Landlord in the Arctic

Chapter 330 - 262: Gift, Part 2

Everything was peaceful and quiet. Tourists strolled about leisurely, and the staff were all busy with their respective tasks.

CLIP-CLOP, CLIP-CLOP!!

But a muffled clopping of hooves suddenly shattered the tranquility. The sound grew closer, its rhythm distinct, each beat thudding against the ground and echoing in everyone’s hearts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and instinctively looked toward the source of the sound.

’Where did a horse come from here at the camp?’

’Did the helicopter just deliver it?’

Just as everyone was wondering,

Feng Shan, riding the powerfully-built Cigar, charged across the wooden bridge and into the open area in front of the bar.

Cigar pulled to a sharp halt, his front half rearing high. Fortunately, Feng Shan’s core and leg strength were decent, and he managed to grip the horse’s back tightly without a saddle.

By the time Cigar’s hooves hit the ground, Feng Shan still hadn’t caught his breath.

The female employees, drawn out by the noise, saw Feng Shan on horseback, and their eyes lit up with a special sparkle.

"Boss! A cowboy! So cool!"

"Wow, the boss is so handsome!"

"Boss, you can ride the horse, and you can ride me too."

’Such shameless words.’

Feng Shan awkwardly dismounted and patted Cigar’s neck. "Go on, find some grass to eat. No hurting anyone, you hear?"

Just then, Erica emerged from the bar, pulling Liu Lan along with her. The moment she saw Cigar’s sinewy, muscular frame, she couldn’t contain herself and ran forward excitedly.

"Khilla, is this your horse?"

"Duh. Is he yours? His name is Cigar. A great lad." Feng Shan affectionately smoothed Cigar’s silky mane, and the horse nuzzled him in response.

"I want to ride him! I want a ride!" Erica yelled, reaching out to pet him.

"Cigar doesn’t like being touched by women."

No sooner had Feng Shan spoken than Cigar jerked his head back, dodging her outstretched hand. He snorted at Erica, as if warning her to keep her distance.

"Brother, I want to ride the horse," Liu Lan said in her clear, sweet voice, holding out her hand.

"Now, now, Liu Lan," Erica quickly advised. "This horse is a real boy’s horse."

Feng Shan reached out for Liu Lan and lifted her onto Cigar’s back. "Go take a lap outside and come back. Go slow, you hear?"

NEIGH!!

Cigar shook his head a few times, then, carrying Liu Lan, slowly walked toward the wooden bridge and trotted out onto the Tundra beyond the camp.

"It’s not fair! Why can Liu Lan ride him but I can’t?" Erica fumed, pointing an accusing finger at Cigar’s retreating form.

"Because Liu Lan is a girl, and you’re a woman!"

With that, Feng Shan stopped paying her any mind and walked straight into the bar.

’Girl?’

’Woman?’

’It seemed like what Feng said made a little sense.’

Erica mulled it over. Something felt off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

The nearby staff members snickered.

Inside the bar, Feng Shan found a secluded corner to sit down. The spot was rather hidden, and the surrounding din was much fainter—perfect for a private conversation.

The moment he sat down, a server approached with a brisk step and a professional smile, placing a drink menu on the table.

"What can I get for you, Boss?"

"One moment. Someone else is paying." Feng Shan glanced up at the smirking server, then deadpanned as he pushed the menu to the empty seat across from him, wearing an expression that said he was ready to fleece someone.

The server, getting the hint, chuckled and turned to help other guests.

A short while later, Jeff walked into the bar, dragging a suitcase. Judging by his strained movements, the case was quite heavy.

Feng Shan stood and waved him over.

After sitting down, Jeff noticed the empty table and the prominent drink menu. Without a word, he grandly gestured for the server. "Bring us your best!"

"I’ll have a Tundra Frost Flower," Feng Shan quickly interjected, ordering a glass of the bar’s limited-edition rum.

Feng Shan had been eyeing this particular drink for a long time. He’d heard that Demi distilled it from flower stamens collected on the Tundra Grassland, giving it a faint floral aroma and a long, lingering finish.

Unfortunately, the production process was incredibly complex—from collecting the stamens to the meticulous, step-by-step distillation—so it was only available in limited quantities each day.

