HLM -Chapter 1176 Mad Loneliness

These musk oxen were clearly no longer a threat. Wang Bo kept watch for over an hour and found that once the herd had retrieved the calf, they settled down to graze quietly, not even sparing a glance for the hunting dogs.

With that, he could finally go back and get some sleep.

Driving a snowmobile all day was exhausting work.

He woke up before dawn. In Alaska, daylight came late at this time of year—the sun wouldn’t rise until eight o’clock. Competitors usually set off an hour before sunrise.

Wang Bo had no intention of making things that hard on himself, so he let the dogs rest a little longer.

When he pulled open the tent and looked outside, the first thing he saw was a group of massive musk oxen lying on the snow nearby. A few of them had even wandered into the dogs’ territory, yet the dogs hadn’t attacked at all. Instead, they were sprawled beside the oxen, fast asleep.

Wang Bo was stunned. This can happen too?

As long as musk oxen don’t feel threatened, they’re actually very gentle and friendly. In the wilderness, people have even seen gray wolves and musk oxen huddled together to endure the freezing cold and blizzards.

Their coats are simply too warm.

The wild grass on the ground had been eaten clean—not a single blade left.

Wang Bo shook his head, then took out another pile of fodder and scattered it on the snow.

At the sight of the grass, the musk oxen lying on the ground immediately got to their feet, plodded over at an unhurried pace, and began nibbling away at breakfast.

The injured calf struggled upright as well, limping along to eat with them—missing not a single bite.

Wang Bo then took out beef to prepare breakfast for the dogs. He left his phone outside, and before long it refused to turn on at all.

That made him laugh. No more livestreams for now—the phone had frozen to death.

Breakfast was still steaming hot beef soup, paired with egg pancakes. He poured some peanut oil into a frying pan, heated it up, then quickly poured in the mixed egg batter. Slowly, a fragrant scallion egg pancake took shape.

Egg pancakes with beef soup—Wang Bo ate with great satisfaction, and the dogs ate just as happily.

Once they were full, it was time to get back on the road.

But just as he finished packing the sled and was about to give the command to depart, the musk ox herd followed along.

Led by the strongest bull, the others lined up behind it, tails swaying as they fell in neatly behind the sled, clearly intending to go with him.

Wang Bo looked at the ground, now spotless of fodder, and couldn’t help laughing. “Damn, did I run into a bunch of foodies? Since when are musk oxen like Arctic foxes?”

Not just musk oxen or Arctic foxes—among polar animals, aside from fierce predators like bears and wolves, most have an instinctive attraction to food. As long as someone feeds them, they’ll follow.

To put it bluntly, it’s “whoever feeds me is my mom,” but that’s exactly how they’ve managed to survive to this day.

They don’t see humans as owners or caretakers, but as mobile granaries. They already possess an instinct to migrate in pursuit of food.

Looking at these obedient musk oxen, Wang Bo hesitated. He stepped off the sled and cautiously reached out toward the strongest bull. The ox immediately raised its head in alarm, its massive horns aimed straight at him.

Wang Bo took out a handful of fodder and offered it. When he reached out again, the musk ox calmed down, allowing him to stroke its horns and fur.

Untanned musk ox fur is extremely coarse—running his hand over it felt like touching braided straw rope.

He opened the sandbox and moved this ox deep into the pasture. Repeating the process, he brought all of them in—twenty-two adult oxen and four calves in total.

New Zealand didn’t have musk oxen, and this species was extremely valuable. Wang Bo wanted to raise a herd of them.

The pasture had abundant food and water. As for the climate, he could shear their coats so they could adapt to the hot weather of Sunset Town.

Even yaks could survive on the ranch; he was confident musk oxen would do even better.

They were conveniently positioned beside a forest, surrounded by trees. Even spy satellites wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing, and this was the most mature pasture—cowboys rarely went there—so it was perfect for keeping things secret.

After adopting the musk ox herd, Wang Bo’s mood lifted. He blew a whistle, and the dogs immediately burst into a sprint, the sled skimming across the snow as it shot forward.

Two and a half hours later, they reached a transfer station—a place to replenish supplies and rest.

Tony and the little girl had already arrived by car. They prepared food and fresh water for him and asked, “Everything okay last night?”

Wang Bo laughed. “What problem could there be? Just that it was too cold at night, and a bit lonely.”

At the supply point, he first video-called Eva. The two of them chatted sweetly for a while before he had to get back on the road.

Tony said, “You should rest a bit more. By now you’ve already covered three hundred kilometers. That’s a milestone—you’re entitled to a break.”

Wang Bo shook his head. “I’m fine. The guys pulling the sled are fine too. We’ve had more than enough rest.”

A reporter came over to interview him, asking the same thing. “As far as I know, you’re currently in first place, and you set off again after only half an hour of rest. Does that have anything to do with your results?”

Facing the media, Wang Bo struck a pose as usual. “Of course. We have a saying in China: the early dog gets the poop—haha, just kidding. It’s actually the early bird that catches the worm. I just have to be more diligent.”

“Don’t you need to rest a bit more?”

Wang Bo lifted his head like a proud little rooster. “There’s plenty of time to sleep after death. Right now is the time to seize every moment and strive!”

He stepped onto the sled, leaving behind a flurry of camera flashes.

A female reporter said dreamily, “Wow, Mr. Wang is so manly. This is what a true warrior looks like.”

Dale quickly cut in, “Sorry, he’s already married and has kids. You don’t stand a chance.”

At the transfer station, Wang Bo swapped his phone for a new one and resumed livestreaming.

The road was truly lonely. Passing the time with chat messages from the livestream helped, but the sled shook violently, making it hard for him to read the comments clearly—replying was even harder.

Gradually, Wang Bo came to understand a saying associated with this sport.

What defeats you isn’t the harsh climate, nor physical exhaustion, but the terrifying loneliness.

From the second day on, Wang Bo barely spoke at all.

It might sound exaggerated—just two days, after all. That’s not a long time. What could two days alone really do to someone?

But that wasn’t it at all. Throughout the race, all you see is ice and snow; everything is white. The monotony numbs the nerves. From noon onward, Wang Bo felt time itself begin to slow.

When he looked at his watch, the second hand ticked along normally. But once he stopped looking, it felt as though time itself had ceased to move.

At its worst, he counted how many times he checked his watch in a single minute—twenty-two times. He felt as if minutes were passing between each glance, yet in reality, only one or two seconds had gone by.