The helicopter wasn't filming Leon anymore.
Something even bigger had just caught their attention.
Barely ten kilometers away, a massive convoy of private cars was speeding toward the outskirts of Washington.
The line stretched for six, maybe seven kilometers—an endless river of headlights cutting through the night.
They weren't racers.
They were fans.
Word had spread that Leon had already crossed the finish line—hours ahead of everyone else.
Now, people from all over the East Coast were rushing over just to see him in person.
Say what you will about East Coasters—many had mocked him before, dismissed him as arrogant, reckless, or overhyped.
But a champion changes everything.
Once you win, everyone suddenly wants to shake your hand, snap a photo, share a moment with the legend.
Because once Leon's name became global, that single photo could be worth its weight in gold.
And after what he'd just done—conquering the Million-Dollar Highway at over 800 km/h—they couldn't deny his skill.
He hadn't just beaten them. He'd redefined what driving meant.
Now, they could only be in awe.
The moment Leon's arrival hit the airwaves, car after car poured out of the city, racing to the finish site.
The crowd was coming—to witness the birth of a legend.
"After Leon's victory, his supporters just couldn't hold back anymore,"
reported Tracy, her tone bright and genuinely excited.
She'd honestly been worried—worried that, after all his bravado and controversy, Leon would stand alone at the finish line.
But now?
She smiled with relief.
This turnout proved everything.
"Over a hundred cars have already arrived," she continued, "and that's just the beginning. More are on the way."
If there were a hundred cars, that meant two or three hundred fans at least.
And once this hit the newsfeeds, more would follow.
Leon's popularity was snowballing.
The East Coast's opinion of him was shifting fast—especially after seeing that impossible speed record.
Eight hundred kilometers an hour on a mountain pass?
That wasn't racing—that was art.
Before long, the first wave of fans pulled into the open clearing around him.
They parked neatly, then rushed forward, shouting excitedly:
"Car God! Please sign my shirt!"
"Your race was insane, I'm your biggest fan!"
"Master Leon, teach me how to drift like that!"
"Can I take a selfie with you? Please?"
Men wanted to learn from him.
Girls screamed for selfies.
Others pushed forward, holding notebooks and posters for autographs.
The enthusiasm was overwhelming.
Beside them, the stagehand driver stood frozen, completely dumbfounded.
He'd just been chatting casually with this guy a few minutes ago…
And now, he was surrounded by a mob of fans treating him like a superstar.
He'd gone from "random dude" to "legendary racer" in a heartbeat.
The driver just stared blankly as the crowd swarmed Leon, their phone flashes lighting up the night.
His own presence vanished completely, like a forgotten extra in someone else's story.
"Wait… he's the champion? The number one?"
The realization hit him like a thunderclap.
He rubbed his head, muttering to himself, "Did I just miss the photo of a lifetime?"
Too late now.
He couldn't even get close anymore—the crowd would trample him before he reached Leon's car.
Leon was on fire.
He hadn't expected this. Honestly, he'd thought he'd have the place to himself until morning—he'd even considered grabbing a hotel room and a few hours of sleep.
But this?
This was a storm of excitement he hadn't seen coming.
And his fans hadn't come empty-handed.
They brought flowers, chocolates, snacks, and gifts—piling them up beside his car until the entire space was overflowing.
Many of them were also obsessed with his car, the Diomas.
They crowded around, snapping photos from every angle, some even crouching down to get a close-up of the tires.
Of course, to the untrained eye, it just looked like a very cool sports car.
Then someone peeked inside—and froze.
Their jaw dropped.
Because the car's interior was unlike anything they'd ever seen.
Leon had personally modified it.
The first thing that caught the eye were the three massive screens dominating the dashboard:
A 14.6-inch dual instrument display,
A 16.9-inch central touchscreen,
And a 19.9-inch co-pilot entertainment screen.
The sleek design screamed futuristic luxury.
There were almost no physical buttons—everything was digital and intelligent.
The air vents were hidden, the leather-trimmed console flowing seamlessly like a sculpture.
The 19.9-inch passenger screen, paired with reclining seats and calf rests, gave the cabin the feel of a private jet.
It was completely immersive.
And that wasn't all—there was also a heads-up display, two digital rearview mirrors, and two external side mirror screens.
Nine screens in total.
One car. Nine displays.
A literal "car of screens."
"I've never seen a setup like this before!"
"It looks straight out of a sci-fi movie!"
"That ambient lighting at your feet—so cool!"
"How much does this car cost, anyway?"
The crowd fell silent, all eyes on Leon, waiting for his answer.
Leon took a slow drag from his cigarette, expression perfectly calm.
"About four hundred billion," he said flatly. "Give or take."
A collective gasp spread through the crowd.
Some fans instinctively reached for their wallets before realizing what they'd just heard.
"Four… hundred billion?!"
They thought they'd misheard.
That wasn't just rich—that was national budget rich!
Even the driver's jaw hung open.
He could barely comprehend what he'd just heard.
Leon's Diomas wasn't just a car—it was a technological masterpiece.
Equipped with laser headlights and an experimental graviton pulse system, its value had skyrocketed from 200 to 400 billion.
And honestly, that wasn't an exaggeration.
After all, no current manufacturer had ever managed to stabilize gravity waves or weaponize air cannons.
Whoever owned this tech would make back ten times that amount.
Leon smiled faintly.
Four hundred billion was just a quote, really.
Even if someone could afford it, he wouldn't sell.
Unless it was a national-level buyer—and even then, the price would go up.
If someone wanted to play in his league, they could bring their checkbook.
At least a few hundred billion more.
As word of that staggering valuation spread through the crowd, a wave of awe rolled through them.
Eyes gleamed, mouths hung open.
If they had that kind of money, they'd buy it in a heartbeat.
But for now, all they could do was stare—
and envy.
Leon stood at the center of the glowing headlights and camera flashes, smiling faintly.
He hadn't planned for fame tonight.
But fate had other ideas.
~~----------------------
Patreon Advance Chapters:
[email protected] / Dreamer20