HLM – Chapter 992 The Rabbits’ Way Out

Atulu raised his bow high, the arrow shaft tilted almost forty‑five degrees toward the sky. Paired with his burly frame, his back view actually looked quite heroic to Wang Bo.

However, Wang Bo was puzzled. “A lob shot?!”

The moment he finished speaking, the arrow streaked out with a sharp whoosh, shooting diagonally into the air and then dropping down. Nearly half the shaft sank into the soil.

And the possum it hit was miserably pierced through.

Uncle Bing and Li Xing immediately clapped. “Amazing! Amazing! Amazing!”

Wang Bo hadn’t expected Atulu’s archery to be this good. That possum was at least forty to fifty meters away. Forty or fifty meters sounds close when you say it, but to a possum that small, that distance meant Wang Bo could barely see its position clearly.

Yet Atulu had still hit it dead-on with a lob shot. His skill was clearly extraordinary.

With a proud grin, the Māori man said, “I bet you’re curious how I became the chief of my tribe. This is the answer!”

“I always thought it was because of your grandmother,” Wang Bo said.

Dale chimed in, “I thought it was because you’re the fattest in your tribe.”

Atulu blinked. “Sure, what you said is also part of it. But mainly, it’s because I have the strongest bow‑hunting ability.”

Bow hunting is a traditional Māori skill, and they have preserved it well.

Eva looked surprised. “Your archery is this good—why don’t you play with your bow more often?”

Atulu shrugged. “I do. Just not in Sunset Town. We have a bow‑hunting club in Oak City. I’m a heavyweight member there.”

Wang Bo understood that at once. With that body weight, he definitely qualified as “heavyweight.”

The power behind the lob shot was terrifying. Half the arrow was buried in the ground, and Wang Bo had to pull hard to get it out.

As for the possum… it was too miserable to look at. Even Wang Bo felt bad for it—dying in such a tragic way was just unlucky.

“Here’s a fun fact—you probably don’t know this. The firing theory behind modern rifles is based on projectile lob. Every shot your SL8 fires is a lob shot.”

Atulu finally got a chance to show off.

Wang Bo truly didn’t know this. “Bullets are lobbed? No way!”

“Of course,” Uncle Bing said. “Otherwise why do you think rifles have sight ladders? During WWI, heavy machine gunners were hard to train because they fought using lob-fire—bullets arcing over their own charging soldiers and landing on the enemy.”

Atulu shrugged helplessly. His chance to show off had been stolen.

Still, he’d already displayed his greatest trick. After watching that demonstration, Li Xing, Uncle Bing, and the others stopped flaunting their “marksman” attitudes.

Uncle Bing even thought of switching back to a crossbow. British special forces rarely use bows—they prefer crossbows. But there were only five light crossbows available, and all already had owners, so he could only use the recurve bow.

The ranch was full of possums. Wang Bo had barely taken a few steps when one popped out of a hole.

He switched on the red laser to mark it, but the possum ran fast, and the grass obscured the beam. He couldn’t keep the laser locked on it.

Annoyed, Wang Bo simply pulled the trigger first and aimed later.

With a sharp whizz, the short bolt flew through the grass and hit the possum’s butt dead-on.

The possum died miserably. When Zhuang Ding brought it back, Qingyang rubbed his own butt and said, “If I get reborn next life, I’m definitely becoming a starfish.”

Dale asked, “Why? Because starfish are pretty?”

Qingyang giggled and didn’t answer, so Wang Bo explained for him. “Because starfish only have a mouth and no *******. This possum died from a butt-shot. Not only painful—humiliating!”

Unfortunately, that shot was pure luck. Wang Bo’s accuracy dropped immediately afterward; he missed every moving possum.

Little Wang grew impatient. After another miss, it launched forward like a tank equipped with a high‑speed rail engine—boom boom boom—charging ahead.

The possum spotted it and nearly died of fright. Luckily, there was a hole nearby; it dove into it instantly.

Little Wang ran up and looked around, then came back empty‑pawed.

Zhuang Ding, seeing this, immediately showed his “big brother” attitude. He dashed forward, found the hole, and used his giant paws like digging shovels. In moments, he had enlarged the hole to the size of a washbasin.

The possum inside was probably stunned. Meeting such a determined predator was its bad luck.

Possum burrows aren’t very deep. After enlarging the entrance, Zhuang Ding fetched the Princess. She poked her head inside, reached in with her little paw, and soon dragged out a fat possum.

Then she crawled in, and each time she came out, she carried a baby possum in her mouth.

The whole litter—gone.

“That’s killing the babies too… Boss, this is species extermination…” Kidd said weakly.

Wang Bo lifted his crossbow. “If you don’t cut the roots, the weeds grow again! I want to exterminate them! Although it’s just a dream.”

“Isn’t this too ruthless?”

“When they eat the roots of my grass, why don’t you say it’s ruthless? Without roots, the pasture grass also faces species extermination!”

There were so many rodents on the ranch. In a blink, several more possum appeared—one even boldly climbing onto a female possum.

A red dot locked onto them. Wang Bo aimed and fired.

With the laser sight, the crossbow was very accurate. He’d only missed before because moving targets are hard to hit.

The bolt flew out, pierced the male possum, and continued through the female. Kidd walked to Elizabeth and whispered, “Boss is too brutal. He causes a massacre every time.”

Elizabeth gave him a calm glance. “Take your hand off my shoulder. Speak properly. Why are you holding me?”

Aside from possum, they also caught plenty of rabbits. Wild rabbits reproduced almost as fast as possum, so they were another pest on the ranch.

Watching fat rabbits hop out occasionally, Wang Bo sighed. “Does hunting possum even help? With so many rabbits around, won’t they just take over the space the possum leave behind?”

Li Xing said, “Your rabbits taste great. Why don’t you raise them like livestock and sell them?”

Wang Bo shook his head. “New Zealanders don’t like eating rabbit meat.”

“Then sell baby rabbits,” Li Xing said. “Most of the rabbits here are white or all black—they look cute.”

“Do New Zealanders keep rabbits as pets?” Wang Bo asked.

Hani thought for a moment. “Quite a lot do, actually. Li Xing just gave you a good idea. You can tell tourists they can take a baby rabbit home for one NZ dollar.”

“I’d even give them away for free!” Wang Bo said.