Chapter 120: Wuling: Back in the Day, I Had My Hands in My Pockets, Not Knowing What an Opponent Was

Chapter 120: Chapter 120: Wuling: Back in the Day, I Had My Hands in My Pockets, Not Knowing What an Opponent Was

The racing girls, clad in bikinis and four-inch stilettos, strutted among the wealthy heirs. They were strikingly conspicuous, drawing more than a few lingering stares.

Fortunately, no one dared to approach them. Wyatt Winslow and his circle came from families with far too much power. While plenty of women were desperate to throw themselves at the young men, the implicit threats of crossing such formidable figures quickly extinguished those thoughts. The racing girls were undeniably sweet and charming, with smoking hot bodies. Every movement they made oozed seduction, and many people nearby couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and cop a feel.

Once everyone was assembled, the racers returned to their cars. That Ford Transit was particularly eye-catching; it was the first time any of the spectators had seen someone bring a van to a supercar race.

However, a light ripple of boos drifted from the stands when the crowd saw the gorgeous woman take the wheel of the Devel 16 instead of its original owner.

Jason Rivers was smoking in his car with the window rolled down. Hearing the jeers, he stuck his head out and roared at the crowd.

"What are you booing for?! That Devel 16 belongs to Rian! You think I have the kind of money to buy a beast like that?"

Jason’s words only fueled the chatter in the stands.

Rian Sinclair paid them no mind. Jason flicked his cigarette butt out the window, gave the racing girl a hand signal, and rolled up his window.

VROOM!

VROOM, VROOM!

Seven supercars and one Ford Transit lined up in order on the track. The overlapping roars of their engines pierced the sky like howling beasts, sending tremors through the ground. Hundreds of spectators scattered across the stands and the surrounding areas, their cheers echoing into the clouds. Some waved glow sticks to cheer on the racers, while others frantically blew kisses at the supercars.

Watching a race truly required being right in the thick of it; watching from the building earlier didn’t offer anywhere near this level of atmosphere.

Even through the closed windows, Rian could hear the roaring crowd. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she lightly tapped her fingertips against the steering wheel, looking completely relaxed.

The racing girls swayed their slender waists to the pulsating rhythm of the music. Their movements were provocative, their eyes brimming with seductive allure. Every gesture they made radiated an immense, tantalizing charm. Adrenaline and passion instantly maxed out.

Wave after wave of fanatical cheering left Wyatt’s eardrums ringing. After stepping out of his car to give the other three a quick heads-up, he walked over to Rian’s vehicle.

Leaning against her window, he said, "Rian, this is just a friendly race. Let’s put safety first, yeah?"

Rian nodded. "Don’t worry. I value my life."

Wyatt was only giving the extra warning because it was her first time racing here. Plenty of people let the adrenaline rush straight to their heads, prioritizing winning over their own safety. People of their status technically weren’t allowed to participate in such dangerous extreme sports. Their families had strictly forbidden it. But they couldn’t help themselves—they loved the thrill. More importantly, they held actual power; they weren’t useless trust-fund babies who relied entirely on their parents. Therefore, as long as they prioritized their own safety, they could race to their hearts’ content.

Evan Rivers’s car was parked right next to Rian’s. Because of the deafening cheers, Wyatt had to shout for Rian to hear him, which meant Evan caught every word.

"Winslow the Second, why don’t you come over here and give me some safety tips, too?" Evan called out.

He was promptly met with a massive eye roll from Wyatt. "Evan, stop messing with me. When I first got into this scene, you were already flying down these tracks."

Evan raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. Wyatt quickly wrapped up and returned to his car.

Upon receiving the ready signals from all eight drivers, the flagman brought his flag down in a sharp motion. The race had officially begun.

Seven supercars and the pink Ford Transit shot forward like arrows released from a bowstring. Leaving long trails of exhaust in their wake, they cleared a hundred meters in the blink of an eye.

