Shadow Empire

Chapter 1182 Fake match
The atmosphere remained intense in the following matches, but Herbert's emotions gradually calmed down. Seeing the champion gain a chance to advance, his emotions stabilized.

After the match ended, the group went to the back of the field, and some people immediately came over.

These people were horse brokers or owners of other racehorses. They handed over their business cards and struck up a conversation with old Herbert.

The top levels of any circle are interconnected.

Because there is relatively little space for people to stand on the mountaintop, there are very few people who can stand there. With fewer people, it is not too difficult for them to get to know each other.

"King" achieved a good result. After a brief inquiry, these people learned that it was a racehorse trained in the south and was not yet fully adapted to the winter racing track in what could not be called the north, but rather a colder region in the north.

If it is given more time and opportunity to adapt, it is very likely to deliver an impressive performance.

For these horse brokers and owners, having a good racehorse means that, with genetic improvement, there will be a steady stream of good racehorses appearing on the farm.

Their livelihood depends on exchanging genes, constantly combining and hybridizing better genes to produce racehorses capable of winning multiple championships and making a fortune.

Having good racehorses, champions, and victors not only brings great economic benefits, but also significant gains in social status and influence.

Therefore, they were willing to maintain a good relationship with old Herbert, and if necessary, they could pay the "King" to come to their horse farm for a little show.

The elderly Herbert enjoyed the exchange with them, and he gained some insights from this high-level industry interaction.

Soon they saw the "King" and the King's riders.

"how do you feel?"

The rider, already bundled up in thick clothes, patted the horse next to him, which was also wearing a padded coat, and said, "It's so cold! When we run, the wind howls against us like knives!"

He clenched his fists. "My fingers were almost frozen stiff by the time I was running the second lap. I could barely feel anything, and the muscles in my face were numb from the cold."

"However, the king is doing well. It has warmed up and you can tell it is alright when it runs, but it must be cold."

“The conditions for horse racing in winter are too harsh. We need more equipment and experience, as well as an adaptation process.”

The old man, Herbert, nodded. "This is the last competition we can participate in this year. If we miss this one, we'll have to wait until the middle of next year. We don't have that much time."

A racehorse's peak period is very short. "King" is now almost three years old. Based on its current growth and development, its physical condition will start to decline around the age of five, at which point it will have to consider retiring.

This is actually a terrible thing for racehorses. If they can't achieve good results between the ages of three and six, then there is a high probability that they will end up as horses with no breeding value.

Those who were lucky enough were assigned to cowboys as mounts, and at least they could live to see the end of their lives.

Those who were unlucky were sent to do farm work. When they could no longer work or were injured and lost their ability to work, they were stabbed to death and turned into horse meat to be distributed to cowboys and farmers.

Only by achieving a good ranking can they enjoy a more comfortable life, because those championships will become the reason for their survival.

The dozens or even hundreds of matings each year can bring huge profits to farmers, so they can enjoy a comfortable environment until the very end.

The King has two more years left. If he doesn't participate in this last major event at the end of the year and waits until next year, his peak period may only have about ten events left.

This was unacceptable to old Herbert. Such a fine racehorse shouldn't be allowed to show its prowess, and his brothers wouldn't agree to that either.

He turned to look at Lance. "You need to help make arrangements. There's still over a week left, and we need to help the King adapt to this terrible weather as much as possible."

Lance readily agreed.

The area behind the racetrack was bustling with activity, as people had already come over to inquire about the "King's" lineage.

Some farmers are obsessed with the pedigree of racehorses, believing that racehorses with a long history and pure bloodlines can produce better offspring.

However, many champion racehorses are actually crossbred, and they claim to be purebred, but they are not.

This is not to say that there are no excellent Thoroughbreds; there certainly are. As long as a population is large enough, you can always find some.

However, science tells us that racehorses bred through selective genetic optimization have greater potential.

Old Herbert was obviously aware of these things, and after chatting with those people for a while, he received some more business cards.

When almost everyone had started to leave, he smiled and said to Lance, "These people are offering as much as four or five thousand dollars, but I believe that if it can win in the semi-finals and enter the finals, then the starting price will be double, or even more."

“If I could win the championship…” Herbert’s eyes were filled with longing, “I could ask them for seven or eight thousand dollars.”

A hundred shivers a year would amount to seven or eight hundred thousand. Lance smacked his lips, seemingly indicating that this was indeed a profitable business, provided there were enough horses.

