At a corner of the boulevard, hundreds of spectators awaited a fleeting moment of brilliance. The veneration for the limits of speed rendered this crowd fervent.
Distant headlights approached, whistling past them. The wind generated buffeted the spectators' bodies, yet failed to extinguish their ardor, instead inciting even more fervent cheers.
The race cars, typically providing only a single instance of excitement, seemed exceptionally special tonight. After the convoy departed, a formation of even brighter lights emerged. Familiar roars echoed through the tranquil night sky...
A phalanx of uniformly night-black vehicles sped past, more stunning than the preceding group. If the earlier wind was strong, the present one constituted a "tempest."
"Yes!" The audience ignited, screaming obsessively.
Yet, after the black convoy passed, when an equally black human figure flashed by, silence fell. Only wordless bewilderment remained.
"Why do I feel less like we're escaping and more like we're parading? Did you hear the cheers from those people just now?" Uncle remarked, observing the still-excited Madman.
"Perhaps it's precisely for such cheers that I relish hurtling down the highways..." Madman stated reflectively.
"I rather believe you drive like this because you court death..." Uncle retorted sarcastically.
The conversation ceased. Madman focused his entire attention ahead, for the race cars were drawing near.
"Attention!" The final reminder before overtaking.
Zhenxian and Uncle gripped the handles tightly. Depressing the accelerator, the BMW initiated rapid overtaking. A racer's instinctual reaction invariably prompts attempts to obstruct, even without knowing the identity of the vehicle behind...
"Care to play?" Spotting the car ahead weaving left and right, Madman chuckled involuntarily.
Accelerating, nearly colliding with the opponent's bumper. The race car, still attempting to obstruct, obediently shifted to the adjacent lane.
"Technique is adequate, just lacking courage..." Madman arrogantly sped past.
Truly, as Madman predicted, tonight was his performance. In the subsequent overtaking maneuvers, various near-collision spectacles continuously materialized. Race car after race car was left behind. Only the BMW's vivid red taillights remained, leaving elongated halos of light suspended in the air.
However, the pursuing Mercedes convoy consisted not of novices. Every driver was a rigorously trained agent. Aside from Madman's inhuman "stunts," in a straight-line pursuit on a single road, they could marginally avoid being left far behind.
The distance from the race cars grew ever larger. The racers' focus shifted away from the competition. Even the one leading was at least five car lengths behind the frontrunners.
Everyone tacitly reduced speed...
During this night, some discordant events transpired. The convoy was once again overtaken by a latecomer, yet the familiar blood-red halo was absent, replaced by peculiar blue traces...
"One, two, three..." Uncle turned back, counting the numbers. "Fourteen vehicles, not a single one missing. It seems shaking them off today will be exceptionally difficult..."
"The true performance has yet to commence." Madman's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Ahead lies the downhill, S-curve, hairpin descent section. My favorite..."
"What's that?" Uncle failed to comprehend.
"Precisely the section that truly tests high-speed capabilities. Currently, domestically, no one can follow me through this stretch. Attempting to follow without decelerating invariably results in only one outcome: collision. Yet, if speed is reduced, exiting this section leads to diverging straightaways. At that point, even swapping for an F1 car wouldn't enable pursuit of my modified BMW," he explained, as the slope warning sign flashed past.
At the turn ahead, an even larger crowd awaited. This location could arguably be considered the most thrilling, and also the most perilous, part of the entire race. Some individuals held cameras aloft, prepared to capture this eternal moment.
"Witness my performance!" Madman roared, seemingly possessed, right hand rapidly shifting gears, feet continuing their rumba-like dance upon the pedals. The car's rear tilted rightward. Just before entering the curve, it swung towards the roadside guardrail like a divine dragon. Spectators instinctively retreated a step en masse.
Just as impact seemed imminent, as if by divine deliverance, the car's rear halted a mere five centimeters from the guardrail, executing an extreme turn via an unimaginable sideways drift. It could be deemed the most perfect turn! Spectators were so astounded they even forgot to cheer.
The Mercedes behind were not imbeciles; actions deemed impossible would not be attempted. Though their cornering was also quite spectacular, they couldn't approach "death" so closely. The distance gradually, unconsciously widened.
Just when it seemed Madman represented the insurmountable limit, the appearance of the black figure who had trailed them throughout altered everyone's perception.
He was seen crouching low, then leaping from the ground, charging directly towards the guardrail. As the middle of his skateboard impacted the rail, he firmly planted his feet upon it, utilizing inertia to glide through the turn, grinding out distinctive metallic sparks, resembling a grand gala...
The piercing noise, for the first time, attracted the attention of the pursuers ahead.
"What is that?" The driver of the last car observed the figure in the rearview mirror.
