HLM -Chapter 1277 Evil Meets Its Match

Wang Bo hated him so much he almost wanted to roast the man into jerky. This bastard truly had no shame whatsoever.

Robert hadn’t come alone. He had brought two others with him—both carrying video cameras, press badges hanging from their necks, looking very much like reporters.

That was only natural. After all, Robert had been a town mayor for decades; he still had some connections in the media.

Wang Bo walked over and said coldly, “I say, don’t you feel any embarrassment at all? You’re really willing to let people film you like this? If I were you, I’d rather die.”

Mayor Robert replied indifferently, “When you have money, you’ll understand—what does losing face matter? As for dying? If you can stay alive, don’t die.”

Wang Bo said, “You know I could give the order right now to forcibly demolish this place, don’t you?”

Robert snorted. “I also know they wouldn’t dare do it. No amount of money you give them would make them dare.”

And it was true. Wang Bo might dare to give the order, but those people wouldn’t dare carry it out.

Atulu, standing nearby, was furious. “Boss, let me go up there and take that old skeleton apart—see how many pounds of bones he’s got, acting so damn arrogant!”

Robert craned his neck and said, “I only want money, Mayor Wang. I’m already old—don’t have many days left. But I want to live comfortably, so I need you to give me some money.”

Wang Bo sneered. “You’re truly insatiable. During all your years as mayor, you must’ve embezzled quite a bit, huh? Where did all that money go?”

Robert spat angrily. “Damn it, don’t slander me! I didn’t embezzle anything. Kid, you clearly don’t understand this job very well—how much do you think one can really embezzle in a position like this?”

Indeed, in New Zealand, embezzling as a civil servant was extremely difficult.

Wang Bo said, “I don’t care how much money you have. You’re sure you want to make trouble for me, right?”

Robert shrugged. “I’ve said it already. I want money.”

Wang Bo tapped him on the chest and said, “I can’t deal with you myself—but remember this: gentlemen are always better at fighting than hooligans.”

Robert said, “I’ll be waiting to see your methods.”

Wang Bo turned and left. Atulu asked, “Boss, what do we do? Want me to get my old buddies to deal with this old bastard? They’re very good at handling scum.”

Wang Bo smiled lightly and said disdainfully, “There’s someone more suitable to take action.”

He made a call to the mayor of Wanderer Town, the Glorious Hero. When the call connected, he said, “Putaemonra, it’s me—Wang. I’ve got some interesting news for you. Do you remember the former mayor of Tahiti Town, Robert, who called the police back then and cut off your source of income? I’ve found him.”

In just half an hour, several off-road vehicles came roaring in, led by a Hummer H2.

Because of its exhaust emissions, this model had already been discontinued in New Zealand. It was hard enough to buy one—getting it legally on the road was even harder.

Needless to say, the driver was that flashy guy, the Glorious Hero himself.

Following Sunset Town’s lead, Wanderer Town was making quite a bit of money these days. After all, it was a purely Māori settlement, and many domestic tourists were intensely curious about it.

Relying on food, performances, and handicrafts, the Māori people of Wanderer Town were earning money they’d never been able to earn before. As both mayor and tribal chief, the Glorious Hero naturally had much deeper pockets.

The Māori didn’t save money—once they had it, they enjoyed it immediately. The Glorious Hero was already restrained by their standards; he’d saved up to buy this vehicle and then spent a fortune getting it approved for road use.

The imposing, domineering Hummer charged forward, crossed a ditch, smashed through a stretch of fencing, and barreled straight up to the captain’s wooden cabin.

Robert jumped in fright. Glancing at the vehicle, he shouted at Wang Bo, “This is your method? Huh? Hiring gangsters? Come on, let the reporters film it—shit!”

The Glorious Hero got out of the car. Wearing sunglasses and sporting a head full of small dirty braids, his hulking frame made him look even more stylish than before.

“Hey! Old bastard!” he grinned as he stepped out, flashing a mouthful of gleaming white teeth, like a wolf.

Robert’s expression finally changed. Panic crept in as he said, “Putaemonra, my friend—fancy meeting you here. What a coincidence.”

The Glorious Hero took off his sunglasses, squatted in front of him, and said, “Coincidence? No, no, not at all. To find you, you piece of trash, I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time and effort.”

“But the gods have been kind to me—I finally found you.” As he spoke, his smile grew more smug—and more vicious.

Wang Bo looked kindly at the two reporters and reminded them, “Gentlemen of the press, the two mayors haven’t seen each other in a long time and want to catch up. Are you really going to film that? Wouldn’t that infringe on their privacy?”

Taking the hint, the Glorious Hero stood up and nodded to his Māori subordinates. “Get these idiots out of here. Tell them to go eat shit!”

One reporter snapped angrily, “Watch your mouth—”

Two big Māori men blocked him and said, “You’re discriminating against us Māori! You’re insulting our faith—you’re evil! You white people bully us, the disadvantaged group!”

The other reporter hurriedly explained, “No, no, brothers, we’re not discriminating against you.”

“You’re not only insulting us, you’re provoking the dignity of the Māori people! To defend the honor of our tribe, I challenge you to a duel!”

“White people are terrible—but this isn’t a hundred years ago!”

“Throw them into the gutter and let them rot slowly! Let them know the consequences of provoking Māori dignity!”

Several Māori men shouted as they shoved the two reporters around. They weren’t afraid of media exposure at all.

One reporter yelled angrily, “You’re being completely unreasonable! Is there no logic with you people?”

A Māori man replied bluntly, “That’s how uneducated people like us are!”

When scholars meet soldiers, reason gets you nowhere.

This was no longer a situation where logic could be discussed. The two reporters were from some third-rate outlet—if they’d been from the Herald, they wouldn’t have been afraid at all and would’ve stood their ground.

The Māori weren’t stupid. They might be uneducated, but every one of them was shrewd. If the reporters had confronted them head-on from the start, they wouldn’t have dared to be so arrogant. But once the reporters backed down, they knew they’d found soft targets.

And so, amid pushing and kicking—one slower reporter even took a boot—the two men clutched their cameras, sprinted back to their car, and the Toyota Corolla made a quick U-turn before disappearing.

Wang Bo looked at Robert sympathetically. “Mayor, your helpers are gone.”

The Glorious Hero grabbed Robert like a scrawny chicken and hauled him up. “Come on, come on, Robert—come sit at my place. Let’s discuss the compensation issue.”

Robert struggled desperately. “Don’t use your bandit tricks on me—it won’t work, Putaemonra. I wasn’t the one who reported your pirated music production line back then. It wasn’t me—it was, it was someone jealous of you!”

“Of course it was you, damn it—you were jealous of me! You think I’m stupid? If you don’t pay me compensation this time, I’ll lock you up in the tribe and make you a mascot to earn money!” the Glorious Hero snarled through clenched teeth.