Not only is it not illegal, but it's also very elegant.

Lance asked Tom to help him find a training ground, and with Tom's current capabilities in Golden State, he quickly found a small training ground.

Large training grounds generally require reservations, and many are private, only being rented out when there are no matches.

Lance's timeframe was too tight, so they could only find a small one, but a small one would suffice.

Two days later, the semi-finals will begin, and today the twelve best-performing horses will compete for the final in a week.

After two days of acclimatization, "King" is in much better condition than before, and the rider's equipment has also been changed to a set with better insulation, so he won't get numb hands and feet from the cold so quickly when the horse is running.

At the same time, they also began to understand the intensity changes of the "King's" warm-up, because the weather was colder and a better warm-up was needed so that it could enter the game state more smoothly.

There were even more people today; the entire racecourse was almost packed. This is also the last major race of the year, and the betting companies' promotion was very effective.

To boost their year-end performance, they sponsored many newspapers related to horse racing, and even the Golden City and Golden Casino in Lance had betting information on this race.

As the race began, the atmosphere at the scene was ignited once again, with people cheering wildly for their chosen horses, as if they possessed inexhaustible energy.

Even... at this moment, Lance felt that if these people were left on the track, they might not run much slower than the racehorses, since it was a matter of money in their pockets.

The Kings performed reasonably well, finishing fourth in the entire competition and advancing to the finals seven days later, giving the people of Lawrence Farm more hope.

Maybe... it will work out?
After the match, Lance drove them to the training ground and then said goodbye; he had other things to do.

These past few days he has needed to keep an eye on several people assigned to him by the Cleveland senators. With many days of December already gone, the president has completely moved out of the presidential palace, leaving only Mr. Porter to take the oath of office and then sit in the presidential palace to begin fulfilling his responsibilities.

The entire federal political arena was unusually quiet.

But people knew that a storm was coming.

This made the federal government both relaxed and tense.

The relief came from the fact that nothing unexpected happened during this period—no political infighting, no conflicts, nothing bad at all; it was as if all the contradictions between people had vanished in that moment. The tension, however, stemmed from the impending brutal political infighting between the two parties. Even if the Liberal Party was in power, the Socialist Party wouldn't allow them to so easily seize control of Parliament.

If you want something, you have to pay a price.

Two days before the final, old man Herbert found Lance.

"Someone called me," he said, holding a dragon blood wood pipe. Some people say that dragon blood wood pipes are good for your health, but whether that's true or not, no one knows. Anyway, the price of dragon blood wood keeps increasing.

Dragon blood wood has always been associated with many miraculous effects, some of which have been proven, but most of them have not. Regardless, the value of dragon blood wood makes it a prime target for logging.

Especially in recent years, the efficiency of logging and transportation has been increasing, resulting in a large loss of dragon bloodwood throughout the Federation, and its price has become increasingly expensive.

A dragon bloodwood pipe, only the size of a palm and weighing less than a pound, costs over a thousand yuan.

This price is actually outrageous. If it weren't for the Lancet brewery, old Herbert might never have been able to afford it in his lifetime.

It's not that he can't afford it, it's just that its price level exceeds Lawrence Farm's previous spending standards, which makes him very distressed.

Lance's gaze swept over the blood-red dragon bloodwood pipe in his hand, then he asked with a smile, "Your friend?"

The reason he said those things must be related to this phone call.

Old man Herbert shook his head. "Not my friend. If they were my friends, they certainly wouldn't have done this. It's someone from some kind of brokerage firm."

“They contacted me privately, hoping that I could make the riders less competitive in this final.”

Lance frowned. "So... you want us to give up on winning the championship?"

Herbert took a drag of his cigarette, a displeased look on his face. "They have a horse called Lightning, and they want it to win a championship. They've promised to help us get King a championship in the Grade 2 race next spring."

The Federalists have never told people that they would do anything with fairness and impartiality, and if they really did, society wouldn't be in such a chaotic state.

These are all spontaneous propagandas from people who are devoted to the Federation. Deep down, they envy and are jealous of the lives of the Federation people and want to come here, but they lack an opportunity. Promoting the false beauty of this spiritual utopia has become their spiritual pillar for surviving in what they consider a terrible place.

But in reality, there is no fairness or justice here; this applies to all walks of life.

The possibility of match-fixing is not limited to horse racing; it can happen in any sport, including baseball, tennis, and rugby.

