Whether it was the audience at the race or the viewers watching the live broadcast at home, everyone was utterly dumbfounded.
What just happened?
How could a live broadcast suddenly cut out like this? The enraged crowd glared at the temporary broadcasting station with bloodshot eyes, looking as though they were ready to tear it apart with their bare hands.
This wasn't just an issue of the feed cutting out—this was about Wind God. Their idol, their hero, was at the center of this chaotic, incomplete story.
Mu Xin, the host, was utterly unfit to return to the broadcast desk. Her expression said it all—terror-stricken, lost, and at a loss for words. There was nothing else to call the staff of the station but a group paralyzed by fear.
Accidents during race broadcasts were hardly new, but this? This was the second major crash tonight. The first incident had already pushed the spectators to the brink of losing their composure; they had nearly stormed the station just moments earlier. And now? This involved Wind God.
Thankfully, the broadcast director had been sharp enough to cut the feed the moment things went awry. If the footage had been aired in its entirety... the consequences would have been catastrophic.
Because this wasn't just an accident anymore—it was a deliberate act of sabotage.
If the audience knew the true intentions behind the Japanese racers' actions, the shock would have escalated into something unthinkable.
"...Director, what the hell just happened?"
The broadcast director was as clueless as the others. But one thing was clear: if this footage was shown, the entire event would descend into chaos. He didn't know how bad things might get, and he didn't want to find out. His focus now was on reporting this incident to his superiors.
"...The cameraman is still filming. Should we resume the broadcast?"
"Are you out of your mind? Of course not! Switch the feed to a different channel immediately!"
"A different channel? Why?"
"Do I look like I have time to explain? Just do it! Use the secure frequency!"
The director hung up the phone and lit a cigarette, staring at the darkened screen. Something about this entire event felt... off.
Was this really just an underground street race? Why was the higher administration taking such a heavy-handed approach to overseeing it? Could it be that the Oriental Group, the rumored organizers of the upcoming league championship, were involved? Did this Wind God have connections with them?
And yet... the frequency they were instructed to use. If the director remembered correctly, wasn't that reserved for government use? Could it be that the Oriental Group had political ties? Or perhaps Wind God himself had some kind of influence?
Whatever the case, the director knew this was way beyond his jurisdiction. Exhaling a puff of smoke, he leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen. The footage wasn't something anyone else could see—but that didn't mean he wasn't watching it.
Meanwhile, Liu Tang and his group, who had originally planned to sit out the race like usual, were now completely on edge.
"Brother Liu, what do we do now?"
Liu Tang looked at the dispersing crowd, his face a mask of worry. "What can we do? There's nothing we can do right now... Damn it, we can't even contact the boss. Let's just head back."
"But... what about Brother Feng?" Yaoyao's voice trembled. She stared at the eerily silent road, her heart heavy with the thought that she might never see him again. Her chest tightened, and tears welled up in her eyes.
Liu Tang sighed deeply. He pulled Yaoyao into a comforting embrace, patting her gently on the shoulder like an older brother would. Though he shared her fear, he forced himself to remain calm. "Don't worry. This might be Brother Feng's first time on this route, but don't forget—when he first raced at our home base, he beat me easily. He's not just our boss—he's Wind God. So what if the opponents are Japanese? I believe in him. He'll make it through. Trust me."
Yaoyao wiped her tears, a glimmer of hope sparked by Liu Tang's words. "Brother Liu... Do you think if I transferred to Chongqing University, Brother Feng would be happy?"
"Transfer schools?" Liu Tang blinked in surprise but quickly remembered that Yaoyao's father was the mayor. Of course, transferring schools would be no big deal for her. "I can't say for sure if he'll be happy... but I promise he definitely won't be upset."
Yaoyao clenched her fists tightly, trying to suppress the turmoil in her heart. Her voice was resolute. "Brother Feng... we will meet again. I know we will."
Liu Tang gave her a concerned glance but chose not to say anything more.
Zhao Jie stared blankly at the now-static screen. After what felt like an eternity, she finally managed to suppress her turbulent emotions. Turning to her friends, she forced a weak smile. "Nianran, Li Ning... let's head back."
Li Ning, who had been worried about Zhao Jie's pale complexion, nodded immediately. "Alright, let's go."
"But... Fine, let's go," Nianran reluctantly agreed, catching Li Ning's sharp glance. As they helped Zhao Jie hobble down the mountain, Nianran took one last look at the desolate road. Hang in there, Zhuifeng.
