Mulubrhan Henok had been watching Huang Chong's every move. The moment Huang Chong stood up, Henok also rose from the saddle of his Drosha War Chariot.
But he had assumed Huang Chong would once again attack with an anaerobic burst of 700-800W. After trying to keep pace for a few pedal strokes, he found his thighs had instantly turned hard as concrete, as if they were filled with cement.
"1100W? My God, how is that possible?"
Mulubrhan Henok glanced at his bike computer in horror. The numbers were correct. He knew that after being dragged into three consecutive anaerobic attacks by Huang Chong, his body was flooded with lactic acid, and his heart rate had red-lined.
With no other choice, and less than a kilometer from the summit of the Deep Mountain, he finally gave up the chase, watching as Huang Chong sped away and disappeared into the distance on the final 8.2% gradient.
"Five seconds—"
"Ten seconds—"
"Twenty-five seconds—"
"Thirty-seven seconds—"