Capable of hitting a hundred kilometers per hour in just 1.8 seconds, the Devel 16 took a massive lead right off the starting line. While the other supercars couldn’t quite match its incredible acceleration, they were no slouches either, with the remaining seven vehicles hot on its heels.

Up in the stands, the crowd’s attention was glued to the massive screens, their voices overlapping in excited debate.

"It really is the Devel 16! Zero to a hundred in 1.8 seconds. It’s leaving everything else in the dust through pure performance dominance. You can practically smell the money on that beast."

"You can’t call it just yet. They only just started. There are still three laps to go—no need to jump the gun."

"Holy crap, that Ford Transit is getting absolutely slaughtered on performance. It can’t even keep up with the worst sports car in the lineup."

"There’s a chance the 16 pulls ahead at the start but falls behind later if her driving skills are subpar. The car is incredible, but who knows how good that gorgeous woman is behind the wheel."

The second-generation heirs in the crowd all knew of Wyatt’s inner circle. The hierarchy within the wealthy elite was just that rigid. The lower tiers absolutely knew who was in the upper echelons, but Wyatt and his crew likely had no idea who they were. That was simply how the strict class system among affluent families worked.

"That redhead Wyatt is driving as steadily as ever. He’s just a hair faster than Jason."

"Hahaha, you’d better pray Winslow the Second doesn’t hear you say that, or he’ll come up here and end you."

"The legendary Ford Transit! If it claims second place, who would dare claim first?!"

"Isn’t it in first place right now? First from the bottom, that is."

"Don’t laugh! Do you guys not understand the sheer prestige of Veridia’s legendary van?"

In truth, they didn’t actually want to gang up and bash the Ford Transit. But on a track completely dominated by supercars, the lone van puttering along in the rear was just too conspicuous. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Front-engine, rear-wheel drive—it’s got a true sports car layout! Who dares look down on the mighty Transit?"

Just as the crowd was relentlessly mocking it, the Ford Transit quietly made its move. Taking the inside of a sharp turn, it cleanly overtook a GTR.

The spectators watching the race practically had their jaws drop to the floor.

"What’s up?" they thought. "David Walden? Did the Seijun God of War, the GTR, really just get passed by a Ford Transit? Are we hallucinating right now?"

"What the hell is that?"

"A Ford Transit on the outside, but a top-tier supercar on the inside?"

"This is absurd! Absolutely ridiculous! Drug test! Drag it away for a drug test!"

Immediately after, they watched as it overtook a Maybach and a Bentley.

Inside his Ferrari, Jason caught sight of the pink Ford Transit tailing him closely in his rearview mirror. It actually looked like it was gearing up to pass him, too. Smirking slightly, he slammed on the gas, attempting to leave the Ford Transit in the dust. But the van stuck to him like glue, the gap between them shrinking by the second.

Approaching a curve, the Transit initiated a flawless drift along the inner lane, beautifully overtaking the Ferrari. After snatching the lead, it didn’t slow down in the slightest; it continued surging forward.

The spectators in the stands were now seriously suspecting that the race was rigged. This was simply too outrageous to be real. Yet, seeing Jason’s Ferrari get overtaken left them completely speechless. The owner of that Ferrari was Jason Rivers! Who would throw a rigged race by passing the primary financial backer?

Completely bewildered, the crowd scratched their heads, trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

"Holy crap, he actually got passed? What the hell is Jason doing?"

"Wait, you’re telling me a Ferrari can’t outrun a Ford Transit? What kind of joke is this?"

"With that speed and those drifts, are you sure they aren’t shooting a movie right now?"

"Yeah, okay, *Fast and Furious 10* has officially begun filming."

The crowd was going absolutely wild. Especially after watching the Ford Transit overtake the Seijun God of War GTR and the Bentley, only to go on and crush the Ferrari, no one knew how to react. All that remained was one primal realization:

This race was incredibly fucking thrilling. And this Ford Transit was too fucking badass.