Chapter 0081: Strong Body, Fearless

Song Wenwen looked at Zhang Xiaofan’s confident expression and smiled. “That’s the so-called Racing King of Jinghai. Are you really this sure of yourself?”

“Racing King? Who dares call themselves that in front of me?” Zhang Xiaofan replied nonchalantly.

His voice wasn’t loud, but everyone around heard it clearly, and a wave of exclamations rippled through the crowd.

“Kid, you’re pretty arrogant, aren’t you?” Xu Changqing glared at Zhang Xiaofan, his mood sour. If not for this guy, he’d probably already be enjoying himself with Song Wenwen by now.

“Don’t tell me you’re that so-called Racing King. You sure don’t look the part.” Zhang Xiaofan shifted his gaze to Xu Changqing, whose entire demeanor screamed “rich second generation.”

“I’m not the Racing King, but I’m still out of your league,” Xu Changqing retorted.

“Oh? If you’re not, then why are you making so much noise? Trying to remind everyone you exist?” Zhang Xiaofan replied with a hint of disdain.

“Kid, you really have a mouth on you.” Xu Changqing’s tone grew colder. This guy was all talk, driving nothing but a beat-up Cayenne—where did he get the nerve?

“See that? That’s my car—a Ferrari LaFerrari. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll behave. Otherwise...” Xu Changqing pointed at his beloved Ferrari, first showing off, then threatening. The message was clear: I’m loaded, so you’d better stay out of my way.

“You’ve said it twice now. Yes, I’m arrogant. What are you going to do about it? Tell me—what will you do?” Zhang Xiaofan’s tone remained calm, his eyes full of scorn.

“If you want to race, hurry up. It’s getting late,” Mu Han interjected, walking over to address Xu Changqing.

“Alright, I’ll arrange it now.” Xu Changqing didn’t dare let Mu Han lose his temper; otherwise, all his plans for tonight would go up in smoke.

“So, you’re here to race for Wenwen?” Xu Changqing was clearly displeased with Zhang Xiaofan, but he couldn’t let the race fall through. He was just one step away from getting Song Wenwen, and he was growing impatient.

“That’s right. But all I’ve heard since I got here is you running your mouth. If you want to race, stop wasting time,” Zhang Xiaofan replied.

“Well, you really are arrogant. Dare to make a bet with me?” Xu Changqing challenged.

“Sure. I was just thinking the race needed a little excitement.” Zhang Xiaofan grinned. “If I win, you smash your precious Ferrari yourself. How about it?”

“And if you lose? You’re not going to smash your beat-up Cayenne, are you? You can’t possibly think that thing can compete with my LaFerrari.” Xu Changqing sneered.

“Don’t worry. I won’t lose,” Zhang Xiaofan said coolly.

“And if, by some miracle, you do?” Xu Changqing pressed.

“If he loses, I’ll spend two nights with you,” Song Wenwen interjected.

“Is that a promise?” Xu Changqing’s excitement was palpable.

“Cut the crap! When have I ever gone back on my word?” Song Wenwen snapped.

“Good! Then let’s get started!” Xu Changqing could barely contain himself.

At that moment, Zhang Xiaofan looked at Song Wenwen and smiled. “So, if I win, will you spend two nights with me as well?”

“You little pervert, aren’t you afraid I’ll wear you out?” Song Wenwen shot him a glare.

“I’m strong—I can handle it,” Zhang Xiaofan replied with a laugh.

“If you’re racing, get ready,” Mu Han said, glancing at both Xu Changqing and Zhang Xiaofan. He wasn’t one for many words, but anyone could sense his confidence and arrogance when it came to racing.

Zhang Xiaofan sized up this so-called Racing King of Jinghai. The man was almost unnaturally pale—even Nangong Haotian wasn’t this pale.

“I was thinking the same thing. Let’s begin. What are the rules?” Zhang Xiaofan asked, focusing his attention.

“It’s simple. One lap around the mountain road. Whoever returns here first wins,” Mu Han explained.

“Simple enough. Let’s do it,” Zhang Xiaofan replied with a smile.

“Let me be clear—I’ll be driving the Ferrari. If you think you can’t handle it, admit defeat now and save us all some time,” Mu Han said. He could feel a hint of pressure from Zhang Xiaofan, so he thought it best to use Xu Changqing’s car for safety.

