As the reigning Racing God of the East Coast, Tobey had always believed that his skills were second to none.
Give him the right car, and he could match—or even surpass—any opponent.
But after encountering Leon, for the first time in his life, Tobey fell silent.
And it wasn't because of Leon's car.
It was because Leon's driving skills were terrifying.
If Tobey himself drove the SSC Tuatara across the United States, doing it within twenty hours might still be possible.
But to cover that distance in five hours, while dodging landmines, bombs, and live gunfire?
That sounded insane.
Yet Leon had done it.
Tobey could only bow in respect.
Even if I don't respect anyone else, I respect this man.
If it were him, he thought, forget reaching New York—just surviving the first wave of assassination attempts would already be impressive.
Against such a rival, he wasn't sure the title of East Coast God meant anything anymore.
"Such a terrifying opponent… it feels like fate arranged this encounter," Tobey muttered in awe.
Cars had only existed for two or three centuries—just a short chapter in history—yet already, a monster like Leon had been born.
Tobey believed that even a thousand years later, Leon's name would still shine brightly in the annals of motorsport.
"Are you really planning to challenge him?" Benny asked nervously, clutching his phone. Even Tobey, the undefeatable East Coast king, admitted his respect—what chance did anyone else have?
Tobey's eyes burned with battle intent.
"Yes. When he's done with his business, we'll hold a Battle of the Gods—East Coast vs. West Coast. The strongest racers from both sides. Winner takes the title of America's True Racing God."
Benny froze, stunned.
If Tobey lost, his title would be gone forever.
"Brother, are you sure about this?" Benny pressed.
"It's inevitable," Tobey said firmly. There can only be one god.
Benny sighed. Since Tobey had already decided, there was no talking him out of it.
Meanwhile, things were far more tense on Leon's side.
He dialed Hattie's number.
"Where are you?" Leon asked.
"CNM Building, Apartment 140. Andrek is here," Hattie replied.
Leon scanned the busy Manhattan streets. Businessmen in suits filled the sidewalks, and not far away, he spotted the CNM Building—a 40-story skyscraper near Wall Street that combined offices, apartments, gyms, and entertainment spaces.
Inside Apartment 140, the scene was grim.
The scientist Andrek, a pale and frail-looking man in his forties with greying hair, was pinned against a desk, a gun pressed against his temple by Deckard Shaw.
"Talk. How do we get the virus out of her?" Shaw snarled, his eyes blazing.
Family had always meant everything to Shaw. Even when he was estranged from Hattie after being framed by Brixton, his love for her never wavered. Now that she was infected with the virus, he would rather die than stand by helplessly.
Terrified, Andrek raised his trembling hands.
"D-don't shoot! There's a way… but both methods are… extreme."
Luke Hobbs slammed his fist on the table so hard the wood dented.
"We don't care. Just talk."
Andrek flinched, stammering:
"The first method… kill her. If she dies, the virus becomes inactive and can't spread."
Hattie's face turned pale, her body trembling. She nearly collapsed, but Leon quickly supported her.
"Don't worry. There's still a second method," Leon reassured her.
Andrek hesitated, his eyes filled with doubt.
"The second method… the Snowflake Virus was developed at Eteon's headquarters. Inside, there's a machine that can extract the virus. But…"
Shaw's eyes narrowed.
"Where is it? Don't tell me it's in Mexico?"
Andrek shook his head.
"No. It's in Detroit."
That shocked everyone. They hadn't expected Eteon to build a base inside the U.S. itself.
Detroit was the perfect hiding spot—once the proud Motor City, but after the 1970s, it had crumbled.
Factories abandoned.
Crime rampant.
A city where murder, theft, and carjacking happened daily—and no one cared.
A place where you could kidnap test subjects off the street, and nobody would intervene.
"From New York to Detroit is a thousand kilometers," Shaw calculated. "That's at least five hours of driving."
Andrek suddenly added:
"You still have seventy-two hours. Once that time passes, the capsule will dissolve… and not even God himself can save her."
Hobbs scowled.
"Five hours is too long. Eteon will mobilize defenses before we even get there."
Leon raised a finger.
"We don't need five hours. I can do it in ninety minutes."
Everyone—Hobbs, Shaw, even Andrek—stared in shock.
Ninety minutes to cover a thousand kilometers?
Was he serious?
~~----------------------
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