Street Racing

The two of them chatted back and forth for quite a long time, until Huang Quanlu, thinking he had finally figured out Ye Feng's position, pretended to stagger off to the restroom. When he returned, his expression was much improved, and he seemed considerably more alert. Judging by the water droplets clinging to his hair, he had washed his face.

"Alright, Brother Ye," Huang Quanlu said warmly, "after talking with you for so long today, I truly feel it's a shame we didn't meet sooner. I have a gift for you—just a little token to commemorate our meeting. I hope you won't find it beneath you!" He enthusiastically pulled Ye Feng toward the door.

Ye Feng appeared delighted and replied, "It's a great honor to meet you, Brother Huang. How could I accept your gift? If anything, it should be me giving you something."

"Brother Ye, don't be so formal. We're all family here, no need for such politeness. Come, see if you like what I've prepared for you."

With that, Huang Quanlu had already led Ye Feng outside. Night had fallen, and their dinner had lasted over three hours—it was nearly five o'clock. Two Maseratis were parked at the club entrance; one white, which Huang Quanlu had driven, and another black whose owner was unknown.

Huang Quanlu brought Ye Feng to the black car, opened the door with a flourish, and gestured invitingly. Ye Feng immediately understood, quickening his pace to sit in the driver's seat. Huang Quanlu handed him the keys before taking the passenger seat himself. "Go on, try it out! This car was custom-made, entirely armored with bulletproof materials, and its performance is absolutely top-notch. I ordered two at the time—one for myself, and the other has been waiting for the right person. Today, I'm giving it to you as a welcome gift."

"How can I possibly accept this..." Ye Feng protested, but his hands moved swiftly, starting the car with a series of smooth motions. The engine roared, and the vehicle shot forward.

Since traffic was sparse out in the suburbs, Ye Feng drove freely. But as he reached the elevated highway, cars began to appear more frequently. Ye Feng had no intention to show off—after circling once, he planned to drive back quietly. Yet he soon noticed Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and other sports cars repeatedly overtaking him. Judging by their manner, it was likely a supercar club racing.

Normally, Ye Feng would have ignored such a spectacle, but after a night of intense training with Hua Hua, he could no longer tolerate being overtaken without fighting back.

"Brother Huang, fasten your seatbelt," Ye Feng tossed out casually. Without waiting to see if Huang Quanlu complied, he slammed his foot on the accelerator and clutch, the engine humming loudly. Suddenly, he released the clutch—whoosh!

Huang Quanlu lurched forward as the car surged fifty meters ahead in the blink of an eye. Once he adjusted to the speed and sat securely, he glanced at the speedometer, which now read '231 k/h'.

"You're a bit excessive, aren't you!" Huang Quanlu exclaimed in astonishment. He was no stranger to racing, but this was reckless beyond even his limits.

Ye Feng didn't reply; his response lay in his foot pressing harder on the gas.

The stretch was straight, so the high speed was manageable, but the road ahead was full of curves. Huang Quanlu had raced here many times and knew how dangerous it could be. He quickly warned, "Brother Ye, there's a bend up ahead, you shouldn't go so fast, or else—"

Before he could finish, Ye Feng entered the first curve. To Huang Quanlu's horror, Ye Feng barely slowed down, drifting through the turn on pure inertia. As the roadside flashed closer and closer through the window, Huang Quanlu squeezed his eyes shut in terror.

A few seconds passed. When nothing happened, Huang Quanlu opened his eyes, only to find Ye Feng calmly steering with one hand. Huang Quanlu cursed him as a madman—driving single-handedly at such speeds through these turns was sheer lunacy.

Remembering the big curve ahead, Huang Quanlu hastily advised, "Brother Ye, that's a major turn coming up, you'd better slow down."

Ye Feng paid no heed, shifting into the highest gear and flooring the accelerator. Watching the numbers climb on the dashboard and the curve approaching, Huang Quanlu's face turned pale—he was certain he was doomed.

Meanwhile, they drew closer to three cars ahead that were slowing down, about to collide—ah!

Unable to suppress his fear any longer, Huang Quanlu let out a piercing scream. As the cars loomed nearer, Huang Quanlu bitterly regretted giving Ye Feng this car; never in his life had he been so remorseful.

But just as he was sure a crash was inevitable, he heard the screeching of brakes—not from their car, but from the others. Ye Feng drove as if he had no regard for his life, but the others were not so reckless. They enjoyed the thrill of racing, but not at the cost of their lives.

None dared to drift like Ye Feng, so he easily overtook them on the outermost lane, successfully passing.

Unbelievable! Too surreal!

Everyone was stunned. Such driving skills existed only in movies—and those were special effects, not feats humans could actually perform. It felt utterly unreal. Everyone who witnessed Ye Feng's drift instinctively hit their brakes, their minds momentarily paralyzed, unable to continue driving at high speed.

Even after overtaking, Ye Feng didn't slow down, racing back toward the club.

Huang Quanlu finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as though the nightmare had ended. He silently vowed never to ride in Ye Feng's car again, fearing he'd develop heart disease at a young age. This wasn't just racing—it was shaving years off his life. One ride could take ten years from you.

"Pathetic, such cowards," Ye Feng muttered, vanishing from the racers' sight with a provocative drift.

This was Ye Feng's first real-life race. Though he went fast, it wasn't particularly difficult, which left him dissatisfied and bored.

After descending from the elevated highway, Ye Feng no longer tormented Huang Quanlu's nerves, driving at a leisurely pace—first, because he had no opponents, and second, because the roads didn't allow for speed.

Meanwhile, on the elevated highway, some ten sports cars had gathered, their owners climbing out to discuss the black Maserati they'd just seen. They knew that in Haifeng City, a white Maserati was famous for its fierce racing, but this one was black. Had Huang Shao switched cars? His racing skills had clearly leveled up, and his recklessness had increased as well. They resolved to avoid racing him in the future—it was too dangerous.

Ye Feng and Huang Quanlu remained oblivious to their discussion.

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