One is a piece of trash, a group is a pile of trash

"Everyone, get ready!"

In front of the semicircular building, a loud shout rang out, and all the evil ghosts gripped the handlebars of their bikes, getting ready to start.

Suddenly, a dull rumble echoed throughout the mountains.

The number of ghosts who had successfully acquired motorcycles and were participating in the final death race was around four hundred.

The 1000KM track was practically devoid of straight roads; it was all a circuit winding around the mountains, with some sections even breaking off directly between cliffs, beneath which were sharp spikes emitting ghostly energy.

Falling from such a place, even with the level of a soldier, one would lose their qualifications to compete if they were careless.

It's not just these, the track is also filled with all kinds of traps, one small misstep could be fatal.

Of course, danger didn't just come from the track, what was more terrifying were the competing opponents beside them.