HLM – Chapter 122 Ranch Sales Begin

Wang Bo hadn’t expected his first-ever town ruling-class meeting to end so uneventfully—no beating drums, no firecrackers, no lavish floral arrangements. It left him rather disappointed.

That said, the atmosphere wasn’t bad. Everyone joined forces to tease Bowen, roasting him non-stop. Though the meeting lacked a specific agenda, it didn’t feel dull.

There were some takeaways, after all. The town’s first “Five-May Development Plan” was drafted—focusing on grassroots construction during the first five months. This included setting up electrical systems, water supply and sourcing systems, internet infrastructure, and more.

On these matters, Hani was an expert. Though he’d never overseen town construction himself, he had plenty of experience watching others do it—like someone who’d never eaten pork but had seen pigs run. Having lived in many small towns, he could offer Wang Bo plenty of advice.

After the meeting ended, Wang Bo once again invited Hani to stay at the castle. After all, there were more than enough spare rooms, and it’d be livelier with more people around. Plus, Kobe was in charge of cooking, so Wang Bo wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

Hani declined, and little Hani visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

Wang Bo wasn’t pleased. He turned to the middle-schooler and said, “You’re staying here to keep your dad company.”

The boy panicked. “No way! I want to stay at the castle! I sleep better there, the food’s better, and it’s just comfier all around!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. With two upgrades from the Castle Heart, the place could be considered level two by now. It was much more comfortable to live in—the air even felt fresher inside.

Hani smiled and said, “Mayor, don’t tease the kid. You all go ahead. I’m used to staying at my workplace. Besides, there are a few empty rooms on the second floor here. It’s pretty decent.”

The teenager finally showed a sliver of respect toward his dad, which left Hani both surprised and curious—just what kind of allure did that castle hold that could charm this rebellious donkey of a son?

A few days after the meeting, Buck drove into town. He came in a Chevrolet pickup with a cage in the back, saying he was here to buy some sheep.

It had been a week since the charity auction ended. It was now mid-March, and no one had come to buy any cattle or sheep. Wang Bo had started wondering if Charlie’s pricing had scared off the small-town residents.

Charlie’s price had indeed made folks hesitate for quite a while—over a thousand bucks per sheep was a bit steep for them.

Omarama wasn’t like Wellington, a big city with deep-pocketed folks. Sure, there were a few rich people here, but most were working-class with very modest incomes—about three to four thousand a month.

According to what Wang Bo knew, New Zealand’s minimum wage was NZ$14.25 per hour. For casual jobs—like students working at KFC, McDonald’s, or Burger King—that’s typically what you’d get.

Technically, New Zealand’s official report from last year listed an average annual salary of NZ$72,731, which breaks down to over six thousand a month per person. But few believe those reports—every time one is released, a wave of criticism follows.

So doing the math, Wang Bo’s whole lambs sold at ten dollars per pound. The Boer goats he raised had the highest meat yield—around 50%. That meant the actual meat that ends up in people’s mouths cost NZ$20 per pound.

Since beef and lamb are staples in New Zealand, a family could easily consume two to three pounds a day. That’s around NZ$50 per day—quite a burden for a household making just over NZ$3,000 a month.

So Buck came complaining about the high price of meat.

Wang Bo smiled amicably and said, “We’re friends, mate. I can give you a discount—how about 20% off?”

That made Buck ecstatic. For one sheep, a 20% discount saved him two to three hundred dollars!

This time Buck wanted two sheep. Wang Bo explained, “Romney sheep taste better, while Boer goats have a higher meat yield. You decide which you prefer.”

Buck blinked and asked, puzzled, “Isn’t Boer goat meat the tastier one?”

Boer goats are a specialized meat breed—they’re leaner, have lower acid content in their meat, and taste better. Romney sheep are a dual-purpose breed (for meat and wool), so they’re generally inferior in taste.

But things were different on the ranch. The flavor of the meat here depended entirely on how long the animals had been under the influence of the Ranch Heart. Romney sheep had been there twice as long as the Boer goats, so their meat had improved more.

Wang Bo gave a vague explanation, and Buck didn’t push further. He said, “How about this—one Boer goat and one Romney sheep. I’ll try them both.”

That sounded like a solid plan. So they all hopped in the truck and bumped along the dirt roads toward the ranch.

The ranch had expanded in scale by now—cattle, sheep, chickens, ducks, pigs, and geese were everywhere. There were even wild boars showing up now and then.

Among the lush green pastures, the most eye-catching animals were the two breeds of sheep. Both Romney and Boer sheep had primarily white wool, making them stand out.

It was Buck’s first time at the ranch. His first reaction was, “Oh, shit! Look at this wool—so clean! It’s white like a plate fresh from the dishwasher!”

Wang Bo laughed and said, “Thanks for the compliment, mate. Obviously, my sheep are just like me—clean freaks.”

But Buck quickly followed up with, “My God, Wang, your ranch has no boundaries? Why not fence everything in?”

Wang Bo launched into his usual spiel—that penned-up livestock produced inferior meat, and that letting animals roam freely allowed them to return to their natural instincts, resulting in tastier meat.

Buck gave him a dubious look. “Aren’t you worried the animals might wander off your land or get stolen?”

New Zealand wasn’t exactly a crime-free utopia. Due to loopholes in the law, petty theft was actually quite common. But Wang Bo wasn’t concerned—very few people even knew he had a ranch.

Catching the sheep was simple. Wang Bo asked Buck which one he wanted. Buck drove around for a bit, pointed at a chubby Romney sheep, and said, “Let’s start with that one. It’s gorgeous.”

Target identified, Buck stopped the car and grabbed a rope, ready to make his move.

Wang Bo waved his hand and smiled, “No need, mate. Watch this.”

He called over Zhuang Ding, the mastiff shepherd dog, and pointed at the chosen sheep.

Upon receiving the command, Zhuang Ding shot out like a rocket. His four paws blurred as he charged toward the Romney sheep, knocked it over in one swift move, and pinned its neck with his paw.

Buck was stunned. “Wang, your assistant is amazing! Look at that form—so skilled. You must train him often.”

Wang Bo just smiled without saying anything. Training? Please—after a single demonstration, Zhuang Ding had pretty much trained himself into a top-tier sheepdog.

The Romney sheep weighed about 150 pounds. With the discount, it came to NZ$1,200.

Compared to Romney sheep, Boer goats were a bit trickier to catch. Sheep generally have poorer mobility than goats, and New Zealand’s Romney sheep were particularly lazy—they could stay in one spot for days.

But for Zhuang Ding, catching a Boer goat only took about ten more seconds.

Once Buck picked out a goat, Zhuang Ding had it pinned on the ground, and Wang Bo just had to go tie it up.