landscape.
Chief Welta stood at the very front, clad in magnificent tribal garments adorned with exquisite embroidery and various unique tribal decorations that signified his noble status.
On his head, he wore a hat meticulously woven from multicolored feathers, which swayed gently in the breeze, giving them a unique, lively quality.
He tightly gripped a scepter made of ox bone. The scepter looked imposing and majestic, as if it carried the glory of the tribe.
Behind the Elder Chief, a group of tribal elders were dressed in the same manner, but the scepters in their hands were replaced with various primitive weapons, such as stone axes and long spears.
Although these weapons looked somewhat crude and simple, at this moment, they exuded a sense of power originating from ancient times.
Accompanied by the rhythmic beat of wooden sticks, the sound was steady and melodic, like the very heartbeat of the earth.
With a solemn expression, Chief Welta led his tribespeople in a slow procession around the high platform, chanting a song in an ancient language.
The melody of the song was both graceful and mysterious.
Though the specific lyrics were incomprehensible, one could still feel the reverence for their ancestors, their hopes for life, and their love for the tribe contained within it.
The tribespeople also hopped lightly to the rhythm. For a moment, the entire scene seemed to transport people through time, back to the glorious era of the Indians. A rich tribal cultural atmosphere filled the air above the icy plateau.
From outside the circle of bonfires, a group of young tribespeople led a large number of livestock—cattle, horses, and sheep—and walked slowly toward the front of the platform.
As a solemn and serious sacrificial command rang out,
The young tribespeople, their expressions grave, all drew the daggers they carried and unhesitatingly thrust them into the necks of the livestock.
In an instant, blood gushed from the wounds like water from a burst dam, SPLASHING down. The crimson blood followed the lay of the land, flowing quickly into a trench that had been dug beside the platform.
After an animal had been bled dry, other tribe members would wordlessly come forward and carefully carry away the carcass.
Immediately after, a new batch of livestock was brought in. They repeated the same action, once again plunging their daggers into the animals’ necks, letting the blood continue to flow into the trench.
And so it went, batch after batch of livestock were slaughtered. The blood in the trench rose higher and higher, until the one-meter-deep channel was finally filled with it.
The scene was both bloody and imbued with a solemn, sacred aura, as if this were a vital ritual for communicating with the spirits—one that allowed for no negligence whatsoever.
Chief Welta faced the high platform, his expression pious.
He slowly extended both hands forward, then bent his knees and prostrated himself upon the snow.
He pressed his forehead tightly to the snowy ground, muttering words under his breath.
"Great Spirit of All Things, Guardian Spirit Tatanka, please accept the offerings of the Wild Bull Tribe and protect the children of the Wild Bull Tribe."
Behind the Chief, all the members of the Wild Bull Tribe followed suit, kneeling and prostrating themselves in unison. In an instant, a vast expanse of the snowy ground was covered by their figures.
Just then, the dozen or so three-meter-high pyres were lit simultaneously.
With a great WHOOSH,
The raging flames shot toward the sky.
The flames licked at the sky, and the intense heat made the surrounding air scorching hot.
The firelight reflected on every tribe member’s devout face, enveloping the entire ritual site in an orange-red glow.
Miraculously, as if sensing this piety, the thick, dark clouds in the sky suddenly parted. A warm beam of sunlight shone directly down, enveloping the Guardian Spirit Tatanka on the high platform.
The golden light bathed the Guardian Spirit, making it appear all the more sacred and majestic, as if it had truly been blessed with a divine radiance.
The warmth from this sunbeam also began to spread slowly.
All the tribe members could clearly feel waves of warmth enveloping their bodies, as if the Spirit of All Things had heard their prayers and granted them a response and a blessing.
At this moment, the people of the Wild Bull Tribe became even more devout, each one ceaselessly murmuring benedictions.
Their voices intertwined, set against the raging fire and warm sunlight, seeming as if they would break through the clouds and reach that distant spirit world.
The entire tribe was deeply immersed in this sacred and solemn atmosphere. It was as if time itself had stopped, and everyone was completely focused on feeling this blessing from the spirits, unable to pull themselves away for a long time.
But just then,
An extremely jarring ringtone suddenly sounded without any warning.
In the otherwise quiet and sacred atmosphere, the ringing was exceptionally out of place.
Kneeling in the snow, Chief Welta heard the ringtone and his brow furrowed immediately, his face filled with displeasure.
Before holding this solemn and sacred ceremony,
He had notified everyone several times not to bring their cell phones, precisely to prevent a situation like this from disrupting the ritual.
’Which bastard dared to disobey my orders?’
’This is blasphemy against the spirits.’
’They should be thrown into the fire and burned to death.’
...
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