HLM -Chapter 1178 The Record Breaker

And just like that, lunch was ready.

Wang Bo pulled out a leather pouch hanging from the sled’s handlebar. In no time, scallions, ginger, garlic, star anise, chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, cumin powder—everything appeared.

The livestream comments went completely berserk:

“Is this the freaking Iditarod Dog Sled Race? This looks like a vacation tour!”

“First time seeing such a top-tier guy—he’s only missing a woman with him.”

“A bunch of idiots. This is the right attitude toward life. Wang, well done!”

“Bear Grylls should follow Wang around Alaska and see what garbage he pulls on his shows.”

“Comparing Bear to Wang? I’ll give you a chance to take that back.”

Seeing these hilarious comments, Wang Bo burst out laughing. Then he propped his phone up and livestreamed himself cooking fish.

This was something he was very good at. With complete seasonings and plenty of water, cooking fish was pure entertainment.

In weather this cold, a pot of boiled fish was a must. If the fire was strong enough, he could also steam a fish. Freshwater croaker was still croaker—its flesh was tender, and once steamed, it only needed a dip in salt.

He also built a fire on the snow to keep warm. Two fish were buried underground to braise, while two more were skewered on branches and hung over the flames—two different methods for grilled fish.

Even more comments flooded in:

“I bow in worship—living this comfortably in ice and snow.”

“I’m starving just watching this. I need another meal.”

“Holy crap, this guy’s knife skills are insane. Combined with his wilderness survival skills, I bet he’s some mysterious Chinese special forces soldier!”

“One person, four dishes. My family of four often eats just one dish.”

The black fish was very fatty. After scraping off the scales and hanging it over the fire, it quickly turned golden brown.

Wang Bo rotated the branches, sprinkling cumin powder, chili powder, and salt from time to time. Before long, the two fish were fully grilled.

The boiled fish was still simmering, and the steamed croaker was done as well. After a while, he moved the fire aside and dug out the braised fish buried beneath the snow. Everything was ready to eat.

Working nonstop in such extreme cold, Wang Bo had long since become ravenous. A twenty-centimeter grilled fish was gone in just a few bites.

The dogs watched from behind, drooling, but he couldn’t give them any. These guys loved to wolf down their food, and fish bones could choke them to death.

The steamed croaker, dipped in a mix of chili powder and salt, tasted pretty good too—though it was slightly fishy.

Finally, he finished with a steaming bowl of boiled fish. Wang Bo ate until he was sweating all over, unzipped his clothes, and even had heat visibly rising from his body. The meal was unbelievably satisfying.

After burying the trash, he cooked meat broth for the dogs. Once they finished eating and digested for over ten minutes, he set off again.

A whole string of frozen fish—dozens of them—hung from the sled, tied together with rope and dangling from the back. As the sled ran, the frozen fish swayed like a tail.

Wang Bo glanced back, watched for a while, then chuckled. “That’s not a tail—that’s two big braids.”

At the next checkpoint, when the staff saw so many fish hanging from his sled, they were stunned. “This… what is going on here?”

Wang Bo took down one string and handed it to the little girl, waving his hand grandly. “Take it. Find your Uncle Tony and a restaurant to process them. This is your brother-in-law’s harvest.”

Dale giggled. “Wow, brother-in-law, you’re amazing! I admire you so much. Everyone else comes here hungry just to eat one meal, and you’re bringing food to the checkpoint.”

To save time, racers calculated their routes precisely and planned their activities carefully. Checkpoints were rest stops where they ate meals so they could carry fewer supplies and lighten the sled.

Don’t underestimate a single meal—sixteen dogs could eat a huge amount. One meal required at least sixteen kilograms of food!

There were twenty-six checkpoints along the route. Some racers planned well enough to carry no food at all, eating every meal at the checkpoints.

But Wang Bo didn’t do that. He prepared food himself, though once on the road he would send it back to the castle and retrieve it later.

Thus, sleeping rough and eating on the move, he never spent a single night at a checkpoint. Each time, he ran until nightfall before stopping to rest.

Hard work finally paid off. At dawn on the eighth day, he urged the sled onward—the town of Nome was right ahead!

Two hours later, at exactly ten o’clock, he saw the town. Rows of houses came into view, along with crowds of people standing outside, and cameras and video equipment set up everywhere.

“Charge, comrades! Victory is right in front of us! Damn it—victory is right in front of us!” Wang Bo suddenly became wildly excited and stood up on the sled, waving his arms.

Tragedy struck.

Hearing his command, the dogs instantly accelerated. This was already the edge of town, where the snow wasn’t very smooth. The sled jolted violently, and Wang Bo was flipped backward off it!

The dogs dragged the sled for over a hundred meters before realizing something was wrong—the sled was too light. Without needing Wang Bo’s command, Zhuang Ding led the team in a turn, and they ran back.

They had experience with this by now. Wang Bo had been thrown into the snow more than once in the past few days, to the point where the dogs could judge his presence by the weight of the sled.

Wang Bo climbed back on. The dogs barked excitedly and charged forward. A few minutes later, they shot toward the crowd like a gale.

The race had attracted a lot of media, including many major American outlets. As he drove the sled in, flashes went off nonstop.

Someone came up and draped a fur coat over Wang Bo. This was tradition—every finisher, regardless of ranking, received one. Back in the day, the people who delivered the serum to the town were also given this first.

With the coat on, someone lit a cigar. Wang Bo looked and saw it was Tony.

“I don’t smoke,” he said.

Tony shouted, “This is a victory cigar! It’s not for smoking! Come on, buddy—clench it!”

In the end, Wang Bo did clench the cigar. He felt that the cigar matched his coat quite well. Otherwise, wearing just the coat reminded him of the old movie Tracks in the Snowy Forest, specifically the bandit chief Zuoshan Diao in his cloak.

Reporters swarmed in, surrounding him. A pile of microphones was thrust toward his face as questions flew from all directions:

“Hello, champion! Congratulations! Do you know how much time you shaved off the record?”

“Hello! This is simply a miracle! How did you make it here in such a short time?”

“Could you introduce your dogs? The lead dogs, and the hardworking dogs at the back?”

Hearing this, Wang Bo began to answer. Radiant with pride, he pointed at the dogs huddled together, panting heavily, and said:

“Please allow me to introduce them—to introduce these outstanding young men and women. They are… Chinese village dogs.”