An Qiaoqiao was a stunning sight—graceful and confident, her name already known among the few women who dared to dominate the racing circuit.
Her shoulder-length hair framed her delicate face, the slight curl at the ends adding a balance of elegance and fire.
But right now, sweat glistened on her cheekbones—because the driver in front of her was being infuriatingly sly.
Every time she tried to overtake on the left, his Apollo supercar swerved left.
She'd swing right—he'd block right.
He wasn't just racing; he was toying with her.
She could tell he knew what she was driving—
the Hongqi S9, China's first true hypercar, proudly carrying the red flag emblem.
He was trying to humiliate her, to kill her momentum before the race even began.
And that infuriated her.
Because the Hongqi S9 wasn't just any car.
It was China's engineering declaration to the world—
a symbol of the nation's rise in the supercar scene.
Fully independently designed and built, it represented China's new "390 Tech" initiative—pioneering materials, aerodynamics, and power integration.
Its design broke from Hongqi's traditional conservative boxy look.
Only the thin red bar logo on the nose hinted at its lineage.
Everywhere else, the S9 screamed innovation—
aggressive aerodynamic fins, matrix laser headlights, and a body sculpted for airflow rather than ceremony.
If this car failed to impress here, in the Leon Cup,
it would be a national embarrassment.
And for An Qiaoqiao, whose career had been built on this moment—
failure wasn't an option.
"Damn it," she hissed, gripping the wheel, "I should just ram him off the track!"
But just as that reckless thought crossed her mind—
a deep, monstrous roar ripped through the air.
The sound was unlike anything she'd heard.
It wasn't the purr of a sports car or the scream of a turbocharged engine—
it was the growl of a predator.
Even the Apollo and her Hongqi S9 suddenly seemed tame, their engines' notes drowned out entirely.
"What in the world…?"
She looked into the rearview mirror—
and saw it.
A silver beast, surging forward like a missile.
Every driver ahead instinctively veered aside,
because that sound meant death if you stayed in the way.
The Tyrant was coming.
Leon's "Diomas", his one-of-a-kind car, thundered past like a charging juggernaut.
An Qiaoqiao's breath caught.
She'd heard the name whispered among racers—
the mysterious car that had hit 900 km/h, breaking every known limit.
"So the legends were true," she murmured. "Leon's here."
The Leon Cup had suddenly become something far bigger than she imagined.
This wasn't just an American underground race.
This was a global showdown—
East vs West,
China vs America vs Japan.
And the players?
Absolute legends.
Dino and Tobey, the East Coast kings.
Leon, the unstoppable West Coast devil.
And soon, from across the Pacific —
the Drift God himself, Takumi Fujiwara of Akina Mountain.
For a moment, she felt small.
The Hongqi S9, for all its power, was a newborn tiger in a jungle full of apex predators.
Then—
the roar came closer.
Leon's car slowed… and slid up beside her.
Through the tinted glass, she could barely make out his face.
For a heartbeat, she wondered — what's he doing?
Then, with a flick of his wrist, Leon's Tyrant swerved left —
and rammed straight into the Apollo.
BANG!
The Apollo's side mirror exploded, the metal frame crumpling under the impact.
The car fishtailed violently.
Its driver slammed the brakes — tires screeching, smoke pouring —
but it was too late.
The Apollo smashed through the guardrail,
hit a dirt mound,
and launched into the air like a rocket gone wrong.
It flipped — once, twice, three times —
before crashing down upside down, debris scattering across the highway.
The bumper tore off and flew thirty meters away.
Silence followed.
An Qiaoqiao's knuckles went white on the steering wheel.
"He… he actually rammed him off the road…"
This wasn't just racing anymore.
This was combat.
The Tyrant had earned its name —
pure domination, no mercy, no hesitation.
You block Leon once—
you don't get a second chance.
But then—
Leon did something unexpected.
He drifted slightly, leaving the inner lane wide open for her.
He was… letting her pass?
An Qiaoqiao blinked, completely thrown off.
No American racer would ever yield like that—
especially not to a Chinese competitor.
Was it respect?
Strategy?
Or just his way of saying: Keep up, if you can.
Before she could decide, a black-and-white blur sliced through the right lane —
AE86.
Her jaw dropped.
"Wait… that's— no way— the AE86?!"
And beside her, Leon's Tyrant snarled like a beast sensing its equal.
The two cars — one ancient legend, one futuristic monster —
revved in unison.
Then they both launched forward.
BOOM!
The air split.
In seconds, both cars vanished ahead, leaving only echoes of their engines behind.
An Qiaoqiao froze, watching helplessly as the monsters of three nations —
America, Japan, and China —
fought for supremacy on the same asphalt.
And for the first time, she realized—
this wasn't just a race anymore.
It was history in motion.
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