HLM -Chapter 777 It Really Was an Event

Atulu brought the loudspeaker back — an old-fashioned megaphone. Wang Bo climbed up onto the hood of the police car, took a deep breath, and switched it on:

“Refrigerators, microwaves, televisions, pliers—everything you need, we’ve got it all, everything you could want!”

The loud, high-pitched voice boomed out suddenly, startling Wang Bo so badly that he fumbled to switch it off, then glared furiously at Uncle  Bing. What the hell was that?! That was your voice!

Uncle Bing looked embarrassed. “Uh… during the warehouse clearance sale, I used the megaphone’s recording function. I forgot to delete the ad.”

Wang Bo could only delete the recording first. By now, the demonstrators had burst into hearty laughter.

Their laughter struck right at his momentum—it collapsed instantly.

Still, Wang Bo forced himself to steady his mood and raise his anger value again:

“What’s so funny? You’ve got the nerve to laugh? Just now—yes, just now! What did you say? You insulted Officer Atulu!”

“Don’t look away—it’s you, Della! I heard you say it! You called the Maori people parasites! You called Officer Atulu a parasite!”

“And you, Siegel! What nonsense did you spout? You said Sunset Town would be better off without Officer Atulu! That’s your attitude toward him? Really?!”

“Search your hearts, everyone—what kind of man is Officer Atulu? He’s diligent, he’s responsible, he’s devoted to protecting this town’s safety and every single one of its residents! He shields you all—and now you turn around to hurt him? Why would you do that?”

The crowd fell silent. Then whispers broke out.

“Who called Atulu names again?”

“Damn, Della’s screwed. He said the Maori were parasites!”

“I heard someone else shouting that too.”

People began rolling up their posters and banners, slipping away with their heads down.

“Demonstrations are protected by our sacred constitution,” Wang Bo continued, “and I welcome everyone to speak out. But not at the expense of hurting our family! Officer Atulu is our family!”

The big Maori man was moved to tears. “Boss, thank you!”

Wang Bo gave him a firm nod. “Atulu, you’re my subordinate and my brother. Don’t worry — I’ll always treat you as a friend. I’d never harm you.”

But the townsfolk weren’t so easily fooled. Someone shouted back:

“Mayor, we didn’t attack or hurt Officer Atulu — he shoved us first! And besides, isn’t today’s protest supposed to be about the transportation price hikes?”

Wang Bo pointed at the speaker and bellowed:

“He shoved you because he thought you were about to attack me! He was protecting me—his brother! And today’s event isn’t about any so-called transportation price hike or ticket increase. Today is about testing how you treat your fellow townsfolk!”

In moments like these, Wang Bo used the “whack-a-mole” tactic: whoever spoke up first, he smacked down immediately. Crush the first head that pops up, and the rest will keep quiet. Sure enough, everyone fell silent again, tucking away their signs and banners.

Behind him, Conley whispered to another officer, “The boss is so damn dominant.”

“Totally. If he’d been born during World War II, he’d have been another Hitler.”

“For real—his speechmaking skills are on par with Hitler’s.”

“And his brutality’s no worse either!”

After Wang Bo’s string of verbal “kicks,” the demonstrators’ morale deflated. Many shouldered their placards and left.

But a few refused to give up. One shouted:

“Mayor! The Transport Bureau isn’t raising prices to cover costs — they’re just trying to push the NT-HOP card!”

The NT-HOP card was New Zealand’s universal transport card. People could use it on buses, ferries, even planes — a national all-in-one travel pass.

However, each top-up carried a small fee — only 25 cents — but Kiwis hated it because it meant prepaying money to the government. Individually it was trivial, but with millions of cards in circulation and each holding $100, that was over a hundred million dollars effectively fronted to the state.

Previously, there had been a financial scandal: banks had invested the funds from these prepaid cards for profit. New Zealanders felt their rights were being violated.

So when the townsfolk accused the Transport Bureau of raising prices to push NT-HOP, it wasn’t groundless. Cardholders would now enjoy greater discounts — increasing from 10% to 20%.

On the surface, that sounded great, but the New Zealand government had a track record: heavy discounts during promotion, then quietly canceling them once they monopolized the market.

Kiwis weren’t fools — they already foresaw how this would end.

Wang Bo raised his hand grandly and declared:

“Sunset Town will set up an independent transit line using the old fare rates — no NT-HOP card required!”

“Oh yeah!”

The crowd cheered, then most dispersed happily. The Protest was over.

As Wang Bo jumped down from the car, the bystanding tourists applauded — Chinese tourists especially clapped enthusiastically.

Chen Luoxian grinned. “Your performance just now was amazing. I have to give you 10,086 likes!”

Wang Bo said, “Performance? That wasn’t a performance — that was my pre-inauguration speech.”

“What?”

“A chance to win votes and gain people’s hearts,” Wang Bo explained.

A female tourist asked curiously, “Mayor Wang, so that’s it? You’re not going to pursue whoever organized the protest?”

“Pursue them? How? You probably don’t know — Protests in New Zealand are super common. For some people, it’s not really a protest. It’s a party. They treat it like a social event.”

Someone suddenly realized, “No wonder — I saw people bringing beer and roast chicken earlier.”

Indeed, a few folks hadn’t left. They’d set up sun umbrellas, pulled out solar panels from their cars to power fans, and were drinking beer and playing cards like they were on vacation.

About forty or fifty people remained. Wang Bo wandered over to see what they were doing.

“Hey, Mayor, come have a beer!”

“My wife’s roast chicken legs are amazing — want to try one?”

“Mayor, come play some poker? I’m a casino pro — I’ll teach you!”

The Chinese tourists: “…”