The curve completed. The dark figure leaped high with his skateboard. The landing was somewhat unsteady, yet he stabilized firmly beside the car.
A brief pause. Consecutive S-curve sections approached; the driver initiated weaving. Deceleration was imperative. But he would never see the smile on the dark figure's face.
"That fellow! I recall where I've seen him!" a comrade exclaimed. "It's the lead Special Operations armor from the Z-nation military parade!"
The driver had no time to concern himself with identities. The slightest error now would result in flipping the vehicle.
The skateboard showed no intention of decelerating, streaking straight past the car. Yet, it left behind a "substantial memento."
Upon reaching the car's front, the dark figure withdrew an equally black combat knife, effortlessly plunging it into the hood. Accelerating, he sliced it open cleanly, as if cutting cake.
A moment of blankness...
"Boom!" A massive explosion; the car soared into the sky.
Everyone witnessed this skateboarder, the true pursuer.
Entering the curves, everyone focused solely on their own survival. Madman frantically turned the steering wheel left and right. The BMW continuously fishtailed, executing turns with an extreme limit of nearly five centimeters from the edge. Yet, the audience offered no cheers as before, because the dark figure was engaged in killing...
Again, leaping and sliding through the turn. Approaching the rear of another vehicle, the combat knife swung. A tire burst. The car spun, flying over the spectators' heads, crashing ten meters away. Another explosion erupted...
Thus, the pursuing contingent dwindled to 12 vehicles.
Madman's movements were fluid, utterly oblivious to the equally spectacular performance unfolding behind him. Exiting the final curve, straightening the car, he floored the accelerator. The speedometer needle instantly halted at the 270 mark. Disrupted by 13, even his taillights became invisible. The lead car stopped. Everyone disembarked, weapons in hand. Since capture seemed hopeless, this final prey could not be allowed to escape. All vehicles halted steadily; the agents formed a semicircular cordon.
The dark figure exhibited no habit of evasion, stopping within the encirclement, chest armor heaving intensely. It appeared the recent pursuit had consumed considerable stamina.
"Escaped? Only found the one causing destruction! Listen, detain him, dead or alive! I am arriving immediately!" This was the final order issued by the person in charge.
The surrounding agents slowly closed in. The dark figure's blue eyes flickered slightly...
At this moment, Madman began to decelerate.
"Did you witness that?" Uncle stated frigidly.
"Mm, it's Z-nation's new model Special Operations unit," Madman replied with exceptional gravity.
"It's him..." Zhenxian uttered, lost in thought. "It must be him, 13!"
"But why would he assist us?" Madman was bewildered.
"He stated," Uncle recalled something, "that until Miss articulated her wish, he would absolutely not permit her to perish..."
Zhenxian ignored Uncle, merely gazing silently at the fleeting scenery outside the window, yet her body trembled faintly.
"What manner of person are you?" This was Zhenxian's unspoken thought...
"Whatever you are, place your hands on your head!" An agent slowly approaching shouted loudly. A large-caliber handgun aimed squarely at the target's heart. Operating within the city, undertaking merely a kidnapping mission, everyone was equipped only with standard handguns. It was precisely this conventional wisdom that denied them even the opportunity for resistance.
13, surprisingly obedient, raised both hands above his head, his grip on the Titan combat knife tightening...
One step, two steps. 13 calculated the distance. When the encirclement shrank to five meters, the four blue lights atop his helmet stirred...
The supervisor's vehicle arrived, witnessing only a hellscape formed by scattered corpses and blood. Amidst this inferno stood a demon, entirely clad in crimson!
"Any more?" 13 turned his head, observing the newly arrived vehicle, and began running towards it...
"Ah!" The supervisor's piercing scream echoed through the night sky...
The BMW drove steadily into the mansion grounds on the outskirts of Hancheng. This night had been excessively perilous. When Zhenxian disembarked, she nearly stumbled unsteadily, fortunately catching the car door for support, thus avoiding embarrassment.
"Welcome back!" A beautiful maid had been waiting by the entrance for a considerable time.
"Mm," Zhenxian replied placidly, entering the main hall.
The three followed behind her.
"Baozhu, you absolutely cannot imagine how stimulating our night was!" Uncle's tone carried a hint of boastfulness.
"Is that so? You likely also don't know what other stimulating events occurred tonight," the maid stated with a smile.
"What events?" Zhenxian turned back, inquiring.
"Just before your return, Commander Hideaki, the R-nation Supreme Commander, telephoned. He stated that in three days, the grandest high-society ball in all of H-city will be held, inviting Miss to attend. The invitation will be delivered tomorrow."
All three were startled. Everyone recognized the inherent complexity.
But truly exhausted, Zhenxian lacked any inclination for contemplation, quickly returning to her own room, falling asleep without even removing her clothes.
In her dreams, 13's figure flickered continuously...