HLM – Chapter 176 Contacting the Maori Tribe

After a whole afternoon of training, the little Rottweilers finally learned four basic commands: sit, stand, stay, and go.

By the time the session ended, when Wang Bo tried to speak, he was horrified to find his voice completely wrecked—raspy and hoarse, utterly unpleasant to the ear.

Juan quickly made him a cup of tea and said, “Boss, drink some water to soothe your throat. You were shouting way too much.”

Wang Bo was filled with despair. “Why are these dogs so dumb?!”

Bowen shrugged and said, “Boss, it’s not that they’re dumb—this is just normal. You can’t expect every dog to be as clever as Zhuang Ding.”

At that, Charlie looked puzzled. “That doesn’t make sense. Zhuang Ding is a Mastiff, and their breed has a lower IQ than Rottweilers.”

“The reason is simple—Zhuang Ding is a genius among Mastiffs,” little Bartier chimed in cheerfully.

The Bartier CEO nodded in agreement and looked lovingly at his son. “Yes, he’s a genius. Do you know why? Because he eats a lot. He has a big appetite. The more he eats, the smarter he gets.”

In order to help his son develop a healthy relationship with food, the CEO really pulled out all the stops.

Wang Bo pressed down with his hand—signaling the pups to sit. The little dogs obediently sat, raising their heads to curiously look at him.

They performed the action quite neatly, surprising Charlie and the others. “Wang, didn’t you say these Rottweilers were stupid? Look how smart they seem!”

“You call this smart?!”

“F**k, if this isn’t smart, what is? You have to remember—they’re dogs. Dogs! Not humans!”

Wang Bo fell silent, staring at the young masters, who all looked back at him with strange little expressions, as if saying, “Now you see how capable we are, huh?”

Two days later, Bartier came to talk to him. “Wang, I want to ask you a favor. Look, I’ve been away from the bank for over a month now. If I don’t go back soon, it won’t look good.”

That was true. Wang Bo nodded. This time, The Bartier CEO had really stayed in the castle for quite a long stretch. Every day, he only gave instructions via phone calls, which made Wang Bo secretly envious: Look at him—what a relaxed boss.

“There’s some stuff at the bank that I need to handle, so I’d like to ask you, buddy—can you take care of my son for me? I’d be very grateful.”

Bartier looked sincerely at Wang Bo. At that moment, he was no longer the formidable financial tycoon, but just an ordinary father who cared about his child.

Wang Bo agreed. Little Bartier was obedient and well-behaved—way more manageable than the little rascal Hani.

Wang Bo had a good impression of Bartier. He was a man with a high EQ. Based on his net worth, he was in a completely different league from the others at the castle, yet he was the easiest to get along with.

Seeing Wang Bo agree, Bartier turned to look at his son with a pained expression. “Damn it, I really want to quit my job and stay by my son’s side. Damn it, I owe him too much!”

Wang Bo was surprised. “Old Bartier , my good buddy—from what I can see, you’ve already done plenty.”

As a bank president, he was willing to set aside his work for over a month just to spend time with his son. That’s not something just any father would do.

The CEO rarely showed a look of sorrow and melancholy. He muttered, “No, buddy… It’s not enough. I’ve done too little… and far too late.”

Wang Bo felt like there was a story behind that. He searched for a little stool, ready to sit and listen to a tale from the CEO. But the CEO didn’t respond—he simply gazed pensively at the scenery below the mountain and started smoking.

The smoke swirled into the air, his melancholy flowing like water.

After lunch, Bartier left by helicopter. Little Bartier kept waving but wore a calm expression. Wang Bo looked at him curiously, and the boy shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

Wang Bo didn’t know what to say. Little Hani came over and said enviously, “Your dad is really good to you.”

Little Bartier shook his head wistfully, seemingly disagreeing with that statement. Zhuang Ding walked over, shaking his doggy head for some unknown reason. Little Bartier immediately brightened up and began chasing after the dog happily.

At the door, Little Wang clumsily got to its feet, staggered a couple of steps, then fell again. It looked discouraged, lying at the entrance and howling at Wang Bo.

With a sigh, Wang Bo walked over and gave it a hug. Little Wang nuzzled its big head into his chest, clearly feeling encouraged, and its mood perked up again.

A couple of days later, an unfamiliar call came in. Wang Bo picked up, and the voice on the other end said, “Mayor, this is Sanders. My girlfriend’s tribe is planning to leave Wanderer Town. What are your thoughts?”

Without hesitation, Wang Bo replied, “Can you arrange a meeting for me? I’d like to talk to their chief.”

The Māori tribe was a chaotic group—chaotic in terms of composition. Before British and French colonizers arrived, the land belonged to the Māori people, who were split into many tribes that frequently warred with each other.

Later, when the British and French came, the Māori united against the foreign threat. But they still clung to their tribal identities and customs. Even today, a single Māori community might contain members from multiple ancestral tribes.

Each Māori tribe had its own chief. But interestingly, the chief wasn’t necessarily the strongest, the smartest, or the wealthiest person in the tribe.

Even though Wang Bo knew this, he was still surprised when he saw the Māori man sent to talk to him—it was a familiar face. When he first arrived in Auckland, the Moyni Loan Shark Company had sent some guys to intimidate him. This man had been one of them.

Wang Bo remembered him clearly. His body was covered in tattoos of fierce fish and venomous creatures. He stood over two meters tall and weighed more than two hundred kilograms. Back then, Wang Bo had taken him for the boss—he was the only one Wang didn’t knock down.

Seeing this man again, Wang Bo’s mouth twitched. “You’re… the chief of your tribe?”

The big guy looked uneasy and nodded. He mumbled, “My name’s Aturu. My grandma was the priestess of Otutu. I’m the chief.”

Wang Bo was stunned again. “You speak English? Then why were you speaking Māori back when we had that conflict at the hotel?”

The big man Aturu swallowed and scratched his head awkwardly. “Back then… I was so scared I went dumb…”

Wang Bo almost choked on his own breath. How do Māori people even choose their chiefs? Based on body weight?

Seeing his silence, Aturu became more anxious and said softly, “Can we just let that whole thing go? I got thrown in jail because of it. I was punished… It was really rough for me…”