“Xiaofan, that Ferrari’s been modified...” Song Wenwen quickly whispered a reminder.

Zhang Xiaofan smiled. “Don’t worry. My Cayenne isn’t bad, either. No matter how good the car, it’s the driver that counts, isn’t it?”

He was well aware the other car had been modified. A LaFerrari was already a beast, and with modifications, even more so. But so what? This was a mountain road—a route full of twists and turns. While car performance mattered, driving skill was even more crucial. Zhang Xiaofan didn’t believe the so-called Racing King’s skills could compare with his own, honed during his years with Dragon Soul.

Though he’d only spent three years with Dragon Soul, Zhang Xiaofan was an all-around elite, and racing was one of the skills he’d trained most obsessively. He’d wrecked dozens of top-grade military vehicles—sometimes in crashes that would have been fatal for an ordinary person. Every race was a test of the limits, to the point where driving had become as natural as moving his own body.

Such training at the edge could not be matched by this so-called Racing King of Jinghai.

To truly master the art, it was not just top-tier skill that was needed. At the highest level, it was a matter of lightning reflexes and unwavering courage.

“Let’s get started,” Mu Han said, moving toward the Ferrari and climbing in. The engine roared to life, its growl echoing through the night.

Zhang Xiaofan grinned, walked a few steps, and opened the door of the Cayenne.

“I’m coming with you,” Song Wenwen quickly hopped into the passenger seat, smiling. “I’ve wagered my most precious thing tonight—I need to keep an eye on you.”

“Don’t worry. Your most precious thing can only belong to me,” Zhang Xiaofan replied with a laugh as he started the engine. In fact, the Cayenne’s high chassis gave it an advantage on mountain roads.

What’s more, Lin Siyu had fitted it with the latest dual-stage booster. The power of a dual-stage booster was its ability to provide a second acceleration—a level of speed most wouldn’t even dare attempt, as it bordered on terrifying.

Ordinary cars couldn’t withstand that kind of speed, but Lin Siyu’s Cayenne, though it looked standard, was a fully customized machine—as Zhang Xiaofan well knew. After the last crash, Lin Siyu must have had it rebuilt for maximum safety.

The crowd quickly dispersed, everyone taking their places along the roadside. The silver Cayenne and the LaFerrari rolled to the center of the road.

A sultry woman stepped between the two cars, swaying her slender waist, and with a flourish, whipped off her bra.

She swayed it back and forth, calling out, “Ready...”

Wow, what a stunner! She was clearly copying that scene from the popular movie “Speed and Passion.” Her outfit was already revealing, and now, with that final gesture, a snowy expanse was in full view.

Most importantly, her curves could only be described as immense—at least an E cup, if not bigger. Goodness, how could anyone be so well-endowed?

Suddenly, the woman’s bra waved downward, and Mu Han’s Ferrari unleashed a thunderous roar, catapulting forward like lightning!

Zhang Xiaofan’s Cayenne, however, remained perfectly still. Zhang Xiaofan himself was staring intently at the woman’s ample chest.

Song Wenwen, tense, fastened her seatbelt and gripped the handle with both hands. She knew a wild race was about to begin.

But after three or four seconds, still nothing—Cayenne hadn’t moved. Curious, Song Wenwen glanced over to see Zhang Xiaofan ogling the woman’s chest, utterly absorbed.

This degenerate! At a time like this, and he’s still distracted by that?

“Bastard! Do you really want me to sleep with that jerk?” she shouted.

“If you want to look, win the race. I’ll let you stare as long as you want—all night, if you like,” Song Wenwen snapped, grabbing Zhang Xiaofan’s thigh and giving it a vicious twist.

“Aaagh!” Zhang Xiaofan cried out in pain, finally stomping on the gas and releasing the clutch. The Cayenne shot forward like a rocket.

Both cars thundered down the mountain road. The rush of wind as the machines tore past brought a look of pure pleasure to the woman, who closed her eyes and basked in the sensation. Then, in a daze, she lifted her hands and cupped her enormous curves, letting the breeze play over them.

A chorus of whistles rose from the crowd, mocking Zhang Xiaofan’s delayed reaction. How could a guy like that possibly be a match for Mu Han, the Racing King?