The East Coast's Battle of the Gods had finally come to an end.
The Red Flag S9 had claimed third place — fulfilling An Qiaoqiao's goal and making Red Flag a sensation across the U.S. racing scene.
Sure, she'd taken a shortcut, but the results spoke for themselves.
Third place was third place — no one dared to challenge her right to it.
The appearance of the S9 immediately drew the attention of countless American racers and reporters.
They crowded around it with cameras flashing wildly.
"This car is insane!"
"It's definitely going to sell out tomorrow!"
"I'm ordering one — I don't care how long the wait is."
"From the side, it looks like a hunting eagle ready to strike!"
They weren't wrong.
The S9's design was inspired by the image of a falcon diving for its prey — the entire body leaned forward in a poised, aerodynamic crouch.
Smooth lines, flowing curves, and aggressive detailing gave it a sense of motion even when standing still.
The raised wheel arches and the massive side intakes exuded a fierce, muscular power.
Its wheels were uniquely shaped like five-pointed stars, built in a dual-layer structure —
the inner layer mechanical and angular, the outer arcs interwoven like wings in motion.
The center caps bore the new "Series 5" emblem, representing progress and bold innovation.
At the rear, a colossal spoiler and exaggerated diffuser screamed pure supercar energy.
The signature red stripe from the nose extended all the way to the tai. It was confidence, pride, and power in one design.
The taillights curved like an eagle's talons, fierce and vivid.
The vertical central exhaust layout was unique to the Red Flag hypercar line —
a statement of raw energy and explosive force.
Performance-wise, the car was no slouch either —
zero to one hundred in just 1.9 seconds.
That alone made it worthy of its podium finish — no luck, no fluke.
An Qiaoqiao parked the car and allowed the crowd to swarm around and take pictures.
Then, spotting Leon among the fans, she smiled and walked toward him.
"Congratulations," Leon greeted her warmly. "Third place — Red Flag really stole the spotlight this time."
An Qiaoqiao smiled, eyes full of admiration.
"You're still the strongest, though. I knew you would win."
She was beginning to understand why Leon had left home to race abroad.
Back home, racing culture was underdeveloped — too many traffic cameras, too many restrictions.
For someone like Leon, who lived for speed, that would be suffocating.
If she were in his place, she might've done the same.
Leon grinned. "You did great too — better than I expected."
And he meant it.
She looked delicate, even gentle, but her driving had been precise and fearless.
By finding a clever shortcut — a dirt mining road wide enough for trucks — she'd saved miles of tricky corners.
It was flat, open, and perfect for pushing speed.
Smart move, and she'd made it work.
"Thanks," An Qiaoqiao nodded politely. "Are you thinking about racing back home again? The Langgan Desert Rally is about to start. The total course is 2,740 kilometers, with 235 kilometers of special desert stages."
Her eyes shone with excitement as she spoke.
"It's completely different from road racing. The terrain's brutal — rocky, sandy, unpredictable. You'd need a high-clearance off-road racer, not a low-slung hypercar. A supercar would bottom out or get stuck in the dunes before the first checkpoint."
Leon chuckled. "We'll see. If I show up in a minivan, I bet you still couldn't beat me."
She laughed softly. He wasn't wrong — even without Dio Mars, Leon's driving was terrifying.
After all, this was the same man who once beat a Bugatti Chiron with a van.
He didn't give a definite answer, and An Qiaoqiao didn't press further.
"Alright, I'll send you the info when it starts. Come if you can — it's your call."
If Leon had come into the U.S. through… less-than-official means, going back would be complicated anyway.
Once he left, it'd be hard to return.
As the third-place celebrations continued, the fourth-place finisher finally arrived — a Lamborghini Aventador S.
Its deafening roar silenced the crowd for a moment.
The driver was none other than Dominic, one of the most notorious racers on the East Coast.
When he got out, all eyes were on him — but instead of heading for the podium, he made a beeline straight for Leon.
Fans gasped.
"Wait, they know each other?"
"No wonder! Every top racer seems to know the God of the West!"
One by one, the top names had all sought Leon out after losing to him.
It wasn't rivalry anymore — it was respect.
But Dominic's expression was… different.
He wasn't smiling. He looked furious.
"That night," he said coldly, "the truck crash — was that you?"
The question cut straight to the point.
He'd spent weeks investigating, and only one driver in the entire U.S. could've pulled off that stunt.
Leon.
Leon didn't flinch.
"Yeah. Took you long enough to figure it out."
His tone was calm, almost amused.
He didn't care who heard. With his current power and resources, even ten Dominics wouldn't scare him.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"F***…"
He wanted to explode — to swing a punch, to demand payback —
but reason held him back.
If even the military couldn't handle Leon, what could he do?
And besides, Leon's engineering and combat modifications were on another level entirely.
That car of his wasn't just a racer — it was a war machine.
Dominic gritted his teeth, then sighed. "Fine. I'll admit it. We were careless — our fault for underestimating you."
The loss still burned, but there was nothing else he could say.
The men who'd died in that incident were mercenaries anyway — hired guns.
Not worth mourning.
He glanced around, then leaned closer.
"Can we talk in private?"
Leon nodded, brushing off the arms of a few disappointed girls and walking with Dominic toward the edge of the clearing.
Beyond the lights lay a patch of quiet woodland.
"What's this about?" Leon asked, lighting a cigarette.
Dominic's voice dropped to a low, tense whisper.
"We're being hunted. There's a killer on us — a top name from the assassin list."
Leon raised an eyebrow.
Dominic's eyes darkened.
Leon's expression froze.
"Alright," he said dryly, exhaling smoke. "And?"
Dominic leaned closer.
"We need to find a hacker — someone who can access a system called God's Eye. Once we get it, we take him out. If you help, we'll pay you — generously."
He paused, then dropped the real hook.
"The reward includes a hypercar — a Lykan Hypersport."
Leon smiled faintly.
Looked like the next chapter of this high-speed saga was about to begin.
The opening scene of the next mission — the Prelude to Fast & Furious 7 — was here.
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