The snow began to fall right on schedule at three in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. The entire group at the farm spent a pristine, white holiday surrounded by the mounting drifts.
The snowfall started light but intensified as night fell. It didn't stop until dusk the following day. By the time the skies finally cleared, Hunter's sprawling properties were entirely blanketed in white.
Slat had originally planned to return to Los Angeles immediately after Christmas. The beautiful lockpicking master was a workaholic who took her security company very seriously.
However, Hunter easily convinced her to stay. She ended up lingering at the farm for an entire week. It wasn't until after New Year's that Hunter finally allowed the thoroughly satisfied master thief to head back to LA and resume running her business.
During that blissful week of isolation, Diana attempted to call one more time. Hunter rejected her yet again.
He was far too busy enjoying his rare downtime. He gathered Damon, Yen, and the two young girls, Mathilda and Mindy, for a winter hunting trip up the mountain. With the heavy snow driving wild boars and deer out to forage, they spent a few thrilling days tracking game through the woods.
Once the novelty of hunting wore off, Hunter spent the next three days upgrading his properties.
He reinforced and patched the wire fencing surrounding the perimeter of his farms. While he was at it, he personally designed and dug out a network of small canals.
He had purchased a mini-excavator half a month prior. While the small machine wasn't meant for heavy commercial engineering, it was perfect for residential farm work. More importantly, Hunter bought it strictly as a cover for his System Inventory.
Using his extradimensional storage to instantly displace tons of earth to dig trenches or pools was incredibly efficient, but it would easily raise suspicion if anyone saw the impossibly fast results. The mini-excavator provided the perfect mundane alibi for his miraculous landscaping speed.
He put that alibi to good use for Sam.
Sam had lived near the ocean for a long time and loved to swim. Hunter had already built a standard swimming pool for her at the farm, but it was far too small. He decided to use his "excavator" to dig out a massive artificial lake for her. It would serve as a reservoir, a fishing pond, and a spacious place to swim.
Using prefabricated architectural timber he had ordered, Hunter also constructed three specialized wooden cabins across the property. Building them was basically like snapping together giant blocks. He just needed to secure the key joints with nails to ensure structural integrity.
Thanks to his relentless physical labor over the past few weeks, Hunter's core physical attributes had finally broken past a major threshold. He was now over six times stronger, faster, and tougher than a standard adult male. Operating with the efficiency of an entire construction crew all by himself was effortless.
But the physical stat boost wasn't his only major breakthrough.
The surge in System experience was largely driven by his Cooking skill. He had been relentlessly preparing gourmet meals for his large household to universal acclaim.
Finally, on Christmas Day, Cooking became the very first of Hunter's skills to hit Level Max.
Just like his other leveled abilities, a maxed-out Cooking skill came with a supernatural passive effect. The passive was highly unusual. Not only did his food now possess an unparalleled, intoxicating aroma, but he could also actively inject specific emotions into his dishes while cooking.
Hunter could freely choose the emotion. He could weave joy, fury, hatred, or sorrow directly into a meal, forcibly altering the emotional state of whoever ate it.
The psychological effect was temporary, generally lasting around half an hour. The stronger the target's willpower, the weaker the emotional influence and the shorter the duration.
Hunter honestly hadn't figured out a practical use for this bizarre passive yet. He was already a billionaire. He didn't need to open a Michelin-star restaurant to make money. He only continued accepting assassination contracts because they paid obscenely well and he genuinely enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.
For now, the mind-altering culinary skill was just a neat party trick.
Leisurely days always seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Two weeks flew by in a flash.
Bang!
Bang!
Click.
Gunfire echoed across the newly built makeshift shooting range at Sunshine Farm.
Hunter stood a short distance away, watching Yen stubbornly practice his marksmanship. Men were naturally drawn to firearms and cold steel, much like women were drawn to cosmetics and designer bags.
The moment Yen secured his temporary green card and moved into Sunshine Farm, he had begged Hunter to take him to a local firearms store. The acrobat had eagerly purchased several handguns and hunting rifles.
The novelty still hadn't worn off. During their winter hunting trip in the mountains, Yen had watched Hunter drop a wild boar with a single, flawless shot. Even Damon had effortlessly bagged several rabbits and squirrels. Yen, however, had unloaded both his pistol and rifle at a stationary wild deer and missed every single shot.
Humiliated but determined, Yen had pleaded with the incredibly handy Hunter to build him a private range at Sunshine Farm.
Yen now spent an hour every single day practicing his aim. Unfortunately, the master thief possessed absolutely zero talent for firearms. Even after weeks of practice, his hit rate on a ten-meter target was barely sixty percent. At twenty meters, he was lucky to land a single bullet out of a ten-round magazine.
"It looks like your friend really doesn't have a talent for firearms," Damon commented from the sidelines.
Having avenged his wife and reunited with his daughter, the former vigilante's personality had shifted dramatically. The rigid, unsmiling killer was slowly returning to the realm of the living, occasionally showing flashes of genuine humor.
Hunter chuckled and nodded in agreement. It was painfully obvious that Yen wasn't meant to be a shooter.
Both Hunter and Damon were master marksmen. Since their three farms bordered one another, they visited frequently and had both tried to coach the acrobat. Nothing worked.
Yen's current accuracy at ten meters wasn't due to skill. It was purely muscle memory beaten into his arms through the sheer waste of thousands of rounds of ammunition.
Even Maggie, who had the worst shooting aptitude of anyone in Hunter's household, performed vastly better. Under Hunter's guidance, she could at least guarantee she wouldn't miss the broadside of a target at twenty meters.
Tired of watching Yen butcher the paper targets, Hunter decided to change the subject. He looked at Damon, noting the relaxed posture of the hardened killer.
He pondered his next words carefully before speaking.
"Damon. I know you used to be a decorated police officer."
"You probably look down on my profession as a freelance hitman."
"But I still have to ask." Hunter locked eyes with him. "Do you have any interest in becoming a professional assassin?"
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