Hello people, thanks to the support and the power stones from the previous chapter, I'm leaving you a new chapter today. Enjoy it and leave your support, whether with comments, reviews, and votes.
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Gaining influence here is simple—I just need to fill a need, no matter how small. And luckily for me, I've covered the most basic one of all.
Three nets full of seafood are enough for at least two weeks of decent meals without worries.
But of course, nothing's perfect. When I returned to fish, Sokka's infamous bad luck struck for the first time. It wasn't that the fish were gone—things just kept going wrong. Nets snapping despite being checked, larger creatures yanking them underwater… Yet whether by fortune or misfortune, the bad luck came randomly, in unpredictable waves.
Like stepping in a puddle. Or jinxing myself by saying something wouldn't happen—then it did. Or Katara hitting me with a snowball even though my danger sense tingled.
Still, I adapted. I brought back enough to keep the storeroom full, and soon the village women started talking.
"It's unbelievable—Sokka's hauling in more than Hakoda and the others combined," one woman said to her friends while scaling a large fish.
"I know. I thought we'd face a hungry season, but thankfully not."
"True. He's changed since the invasion. I remember how hopeless he was at this when Hakoda was still here."
"Yeah, even with those injuries that must still hurt, he keeps supporting us and training relentlessly."
Gran-Gran overheard it all, her heart warming at the praise for her grandson.
She'd been in charge when Hakoda left, back when these same women whispered concerns about relying on Sokka—a boy who'd proven useless at hunting. Now she listened to their admiration with quiet joy.
The elder woman stepped outside with Tiga, a 28-year-old mother who'd asked Sokka for extra fish to feed her young children. Gran-Gran studied her with knowing eyes.
"Tiga, you've no reason to feel guilty for asking."
"I know, but… he's so young to carry this burden."
As Gran-Gran opened her mouth to reply, they spotted Sokka dragging his canoe ashore with visible effort.
"Back already! Here, Tiga." He smiled warmly, handing her two fish.
"Thank you, Sokka. Please—" She pulled out coins. "—for the trouble."
"Oh no, ma'am, keep your money." I replied politely. *"We may not have much, and we're few—but we're family."*
Her eyes brimmed with tears as I walked away with Gran-Gran.
"You've been visiting the forbidden ship." Her gaze was unreadable.
"Yes." No point denying it. *"Found plenty of useful things there—fishing gear included."*
"It's dangerous. That wreck's trapped."
"I know where the traps are, Gran-Gran. Tell everyone only I can go there."
"Very well. But be careful." Worry lined her voice.
"Always am." I flashed a confident grin before delivering the day's catch to the cooks.
Their friendly greetings meant everything—they were starting to see me differently.
Outside, I watched Katara head off to learn from Gran-Gran. Meanwhile, I grabbed my boomerang and bone spear for training.
The village felt smaller than ever—eight medium igloos crammed into maybe 150 square meters. The cramped training area proved it. I'll fix that later.
Snow dummies took an hour and a half to rebuild my boomerang muscle memory. Easy—I'd drilled this relentlessly my first year here.
The spear demanded more time. Sure, I'd seen advanced techniques in movies from my old world, but basics came first. Each swing taught me its weight and balance. *Foundation is everything.* Hours passed in relentless repetition before shifting to strength training—squats, weighted carries, cardio—all while practicing chi control.
A breakthrough: simply visualizing chi flow let me self-correct movements. The physical boost was staggering—10kg per arm became 25kg with chi enhancement. Better yet, training expanded my reserves.
At dusk, I rigged a drying system with salvaged wire to keep fish off damp surfaces. Helped prep dinner too (though they only let me chop ingredients).
The communal meal around the fire lacked its old warmth. Heavy silence hung over the women, all fearing their husbands wouldn't return.
After eating, I scribbled in Hakoda's old notebook—every skill I remembered: writing, medicine, engineering. Distraction therapy from my recovery days.
Another notebook held sketch practice. My old artistic talent didn't carry over, so I drilled hand signs for English, Mandarin (thank you, past-life travels), and Morse code.
Weeks passed in routine: fish, train, help. Eventually, I lightened the mood with songs—some earned smiles, others just rhythmic humming.
Then one night, polar bear dogs raided our stores.
"Sokka, don't!" they shouted as I grabbed weapons.
"If we don't stop them, they'll keep coming!"
Six sets of tracks led to a cave where the pack gorged themselves. One female guarded eight cubs, her swollen belly suggesting more.
Moonlight glinted off my spear as I hurled it—thunk—through the alpha's chest into rock.
The pack turned as one.
The alpha charged first. My danger sense flared—I barely dodged. Claws raked my side, painting the snow crimson. Pain stole my breath, but I couldn't falter.
"Damn it!"
My boomerang cracked the second's snout. The third lunged—too fast. Fangs sank into my shoulder, grinding bone. I buried my knife in its eye with a snarl.
The remaining three attacked as one. Claws shredded my thigh. Jaws clamped my forearm with a sickening crunch. White-hot pain became opportunity—I rammed my spear upward through fur and flesh.
Silence. Five corpses. Only the pregnant female remained, snarling as she shielded her cubs.
She attacked again. My chi-enhanced stab crippled her foreleg, but she fought on.
A battle of attrition.
Every step toward the cubs provoked her. Every counterattack bought seconds before she renewed her assault.
Finally—after what felt like hours—she collapsed beneath my foot.
"Enough... stubborn beast." I pressed my blade to her throat, gasping. *"I'm... your master now. Obey."*
A slow blink. Submission.
Her tongue gingerly licked my bloodied hand as I staggered back. Reality hit—I was bleeding out. Makeshift bandages for surface wounds. The deeper ones? A red-hot knife and clenched teeth.
Salvaged ropes lashed the dead pack together. The now-tame female watched silently as I loaded what I could carry.
"Move." My voice was raw.
Every step sent agony through broken bones. Blood dripped onto the female's white fur as she followed, cubs trailing like ghostly pups.
At dawn, the igloos came into view. Katara—I collapsed.
Final sight: the women's horrified awe as they saw my grim trophies—a tamed pack and their former masters' corpses. Katara's tears fell like warm rain as she pulled me into darkness.