Of course, it was also expensive. Feng Shan couldn’t bring himself to pay for a taste, but now that he had a sucker in front of him, how could he not take him to the cleaners?

Hearing his boss’s order, the server shot Feng Shan a look that said, "You’re terrible," before turning and walking away with a jaunty step.

Once the two of them were alone at the table,

Feng Shan leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. He wore a casual expression, but his eyes held a hint of scrutiny as he spoke slowly.

"Your portfolio is pretty broad these days. Seems you have a hand in everything. What, you’re not a Desert Hunter anymore?"

Jeff chuckled, a hint of pride in his smile, and rubbed his hands together. "Chief Welta has put me in charge of the Wild Bull Tribe’s external affairs, especially communications with the Crown Territory."

"So, out with it. You definitely didn’t come all this way just to deliver livestock," Feng Shan said, raising an eyebrow and staring directly at Jeff.

’He was sure Jeff was here for something else.’

’After all, it wasn’t worth Jeff making a personal trip—and dragging a heavy suitcase—just to deliver some livestock.’

"You left in such a hurry last time. Chief Welta said he wasn’t able to show you proper hospitality, so he had me bring some small souvenirs from the Wild Bull Tribe. I hope you like them."

With that, Jeff bent down, opened the suitcase, and took out a black metal box. He placed it on the table with extreme care, as if afraid of bumping or scratching it.

"You’ll definitely like this gift. It’s one of the Chief’s personal treasures. He’s normally reluctant to even take it out."

As he spoke, Jeff slowly opened the metal box. As the lid lifted, a silver pistol was revealed, resting quietly inside.

Under the bar’s dim yellow light, it radiated a unique, cold gleam. Neatly arranged beside it were several accessories, all looking incredibly exquisite.

"A Beretta M92 Collector’s Edition. Every component was handcrafted by a master gunsmith. Only 99 were made worldwide, and this is number 099."

Jeff explained with great enthusiasm, proudly pushing the gun case toward Feng Shan.

’I have to admit,’ Feng Shan thought, ’the Elder Chief’s gift really hit my weak spot.’

Feng Shan was a huge firearms enthusiast to begin with, and his eyes lit up at the sight of such a highly collectible pistol.

He eagerly took the silver pistol out and began to examine it carefully in his hands.

The grip was incredibly comfortable, fitting the curve of his palm as if it were custom-made. Every bit of texture was perfectly polished, giving it a substantial, high-quality feel.

Every detail on the gun’s frame was exquisitely crafted, clearly the work of a master artisan’s polishing and finishing.

The engravings along the frame’s lines were crisp and delicate, possessing both a fluid beauty and an air of understated luxury.

He gently racked the slide. A crisp CLICK echoed in the quiet corner of the bar, the sound carrying a unique, mechanical quality.

The action was noticeably smooth, without the slightest catch. The fit between each component was nothing short of perfect, a testament to the superb craftsmanship.

Assembly-line production guns weren’t even in the same league as this one.

’I’ll keep the gun. A piece this good is hard to come by.’

’But to think he might want to use this gun to trade for a Fire Totem slot...’

’Still no way.’

"Tell the Chief I like this gun very much," Feng Shan said, gently placing it back in its case. He then set the case down beside him, his eyes still betraying his fondness for the weapon.

Seeing Feng Shan accept the gun, Jeff breathed an inward sigh of relief. The weight was finally off his chest, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile crept onto his face.

’I’m not worried if you take it; I’m worried if you don’t.’

’Taking it is what allows the next stage of our discussion to begin.’

With this in mind, Jeff produced another black box and set it on the table. He then pointed to the logo printed on its surface, which resembled eagle wings along with the letters "TTI."

"You know, in the United States, any real firearms enthusiast wants to get their hands on a custom TTI gun. They consider it an honor to own one. As it happens, a friend of mine got the chance to buy one, and I thought it would be perfect for you, so I brought it along."

’TTI?’

’What firearms company is that?’

’I’ve never heard of it.’

Full of curiosity, Feng Shan opened the case. A matte black-and-gray Glock 17L appeared before him, but this Glock 17L was different from the one he already owned.

This Glock’s appearance was incredibly refined. It had a longer barrel, a magazine extension baseplate, and upgraded sights. The case also included five magazines with special extended baseplates and various other tactical accessories.

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