Not far away, under the parasol, Irene Spencer put down her drink and stood up; everyone's eyes were fixed on the two horses. Ria Chapman was riding a chestnut Mongolian horse, paired with a black saddle. The horse was tall and upright, and when it ran, it seemed as if the wind was beneath its hooves.
Because she seized an early advantage, she initially left Vera Wave behind.
The horses rushed towards the grassy slope. As she leaned forward, just about to turn her head to look back, a white blur flashed before her eyes. Accompanied by a gust of wind, Vera Wave and her horse had already dashed past her side.
Ria Chapman, who originally thought she had victory in hand, felt the gust brush her face, and her complacent smile instantly became rigid.
"Damn it!"
She cursed softly and shook the reins with both hands.
"Giddyup!"
The horse accelerated, charging up the grassy slope, and soon it was downhill again.
