HLM – Chapter 1019 Little Meng Leaves the Nest

Compared to an ordinary stove, meat roasted in a stone oven had a uniquely distinctive flavor.

Wang Bo tasted it carefully. He had assumed that, since the stone oven completely isolated the charcoal, the roasted meat would have a pure taste—just the aroma of beef and lamb.

But that wasn’t the case. The meat had a slightly salty taste and a faint astringency.

Atulu explained, “The Karuru stones contain salt and some minerals. When heated, they dissolve into the fat, giving the meat this unique flavor.”

After the meat, they started roasting vegetables and fruits. Unknowingly, they spent six or seven hours inside. After washing up and changing clothes, Wang Bo felt completely relaxed.

“We should come here more often,” Qingyang said comfortably, stretching.

Wang Bo nodded in agreement. Li Xing had a point—hot springs should be paired with little fish. He looked online and found that these fish were called “starfish,” and there were several breeding bases in New Zealand.

These starfish were unique to New Zealand, bred from male Turkish starlings and tropical females found in Africa. They were artificially propagated, measuring only 2–4 cm, with colorful spots, lively, hardy, and easy to raise.

The small fish weren’t expensive. Prices varied depending on the type and size, ranging from 20 cents for ten to 2 NZD. Wang Bo bought the best batch—ten thousand fish cost just two thousand NZD.

By mid-May, both the publicity van and rescue vehicle had arrived in Sunset Town.

According to the agreement, the publicity van had been slightly modified—the front and rear logos were enlarged tenfold, making them extremely noticeable.

Atulu was stunned when he saw it. “Wow! Is this a war vehicle? Why is there a shield on the front?”

The staff smiled awkwardly. “It’s our logo.”

Atulu blushed. “Oh, I see. I thought it was some sort of protective shield for safety.”

From the front, Wang Bo could see that Atulu wasn’t entirely wrong—the vehicle was indeed safer.

The publicity van drove around the town that day. Wang Bo shouted into its high-powered speaker; the sound carried far.

Later that month, he drew a “Heart of the Campus” token, perfect for a school. But after thinking it over, he placed it in the special education school instead.

The children there were pitiful, unable to experience the beauty of life. Every time Wang Bo visited Eva, seeing kids either expressionless or vacant, he felt a pang of sorrow.

Special education schools were public welfare institutions, destined not to make a profit. Investing this token there was a pure charitable act.

Wang Bo realized that people should sometimes do charity. He had yet to carry out any philanthropic activities in town, so an idea formed.

At the end of the month, at work, he told Bowen, “You and the team think of a charitable theme. We need to do some public welfare work.”

Bowen laughed. “Are you saying we’re too idle? Looking for things to do?”

Wang Bo said, “It’s called social responsibility. Now go get to work. This time, we have to make it meaningful.”

During this period, New Zealand’s weather was unpleasant. From mid- to late May, cloudy skies lasted over ten days—not raining or snowing, just uncomfortable gloom.

By the end of May, the weather finally cleared. It was the weekend. Wang Bo woke up to bright sunshine and immediately felt refreshed.

During breakfast, Eva said, “You have to take Little Meng out for training. Falcons need a lot of practice; otherwise, they can’t dominate the skies.”

Whether peregrine falcons or gyrfalcons, they were late-maturing birds. They grew fast—within a month, their feathers were strong enough to fly.

But after fledging, the chicks didn’t immediately leave their parents to live independently. They continued to stay with their parents for a while, being fed and cared for, and receiving hunting and survival training.

Wang Bo didn’t know much about this, so he took Little Meng to the computer to look up related information.

Coincidentally, the BBC had a falcon documentary with such a segment.

When young falcons start learning to hunt, their parents catch a live pigeon and deliberately release it, letting the chicks practice chasing and hunting.

At first, the young falcons would charge wildly but fail to catch the pigeon, almost losing confidence. Then, the accompanying mother falcon would intervene—grabbing or wounding the pigeon to slow it down—allowing the chick to continue chasing and attacking.

This training lasted one or two months. When the young falcon successfully caught prey for the first time, it was then allowed to leave its mother and survive independently.

Actually, Little Meng had started learning a bit late. Because of its large appetite, it grew quickly, from a chick twenty days ago into a pigeon-sized bird.

As the ornithologist had said, Little Meng was a hybrid falcon. While peregrine and gyrfalcons had black-and-white feathers with white predominating, Little Meng was completely black.

While watching the documentary, Wang Bo realized he had made a big mistake. He had assumed, like Commander and Commissioner, that Little Meng liked perching on railings, so he usually let it stand on the balcony.

But falcons prefer platforms. The farm had falcon perches. Standing on a railing for long periods could cause pododermatitis—a deadly disease.

Fortunately, the “Heart of the Nest” could maintain and heal its body. Little Meng’s claws weren’t fully grown yet, so the railing was like a small perch, not harmful to its claws.

Under the bright sun, Wang Bo drove it to the grove near the nest. With the Heart of the Nest’s blessing, the forest was ideal for training Little Meng.

Commander and Commissioner accompanied them. Little Meng perched on Wang Bo’s shoulder. Its black feathers clung like arrows, its eyes sharp and bright, its beak curved and pointed. Turning its head, it looked majestic.

“Three hundred sixty feathers, none match the mighty sea eagle. Born with gold spirit and fiery virtue, extraordinary talents reflect the starry brilliance!” Li Xing said, admiring Little Meng.

Wang Bo asked, “What?”

“It’s a poem praising the mighty sea eagle,” Li Xing explained.

Wang Bo chuckled and patted Little Meng’s head. “Little Meng isn’t just any sea eagle. Soon, you’ll see the power of the fiercest falcon!”

Little Meng obediently raised its head, eyes fierce, chest broad, wings firm, looking even more magnificent.

Commander flew over, trying to land on Wang Bo’s shoulder. As soon as it landed, Little Meng lunged and bit.

Commander was startled, flapping up and shouting, “Ah! Bad bird! Ah! Bad bird!”

When Commissioner landed, Little Meng remained calm but still wouldn’t let Commander get near Wang Bo.