Once again, Leon hit the highway toward Detroit.
This time, he drove like he owned the road — every curve and mile already etched in his memory.
Having passed here once before, he remembered the route perfectly. That instinctive memory felt like another of his gifts.
So now, his acceleration was completely unrestrained.
It terrified Shaw in the passenger seat.
Even when Leon drifted a hundred meters ahead just to dodge a single car, Shaw felt his heart leap into his throat.
"Bro, slow down! Please!" Shaw's voice cracked.
Every turn sent a tearing force through his body, as if gravity itself was trying to rip him apart.
Just like Hattie once said — his soul couldn't keep up anymore.
Leon just laughed. "Why panic? We're only at six hundred — not even nine yet!"
That smug grin made Shaw regret ever bragging earlier about being an "English tough guy."
Now he was pale, trembling, swallowing fear like air.
Even the girls were laughing at him.
Hattie teased, "Haha! Come on, it's only six hundred! You scared already?"
Shaw felt humiliated.
"Some tough guy," he muttered, gripping the handle for dear life.
At this point, he didn't even want to look at the speedometer.
Curious but half-delirious, he asked, "How… how do you even react at this speed?"
Leon glanced over casually. "Fast? I don't feel it's that fast."
Shaw nearly coughed up blood.
At this speed, he couldn't even see the road ahead clearly — but Leon talked as if it was a Sunday drive.
He could feel Leon's quiet disdain radiating through the cabin.
Jealousy crept in.
How could someone make impossible driving look so effortless?
The speed kept climbing.
As the Diomas Nilo approached its upper limits, each extra kilometer per hour became harder to gain.
But with Leon's seamless shifting and throttle precision, the hypercar surged again —
700 km/h,
then 750,
and still rising.
The cabin's pressure was unreal.
At 850 km/h, Shaw could barely breathe. His vision blurred; it felt like altitude sickness.
Yet his heart pounded with adrenaline. Fear and excitement mixed into something indescribable.
"H-how fast now?" he asked weakly.
Leon, calm as ever, replied, "About 850. Almost there."
That calm tone hit harder than the speed.
Shaw wanted to cry. Riding with Leon was a trauma disguised as transportation.
Then Leon's eyes sharpened.
"Oh? Someone's racing ahead."
In the distance, he spotted two supercars dueling at breakneck speed.
They were likely early entrants of the Leon Cup, testing each other before reaching Detroit.
The first car — a bright-orange Apollo Intensa Emozione — looked wild.
Its design was fierce, all sharp lines and exaggerated aerodynamics.
Born from Germany's Audi-linked engineering, the Apollo was a true pure-blood racing machine.
Its carbon-fiber monocoque made it ultra-light — only 1,250 kg — and at 300 km/h, its aerodynamic kit generated 1,350 kg of downforce.
Even at insane speeds, it cornered like it was glued to the road.
The other car, however, made Leon's eyes widen —
a Hongqi S9.
The Hongqi S9's shape was futuristic and fluid —
low, wide, and elegant, with extreme aerodynamic detailing that screamed Chinese engineering pride.
A continuous red flag emblem ran from nose to tail, symbolizing national identity.
Five-pointed-star rims, a massive rear spoiler, and a T-shaped taillight gave it a look straight out of a sci-fi film.
At its center, bold silver-stamped characters read Hongqi – Red Flag, glowing like a badge of honor.
Beneath that sleek exterior lay a twin-turbo V8 hybrid producing over 1,400 horsepower.
Top speed? 400 km/h flat.
0–100 km/h in 1.9 seconds — pure insanity.
Hand-crafted from carbon fiber, the S9 was the pinnacle of Chinese automotive engineering,
a machine built to challenge the European and American giants on their own asphalt.
Leon's eyes lit up.
He couldn't believe it — a Hongqi supercar, here in the U.S., racing for the Leon Cup!
Pride surged in his chest.
Finally, China's own name stood among the titans.
Behind the wheel was An Qiaoqiao, a Chinese racer who had loved the S9 since she first saw it.
To her, it wasn't just a car — it was a national emblem on wheels.
When she received her invitation to the Leon Cup, she begged Hongqi's engineers to let her bring the S9 overseas.
Her dream: to show the world that China could build a supercar equal to — or better than — Ferrari, McLaren, or Bugatti.
But Detroit had gone bankrupt; the old airport was nearly abandoned, so large cargo unloading wasn't allowed.
Her S9 had to be flown into New York instead.
She was now driving cross-country toward Detroit — and inevitably, rivals appeared.
Now, before even reaching the race venue, she was being challenged on the open highway by a foreign driver in the Apollo IE.
An Qiaoqiao didn't back down.
She accepted the duel without hesitation — pride burning brighter than fear.
But racing culture in China was still young.
Compared to seasoned international racers, her technical edge was limited.
The Apollo IE gradually began pressing her, taking the lead turn by turn.
An Qiaoqiao gritted her teeth, feeling the pressure.
She had to prove the Hongqi's worth — and her own.
Even if it meant risking everything before the Leon Cup had even begun.
~~----------------------
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