HLM -Chapter 1325 Snatching the Kill

The stoat’s bite was vicious; Wang’s finger was torn badly, a large chunk of skin ripped off.

Seeing the princess pin down the stoat, he didn’t take the chance to exact revenge but shouted, “Mind your mouth! Don’t kill it!”

The princess shook her head, dragging the stoat back with light, quick steps. The stoat became obedient—white foxes are known for their speed and strength, and by the time she had pinned it down, it had already lost half its life.

Blood from Wang’s finger kept flowing uncontrollably. Cousins urged anxiously, “Boss, hurry to the hospital for a shot—be careful of rabies infection!”

Peterson also said, “Yes, boss, the chance is low, but if you get infected, it’s 100% fatal. You can’t take that risk.”

Hearing this, Wang got scared and called Doctor Yi, “Can the hospital give a rabies vaccine? I got bitten by a stoat—what bad luck!”

Doctor Yi laughed, “You got bitten by a stoat? Better get a plague and tetanus shot. As for rabies—why bother? Rodents don’t carry rabies.”

Wang hesitated, “Really? Just to be safe, should I get one anyway?”

Doctor Yi sighed, “Don’t be too afraid. Rabies isn’t as contagious as you think. Studies show rodents can’t transmit it. Besides, there hasn’t been a rabies case in the Auckland area for twenty years, meaning the virus has been eradicated here.”

Wang valued his life, but he wasn’t a coward. Since the doctor said it was safe, he stopped panicking.

Peterson disinfected Wang’s finger thoroughly and bandaged it. When picking up the stoat again, Wang wore gloves—now even if it bit, he had nothing to fear.

He paraded the stoat in front of the little ones, then placed Zhuang Ding in front, letting the stoat loose.

Zhuang Ding lunged, opened its mouth—crunch—the stoat was completely dead.

Wang gritted his teeth in anger. He had intended to let the little ones practice hunting so they understood to catch stoats, not other animals. But Zhuang Ding’s single bite split the unlucky stoat in two—practice was unnecessary.

Luckily, the little ones were smart. They hadn’t understood their task at first, but after the stoat bit Wang, they assumed he wanted revenge. By accident, they learned their duty.

After Wang gestured, the little ones scattered into the pasture to start searching.

Little Meng flew back and brought the entire flock of kea parrots. In one year, their numbers had doubled—growing larger and larger.

The pasture had bows and crossbows. Wang took a crossbow to accompany the little ones, helping them search for stoats.

Not long into the search, an ATV drove over. Ye Qipeng asked, “Little Wang, what are you doing?”

“Hunting,” Wang replied.

Hearing this, Ye Qipeng’s interest piqued. “Hey, take me along! What are we hunting?”

“You can come, but no guns—you have to use a bow or crossbow,” Wang said. “We’re hunting New Zealand stoats—they’ve killed a lot of birds here.”

Hearing no guns, Ye Qipeng lost interest. “Bows? I’ll pass. I’d rather shoot targets.”

Wang said, “If you want hunting, it’s easy. I’ll take you up the mountains tomorrow or the day after. You can hunt stoats, wild rabbits, and possums. If lucky, wild boars too.”

Stoats prefer forests; after clearing the pasture, Wang would need to sweep the mountains.

Ye Qipeng asked, “You have so many chickens, ducks, and geese—why not turn it into a hunting activity, or add them to the shooting range? Just shooting clay pigeons is boring.”

Wang laughed, “Do you know their value? Sending them to a range—who could afford it? A single shot costing 100 NZD? No market for that. Besides, animal protection laws in New Zealand forbid commercial activities that kill animals for fun.”

The last point was key. New Zealand had strong animal and bird protection associations—Wang dared not offend them; they were moral fanatics.

As they talked, Little Meng let out a sharp cry from the sky and dove down.

Wang ran toward its dive point—Little Meng had spotted a stoat.

Sure enough, it soon flew up, gripping a stoat in its strong talons, already dead.

Wang whistled loudly to gather the little ones, holding up the stoat to show them. “This is it! Look, Little Meng caught it. Go, go!”

Little Meng perched proudly on his shoulder, head held high like a raptor.

Zhuang Ding ran with its nose to the ground, sniffing. After a few minutes, it stopped, lifted its head, sniffed carefully around, and caught the scent. Stoats, like weasels, have a musky smell. Zhuang Ding ran southwest, lowered its head, and began digging.

Wang ran over. Zhuang Ding’s big paws worked like small shovels, already making a basketball-sized hole.

The princess saw it, darted down, and soon emerged backward, holding a stoat with a bitten-to-death neck.

Wang was overjoyed, giving her a thumbs-up. “Well done! You’re amazing, princess!”

Zhuang Ding wasn’t happy, baring teeth at the princess and barking loudly.

Indeed, the princess had claimed the kill. But for Zhuang Ding to dig it out alone was impossible—the burrow was too deep, the entrance too small. It had to dig all the way down.

Wang patted Zhuang Ding’s head, praising it a bit too, but it still growled at the princess.

The princess ignored it and ran off—out of sight, out of mind.

Zhuang Ding looked like it wanted to chase, but Wang held it, planting kisses on its forehead until it calmed down.

Little ones fighting among themselves was easy. The Fat Cat brothers spotted another stoat and chased it.

Seeing Er Pang faster than himself, Da Pang jumped, pounced on the other, and knocked it down.

Little Meng swooped like a missile, killed the stoat with steel talons, then flew off to show Wang.

The Er Pang got furious, growled, and lunged at Da Pang, scratching and biting. Two fluffy meatballs were locked in a tug-of-war.