HLM -Chapter 1169 Ready for Battle

This was a kind of game you couldn’t play either in New Zealand or back in his hometown. Wang Bo went through two insulated thermos flasks, snapping a whole bunch of photos and videos along the way.

By 2:40 a.m., the activity could no longer continue. People began packing up and leaving.

Dale said disappointedly, “Is it over already?”

Tony smiled. “Because the temperature isn’t low enough anymore. Now it’s warming up, so when you throw hot water into the air, it just cools down quickly—it won’t form ice mist.”

Dale asked, “But the sun hasn’t come out yet. Why would the temperature rise?”

Tony replied, “It’s complicated to explain properly. You’d have to look at it from the perspectives of geology, thermodynamics, and wind patterns. In short, you can think of it this way: this square only works between two o’clock and two-thirty in the morning. It sits at a strange wind junction, and only at that time—given the temperature and weather—can you play like this. At other times, you can’t.”

Dale nodded blankly, then quietly asked Wang Bo, “Did you understand that?”

“Of course,” Wang Bo said. “I’m a college graduate. You definitely didn’t understand it.”

“I understood it too!” the little girl protested quickly.

“Then tell me,” Wang Bo said, “from a geological perspective, what’s going on here?”

Dale froze for a moment, then said faintly, “Why are you being so serious? What good does digging into the details do you? Come on, take me back to the hotel. I’m sleepy.”

“If you don’t study properly at school in the future,” Wang Bo said, “you’ll be afraid of people asking questions like that.”

Pouting, the little girl said, “I’ll study seriously when I get back.”

After two days of fun, it was time to get down to business. Wang Bo was going to travel by car to inspect the race route and its environment.

Tony asked, “Wang, are you sure you’re going to handle the sled yourself? Honestly, man—twelve hundred miles. I don’t think you’re suited for this. You know the entire route is nothing but ice and snow!”

Wang Bo shrugged helplessly. “No choice, buddy. I might not be suited to driving the sled, but I can perfectly handle these dogs. I can’t find anyone more suitable to lead them than me.”

Dale raised her hand. “Me! Brother-in-law, what do you think of me?”

For short distances, that would be fine—the little girl really was good at riding a sled. But this was a long-distance race. Letting her do it would be unreliable. If anything happened along the way, Wang Bo wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Besides, this was an international event. Minors were not allowed to participate.

Patting Tony on the shoulder, Wang Bo said, “It’s me. Let’s go get familiar with the environment. Trust me—I can do it. Just wait for the championship!”

Tony would be participating in the race as his coach.

This race was known in the United States as “the most magnificent sporting event on Earth.” Although there was no full live broadcast, every checkpoint along the route had TV crews stationed there, and those segments would be broadcast live nationwide.

Wang Bo’s team was the strangest of all. This wasn’t a sport with wide participation—everyone was basically part of the same circle, and they all knew one another.

He, however, was a complete outsider. Moreover, everyone else chose Alaskan sled dogs—not because of any competition rule or as a tribute to the sled dogs of old, but simply because this breed was truly the most suitable for the race.

Amid the sea of white drivers and uniform sled-dog teams, they were a textbook ragtag crew. There were sixteen dogs in total, spanning four different breeds, with coats of all kinds of colors. Among them were even Chinese native dogs—breeds many people had never seen before.

Compared with others, Wang Bo’s team was also amateurish.

Tony told him that every team had different techniques, race strategies, and even feeding formulas for their sled dogs. Each competitor had their own training schedule—hundreds of hours and hundreds of miles of training were mandatory. They not only had to take care of the dogs, but also maintain their endurance.

What about Wang Bo? He trained regularly, yes, but he had never done endurance training in subzero snowy conditions.

As for his dogs—his Chinese native dogs were put through crash training, while Zhuang Ding and Queen trained alongside him…

In mid-January, the highly anticipated Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race was about to begin.

The race started in Anchorage and ended at what was once the town of Nome, though the route had been adjusted.

There were now two routes: a northern route used in even-numbered years, and a southern route used in odd-numbered years. The northern route had 26 checkpoints, while the southern route had 27.

This year was an odd-numbered year, so they would take the southern route, which was relatively more difficult—the extra checkpoint was proof of that.

The race began in the morning. Tony helped Wang Bo prepare his equipment.

According to the rules, every team had to carry certain items: an Arctic fur coat, a heavy sleeping bag, an axe, a pair of snowshoes, rations for both humans and dogs, and insulated booties to protect the sled dogs from frostbite.

These were mandatory and had to be carried to prevent accidents.

Each sled was also equipped with a GPS locator, allowing participants to contact the organizers at any time. If anything went wrong, helicopters would be dispatched for rescue.

Sitting on the sled, Wang Bo massaged the dogs. What lay ahead would be a brutal battle—and also the battle that would bring fame to Chinese native dogs. This time, he was here for the championship.

Other competitors were also making their final pre-race preparations. They were professionals. To prepare for this race, many people started their next round of preparations as soon as the previous race ended—at the very least, they had trained for half a year.

The first step was always to examine the dogs: body temperature checks, fecal tests, vision tests, activity tests, and blood tests. If there was even the slightest abnormality, the dog would be withdrawn from the race.

Too many sled dogs had been worked to death in the past, so the race now placed great emphasis on canine protection. If someone noticed a dog was unwell mid-race, they could contact the organizers to replace it, with helicopters used to transport the dog.

However, it had to be proven that the dog truly had a problem. If someone tried to cheat by swapping in a fresher dog under false pretenses, they would be immediately disqualified.

Tony put shoes and socks on the dogs. This was a long journey—despite traveling entirely on ice and snow, their skin could still get worn down.

Zhuang Ding refused to wear them. The moment they were put on, he tore them off, lifting his head with a look that said, What can you do about it?

Seeing this, Wang Bo could only wave his hand. Forget it—Zhuang Ding had iron feet. He ran wildly around Sunset Town every day for over a hundred kilometers; the calluses on his paws had long since turned into diamonds.

Nearby, in another team, someone discovered that one dog had a cracked nail. They immediately pulled the dog out, gently comforting it and replacing it.

At that sight, the sled dog let out a mournful whine. It bit down on the rope and refused to let go, struggling with all its strength.