Even if he sold everything he owned to scrape together the initial funding, could a 21-year-old with no mining background apply for a gold mining permit on his own?
What will the approval officials at the state mining authority think of him?
Even more critical is the risk of information leakage.
From the moment he submitted his exploration application to the state government, the existence of this mineral vein was no longer a secret.
The exploration application is a public record, and anyone can access it.
Alaska mining oligarchs, Anchorage investment funds, and even multinational mining companies will smell blood.
They have a legal team, a lobbying team, and connections in the state legislature.
Can an independent small landowner stand against the capital power of an entire industry chain?
Although the 1971 Indigenous Claims Act did not leave any mining rights reservations on his land, the legal provisions are still valid.
As long as the potential profits are large enough, someone will always find a new angle to enter the market.
There are many ways to circumvent regulations, such as reinterpreting clauses, initiating property rights lawsuits, or applying for compulsory expropriation on the grounds of public interest.
Su Wei fastened his helmet back on and pulled down his goggles.
The lens reflected the snow-capped southwest ridge of the Pillar Mountain, and the hazy horizon in the distance.
Beneath his feet, in the frozen ground, lay a priceless snake, but he was powerless to pull it from the earth.
Not at least not now.
It's not a matter of lacking a bit of effort, it's a matter of lacking an entire system.
Funding, team, industry resources, political connections, time window—everything was zero.
Su Wei twisted the throttle, and the snowmobile's engine emitted a deep roar.
The tracks rolled over the snow, turned around, and headed back towards Emerald Lake.
The return trip is faster than the outbound trip.
On the downhill section, gravity worked, and the snowmobile reached a speed of 60 kilometers per hour.
A cold wind blew in through the edge of the goggles, cutting into the skin on both sides of my cheeks.
Forty minutes later, the dark brown roof of the wooden house came into view at the edge of the horizon.
Su Wei parked the snowmobile in the garage and turned off the engine. White steam billowed from the exhaust pipe from the residual heat of the engine.
He took off his helmet; his hair was pressed against his forehead, and he was sweating lightly.
Pushing open the door of the wooden cabin, a wave of warmth enveloped me.
The Homestead Shelter) buff is activated.
The fatigue that had accumulated in my muscles all morning began to ease, and the tension that had been building up between my shoulder blades for four hours slowly released.
Cotton Candy bounced off the blanket in front of the fireplace, whimpering as she rushed over, placing her front paws on his calves.
Su Wei bent down and scooped it up. The white fur ball's nose was icy cold, brushing against his chin and leaving a little dampness.
"You're back."
He put the Cotton Candy on the sofa, took off his windbreaker, and hung it on the hook in the entryway.
The geological hammer was removed from the belt loop and placed back on the tool rack.
I went into the kitchen and turned on the tap to wash my hands.
The mud and quartz powder stuck to the mountain were washed away by the hot water and disappeared as they swirled down the drain.
Su Wei dried her hands and was about to heat up a bowl of leftover oatmeal porridge from yesterday.
My phone rang in my pocket.
Caller ID: Charles.
Su Wei paused for a moment while wiping his hands.
He stared at the name on the screen for two seconds.
Connect it.
" Su Wei."
Charles's voice came through the receiver, calm and unhurried.
Are you free lately?
Chapter 234 Prey and Hunter
" Su Wei."
Charles's voice came through the receiver, hoarse and steady.
His voice was flattened, each syllable compressed, slow and deliberate, as if he were reciting each word over his tongue before releasing it.
Are you free lately?
Su Wei tucked the hand towel back onto the kitchen hook and leaned it against the edge of the counter.
"Please speak."
A very short breath came through the receiver; it wasn't laughter, but more like confirmation.
He made sure the other person didn't immediately jump up and say, "Of course I'm free."
Charles liked the reaction.
This young man acted exactly the same way last time we were at the museum.
When others lined up to ask him to do them a favor, Su Wei would always be put on hold for a while.
"I have two family members," Charles said.
"My grandson and granddaughter are twenty-two and nineteen, respectively."
"I was raised in Seattle's greenhouse, and my bones have become limp."
He paused for a moment.
"I want to bring them to Kodiak to experience the real wilderness."
"It's not one of those wilderness shows packaged as resort attractions."
"It's real frozen ground, real biting winds, and the kind of place where you really have to chop firewood by hand to get a fire."
Su Wei switched the ear to hold the phone.
The refrigerator compressor started automatically, its humming sound particularly clear in the quiet kitchen.
Charles, 78, is the financial tycoon of Seattle.
Last time, I had a whole bear feast in the Chart Room.
He left satisfied.
As he left, he only said, "I will come again."
Now, he has arrived.
"How many people?" Su Wei asked.
"Three. Me, and the other two."
Do you have outdoor experience? Are your grandchildren/grandchildren?
"Zero."
Charles's answer was so straightforward it was almost pleasant.
"Otherwise, why bring them here?"
Su Wei walked out of the kitchen and stood by the living room window.
Outside the glass, the ice surface of Emerald Lake stretched out under the afternoon sunlight, ending with the snow-covered outline of Pillar Mountain.
1.8 kilometers.
Eleven effective mineralization points.
8.74 grams per ton.
These numbers crashed into my mind without warning, tumbling around under Charles's steady voice.
This morning, he rode a snowmobile along the entire F-3 Fault Zone line.
The mineralization signals obtained from Substrate Analysis scans are densely packed in an encrypted memo.
A gold mine that had been dormant for sixty years lay nestled deep within a hundred acres of frozen soil at his feet.
Legally, the mine belongs to him.
Parsons confirmed it, and Howard also confirmed it.
But between possessing and giving away, there is a wall he cannot cross.
Exploration companies, environmental impact assessment approvals, mining permits, and mineral processing infrastructure—each of these involves expenditures in the millions or even tens of millions of dollars.
The two million in his account wasn't even enough to meet the minimum threshold.