HLM – Chapter 38 Scheming Little Boy

Old Wang really wanted to curse, but he didn’t dare—this little brat of a commander learns everything slowly, but when it comes to cursing, he picks it up lightning fast.

Still, that might be a good thing. He figured that spending time with this little parrot would gradually cure his foul-mouthed habit.

Zhuang Ding squatted to the side, watching them curiously. His eyes were wide, but aside from looking dopey, he didn’t show any other personality traits.

Old Wang looked back at the commander again—nimble, his ass. The bird looked just as dumb.

Shaking his head, Old Wang let the commander fly off and left. The commander wasn’t about to let him go that easily. It flapped along behind, shouting, “Ah! Ah! Where are you going?!”

“To cook! Gotta cook for you two masters!” Old Wang replied grumpily. Then he suddenly stopped in shock and turned to look at the commander. That question the bird had just asked—it wasn’t something a normal parrot could say.

But the commander, true to form, couldn’t perform when it counted. Just when Old Wang was hoping for a few more golden phrases to prove the Heart of the Soul was working, the parrot reverted to its old nonsense—flying around squawking incoherently like before.

After that draw from the lottery, the green mist over the sandbox had faded again. Wang Bo guessed it might be the activation energy from the Lord’s Heart. But how was it replenished?

He had no idea.

After Wang Bo left to cook, the commander perched on the back of his chair and watched him go. Once sure he was gone, the bird hopped onto the seat and stared intently at Zhuang Ding.

Zhuang Ding glanced sadly around. The castle was big, sure—but there was no happiness for him here. What was he supposed to do?

He stood up to leave, but suddenly the commander opened his beak and shouted, “Ah! Come here! Ah! You ugly thing, come here!”

Zhuang Ding, being a young Mastiff and still not fully understanding language, tilted his massive head in confusion and looked at the parrot strangely.

The commander rolled his little eyes, then squawked a few more times. Seeing Zhuang Ding still unmoved, it flew over and landed right on his nose.

Zhuang Ding went cross-eyed, staring at the little parrot in total confusion.

“Ah! Ah! I’m the Commander! Commander! Commander!” the bird loudly emphasized its title.

Zhuang Ding still didn’t get it. He continued to look adorably dumbfounded.

The influence of the Heart of the Soul was gradual. The commander’s little brain wasn’t even the size of a walnut. He hadn’t learned many words yet. After repeating himself a few times, he ran out of things to say and began scratching anxiously at Zhuang Ding’s mouth.

That tickled Zhuang Ding’s nose, and with a startled sneeze, he opened his mouth. The commander squawked in fright and flew off, feeling insulted.

“Ah! Ah! Your mom exploded! Ah! Here’s some poop for you!”

He tried his old trick—pooping on Zhuang Ding’s head. But the young Mastiff, surprisingly nimble for his size, quickly dodged. The bird poop hit nothing. Zhuang Ding just kept looking up at him, eyes blank as ever.

Realizing his ultimate move had failed, the commander was furious. He wanted to unleash another ultimate attack, a diving bomb this time.

But alas, bird intestines weren’t designed for that kind of ammo reserve. He strained, but no poop came out. He was devastated.

Zhuang Ding watched him for a while, then trotted off to the big tree on the west side, where he peed and pooped in one go.

This infuriated the commander. The parrot took it as a challenge, a taunt, a display of digestive superiority. He vowed revenge.

At breakfast, Wang Bo fried up some bacon and sausages. Bowen had cereal with skim milk, plus bread and sausage—eating happily.

As usual, Wang Bo prepared fruit for the commander, and for Zhuang Ding he opened a bag of dog food, tossing in some sausage and bacon for extra protein. He even gave him a bowl of milk—Zhuang Ding was far too thin.

Back at the public shelter, Zhuang Ding never got treatment like this. Shelters had no income; the dogs mostly ate expired supermarket food. The taste and nutrition didn’t compare at all.

Chomping down hungrily, Zhuang Ding found the sausage especially delicious. Tilting his head, he glanced at the commander and nudged a piece of sausage toward him.

Wang Bo smiled and patted his big head, praising, “Good job. Zhuang Ding’s a good boy.”

But the commander didn’t appreciate the gesture. Parrots hate oily flavors, and now the fruit smelled greasy. He couldn’t eat it. With one claw, he kicked the sausage away, flapped his wings, and yelled, “Ah! Bastard! Ah! Your mom exploded!”

Old Wang hated this bad habit of the commander’s and grabbed the bird angrily. “No more saying ‘your mom exploded’! If you’re upset, just say ‘dad,’ got it? Say ‘dad’!”

The commander tilted his head, a small black eye staring strangely at him. Slowly, it said, “Ah! I’m the commander. Ah! Not dad!”

Old Wang was furious. He picked up Bowen’s fork and waved it threateningly.

The little parrot, terrified, flew up immediately, wailing, “Ah! Commander! Ah! I’m the commander!”

Wang Bo had no choice but to give in with a sigh. “Fine, fine, you’re the commander. Not just the commander—you’re my dad too. You leaders are all the people’s fathers now.”

Zhuang Ding looked up at the parrot. Though a bit depressed lately, the Mastiff’s protective instincts were still strong. Sensing Wang Bo’s displeasure, he barked twice at the commander.

And just like that, the fuse was lit—the commander officially started to dislike Zhuang Ding.

Later that morning, Wang Bo went to clean up the castle rooms. He planned to tidy the master bedroom, which, aside from the bed, table, and wardrobe, was filled with junk. Definitely not antiques. Safe to throw out.

While Wang Bo was away, the commander’s eyes darted around, full of mischief. Then it flew into the main keep.

Meanwhile, Zhuang Ding was running around the courtyard—his natural element. Mastiffs love the outdoors and need space to run, which is why they don’t suit small homes.

The castle made him feel at ease. He chased falling leaves, chewed on weeds, and eventually spotted a mouse. Instantly, he gave chase.

The mouse scurried out of the castle. Zhuang Ding, coming up empty, trotted back, dejected.

After all that sprinting, he was tired. Sniffing around, he stepped lightly into the house to find Wang Bo.

He had just reached the second floor when—WHUMP—a white cloth suddenly flew around the corner and landed right on top of him!

Zhuang Ding yelped in terror. Instinctively, he tried to flee, but the cloth blinded him. He crashed into a wall.

Outside, the commander cackled gleefully: “Ah! I’ll eat you! Ah! I’ll eat you! Ah! I’ll eat you!”

Zhuang Ding scrambled up and tried to run again—BANG—he crashed into another wall. The pain and fear overwhelmed him, and he curled up and let out pitiful wails.