HLM – Chapter 1081 Betting Big

In New Zealand’s horse racing world, speed races are divided into two types: conditions races and handicap races. Conditions races are further split into Group races and Listed races.

Tuhao Jin was now entering the lowest tier of Group races—Group 3. Above that were Group 2, Group 1, and the top-level Classic races.

Before all of these, there was also the exhibition race.

Winter racing didn’t have a fixed schedule. It took place between late winter and early spring—whenever a sunny day came along, the horses would be sent onto the track.

The main season was in spring. Summers in New Zealand were too hot, though winters were fairly mild. So, racing was more likely to be held in winter than in summer.

The equestrian racecourse in Christchurch was called Pegasus Meteor Racecourse. It covered a huge area and was one of the largest racecourses in New Zealand and even all of Oceania.

Wang Bo stood outside the racecourse looking at the nameplate and couldn’t help but feel this place had something to do with Saint Seiya. The closer he got, the stronger the feeling—he half expected a fully armored Gold Saint to jump out and shout “Pegasus Meteor Fist!”

The parking lot was packed with cars. People streamed in and out of several entrances. The small square in front of the gates had turned into a mini-market, with vendors pushing carts selling food and drinks.

Next to the entrance, a long line had formed. Wang Bo thought people were queuing to enter the racecourse, so he joined the line.

Seeing this, Hani gave him a strange look. “Boss, are you buying betting slips?”

Wang Bo quickly reacted. “Oh—this is where you place bets?”

He had no interest in gambling, but today he had to bet. He knew Tuhao Jin was guaranteed to win. He had absolute confidence in his horse.

When his turn arrived, he found himself in a small booth similar to a lottery counter back in China. Several computers and printers sat inside, and on the counter lay a colorful sheet listing horses and their odds.

He was about to look for Tuhao Jin when someone walked over, took away the sheet, and replaced it with a new one.

Hani explained behind him, “Oh, they update info constantly. This sport demands horses be in top condition, so betting companies keep monitoring the horses and adjust odds at any moment.”

Wang Bo understood. No wonder they didn’t just hand out flyers.

He scanned the sheet but found no trace of Tuhao Jin. Confused, he asked, “Hey man, there’s a horse named Tuhao Jin—why isn’t it listed?”

The big guy at the computer replied lazily, “See that column labeled ‘Others’? Any horse you can’t find is under ‘Others.’ Odds are 10-to-1.”

Wang Bo was so annoyed he wanted to swear. Tuhao Jin was his treasure—how had it become just an “Other”?

“I’m betting on Tuhao Jin. One million!” Wang Bo said angrily, slapping his bank card onto the counter.

Everyone in the booth jumped. A man in a suit asked, “You serious, man? A million on a horse you’ve never even heard of?”

“Yes,” Wang Bo replied crisply.

The suited man shrugged. “Too bad, man. The max bet for this type of race is $150,000. We can’t take a million.”

Easy enough. Wang Bo placed 150,000 on Tuhao Jin. Hani and Eva each placed 150,000 on him as well, and every member of their group followed suit with the same amount.

Right after they finished betting, the sheet was changed again. This time, Tuhao Jin finally appeared—its odds now adjusted to 6.5-to-1.

Clearly, the heavy bets placed on Tuhao Jin had made the betting company cautious.

Then another big man walked over and placed a $10,000 bet on Tuhao Jin. Wang Bo glanced over—he was Asian, likely Chinese.

The man struck up a conversation. “You’re Chinese?”

“Yes. My name’s Huang Xinqi. Just traveling here. Aren’t you the mayor of Sunset Town? Haha, can’t believe I ran into you! Can I get a picture?”

Wang Bo nodded. He didn’t expect to meet someone here who recognized him.

“I definitely know you,” Huang said. “You’re a huge meme back in China. Lots of people follow you and Sunset Town.”

Wang Bo was surprised. Chinese entering politics abroad wasn’t rare—New Zealand and the U.S. both had Chinese in high-level positions, with countless more at the grassroots. But he didn’t expect him to be so well-known.

As they chatted and walked toward the racecourse, Wang Bo asked, “Why bet on Tuhao Jin?”

Huang laughed. “I just like the name! ‘Tuhao Jin’—so flashy. I made some money from demolition back home, so people call me Tuhao. Of course I gotta bet on a horse named after my clan!”

The logic was surprisingly sound. Wang Bo laughed too. He bought Huang a ticket as a token of goodwill.

But when they entered, the staff saw their betting slips and waved them through—no ticket needed. Betting slips counted as entry passes.

Wang Bo shook his head. He’d wasted twenty dollars for nothing.

The racecourse was huge, with a ring of seats around the outer track. He flipped over his betting slip and found the seat number printed on the back—turns out they even had VIP boxes.

Any bet over 100,000 qualified you for a box. Wang Bo’s group had several of them.

But Hani and the others didn’t want to sit in the boxes—they said you couldn’t feel the real atmosphere from up there.

Wang Bo felt the same, so he took a seat in the front rows.

Pegasus Meteor was an oval track, 1200 meters around. Inside were smaller loops for other race formats.

Group 3 events were run over 900m, 2000m, 3200m, and 5000m, with both individual and team events. The team event was scored by adding up each member’s placements.

In short, in New Zealand, individual and team categories in speed racing didn’t differ much.

Soon after they sat down, a polite man walked over. “Hello sir, could I see your ticket? I think these seats are ours.”

Wang Bo looked around at all the empty seats, feeling awkward—he’d thought it was free seating. He stood up with an embarrassed smile.

Then Eva stepped forward. “Are you here with your family to watch the race?”

The man glanced back at the woman and children behind him and smiled warmly. “Yes.”

Eva showed him their betting slip. “Look, we have VIP boxes. If you’re watching as a family, I think you’d enjoy the box more.”

The youngest child behind him tugged his sleeve. “Dad, what’s a VIP box?”

Eva smiled gently. “It’s one of those rooms up there—with sofas, TV, snacks, and drinks.”

The little boy threw a fist in the air. “That’s so cool! Dad, I want the box!”