HLM – Chapter 991 Drawing the Bow

Kea parrots were excellent at dealing with small possum. If the little possum were wiped out, the big possum wouldn’t stand a chance either.

Starting in mid-April, Sunset Town launched a full-scale possum extermination campaign. The rules of the event were announced: townsfolk could catch possum in town and exchange them for prizes.

Five possum could be exchanged for a bottle of beer, a box of toothpaste, or a small bottle of laundry detergent. Ten possum could get a medium bottle of detergent, a pack of cookies, or a can of fruit. Twenty possum could get a pound of ranch-raised pork, two chicken legs, or a bottle of milk.

The prizes were plentiful, and these examples were just a small portion. If someone caught 200 possum at once, the prize would be a whole leg of lamb—a very tempting reward for the townspeople.

Ranch-raised lamb was expensive. One hind leg cost at least 200 NZD!

The only one raising concerns was Dr. Yi. He complained to Wang Bo: “Mayor, you should have warned me first. The hospital doesn’t have enough vaccines for tetanus and plague. I need time to apply for and allocate them.”

Indeed, this possum-catching craze was risky. Wild possum were fierce—they weren’t easily caught, and even when captured, they would fight desperately. Careless people could easily get hurt.

Fortunately, Wang Bo had Kidd on his side, so he used some backdoor connections to get a large batch of vaccines delivered to the town.

Transporting vaccines required specialized refrigerated trucks, marked with the Quarantine Bureau logo. When people saw these trucks arriving in town, some even wondered if a biochemical crisis had broken out…

Wang Bo had to lead the extermination himself. He went to the ranch. To avoid disturbing the livestock, he didn’t allow townspeople to enter the ranch to catch possum. He took charge of the operation personally, with help from the kea parrots.

On the weekend, the sun hung high in the sky, warming the late-autumn grasslands.

In New Zealand, the coldest months are usually June, July, and August, but April and May weren’t very warm either—unless, like today, a blazing sun hung in the sky.

Wang Bo and Eva drove to the ranch together. Atulu, Uncle Bing, and others arrived shortly after. Uncle Bing’s vehicle carried a selection of crossbows, the best weapon for hunting possums.

Of course, guns were better—faster firing, easier to reload, and more powerful—but civilians weren’t allowed to own suppressors. Without a suppressor, a gun’s noise was too loud. Firing on the ranch could scare the livestock and make it hard to kill many possum.

Thus, crossbows were a solid choice.

These crossbows were rented from Mackson’s store by Uncle Bing. The old man had dozens of crossbows of various sizes and power levels—traditional bows, recurve bows, compound bows, straight-pull bows—you name it.

The compound bow was the massive weapon used by Rambo in First Blood. It had a pulley system; once drawn, it released tremendous power. A terrifying weapon, a must-have for experienced marksmen showing off while traveling.

Wang Bo was captivated by the compound bow’s appearance and wanted to try it immediately. But Atulu stopped him: “Boss, I suggest you use the recurve bow.”

A straight-pull bow’s limbs curve naturally in the direction of the string. A recurve bow’s limbs curve opposite their natural direction, like China’s traditional horn bow—a classic composite bow.

Wang Bo judged weapons by looks, as he had with guns. His SL8 civilian rifle, modeled after the famous G36, was stunning. He thought recurve bows lacked the “tech vibe” of a compound bow.

Atulu explained: “But it helps you develop interest in the sport. Don’t use a compound bow right away. If the string hits you once, you might never pick up archery again!”

Recurve bows have relatively low draw weight, so beginners with imperfect technique rarely suffer serious injuries—at worst, a reddened forearm. They’re also easier on the arrows, reducing the chance of accidents from poor equipment maintenance.

Compound bows, however, have much higher draw weights. Mackson’s models were designed for real cowboys, used to shoot cows, deer, and horses. Starting at 60 pounds, a strike could cut you open instantly.

Eva didn’t even want Wang Bo using a recurve bow. She handed him a light crossbow instead: “Use this. If you go with a bow, you might end the day empty-handed.”

Wang Bo was reluctant. He picked up a recurve bow and drew it fully—like a full moon.

His only prior experience with archery was shooting three arrows at Zhou Haojie’s wedding, without aiming. That seemed easy, but now hitting moving targets like possums was an entirely different challenge.

He could draw the bow easily—but couldn’t hit the target.

Everyone was watching, ready to laugh. Hunting possums was the hardest challenge, and a rookie like him hitting one was nearly impossible.

He released an arrow, unsure where it went. Luckily, he had assistants. They chased it down, retrieved the arrow, and saved him some face.

“Cool, that shot went far,” Atulu applauded.

Wang Bo reluctantly switched to the light crossbow Eva recommended.

“This is perfect for you,” Eva explained. “It even has a laser sight. Find the prey, aim, pull the trigger—almost no recoil, and the prey is yours.”

Wang Bo asked, “What are you using?”

Eva held up another light crossbow: “Teamwork. I follow your lead.”

“Your Chinese is impressive,” Qingyang joked. He also chose a light crossbow.

Uncle Bing and Peterson picked recurve bows, while Atulu went with a traditional longbow.

Wang Bo asked, “Why not use a compound bow?”

Atulu smiled: “That’s not even a bow. Just a mechanical contraption. This is the only thing worthy of the name ‘bow.’”

Uncle Bing asked: “You really chose a longbow?”

“Of course. See, I’ve already chosen.”

Wang Bo asked, “Any particular reason?”

Eva explained: “Only the best archers use longbows. They’re powerful but demand high skill. A master archer with a longbow can even surpass a rifle.”

Li Xing chose a recurve bow. “When I was a mercenary, we used these. In war, survival matters more than looks,” he shrugged.

Atulu chuckled: “I was just showing off, not mocking you.”

An possum strutted out. It was large, about the size of a small rabbit.

Seeing it, Atulu’s eyes lit up. He waited until it paused to dig for roots, then suddenly raised his bow.