"Damn, damn, damn, drifting? Fuck, this crappy motorcycle can actually drift?"
A crowd was stirred up, their eyes glued to the person and vehicle that had suddenly burst into the battlefield, extremely excited.
Zhang Fan was thoroughly dumbfounded. He had never imagined that the old motorcycle parked at the entrance, the one even thieves couldn't be bothered with, could perform a drift in his dad's hands. Damn, was his dad the legendary racing god of Qiuming Mountain?
Zhang Fan jogged over and, with a playful grin, said, "Dad, what are you doing here?"
At the sound of Zhang Fan's voice, everyone's gaze turned stunned again!
Was that man sitting on the motorcycle Zhang Fan's father?
God, what kinds of people were these?
A kid daring enough to fight in the Starlight Hotel and a father who was a pro at racing, they truly were a formidable pair.
