Tracy was still livestreaming.
Whatever she saw, the audience saw too.
Down below, the forest was a wreck.
The area crushed by the helicopter had been flattened into a clearing. Countless trees lay broken or split clean in half.
Thick black smoke curled upward, and the air reeked of burning fuel.
It was an ominous sight.
Only the helicopter's wreckage remained — its body charred black from the explosion.
Plastic and wiring melted in the flames, setting the dry grass and fallen leaves ablaze.
The fire spread quickly, racing toward the forest's edge.
"Damn it—if the fire keeps spreading, it'll cause a full-scale forest fire!" Tracy's voice trembled with worry.
The place was remote, sure, with no residents nearby —
but if the blaze got out of control, it would devastate the ecosystem.
Restoring the damage would take who knew how much time, effort, and money.
"F**k—Pat, you idiot! I swear I'll kill you!"
The President was losing his mind.
He was furious enough to tear his hair out.
He had never seen anyone so utterly stupid.
He'd sent Pat to invite Leon—
not to turn the entire operation into a disaster.
And now?
Not only had they failed to capture Leon, they'd lost two military helicopters!
Did that fool even realize how expensive those were?
Five snipers dead, dozens of soldiers gone…
Just calculating the compensation was enough to make the President's head throb.
The government was already broke—
drowning in tens of trillions in debt.
Now they'd have to pay death benefits too.
Perfect.
Worst of all, the reelection campaign was right around the corner.
This fiasco was a public relations nightmare.
And if the forest fire wasn't handled properly?
Good luck keeping voters on his side.
He stared at the raging inferno, scalp tingling, cursing Pat into oblivion in his head.
Finally, with no better choice, he gave up on Leon—
for now.
He picked up the phone and called the Federal Emergency Management Agency,
ordering them to extinguish the fire at all costs.
When the call ended, his expression turned complicated.
Such a car… such technology… such talent.
It would be a shame not to recruit Leon.
But of course, self-awareness had never been his strength.
Even if Leon weren't a lone wolf by nature—
there was no universe in which he'd work for him.
Just standing next to the President was embarrassing enough.
With the election coming up fast, public approval mattered more than ever.
And judging by the President's recent performance…
reelection was looking very unlikely.
Leon certainly wasn't about to waste his time helping him out.
If anyone here should be president, it was Leon.
As the wildfire burned behind him, the President had no choice but to focus on containing it,
leaving Leon momentarily unbothered.
Now free of pursuit, Leon sped along the open highway.
Out here, the land was vast and empty.
Few cars, fewer people.
And since it was late at night, only the occasional pair of headlights flickered by.
His sports car blurred past them like a phantom, leaving only a fading streak of light.
One driver blinked in disbelief.
For a moment, he thought he'd imagined it.
Then a powerful gust slammed into his car, shaking it violently.
He panicked and hit the brakes, barely regaining control.
His face went pale.
"What the hell was that just now…?"
A chime sounded from Leon's car system:
"Alert: tunnel collapse detected twenty kilometers ahead. Please reroute."
Data appeared on the HUD —
The tunnel ahead had been caved in for days, with repairs still ongoing.
Typical federal efficiency.
Clearing a tunnel could take a week…
longer if the workers took their usual holidays.
Leon frowned.
That wasn't even supposed to be his route.
But after the aerial chaos, this was where he'd ended up.
There was no choice but to move forward.
And now?
A collapsed tunnel blocked his way.
Turning back would only waste time.
"Are there any alternate routes?" he asked.
"Affirmative. Ten kilometers ahead, there's a junction leading to the Million-Dollar Highway.
Warning: it is an extremely dangerous route."
Information flashed on the screen.
According to local legend, an early traveler once swore that even if someone paid him a million dollars,
he would never drive that road again.
Hence the name — The Million-Dollar Highway.
It stretched across three mountain ranges,
winding through steep cliffs and hairpin turns —
with no guardrails.
The scenery was breathtaking, especially in autumn,
when the forests blazed with color like a living Picasso painting.
But beauty came at a price.
The road was so deadly that few dared to drive it.
Leon wasn't afraid of danger.
He only cared about time.
Crossing three mountains would make the trip longer—
but maybe not too much longer.
"No shorter path?"
"Negative. The only way to reach Washington is to pass through West Virginia."
West Virginia—
the old coal-mining state, rich in karst terrain and labor history.
The Million-Dollar Highway cut straight through it—
longer than any other route,
over two hundred extra kilometers.
For an ordinary car, that would be suicidal.
But for Diomas?
Two hundred kilometers was nothing.
"Then screw it," Leon muttered, jaw tightening. "Let's go."
Up ahead, a highway off-ramp came into view.
Leon shifted gears, the tires screeching as the car drifted gracefully into the curve—
leaving clean arcs of smoke and light behind him.
From the helicopter above, Tracy saw Leon exit the highway and blinked.
"Where's he going now?" she asked, puzzled.
The livestream chat exploded with confusion.
"Why's he leaving the highway?"
"Didn't he have a straight shot to D.C.?"
Then someone suddenly remembered.
"Oh, right — the tunnel ahead collapsed a few days ago!"
Now everything made sense.
With the main route blocked, Leon had no choice but to take a detour.
"Wait… the way he's heading…
don't tell me he's going for that Million-Dollar Highway—the one with the insane death rate?"
In the States, drivers voted every year on the most dangerous roads.
The Million-Dollar Highway ranked third.
Built into the cliffs, narrow and unguarded,
it barely fit two cars side by side.
No rest stops, no service areas—
stopping even for a moment could block the entire lane.
Drive it half-asleep, and you'd go straight over the edge.
Leon was seriously going to take that road?
The viewers went wild.
The stream's viewership spiked to 15%.
Everyone wanted to see what he'd do next.
"Man, I hope he crashes," sneered someone from the East Coast chatroom.
Cold sarcasm rolled in from the haters.
But most of the audience?
They were on the edge of their seats—
watching Leon race toward death, or glory.
~~----------------------
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