HLM – Chapter 227 First Emergency Call

But wild animals and domesticated livestock were ultimately different. The sika deer were incredibly fast and agile. When Rottweiler tried to drive them away, they would change direction and flee, making them too far out of reach to do anything.

Zhuang Ding tried to chase after them, but Wang Bo stopped him. “You can’t do that,” he said. “The more you chase the deer, the more frightened they’ll get, and the less likely they’ll stay on the pasture. It’s better to just wait and see.”

The young Rottweilers were stationed at the ranch to manage the chickens, ducks, cows, and sheep—domesticated animals that couldn’t outrun them, so they were easy to handle.

With the Rottweilers left in charge of the pasture, the cowboys assembled a slaughter line to process cattle and sheep for sale at the convenience store.

By late August, the draw pool had accumulated enough lord energy to be used again.

Wang Bo made a draw. The pointer stopped once more on the “Heart of the Territory” spot, which disappointed him—he had hoped for another “Heart of Wealth.”

Still, the prize wasn’t bad this time either—it was a “Heart of the Supermarket.” Since he now owned a convenience store, it came in handy.

So he took the house-shaped supermarket heart and placed it over the convenience store on the sandbox model. A faint green hue appeared on the building’s exterior, and floating lord energy in the air began to infuse into it.

Two days later, curious about the convenience store’s performance and any changes caused by the heart of the territory, he headed in to check during some downtime.

As soon as he entered the store, he didn’t notice any immediate changes. Anderson, who was ringing up a customer, waved him over. “Boss, wait a moment—I’ve got something to report.”

Wang Bo figured the supermarket heart must’ve triggered something unusual, and Anderson had noticed the effects and wanted to report them.

But after the customer left and Anderson handed him a cup of coffee, he said, “Boss, we need to change our strategy for selling chilled meat in the convenience store.”

Wang Bo had already noticed this earlier while strolling through the store—the chilled meat had sold out completely, and the row of big freezers was empty.

He chuckled and asked, “Change what exactly? From what I can see, the meat’s selling well. Are you thinking of opening a dedicated store for it?”

“If needed, that’s definitely an option,” Anderson said. “These past few days, every time we stock fresh meat, it’s all been bought up by one…”

Halfway through his sentence, Wang Bo’s phone suddenly rang. He answered, and Atulu’s anxious voice came through: “Boss! There’s been an accident on Highway 8—looks bad. We need to get there fast!”

In New Zealand, police officers also handle traffic duties. Upon hearing the news, Wang Bo downed his coffee and said, “There’s been a car crash. We’ll talk about your issue later—I have to go.”

Since the town’s patrol SUV hadn’t arrived yet, Wang Bo temporarily used a pickup truck as a patrol vehicle. He picked up Atulu, and the two of them sped eastward along the highway.

About ten kilometers east of the town center, traffic slowed dramatically. From afar, Wang Bo saw a man and a woman lying on the ground beside two twisted bicycles.

When the pickup arrived, both Wang Bo and Atulu quickly jumped out. Wang Bo immediately called the Oak City emergency center—the two injured people didn’t look good. A large amount of blood stained the road, and one of the bicycles was twisted like a pretzel.

Two cars had stopped on either side of the accident scene. One look told Wang Bo these weren’t the offending vehicles—both were intact without a scratch.

The two vehicles were flashing their hazard lights, clearly trying to protect the injured.

Wang Bo parked the pickup nearby. A blond middle-aged man approached and waved. “Buddy, please step back. This is a crash site. Don’t just stand around.”

Since the pickup lacked police markings or a siren, it wasn’t obvious it was a patrol car.

Wang Bo showed his badge, and the situation became clear.

“Oh, you’re a local officer? Please, arrange for an ambulance quickly. Also, check the traffic cams at the intersection—the car fled the scene!” the middle-aged white man said urgently.

Wang Bo’s brow furrowed at that. Damn it—his first case in town turned out to be a hit-and-run? So this was a test of his investigative skills.

The ambulance was already en route, but as per protocol, Wang Bo and Atulu had to provide first aid as police officers.

However, both were amateurs, totally untrained in emergency trauma care. They didn’t dare risk touching the two injured people.

Still, they couldn’t just stand there. Atulu said he knew a bit about bandaging. Wang Bo looked at him skeptically. “You sure? Don’t make things worse.”

“I should be okay. Back in my gang days, I was the one who patched people up. I wasn’t much good at fighting, so I handled support.”

They had a first aid kit in the truck with hemostatic spray and gauze. Wang Bo gave the nod, and the Māori man quickly went to treat the two injured people.

Their injuries were serious—large bruises covered their bodies, and their limbs were twisted in unnatural angles. External trauma was obvious.

Wang Bo worried about internal bleeding, but both of them were still semi-conscious, so things might not be too dire.

As Atulu bandaged the bleeding points, Wang Bo asked, “Hey sir, how are you feeling right now?”

The man was Asian like Wang Bo, though his skin was darker—probably from Indonesia or Malaysia. He looked at Wang Bo fuzzily and murmured, “It’s you… it’s you…”

Wang Bo figured he had a concussion. His words were slurred and incoherent, so he didn’t press further.

Since he couldn’t do much on this side, Wang Bo turned to investigate the fleeing vehicle.

The white man who’d spoken earlier described what he saw. “They were riding their bikes by the roadside. Then a silver sports car sped up from behind. It was going fast—maybe the tires hit some gravel, and it suddenly veered and hit them…”

Wang Bo took down the key details. “You said a silver sports car—do you know the model? Did you have your dashcam on? There might be something useful on it.”

The man shook his head. “Couldn’t see clearly. I didn’t have my dashcam on. After hitting them, the car quickly turned around and sped off the way it came.”

Another driver then chimed in. “It was a Nissan GTR. A lot of people call it ‘Godzilla’—a real road menace. I saw it just as I arrived. Must’ve been that car.”

“Did you have your dashcam running, sir?”

“Yes, officer, I did—but I doubt you’ll get much from it. That car was flying!” the man with a mustache replied.

_{Nissan GTR ‘”Godzilla’}