Spending time with Lit Ng is like hanging out with a buddy from college who always surprised you with his passion for a niche hobby that, despite his encouragement, you never really embraced.

Except Ng, an 81-year-old Chinese-American, never went to college, or even finished high school.

Ng, pronounced "mm," is one of the pioneers of trophy hunting in China, having helped introduce the sport to the mainland in the mid-1980s.

Hunting revival

Despite China's negligible private gun ownership and recreational hunting culture, in 1992 the State Forestry Administration (SFA) approved the establishment of hunting grounds.

Only foreigners were allowed to hunt recreationally in China up until 2006, although complicated procedures meant it was only for keen enthusiasts. Using foreign hunting agencies, hunters had to arrange their trips through one of five government-authorized hunting agencies in China, hire interpreters, look for guides and send trophy samples back when they finish.

That same year, the SFA refused to grant hunting licenses to foreigners following a backlash against a proposed auction of hunting quotas for about 200 species.

In October 2012, a list made public by the State Council declared foreigners would not need to obtain administrative approval if they planned to go hunting or collect wild animal parts that are not under special state protection in China.

"As far as I know, right now there is no official hunting in China," says Ng, who works with conservation organization the China Green Foundation and Forestry Group.

Homeland reunion

A veteran globe-trotting hunter with a wall in his California home showcasing trophy kills, Ng no longer hunts anymore. The eagle-eyed sharpshooter once shot a polar bear in the Arctic from a helicopter, donating his prized kill to Peking University.

While he has since hung up his rifle, Ng's passion for hunting and wildlife conservation in China remain firmly in his cross hairs.

Asked how he became a hunting guide in China, Ng describes it as an "accident" that came about in late 1983 when a friend showed him a brochure of a South Korean-operated hunting agency in Northeast China's Heilongjiang Province.

"I didn't think much of the brochure," he says. "I said 'that's not the way to shoot.'" Ng visited China in February 1984, including a stopover in Heilongjiang to offer advice on hunting.

Ng today lives with his wife of more than 60 years, Sintao, on a 400-acre ranch in Monterey county, but regularly visits China. Even in their ripe age, they remain traveling philanthropists, having helped build dozens of schools and hospitals in China.

Born in South China's Guangdong Province in February 1932, Ng immigrated to the US in 1960. His father founded discount store chain Monte Mar, growing it into a multi-million dollar empire.

Growing up in the rural Californian town of Tulare during the early 1940s, Ng developed an early passion for hunting rabbits.

Despite his age, he still has a child-like fascination for new technology.

"I usually get a new Mac [laptop] every two years and give the old one to my grandkids," Ng told Metropolitan in a dimly-lit hotel room near Tiananmen Square.

Loading a video of an international hunting expedition he led in the early 2000s, he talks about his delight in "outsmarting" prey.

"Mountain sheep are the toughest to kill," he says, index finger hovering over the play button. "Most of the time they are 10,000 feet (3,050 meters) above sea level. They can smell and spot you from very far away."

In another video, Ng describes how a Mexican father and son remain motionless upon spying a herd of argali, a big horned, wild sheep native to Central Asia. Suddenly, a loud crack rings out from a gun.

But did the shot find its mark?

Ng scrolls the track pad to fast-forward a couple of minutes to a scene with more people and audible cheers.

Local trackers and members of the hunting party, including the father-son duo, are celebrating the kill. The next frame shows a lifeless argali, two hunters holding its head up by its horns like a trophy with glazed eyes.

Way of life

Ng, who filmed the shot on a camcorder, erupts in excitement during the scene. His voice sounds emotional from behind the lens and the footage becomes shaky.

"Hunting is part of life. The only reason we exist today is because of the wildlife our ancestors killed by hunting. It is part of the food chain," Ng says.

His only regret in life is that hunting never quite took off in China.

"If foreigners came here to shoot argali, they would pay up $27,000 [per animal] - that's a lot of money that could be used for local infrastructure," Ng sighs. "I always say that revenue raised through hunting should find its way back to local people."

Suddenly, like a young man, he clicks back into his stride and declares with some seriousness that he has never advocated the shooting of rare species.

"In fact, since I started hunting in China there are more animals right now than there were before hunting even began," he laments.