Lance had forgotten the name of that main batter for the Golden Port City Sailing Team; he was bribed to lose a match he shouldn't have lost.

Of course, his fate was not good either; it was very bad, but this also reflects a fact.

When there is enough profit to be made in a match, it seems perfectly reasonable to manipulate the game.

If Lance hadn't been unwilling to do it, Morris had actually spoken to him about match-fixing, and such practices are quite common in the underworld.

In particular, for some companies and groups that operate casinos and betting, dynamic odds adjustments cannot guarantee that they are 100% risk-free and only profitable.

Therefore, artificially intervening in the outcome of a match can achieve this.

They threaten and intimidate competitors, bribe them, or even attack and harm them—they're willing to do anything to achieve the results they want.

The same applies to horse racing. The result of another sporting event may only bring in a few million or tens of millions of dollars in profit, but the title of champion of a Grade 1 horse race brings at least ten to fifteen years of horse mating opportunities.

Even if that lightning mating service charges 6,000 yuan per mating, that's 600,000 yuan a year, and 6 million yuan in 10 years. Threatening those racehorses and riders who don't have much of a background for 6 million yuan doesn't seem like an excessive thing at all.

"What are your thoughts?" Lance didn't immediately give his opinion, but instead asked the old man Herbert.

A second-tier tournament championship might seem a little lacking, but it's still a championship, and having a second-tier tournament championship might lead to a better ranking when participating in other first-tier tournaments next year.

The high degree of commercialization in horse racing has made the entire industry more "professional." To put it simply, horse racing companies collaborate with betting companies, and they make special arrangements based on the reputation of the horses.

People want to see strong teams compete, rather than seeing most of the well-known racehorses eliminated in the first race, so they will assign each racehorse some suitable "teammates".

These teammates are unlikely to threaten their chances of reaching the semifinals; it's more like a "direct seeding" situation.

Old Herbert took another drag of his cigarette. "I have a feeling we can win this game, so why should we give up?"

He originally had little hope, but the person who contacted him this time actually offered such conditions, and even implied that others had accepted their offers, so he shouldn't be ungrateful.

This means that, in reality, if they were to actually run, the "King's" only opponent would be the "Lightning".

He had seen "Lightning" race, and it was indeed a good horse, but to say that there was a huge gap between it and "King" was impossible.

There isn't a significant difference between the two, and they might have a chance to defeat each other. Moreover, their initiative to contact the old man Herbert indicates that they sensed danger from the "King."

Lance nodded. "In that case, we don't need to agree to their demands. Let's continue at our own pace."

"If they use any underhanded tactics, I will make them pay the price."

"He has the ability to do these things," old Herbert sighed. "Then it's up to you now."

After the old man left, Lance sent people to follow him, not only to protect the people from the farm, but also to ensure the safety of the "King".

Two days later, the final arrived as scheduled, and the atmosphere at the scene reached its most exciting moment of the competition. After all, the horses that made it to the final were the strongest in the competition.

Watching these horse races is more exciting.

The moment the jockey led "King" out of the tunnel, the commentator immediately began to passionately introduce this racehorse from Lawrence Farm to the audience. It had a very impressive record in the competition and was a strong contender for the championship.

Lance also saw the "Lightning." It was indeed very beautiful in appearance, and the rhythm of its muscles as it moved was particularly beautiful. Its satin-like fur also made it very eye-catching.

All the racehorses entered the pen, and with a "toot," the pen instantly closed, and all the racehorses rushed out, just like before, with deafening shouts filling every corner of the arena.

Lance's eyes were fixed on the king; it wasn't in first place, but in third.

This was the strategy of Herbert and the rider: if they started too fast and their energy was not distributed evenly, they would not have enough energy to keep up in the final sprint.

Their plan was to stay in a leading position so as not to be left behind by the two horses in front, conserve their energy, and then accelerate in the last lap and a half.

From the current perspective, the plan was executed quite well. "King" followed with ease, the rider was in good condition, and old man Herbert even showed some smiles.

"It looks to be in great shape. I can tell from its running movements that we have a very high chance of winning first place!"

The other racehorses clearly lacked fighting spirit, perhaps because they had been bribed or influenced to some extent. Winter races are not considered top-tier Class 1 events, and given that these horses and riders might not be able to win, some trading is acceptable.

Just as the race was about to enter the penultimate lap, the rider changed his posture and prepared to sprint when a horse following closely behind "King" suddenly crashed into "King"!
(End of this chapter)