HLM – Chapter 1020 The Little Tyrant in the Air

Because of raising Zhuang Ding and the Fat Cat brothers, Wang Bo had gotten used to the slow growth of these pets. Little Meng was different; its changes were happening too fast, and Wang Bo could barely keep up.

Of course, Little Meng was still a young bird. Its body hadn’t grown much, but its downy feathers had been replaced with hard black ones. When it spread its wings, it could already fly.

Still, when it ran, it staggered as if it were clumsy. Wang Bo had previously thought this was because it was too young to run properly, but this was actually characteristic of hybrid falcons when running. Despite the clumsiness, it was still fast and could maintain its balance.

At the edge of the forest, when Wang Bo gave a flick of his arm, Little Meng understood it needed to take off. It immediately flapped its wings and rose into the air. Its flight was slow but steady, and it landed firmly on a treetop.

The Commander and the Political Commissar were still wary of the forest around Bird Nest Heart. Every time they came here, they would get roughed up by the kea parrots.

The kea had settled here. Unlike most birds, they didn’t form large flocks; during the breeding season, about ten birds lived together. In autumn, when food was scarce, they would unite, sometimes forming flocks of over a hundred. They arrived in Sunset Town in autumn, so the flock was already sizable. More birds had joined, and though Wang Bo didn’t count exactly, there were at least 250 birds.

These kea were unlike ordinary birds. They didn’t nest in trees but preferred the ground, building nests among roots, leaf piles, or shrubs.

Now, the grove looked like Japanese bunkers during the war. Every few steps there was a nest. Wang Bo and the others had arrived in the morning, so most birds were usually out hunting. But not the kea. They were homebodies, peeking out of their nests curiously to observe the newcomers.

These birds were naturally curious and incredibly lazy—true “Maori among birds.” Just like Maori people might work for two days to earn some money and then relax, the kea stayed in their nests when full, avoiding hunting. On a fine day like this, instead of catching possums, they would nap in their nests.

There were exceptions. If they noticed movement outside their nests, one might come out, check, then panic and rush back with a half-eaten possum.

Little Meng looked on enviously. The forest was complex, and these birds could run fast—it was something Little Meng couldn’t do.

The Commander and Political Commissar cowered on Wang Bo’s shoulders. Wang Bo had once tried to let them command the birds, but that proved to be a dream—they always got bullied instead.

The kea poked out their heads and, recognizing the Commander and Commissar, leaped out energetically. Wang Bo could read their intent: “Damn, these two idiots are back for more abuse. Let’s get them!”

“Whoosh whoosh whoosh”—a flock of large birds rushed out.

Atulu was holding a large loaf of bread and eating it when a few birds targeted him. Suddenly, they swooped in to snatch the bread. Surprised, Atulu’s hand was pecked and hurt, and he quickly let go. The bread fell, and the birds swarmed it, tearing it apart and flying off with pieces.

“Damn it! I’m gonna wipe them out!” Atulu howled. “My cream bread! I only took two bites!”

The kea had given him the opportunity, and many more hovered nearby. They either watched the humans with curiosity or eyed the Commander and Commissar with hostility, creating a tense atmosphere.

Feeling the birds’ animosity, the Commander and Commissar pressed close to Wang Bo’s head. With someone present, the kea didn’t dare be too aggressive. But Little Meng was alone, perched on a branch. Seeing more birds encroach on its territory, the flock had a new target. One kea flew straight at Little Meng.

Kea were aggressive, the top bullies among birds, and bullying the Commander and Commissar had inflated their confidence. Little Meng, smaller than them, faced the kea with determination.

Unbeknownst to the kea, Little Meng had been observing them since they appeared. Young falcons don’t hunt yet, but they know how to fight. Adult falcons teach them to find and catch prey, but if a fight comes to them, no instruction is needed. This was evident in how Little Meng dealt with the Commander earlier.

As the kea flew closer, Little Meng initially froze. At the last moment, it flapped its wings upward, causing the kea to overshoot and land clumsily on a branch. Little Meng then dived—

In just a blink, covering over two meters, Little Meng landed on the kea’s back and pecked fiercely. The kea felt the terror it had inflicted on sheep before. Its usual crisp “KEA” call turned into a high-pitched, agonized “Gah gah gah!”

Its feathers flew everywhere like falling snow. The other kea nearby, witnessing this, scattered in panic—they lacked the courage of falcons and the unity of ravens.

Little Meng was still young and couldn’t fully subdue the kea, which struggled violently before flapping away to safety.

“Little Meng, go! ****!” Wang Bo shouted. Normally, the mother would teach the chick to hunt, but Little Meng had the Heart of Soul, giving it remarkable understanding. Wang Bo’s gestures and shouts were enough for it to comprehend.

Fluffing its black feathers like armor plates, Little Meng charged forward, flapping into the air.

Young falcons aren’t fast, but compared to these clumsy kea, Little Meng was a fighter jet among combat birds.

It chased the kea, flying above it, gripping its back with both claws. The kea screamed as more feathers were torn away. Eventually, it escaped and hid in a hole on the ground.

Little Meng’s fierce gaze swept the area, spotted another kea, and flew off in pursuit once more!