HLM – Chapter 1072 Dive, Dive

Wang Bo shook his head. He was indeed interested in this kind of novelty, but he had no intention of buying a submarine. He only owned a lake, and because of the Lake Heart, that lake held no secrets from him whatsoever.

So what would he do with a submarine?

Song Zijun wanted to ride the submarine down. He said the machine was reliable, capable of traveling underwater at around ten knots, and that with full descent it could reach a depth of a hundred meters in just over ten seconds.

Wang Bo, however, was a little afraid. It was fine as long as nothing went wrong, but if something did go wrong, a submarine was even more dangerous than diving with a suit. If trouble happened, he really would be unable to call for help from heaven or earth.

The dive team had heavy diving suits—bright yellow on the outside, with a huge helmet and two oxygen tanks. If you ignored the height, it was basically a miniature Gundam.

“Can you handle it, brother?” a lean youth asked. “This thing isn’t easy to wear. What kind of fitness do you have?”

Song Zijun said, “Xiao Wang, don’t force yourself. My divers have to train constantly to be able to use this thing. They must run five kilometers with weights three times a day, do 100 weighted squats, 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, and swim three hours in the mine pool. Only with that kind of regimen can they handle it.”

“Yeah. Heavy gear is not something you master in a day,” the lean youth reminded in a friendly tone.

Wang Bo smiled. “My physical fitness is definitely fine, and my diving technique too. But I’ve never worn a heavy diving suit like this—will that cause problems?”

“If your physical strength is fine, then wearing it shouldn’t be a big issue,” the youth said.

But his expression clearly revealed deep skepticism toward Wang Bo’s claim of “good physical fitness.”

First up were the special diving shoes. The rounded toe caps were made of brass, and the lead soles were riveted on with screws. Each shoe was over thirty centimeters long and weighed more than twenty kilos.

After Wang Bo put them on, he lifted his feet and walked a couple of steps experimentally. They were indeed heavy, but not to the point of making him stumble. The weight was acceptable to him.

Seeing this, the lean youth looked surprised. As a professional, he knew how difficult it was to walk like Wang Bo did. Even he didn’t have that much strength.

The hardest part was the diving suit itself. To ensure descent performance, the suit weighed forty kilos. Calling it a steel armor wasn’t an exaggeration.

Four strong men came over to help him put it on, shouting rhythmic commands as they lifted the suit.

Wang Bo held his arms out crossed in front of him, squatted slightly, and let them fit it on him. First, a heavy weight settled on him—manageable. But the heat that followed was unbearable.

Deep-sea water was icy cold, so the suit needed excellent insulation. Once inside, body heat couldn’t dissipate, resulting in this stifling sensation.

Then came the collar ring and helmet. The collar alone weighed five kilos. When they put it on him, Wang Bo felt pain for the first time—without buoyancy to counter it, that much weight put a serious strain on the neck.

The helmet was full copper, weighing more than ten kilos. Installing it required fastening bolts with a wrench.

Dale took two photos of him from the front and handed him the phone.

The helmet’s visibility was quite good. Seeing himself looking like a robot, Wang Bo struck a few poses for her.

A protective chest plate needed to be hung on the front. Oxygen tanks were mounted on the back. A long air hose connected to the helmet, running all the way up to the ship.

Only if something happened to the air hose would he switch to the oxygen tanks—dual safety measures to keep the diver alive.

Once sealed inside the suit, Wang Bo suddenly felt a wave of fear about what he was about to face.

He had grown up by the sea, yes, and he was a fisherman’s son—but truthfully, he had always feared the ocean. It was this fear that motivated him to study hard and get into a good university.

But at this point, it was too late for regrets—and he also wanted to challenge himself.

Life in New Zealand had become too comfortable. Just as a country that forgets war is in danger, a person who lives too comfortably for too long will run into problems too.

This was a real risk for Wang Bo—the first since he obtained the Lord’s Heart.

Li Xing and Na Qingyang also put on diving suits, but theirs were shallow-water suits mainly for warmth—barely ten kilos in total.

The lean youth constantly checked on Wang Bo via intercom, giving him tips on handling unexpected situations and calming him down for what he’d face underwater.

Everything was ready. Next came the oxygen test. Air flowed smoothly through the hose.

“No issues. I can go down,” Wang Bo said.

“Be careful. If something goes wrong, remove the front weights and the copper plates on your feet. That’ll let buoyancy pull you upward. Also, the button on your waist is the inflation valve. Press it and oxygen will fill the suit, letting you rise faster.”

“But unless it’s life or death, don’t press that button. You know what happens if you ascend too fast, right?”

Wang Bo nodded, then realized they couldn’t see him inside the helmet and spoke aloud: “Yeah. The bends. I know.”

“Good. Follow me to the dive ladder. Last question—do you want to go down first?” the youth asked.

Of course Wang Bo wanted to go first. Otherwise, how could he discreetly make some of those large seabed stones disappear in front of everyone?

The ladder slowly descended, and he gradually sank into the sea. With the water conducting heat, the stifling sensation faded; it felt much more comfortable.

The dive ladder stopped at ten meters—this was the safety adjustment depth. The rest he had to descend on his own.

They had chosen a spot that wasn’t very deep, only a bit over forty meters.

Visibility underwater was mediocre. After descending fully into the water, Wang Bo looked up and could see the bright surface, but all around him was dim and gloomy.

Not a fish in sight. The water felt lifeless.

“Control your breathing. Make good use of the incoming oxygen. Also, watch the exhaust valve on the upper right of your helmet—that controls your descent speed and movement…” Instructions kept coming through the comms.

He slowly sank, feeling no discomfort. Time became impossible to gauge without a timer, and the oxygen environment distorted his sense of duration.

Finally—his feet hit bottom. The gauge on the inside of the helmet displayed a number: 34.22. He had descended more than thirty-four meters.

Even here, there were still no fish or other living creatures—only countless rocks scattered across the seabed.

Seeing these rocks, Wang Bo realized he’d been overthinking things. With so many seabed reefs, no one would ever notice if a few went missing.