HLM – Chapter 1084 Entrance

Several young people slinked off to other areas, and a group of horses, guided by their jockeys, entered the track. The first race was about to begin.

Most spectators nervously stood up, raising a sea of binoculars. Everyone held betting slips—they had placed wagers on the horses.

Far away, in many casinos in Oakley, giant screens were also broadcasting the upcoming race. Countless gamblers eagerly watched the screens, waiting for the results.

In a Level 3 speed race, there were no strict breed requirements for the horses, but they had to be healthy, at least three years old, and have undergone training with standard training records.

For Tuhao Jin, none of this was an issue. It was very healthy, its exact age was a mystery—any age could be claimed—and in terms of training, it had undergone highly professional training over the past six months.

The horses entered the arena like celebrities, drawing waves of cheers. Their gear was pristine—saddles, stirrups, girths, and reins—all perfectly in place.

Without the distraction of the angry youths earlier, Wang Bo’s interest in the race grew. He scanned the middle of the track and found Tuhao Jin.

Among the tall, powerful horses, finding Tuhao Jin was simple. It was the shortest, its coat the most sleek and shiny, and of course, that long, uniquely expressive face stood out.

Among a group of elite, impressive horses stood one underdog. Wang Bo felt a bit sorry for Tuhao Jin. Would putting it in the race to gain fame for himself hurt Tuhao Jin’s pride?

But Tuhao Jin likely didn’t feel that way. Its confidence was always overflowing, and now it pranced eagerly among the other horses, constantly snorting to its sides.

Wang Bo knew: Tuhao Jin was signaling to its competitors.

The audience noticed Tuhao Jin too—or rather, they were drawn to it first, as its presence was striking. Unsurprisingly, laughter and chatter erupted from the stands:

“Hey, look at the horse in lane eight—it’s hilarious!”

“A weird creature snuck into the herd.”

“Is that a horse? No, it looks like a donkey dyed gold.”

“This horse has such short legs! If it had a nickname, it’d be ‘Shorty,’ the shortest-legged horse I’ve ever seen!”

Hearing people mock Tuhao Jin, Wang Bo frowned and waved his arms, shouting: “Tuhao Jin, show them what you’ve got!”

Tuhao Jin, however, thrived on attention. Being far from the crowd, it didn’t perceive any malicious mockery—just the pointing and gesturing of the spectators. It took it as an honor and proudly lifted its head, chest out, strutting with confidence.

There were twelve lanes, but one was empty. The announcer’s voice boomed over the track:

“Horse number two, please enter the track. Horse number two, please enter the track. Horse number two, Geer Jordan, please enter the track…”

Like in athletics, if a horse and rider failed to appear after three calls, they would be disqualified.

Horse number two never appeared. Its qualification was canceled.

A section of the audience immediately stopped laughing at Tuhao Jin and began waving their betting slips angrily, cursing loudly.

“Gambling involves risks. Bet wisely,” Wang Bo said with a touch of schadenfreude.

Many people were merely placing casual bets, and the cheapest betting slip was just five yuan—losing wouldn’t be much. But horse racing was different. A disqualification that cost money was frustrating, because this horse might have won if it had raced.

No matter the odds, if people placed bets on it, they believed in its chances to win.

All the other horses had arrived. The race was about to start.

The front-most seats of the stands housed the commentary booth. The commentator began describing the horses. First, after their entrance, they introduced each horse’s identity. Wang Bo listened carefully; since he didn’t know much about them, the commentary helped:

“Lane three hosts the top-seeded horse in this year’s 1200-meter Level 3 race—our familiar Sharpsight. It has won two consecutive titles. Can it claim the triple crown this year?”

“Check lane six. A patterned horse stands tall, ready for the race—it’s Boiling Police Car. A temperamental beast, it broke records at the Newcomers’ Championship earlier this year, posing the biggest challenge to Sharpsight’s defense…”

“And lane ten… whoa, look! Turin Sir is back. It struggled with illness over the past two years but reportedly has recovered. Let’s see if it can reclaim its championship throne…”

“What’s the story with Turin Sir?” Wang Bo asked.

Hani explained: “Turin Sir was the Level 3 champion, but two years ago it suffered a hip disease and withdrew, letting Sharpsight win two consecutive titles. Today’s showdown between them is the biggest topic.”

“No, the bigger topic is Boiling Police Car challenging Sharpsight. Turin Sir has just recovered—it still has a way to go to reclaim dominance,” an older fan beside him said.

“And what about the little golden sun in lane eight?” Wang Bo asked the old man, assuming he was a veteran fan.

The old man smiled: “It’s here to liven up the atmosphere, I guess.”

Wang Bo: “…”

Tuhao Jin was clearly underestimated. During commentary, it was barely mentioned, only described briefly as a veteran fighter in horse racing.

Wang Bo cursed under his breath: “Damn it, Tuhao Jin will show you!”

The starter approached the safety zone in front of the starting line. The jockeys, mounted on their horses, waited 20 meters behind the starting line, then swung into the saddle together.

The starter waved the flag and shouted: “Ready!”

At the command, the jockeys guided their horses slowly into the starting gates. Once all the horses were ready, the starter waved again. The commentator shouted: “Go!”

Tuhao Jin gave Wang Bo immense confidence. Just like in training, it burst forward, like a cannon shot, its speed astonishing.

Wang Bo was about to clap and cheer when a shrill whistle blew. The horses that had started rushed back, returning to the gates under the jockeys’ commands.

“Damn it, Tuhao Jin isn’t used to the starting gates—it jumped the gun,” Hani said regretfully.

The commentator’s voice chimed in: “Lane eight, Tuhao Jin, false start! Poor thing, clearly nervous. But we should forgive it—after all, this is its first professional race.”