Otaku Translation: Honey Badger's Streaming Life C54

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Tuka had already given up struggling. It was clear that due to the swelling in his muscles, there was no room left in the pit to move. Unless someone pulled him out like yanking a carrot or brought tools to dig him free, escape was impossible on his own. Moreover, it seemed the muddy ground beneath him might have absorbed water; after all his thrashing, he appeared to be sinking deeper.

Wang Ping’s mood had initially been somber after leaving Rosette behind. Encountering such an amusing "toy," he had planned to play with Tuka for a bit before finishing him off and moving on. After all, the freckled man was already dead, and it felt appropriate to keep the family together.

But seeing one of the most dangerous poachers stuck in the pit, reduced to nothing more than a head and arms poking out, even Wang Ping found himself stunned.

Damn it, the freckled man’ death was absurd enough, but how could everyone here be so ridiculous? Were they here to poach, or were they auditioning for a comedy show?

As some great philosopher once said, one should treat their enemies as coldly as winter. Wang Ping decided it was time to be ruthless. Killing Tuka outright would be too merciful. Letting him rot in the pit while continuing to swell sounded far more fitting.

Normally, bee venom spread gradually, causing swelling that lasted days without subsiding. And considering Tuka had been attacked by an entire swarm, Wang Ping estimated his condition would only worsen. Left alone, even if he didn’t succumb to poisoning or starvation, the sheer pressure of his swollen body might crush him inside the tiny hole.

With that thought, Wang Ping decisively abandoned the idea of killing him immediately.

"Goodbye, my friend! I’m done playing with you. Enjoy waiting for your swelling to go down—you might survive long enough to crawl out!"

Wang Ping shrugged his little shoulders, though since honey badgers don’t have prominent necks, it looked more like two bumps suddenly bulging below his head. Turning around, he gave Tuka a smug parting glance, even waving a paw before trotting off on his short legs.

BANG!

Less than 20 meters away, a gunshot rang out, accompanied by a muffled explosion-like sound. Birds scattered into the sky, and the echo of the shot reverberated through the forest, fading into the distance.

Startled, Wang Ping realized he’d gotten overconfident and forgotten about the rifle in Tuka’s hands.

Quickly leaping behind a tree, Wang Ping cautiously peeked out. But what he saw left him utterly baffled.

The poacher who moments ago had been struggling and cursing under his breath was now a decapitated corpse, his fate undeniably grim.

"What happened? Was there a sniper hiding somewhere?"

Given the usual behavior of the armed rangers, this possibility wasn’t entirely out of the question. However, upon closer inspection, Wang Ping realized something else was going on.

Half of Tuka’s scalp still hung limply from his neck, but his throat was completely gone. Below his neck stood the barrel of his own gun.

"Holy shit! He actually committed suicide? Over a joke? This is way too fragile. What kind of temper is this?"

Wang Ping struggled to process this outcome. With such weak mental fortitude, how could this guy ever consider himself a poacher? He might as well go home and nurse babies.

Seizing the opportunity while the searching soldiers were still far away, Wang Ping hurried closer to investigate.

The scene was gruesome, with pixelated gore splattered everywhere. Carefully stepping around to avoid getting any indescribable red-and-white mixture on his paws, Wang Ping pushed aside some leaves covering Tuka’s body. He spotted Tuka’s hand gripping the rifle barrel—swollen beyond recognition, the skin stretched so tight that not even fingerprints remained. Oddly, both hands were wrapped around the barrel, one above the other.

How did he pull the trigger?

Curious, Wang Ping leaned in closer, nudging the barrel slightly downward to peer through the gap between the clothing and dirt. What he saw next shocked him speechless.

It seemed Tuka, unwilling to expose himself during Wang Ping’s teasing—or perhaps hoping to retain some means of self-defense—had attempted to retrieve the rifle trapped in front of him. Originally curled up like a quail, the rifle had been clutched against his chest between his bent legs. As the bee venom continued spreading, his body swelled balloon-like, pinning the weapon tightly against his torso.

In his frantic attempt to pull the rifle free, the trigger must have snagged on another swollen part of his body—balls. And then… the gun fired.

"This is truly… tragic."

Wang Ping didn’t know what to make of it. Being shot by your own testicles? That had to qualify as a tragedy. This bizarre incident would surely go down in history as unique—a real one-of-a-kind tragedy.

So… did this count as suicide?

Sounds of approaching soldiers grew louder nearby, prompting Wang Ping to leave quickly. But after running a short distance, he couldn’t resist collapsing into a patch of grass beneath a tree, clutching his belly and rolling around in uncontrollable laughter.

Though laughing at such a misfortune wasn’t exactly gentlemanly, the image of Tuka’s demise kept tickling Wang Ping’s funny bone. Especially the fact that he’d been killed by his own testicles.

"Hohoho~"

Strange noises emanated from the bushes, resembling an owl celebrating a successful chicken theft. Nearby, a squirrel poking its head out of a tree hollow dropped its acorn in fright.

Meanwhile, back at the ranger outpost, Zhang Jianming and Colonel sat smoking beside the off-road vehicle, while Gu Lang slumped in the backseat, gazing mournfully out the window. Handcuffed to the car door, freedom seemed distant for Third Brother Gu. Without Zhang Jianming’s presence, he might’ve been arrested outright as a suspected poacher.

However, what troubled the livestreamer wasn’t imprisonment—it was the unbearable stench permeating the vehicle.

By the time Wang Ping reached the outskirts of the forest, Colonel’s walkie-talkie crackled with updates from the soldiers. Listening intently, Colonel’s eyes widened, mirroring Zhang Jianming’s disbelief.

The soldiers’ investigation revealed far more details than Wang Ping’s cursory observation—not just the fatal wound but also equipment checks and previous injuries. Yet what fascinated the officers most was the cause of death: the rifle trigger caught on the testicles resulting in a fatal self-inflicted headshot. What kind of divine intervention led to such a bizarre demise?

Had the earlier gunshot not differed distinctly from standard-issue assault rifles, Colonel might’ve suspected foul play.

Regardless, the report confirmed the total elimination of the five-member poaching gang. With Gu Lang safely recovered, the rescue mission was officially complete.

Over the radio, Colonel instructed Davis to rendezvous with him while ordering the remaining soldiers to escort the three captured poachers back to Karatu via helicopter.

“Zhang, I understand your mission requires taking this man back, but until we clarify the situation in Makuyuni, I cannot release him. Please understand.”

Standing up, Colonel addressed Zhang Jianming politely. Legal matters were sensitive, leaving Zhang Jianming unable to argue. His role was merely to ensure Gu Lang wouldn’t face false accusations or coerced confessions. Normal interrogation procedures were inevitable.

Nodding reluctantly, Zhang Jianming opened the rear door and sat beside Gu Lang.

“Ugh…”

Before uttering a word, Zhang Jianming gagged. What on earth had this kid done in the car? The smell was revolting!

“Brother Zhang… I swear I didn’t do anything wrong. They’re not really going to throw me in jail, are they?” Gu Lang asked anxiously.

Glancing at Colonel waiting for Davis outside, Zhang Jianming fanned the air dismissively, cracked open the window, and whispered softly, “Didn’t you say you had a fever and remembered nothing?”

“Yes…” Gu Lang nodded instinctively.

“Then stick to that story. Don’t change it!”

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