HLM – Chapter 148 The Ranch Starts Making Money

Mo Yuning was highly efficient—by the next day, she had already sent a draft plan to Wang Bo. The town still had no internet, so he had to download the document on his phone to view it, which was quite inconvenient.

“We need to install broadband,” Wang Bo said when he met Hani.

Hani nodded in agreement. “Yes, we really should. I’m using a mobile data stick for work right now, and it’s very inconvenient.”

Wang Bo was a little surprised. “Hey, old buddy, you can work online?”

Hani pulled out a USB-shaped device and grinned. “Mobile data stick. You gotta have one. But it depends on the signal. The signal here is terrible—just opening a webpage is a struggle.”

He shook his head helplessly. For someone as impatient as him, the slow speed was enough to drive him mad.

While the two of them were discussing setting up a signal tower, a white Honda Accord pulled up in front of the town’s convenience store. A burly Māori man wearing sunglasses stepped out.

When the car door opened, Wang Bo casually glanced over and saw a pair of binoculars hanging on the inside of the door and a DSLR camera on the dashboard.

“What’s this, a photography enthusiast?” he joked offhandedly.

Hani didn’t pay it any attention and shrugged. “Who knows?”

After finishing his coffee, he tossed the disposable cup into the trash can and strolled off unhurriedly. He seemed quite content with his current job—light workload, good pay, and the occasional chance to be with his son.

Wang Bo found the Māori man’s behavior a bit suspicious. The man had bought food and drinks for four people, yet no one else got out of the car. Whoever was in there preferred to stay cramped inside rather than come out, which raised Wang Bo’s suspicions.

He was about to go over and check when a large hauler appeared at the far end of Highway 8, and his phone rang: “Mr. WB from Sunset Town? Your Optimus Prime has arrived. Please prepare to receive it.”

The call instantly lifted Wang Bo’s spirits—his giant truck had finally arrived!

He kept in touch by phone as the delivery driver located him and pulled over. On the flatbed trailer behind the truck, a fiery red cab gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.

The actual name of the truck was the Peterbilt 389. It had a striking design—with a ten-meter-long cab, 2.6 meters in width, and 4 meters in height. It was an iconic model of American heavy-duty trucks. Next to it, even the aggressive-looking “Marauder” SUV looked like a dwarf.

Of course, this comparison wasn’t really fair to the Marauder. One was meant to transport people, the other cargo—they served very different purposes.

Wang Bo had chosen the model’s classic paint scheme: a deep blue base layered with fiery red flame decals, giving it a wild, untamed look.

Two salespeople came with the truck. They showed him all the paperwork, gave him a general tour of the vehicle, and explained the interior layout as well as the mechanics of the engine and transmission.

Unlike the truck cabs Wang Bo had seen back home, this heavy-duty model had a dashboard filled with instruments—it looked more like the cockpit of a helicopter.

In addition to standard gauges like the tachometer, speedometer, and odometer, it had thermometers, compasses, GPS, suspension controllers, and all kinds of other dials—an overwhelming array.

After looking over the front, one of the salesmen took Wang Bo to the sleeper cabin in the back.

Just seeing the space back there, Wang Bo could hardly believe it was part of a vehicle. Besides bunk beds, there was a dining table, fridge, wardrobe, air conditioning—even an electronic cigarette lighter.

“This isn’t a truck—it’s a full-on RV,” Wang Bo marveled.

The salesman laughed. “Exactly. We know truckers are often on long hauls, so comfort is key—it helps reduce fatigue.”

As he spoke, he pulled down a panel from above, revealing a flat-screen TV. The cab was wired for signal—he could turn it on and watch it right away.

Wang Bo wasn’t very familiar with trucks like these, but the cowboys certainly were. He called Bowen and the others, and seven of them came driving over. Ian hopped into the cab, started it up, and drove it around with ease.

The vehicle checked out, and the paperwork was all in order. Wang Bo paid the bill and bought it on the spot—for a whopping 500,000 New Zealand dollars. Not cheap at all.

Having received his “Optimus Prime,” Wang Bo suddenly remembered the suspicious Honda Accord—but it was already gone, so he didn’t think much of it and drove back to the ranch.

The ranch now had a blockhouse-style building. The cowboys had moved in—it was two stories with fourteen rooms and a fenced-in yard made of wooden planks. It looked great.

Coincidentally, the day after he dropped half a million on the truck, the big-time buyer Sharp Carlinston arrived.

This German businessman dominated New Zealand’s high-end food market. Around fifty years old with a full head of silver hair, he showed no signs of aging—rosy complexion, full of energy. Upon meeting Wang Bo, he gave him a bear hug that nearly knocked the wind out of him.

Once acquainted, Sharp said in his gruff voice, “That beef and lamb Bartier brought back—is it from your ranch? Absolutely phenomenal! Young rancher, you’ve done an outstanding job. I have to give you credit.”

Wang Bo took him around the ranch in a pickup truck. They drove in a full circle, checking out the herds of cattle and sheep, which at least helped reassure him.

The “Heart of the Ranch” was powerful. The cattle, sheep, chickens, and ducks were all growing fast and healthy. Especially the sheep—their wool was clean and bright white, destined to be high-quality fleece.

During the visit, Wang Bo was surprised to see that the deer population on the ranch had increased. There were now over a hundred sika deer, and even some massive red deer had appeared. When the truck approached, they thundered off in a magnificent stampede.

Sharp, an expert in agriculture and animal husbandry, quickly grasped the immense potential of the ranch. After getting out of the truck, he exclaimed, “Wang, this ranch is fantastic. I swear, even with just this one ranch, you could become one of New Zealand’s top ranchers.”

If his initial praise had been polite, this time it was clearly genuine.

Wang Bo smiled modestly and thanked him. He let the old businessman choose livestock to be slaughtered on the spot to inspect the meat quality firsthand.

Sharp didn’t hold back—he chose two Romney sheep, two Boer goats, and one Simmental cow. He also noticed some livestock of a different breed and asked in surprise, “Is that a Chinese Yimeng Black Goat? Am I seeing things? How’d that kind of goat end up on your ranch?”

Wang Bo was equally surprised. He hadn’t expected Sharp to be so sharp-eyed and knowledgeable—able to identify even regional Chinese goat breeds.