To make crispy fried pork tenderloin, the first thing you need is oil. Wild boar has its own fat, so you just need to put some in a pot and render it. You'll get a good amount of lard in no time.

I cut the pig's heart and tenderloin into chunks, blanched them in boiling water until the blood turned white, and then took them out. I rendered some lard from the fat cut from the wild boar.

Next, put the blanched pork tenderloin and heart into the pot and stir-fry until they are golden brown and have a caramelized aroma.

Sprinkle with some of my refined salt and continue to stir-fry until flavorful.

When I came out, I also brought several large containers of wine. These wines are live-cultured wines with unsterilized alcohol content. As long as sugar can be found, they can be used to replace yeast for brewing.

However, it now has another function: to enhance the flavor and remove the fishy smell from my pork tenderloin.

The stir-fried wild boar tenderloin, cooked in hot oil, had become incredibly fragrant and crispy. I then sprinkled a ring of equally rich and sweet wine around the edge of the wok.

With a hiss, white steam rose. The rich fruity aroma of the wine and the crispy, tender pork tenderloin instantly blended together, creating an indescribable and wonderful flavor that went straight to the top of my and Top's heads.

I didn't waste the pig liver either. After removing the gallbladder, I rolled the liver in the bottom of the pot. Instantly, the liver was covered in soot and turned pitch black.

Throw it all into the ashes and slowly roast it until cooked through, then it's ready to eat.

Don't be intimidated by its appearance; the ash from burning wood is a medicinal material, known in traditional Chinese medicine as Baicaoshuang, which has the effects of stopping bleeding, eliminating stagnation, detoxifying, and reducing internal heat.

In rural areas of Guizhou and other places, this method is used to cook pig liver, which is said to be effective in treating night blindness in middle-aged and elderly people.

This is the first time we've had a proper meal since leaving the grasslands, and Top and I are both very satisfied with it.

After the meal, I turned my attention to the remaining fatty meat and lard that had been processed.

This wild boar is undeniably fat, and I'm looking at those white, fleshy patches with some concern.

These are good things; if you have a suitable container, you can render them into lard, which has a wide range of uses.

However, I eventually came up with a way to store all that lard.

I had peeled off that pigskin completely earlier, and now it comes in handy.

I dug a large hole in the sand near the stream with a stick, then placed the whole pigskin in the hole, with the edge of the pigskin draped over the edge of the hole.

I poured the rendered lard directly into the pig skin. My pot was of limited size, so I had to render the lard three times before it was all rendered.

Because it was near a stream, the pit under the pigskin was naturally damp and cold, which was perfect for cooling the lard and letting it solidify into a white paste, making it easier to carry.

After dealing with the wild boar, the next challenge was the Titanoboa, which was as thick as a water bucket.

I peeled the python's skin off completely from head to tail, like taking off a sock. A complete tubular skin is sometimes more valuable than other skins that have been peeled off.

Following the principle of not letting go of anything useful, I also added this python skin to my collection.

It took me nearly three hours to cut the remaining large amount of snake meat into long strips and put them on a rack to smoke.

Doing all these miscellaneous things takes up a whole day.

I felt it was a bit of a waste to leave the skeleton after processing it, so in the evening when I was smoking the meat, I used a cleaver to chop off all the ribs of that wild boar.

Back in the big city, spare ribs were more expensive than meat. These chopped spare ribs would allow Top and me to eat our fill.

Because the pot was too small, we couldn't stew it all in one pot. So we only stewed one rack of pork ribs.

To bring out the best flavor in the ribs, I broke the large bones of the wild boar's limbs and extracted all the marrow to make a milky white and fragrant broth.

The remaining half of the spare ribs was prepared by following the example of outdoor food vloggers: they were given a massage with salt to infuse flavor, then brushed with lard and roasted over a fire until golden brown and sizzling with oil.

Top and I each held a roasted rib bigger than our heads and gnawed on it until our mouths were dripping with oil. When we got a sore throat from eating so much, we would drink a bowl of milky white broth made from bone marrow and ribs to soothe our throats.

Such carefree and joyful days were hard to come by even back in my hometown.

The wild boar was now being used to its fullest potential, with Top and I squeezing out every last bit of its usefulness.

There was so much jerky; the amount I caught in one hunt was almost equivalent to what I used to get in one or two months.

If the jerky is laid out too thickly, it won't dry easily. I can only keep turning the top and bottom layers of jerky back and forth to make them heat more evenly.

Even so, we were still unable to finish processing all the jerky before dark, but it did dry out a lot of the moisture, making it less prone to spoilage than raw meat.

As long as the smoke from the grilling continues throughout the night, the meat won't spoil. It'll probably need to be grilled all day tomorrow for it to be completely dehydrated and preserved for a longer period.

I slept very restlessly in my hammock that night, checking the fire every now and then. I wasn't afraid of the meat being stolen, but I was afraid that animals would come and steal it after the fire went out.

As soon as it was light, I got up to check on the dried meat that had been smoked the night before. While I was in the tree, I noticed that the smoke from the smoking process below had lessened considerably.

This made me a little uneasy; I wondered if the shrinking fire would attract predators.

When I climbed down the tree to check the details, I instantly lost my composure.

When I left the meat overnight, I covered it with banana leaves to allow the smoke to better cure the meat, but the scene before me was a complete mess.

The banana leaves had already been turned over, and the flesh on them had been eaten without leaving a trace. Because the soil in this area was rather damp, many messy animal footprints were left on the ground.

When I saw these footprints, my pupils dilated again.

I remember the owner of these footprints all too clearly. Back in my hometown, we even crossed paths once, and they suffered quite a bit from the traps I set.

The owner who left these footprints was none other than the prehistoric beast that hunted tigers near the mountains east of the lake: the Sand Beast!

Now I understand, those sand monsters might have migrated from here to my place.

But the abundance of resources here is no less than that of my home, and may even surpass it. How could these prehistoric beasts have migrated all the way to my home?

The only thing I can think of is that they might be too powerful. Their population grew too fast, and without suitable living space, fierce competition among them forced them to migrate to my dwelling.

But I soon found out the answer, and after knowing the answer, I realized that my thoughts were too superficial, and that I had overestimated these beasts like donkeys.