HLM – Chapter 51 Faint Green Mist

Thanks to its mild climate, almost all livestock in New Zealand are raised outdoors, even dairy cows are rarely kept in barns. However, “outdoor grazing” doesn’t mean just letting the animals loose on any patch of grassland. It means grazing them on one’s own pastures. The grass in these pastures is cultivated, not wild. This is because some wild grasses in New Zealand are toxic or simply not suitable for livestock consumption.

Normally, ranchers use electric fences to divide their pastures for rotational grazing. This method controls grazing intensity and balances pasture supply with animal demand. So, when Motak saw Old Wang adopting the most primitive free-range method, he was a bit surprised.

Old Wang didn’t explain. He was full of confidence in the “Heart of the Pasture,” believing that with its guidance and improvement, this hilly area would definitely become the best pasture.

Seeing Old Wang unmoved by his advice, Motak shook his head and said, “Even if I take a hundred steps back, buddy, you should at least pick a flat grassland for a pasture. This place has too many hills and slopes. I’d bet livestock won’t thrive here.”

Old Wang also shook his head and casually gave a reason: “Life is movement. Your pastures may look like free-range, but they’re still just glorified enclosures. What I’m doing is real free-range—I want these cattle and sheep to return to their natural instincts!”

“Careful they don’t return to their instincts so much they run off like wild cattle and sheep. You don’t even have fences,” a driver joked.

That concern was unnecessary. Judging by how much the commander and the Zhuang Ding missed the “Heart of the Castle,” it was clear just how attractive the “Heart of the Pasture” would be to livestock.

Besides bringing cattle and sheep, Motak also delivered two racks of lamb and a piece of veal. He said, “Try the meat from my ranch—it’s top quality. I promise, once you’ve tasted it, you’ll never want to buy that grain-fed supermarket meat again.”

Old Wang thanked him. With the ranch now officially established, he invited Motak and the others to stay for a meal. But Motak declined—he had a prior appointment to sell a calf.

The transport truck was opened, and the cattle and sheep stepped onto the pasture. Normally, animals get frightened in a new environment and refuse to leave the truck. But this time was different—whether cows or sheep, big or small, they leapt down eagerly, as if they couldn’t wait to explore the new pasture.

Once on the land, the younger animals, led by the adults, spread out. Some climbed the hills, others drank from the lake, and some began grazing—everything looked peaceful.

As for the Merino rams with their long, curled horns, they ran straight into a messy grove and immediately urinated, seemingly marking their territory.

Seeing this, Motak and his men were amazed. But Wang Bo offered no explanation. They couldn’t guess the reason and simply chatted about it for a while before leaving.

Wang Bo and Bowen then patrolled the pasture. Wang Bo said, “Cowboy, this place will be yours to manage from now on.”

“No problem,” the Bowen nodded, but then repeated the same advice Motak had given. “Boss, if you’re serious about this ranch, you should really replant the grass. Use pasture varieties like ryegrass, orchardgrass, tall fescue, alfalfa, or clover. You can’t just let livestock graze on wild grass.”

Old Wang replied, “I’ve got it covered.”

“I’m sure you do. But you’re not a Bowen, and running a ranch isn’t just about having grass and livestock. You need sheepdogs, horses, a vet… okay, maybe the Zhuang Ding is your sheepdog, and I can act as a vet, but what about horses?”

“I’ve got it covered.”

“Alright then, let’s hope you don’t end up losing money,” the Bowen shrugged and dropped the subject, seeing Wang Bo was set in his ways.

Until bedtime, Wang Bo kept the sand table open, monitoring the ranch area constantly.

Truth be told, he was still worried the cows or sheep might secretly run off. You couldn’t blame him—New Zealand sheep had a history. The world-famous runaway sheep, “Shrek,” was from the South Island.

On the bright side, thanks to the “Heart of the Pasture,” the calves and lambs weren’t afraid of the new place. They quickly recovered their natural vitality.

The problem was, they recovered too well. Once they got familiar with the area, they began running around all over the place, almost as if reverting to their wild ancestors.

Fortunately, they didn’t run outside the ranch—they stayed within the boundaries, roaming obediently within its limits.

Upon closer observation, Wang Bo discovered something new: the livestock had faint green lines on their bodies. The color was very light, but many small streams make a river—gathered together, these lines formed a floating green mist in the air.

At this point, Old Wang roughly figured out the source of the green mist: it was generated by new life within the territory. But not all life contributed—Charlie, Lister, and the construction workers had no green mist around them.

However, the fact that Charlie didn’t have a green line still puzzled him.

With the off-road vehicle available, Wang Bo decided to take care of another matter—getting a new SIM card.

Before leaving China, he had topped up his phone with 1,000 yuan of credit, but it had finally run out. Time to switch to a local number.

Before leaving, Wang Bo prepared clean water for the commander and the Zhuang Ding, and showed the commander the rice cooker, sternly warning, “Have fun with the Zhuang Ding, but if you scare him again, I’ll stew you!”

The commander blinked, flew up to the Zhuang Ding’s head, and lightly slapped it with a wing. The Zhuang Ding unhappily turned his head and chased the commander away, then sulkily ran under a tree to pee.

When the Bowen got into the off-road vehicle and checked, he immediately shook his head. “Nope. Not enough gas. We’ll probably break down halfway. Are we still going to Omarama?”

Wang Bo sighed, “Of course. Let’s go together, and leave Charlie at home.”

The off-road bike roared black smoke and bumped its way toward the small town.

New Zealand’s telecom industry is quite advanced—not surprising, considering it sits at the edge of the world. South of it is Antarctica, and due to its geographic isolation, it can’t rely solely on roads or satellite communication. Telecom is the most practical and essential mode of connectivity.

Omarama had a telecom service center. As a small town, many services and businesses were centralized for convenience. All major telecom providers had set up inside the center.

At the entrance stood a statue—it looked like a black wooden box made of plastic. Wang Bo circled it once, not recognizing what it was. Bowen said it was an old-fashioned telephone, and their farm used to have one.

At that moment, a woman in a sky-blue office uniform chimed in with a smile, “Yes, that’s a vintage telephone, sir. They’re quite valuable nowadays. If it’s an original, it could fetch over ten thousand dollars.”

She was likely a staff member at the telecom center. Not especially pretty, with freckles on her face, but her figure was curvy and attractive. Her bright smile and professional demeanor left a good impression.