The race—or whatever it had become—had not stopped just because the spectators had left. If anything, it was now clearer than ever that this was no longer about racing. Wind God's fate was still hurtling forward, faster than ever, into the unknown.
The moment he saw his car push Yamamoto off the cliff, Zhuifeng's already pale face turned even paler. As soon as the car stopped, he wanted to jump out and check what had happened. But before he could gather his wits, the car, which he had just managed to straighten out, was suddenly hit again. Alarmed, he quickly glanced at the rearview mirror. It was Koizumi again....
The once-confused Zhuifeng suddenly began to understand. Like a flash of lightning, the series of collisions from earlier played back in his mind.
"Yamamoto must have done it on purpose!"
After all, he had left Yamamoto far behind earlier. If it weren't deliberate, how else could Yamamoto have caught up and crashed into him? With this realization, Zhuifeng no longer cared about Yamamoto's condition. He slammed on the gas, using the momentum from Koizumi's collision to shoot forward.
"…"
Heaven above, are you messing with me? As soon as Zhuifeng sped off, his nerves, which had just begun to settle, were once again jolted. Up ahead, he spotted the ominous figure of Shinohara Kenrei's car. After the sudden chaos of the past few seconds, Zhuifeng no longer naively believed that this car was here for sightseeing or a leisurely drive.
You've only got yourself to blame, kid—you were the one courting death! Shinohara Kenrei sneered coldly. However, from the look on his face, it didn't seem like he was here to avenge Yamamoto, who had just plunged off the cliff.
Then again, if he really did show such a vengeful expression, he wouldn't be Shinohara Kenrei. Could there be some hidden reason behind all of this?
Of course, there was. But to understand it, we'd have to go back to a month ago...
"Big brother, you called me back so urgently—what's going on?"
Shinohara Kenshi's furrowed brows didn't relax at the sight of his right-hand man returning. On the contrary, they grew even tighter. Without a word, he picked up a document from the table beside him and tossed it over. "Take a look at this."
In Shinohara Kenrei's memory, he had never seen his elder brother look like this. Although outsiders often claimed that his brother only managed to climb to his current position because of Kenrei's help, Kenrei knew that was far from the truth. People simply didn't understand Shinohara Kenshi. Most of the tasks Kenrei carried out were, in fact, based on the plans and strategies of his seemingly mild-mannered elder brother. Kenrei had only ever acted on his brother's instructions. Put simply, Kenrei was merely a tool—a weapon in Shinohara Kenshi's hands. And yet, it was a role he willingly accepted.
Kenrei's face turned ghostly pale before he had even finished reading the document. Cold sweat trickled down his back. "B-Big Brother, isn't this our Yamaguchi-gumi's 'operations report' from the U.S.?"
Kenshi's expression was equally grim. "It is. But it's far more detailed than the reports we receive from our own people."
Kenrei now understood why his normally unshakable elder brother was acting this way. Simply put, it meant their organization's every move in the United States was being monitored. "...Who is it?"
"The FBI."
"What?!" Kenrei jumped off the sofa in shock. "The FBI? As in... the American FBI??" If anyone else had said this, he wouldn't have believed them, not even if his life depended on it. Even a three-year-old child would know that the Yamaguchi-gumi was a criminal organization, and that in the U.S., the FBI was the natural enemy of all criminal syndicates. What scared Kenrei earlier was the mere possibility that this document might fall into the hands of the U.S. government. What terrified him even more now was the realization that it had come from the very entity he feared most—the FBI. Kenrei was stunned. Completely and utterly stunned.
Kenshi didn't say a word, only stared at him coldly. Kenshi was one of the few people who knew that Kenrei wasn't as invincible as the outside world believed him to be. However, Kenshi also knew that Kenrei wasn't the fool some others thought he was. To outsiders—particularly those in the criminal underworld—Kenrei was a formidable figure. But to a select few, he acted like a simpleton. In truth, his foolish behavior was nothing more than a calculated act, a deliberate strategy designed to make the core members of the organization underestimate him. After all, one can never be too cautious.
And the person who had come up with this preventive measure was none other than Kenrei himself. Kenshi still remembered asking him why he would go to such lengths, degrading himself with such an act. Kenrei's answer had been simple: Because you're my big brother!
It was because of this answer that Kenshi had entrusted everything to him—every task, every secret of the organization.
Now, Kenshi believed Kenrei could figure out the crux of the problem in an instant.