"Now, let's take a look at the final rankings!"
Monarch's voice burst through the radio broadcast, full of excitement.
Anyone could tell he was in a fantastic mood. Every major American news station was simulcasting the Leon Cup, and ratings were through the roof. Monarch could already see his dream coming true — the birth of a global all-star racing championship.
He pulled up the leaderboard.
And there it was — no surprise to anyone:
1st Place – The West Coast God: Leon.
Even though he'd taken a longer, deadlier route — one most drivers wouldn't dare touch — Leon still dominated with a speed no one could even fathom.
"First place… the West Coast's very own Leon!" Monarch shouted, unable to contain his joy.
The entire West Coast erupted in celebration.
Cheers filled the airwaves.
Leon had proven it again — the man was untouchable.
Meanwhile, the East Coast fell silent.
They had mocked him.
They'd taunted him, hoping to throw him off his game.
But in the end —
he slapped them across the face with cold, undeniable reality.
Viewers sat frozen.
593 km/h average.
First place.
Unchallenged.
Unbelievable.
It wasn't just victory — it was domination.
But the real surprise came next.
"In second place… representing Huaxia — Ann Qiaoqiao, driving the Red Flag S9!" Monarch announced, stunned.
The broadcast room went quiet for a moment — even Monarch was caught off guard.
A Chinese racer? Second place?
From a country where car culture wasn't even mainstream?
The world was speechless.
Curious, viewers rushed to find Ann Qiaoqiao's live feed, but her run hadn't been covered — no helicopters had been assigned to her route.
Monarch quickly explained:
"At the start, she broke from the main route — took a mining freight road. It's an old ore transport line. Wide. Flat. Built for trucks hauling over a hundred tons."
The massive trucks that used to pass through were eight meters wide, with turning radii of fifteen meters.
In comparison, her Red Flag S9 was tiny — like a toy car darting through an industrial canyon.
It gave her room to fly.
No rivals. No interference.
A shortcut straight into Ohio.
The Red Flag S9 had torn through the course like a bullet.
"Huaxia took second place!"
"Since when did we get this weak?"
"No way the Red Flag's that good!"
"I want one!"
Americans everywhere were drooling over the Red Flag's performance, some already searching online to see if they could buy one —
only to realize it wasn't even sold domestically.
The car had just become a global sensation.
"Third place: Tobey."
"Fourth: Dino."
Two long-time rivals, now finishing neck and neck.
Both were legends in their own right — but tonight, their glory was overshadowed.
Even though Dino's speed was ferocious, Tobey's modified SSC Tuatara gave him the edge.
Tobey's precision — knowing exactly when to overtake, when to dive into a bend — proved superior.
No matter how fast Dino pushed, Tobey always held the line ahead.
Dino was furious.
He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
He cursed Braga under his breath — wondering why the man hadn't made his move yet.
What he didn't know was that Braga was busy fighting for his life.
At that very moment, he was locked in a gunfight with Hobbs, and things weren't going well.
By sunrise, Braga's empire would likely collapse.
Dino, oblivious, was doomed to lose.
He considered using the same dirty trick — ramming Tobey from behind —
but there was a problem.
A news helicopter hovered overhead, broadcasting everything live.
If he tried that again, he wouldn't just be disqualified — he'd be imprisoned.
Last time it was "involuntary manslaughter."
Next time?
Premeditated murder.
Life sentence.
He gritted his teeth and stayed in line, the frustration eating him alive.
"And that wraps up our top four— oh, wait! Leon has already crossed into Washington State!"
Monarch's voice trembled.
How long had it been?
Barely twenty minutes — and Leon's car had already cleared two mountain ranges.
The man was rewriting geography at this point.
The camera cut back to Leon's feed.
The Diomas Nilo tore through the final stretch like a thunderbolt.
In a blink, it vanished from sight — leaving only a trail of dust swirling in its wake.
The sound echoed through the mountains —
a deep, rumbling roar that faded into stunned silence.
"It's like watching a dream."
"Even in my dreams, I couldn't drive that fast."
"Is it the car, or the driver that's terrifying?"
"Man, I'd be proud hitting 80 on that road!"
Everyone watching the stream felt their palms sweat.
The narrow mountain turns looked impossible —
barely enough space for one car's width.
Half of the Diomas Nilo's tires were literally over the edge of a cliff.
One inch further and he'd have fallen to his death.
But Leon's control was flawless.
His steering was perfect — precise to the centimeter.
The crowd couldn't even blink.
A single mistake, a single oversteer, and it would've all been over.
But Leon didn't falter — not once.
The Diomas Nilo roared again — the final surge.
The Million Dollar Highway, conquered.
Every bend, every drop, every danger — crushed under his wheels.
Not even the mountain could slow him down.
"He's through!"
"No way— that road takes me three hours!"
"He just did it in half an hour?"
East Coast fans were in disbelief.
This was the same man who once drove a delivery van?
The same guy they mocked as "the mailman racer"?
Now he was rewriting world records.
"Yeah, he drove a van— but that van outran legends and supercars alike."
"That's Leon — the man who turns the impossible into routine."
When Leon finally exited the highway, Monarch's voice trembled with awe as he announced:
"Leon — drift master of the West Coast — has officially conquered the Million Dollar Highway!
Total distance: 341 kilometers
Average speed: 750 km/h
Total time: 27 minutes, 28 seconds!"
The crowd erupted.
A new record — a Guinness World Record — had just been born.
The fastest mountain drift in human history.
Unreachable.
Unthinkable.
Unrepeatable.
The world had just witnessed the day Leon rewrote the definition of speed.