For the East Coast, hitting 500 km/h was already a glorious feat. Even if it was just one kilometer faster, it was enough to boast, to stand above rivals, and to set a record. The Pagani instantly became a hot topic—the perfect advertisement to boost its reputation.
But for the West Coast? That record was a joke.
Because Leon existed there.
With nitrous boost added, Leon's road tyrant could hit a top speed of 1122 km/h—more than double that of the Pagani.
Such a speed couldn't even be explained with normal logic. It wasn't just a car anymore—it was a missile on wheels. A nightmare for every racer.
"I've got word," Monark said with a sly smile. "The man from the West Coast has already arrived in New York. I wonder… can Dino still stay calm?"
That single statement flipped the room upside down.
East Coast fanboys online immediately flooded the comments, spitting fire:
"Bullsh*t! The East Coast is the strongest—West Coast is nothing!"
"When it comes to street racing, East Coast is always number one!"
"If Tobey can't, there's Dino! If Dino can't, there are plenty of others."
"Bring your West Coast clowns over—we'll show you what real racing is!"
"Hahaha! Aren't those broke West Coasters still driving Dodges?"
Mockery and insults rained down on the West Coast. They refused to accept that the West Coast might be rising.
The East Coast had Washington, New York, Boston, Philadelphia… twelve world-class cities.
What did the West Coast have? Just Los Angeles, San Francisco, Las Vegas—only seven big cities. In scale and resources, they were still far behind.
So when someone dared claim the West Coast was stronger, the East Coasters would never accept it.
"Heh, West Coast trash… all talk," Dino sneered, full of contempt.
What he didn't realize was that the man sitting in front of him was none other than the Car God of the West Coast.
And the numbers he mocked weren't exaggerated—they were actually understated. If these East Coast clowns knew that Leon could cross the entire United States in five hours flat, they'd lose their minds.
But of course, without evidence, no one would believe it.
Tobey and his crew looked at the arrogant Dino with strange expressions. They couldn't help but wonder—who gave this guy the guts to spout nonsense in front of the living legend himself?
Leon's eyes grew cold.
"I wasn't planning to meddle in East Coast business," he said slowly. "But you… a piece of trash who can only hit 500 km/h, dare to call me all talk? That, I can't ignore."
He turned to Tobey.
"When does the Leon Cup start?"
"Two nights from now. Midnight sharp," Tobey replied.
That gave Tobey time to finish modding his SSC. With the "Big Lizard" setup, he was confident he could break 520 km/h on an open track.
But Leon wasn't impressed. Straight-line speed only showed a car's raw performance. It didn't prove skill. After all, Tobey's 480 km/h record was already years old. Compared to today's machines, it was nothing.
Leon leaned back, smirking, one leg crossed over the other. He stared at Dino with mocking eyes.
"Here's the deal: Two nights from now, at the Leon Cup—if you lose, you hand over your car, all your sponsorship money… and kneel to call me 'Daddy.'"
The demand hit Dino like a thunderbolt. His face twisted in rage. Losing the car and the money was already brutal—but his dignity too? That was worse than death.
"You?! What makes you qualified to even race against me?!" Dino roared.
Still clueless, he hadn't realized who Leon really was. Spouting off without knowing your opponent—classic dumb rich kid move.
Leon's smirk deepened.
"I am exactly who you've been calling trash… the West Coast Car God—Leon."
BOOM.
Dino felt like lightning struck his brain. His skin turned pale, his lips lost all color, his eyes wide in horror.
Just moments ago, he was mocking the "West Coast trash." And now, standing before him… was the very god he insulted.
"This can't be real! A Car God wouldn't be drinking in a dump like this bar!" Dino stammered in denial.
"Dump?" Tobey snorted. "Do you even know how much this bottle costs? Twenty thousand U.S. dollars. You're still living in the past. Times have changed, Dino."
Back before prison, there weren't even billion-dollar hypercars. A single race with a few million in prize money was considered huge.
But now? Prize pools worth a few million couldn't even attract racers anymore. The combined cost of today's cars easily surpassed a hundred million.
Leon chuckled darkly.
"Why don't you Google it when you get home? Or wait—you still don't even know what 5G is, right?"
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Tobey's crew burst into laughter, mercilessly mocking Dino.
He'd only been out of prison for a few hours, and here he was trying to act like the king of the streets. But the world had changed while he was gone. He looked like a fool.
"You… you…!" Dino's face turned red with fury, chest heaving.
He had come here intending to dominate, to humiliate Tobey's crew. Instead, thanks to Leon, he became the joke.
"Still not leaving?" Leon's eyes gleamed with danger as he flexed a fist the size of a sandbag.
Dino flinched and staggered back two steps. Leon's physique was terrifying—explosively powerful. A scrawny guy like Dino wouldn't survive one punch.
But just walking away would destroy his pride. Gritting his teeth, he shouted:
"Two nights from now—the Leon Cup! We'll settle this then!"
With that, he fled, humiliated, like a kicked puppy.
Everyone roared with laughter. Dino had come to show off, but instead, he left as the punchline.
Tobey's crew now looked at Leon with even more respect. Without him, they'd have been the ones humiliated tonight.
After all, Dino was the kind of guy who was unstoppable when showing off—unless someone like Leon was there to crush him.
Whether in racing or in arrogance, Dino was no match. He couldn't possibly win.
"But the Leon Cup isn't open to just anyone," Julia said with concern. "You need an invitation."
"That's no problem," Gisele said with a mysterious smile. "Finding the right person, or the right place—that's what I'm best at."
She wasn't Leon's equal on the track, but when it came to intel and navigation, Gisele was unmatched. She had her own methods. And talents like hers were exactly what Tobey's crew needed.
"If the cops get in the way, I can handle it," Elena added, surprising everyone.
Street racing was illegal by default, yet Leon's team even had influence over the police.
"I'm not that powerful," Hattie chimed in with a sly grin. "But I've already planted backdoors in both the CIA and FBI databases. Just simple viruses, disguised as office files. I can access whatever data we need, whenever we need it."
The room fell silent for a moment.
This wasn't just a racing crew.
This was a full-blown, elite operation.
~~----------------------
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