Killing Array

Glancing at the rearview mirror where Yamamoto's car was glued to his tail, and then at the course data Liu Tang had uploaded to the car's onboard computer, Zhuifeng smirked wickedly. "Well, it's almost over. Might as well add a bit more excitement to the show."

Little did he know, this seemingly reckless decision—one that no one would expect from him—would end up saving his life.

The 90-degree hairpin turn was now just 20 meters ahead. Zhuifeng made his move. Ignoring Yamamoto entirely, he veered sharply to the right. His left foot slammed the clutch to the floor, his right heel kept the accelerator steady at 3000 RPM, while the ball of his foot jammed down on the brakes.

Don't underestimate this move—it's the key to what he was about to attempt. If you think you can replicate it, you'd better think twice. This maneuver allows you to maintain high speed through a turn without losing engine power. If the RPMs drop too low, regaining speed becomes almost impossible. The execution window is razor-thin—just 0.5 to 0.8 seconds. And unless you're a professional, trying this on public roads is practically a death wish. If you insist, better buy some life insurance first. This advanced racing technique even has a name: Tip-Top.

As the car's nose edged dangerously close to the turn's inner curve, Zhuifeng sharply turned the wheel another 40 degrees to the right. The heavily abused Audi A4 screeched in protest as its rear tires locked up under the brutal braking force, sending the car into a dramatic slide as its tail swung to the left.

With no time to savor the adrenaline rush, Zhuifeng expertly spun the steering wheel 90 degrees to counter the slide, aligning the car's body parallel to the exit road.

"...My God, what is this?" Mu Xin's voice faltered in disbelief. Words seemed to fail her. "Has Zhuifeng completely lost his mind?"

Li Ning didn't understand much about racing, but the panicked expressions of those around her told her everything she needed to know. She quickly pulled Zhao Jie into her arms, pressing the trembling girl's head to her chest. "Xiao Jie, don't look. You won't be able to handle it."

Zhao Jie didn't respond, but her shaking body betrayed her tension.

"Trust him. That's Wind God. He'll be fine. Believe in your Brother Feng…"

"What's wrong with her?" Xu Nianran asked, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

"She's just too nervous."

"Nervous? Isn't this just a race?" Nianran frowned, genuinely puzzled.

The same question lingered in the minds of many spectators—those unfamiliar with racing didn't understand the danger unfolding before their eyes.

But for those who did understand, the scene was heart-stopping. Zhuifeng wasn't just attempting any drift; he was pulling off a true inertia drift—a move that sent the car sliding sideways like a blade slicing through the air, carving a perfect line toward the apex of the turn.

"He's insane. Absolutely insane!" Zhang Song grabbed the team manager's arm and shouted, his composure completely gone. "He's doing that on mountain roads?! Does he want to die?"

The manager, while equally shocked, frowned at Zhang Song's outburst. "Zhang, haven't I told you before? Racing, at its core, is a sport for madmen. If you can't embrace that madness, you'll never reach Suiying's level—you'll never become the top-tier driver for this team!"

Zhang Song froze, the manager's words cutting deep. "Then...I think I'm starting to believe he might really be 050302."

The manager's eyes gleamed. "You're right. He has to be. After all, there aren't many drivers bold enough to pull off an inertia drift on mountain roads. Unless he's the kind of person who'd challenge a train head-on, no one would dare attempt this. 050302...I've decided. I want him on our team!"

Inertia drifting is rarely performed on mountain or gravel roads. Like drag racing, it demands exceptional traction. Attempting it on unsuitable surfaces typically results in flipping the car. But Zhuifeng wasn't just defying convention—he was challenging physics itself. And the result? He succeeded.

Sliding at a perfect 90-degree angle across the road, Zhuifeng's Audi A4 completed the turn with surgical precision. The car's entire weight shifted dangerously to its left side, but it stayed upright. He had pulled it off.

As the car's trajectory aligned with the centerline of the exit road, Zhuifeng straightened the steering wheel, downshifted, and floored the accelerator. The engine roared, propelling him forward with renewed speed.

And just like that, the inertia drift that saved his life was complete.

Years later, when Zhuifeng was asked why he loved showing off so much, he had chuckled and scratched his head. "Maybe humility is a traditional virtue for us Chinese, but I don't subscribe to it. Your skills are your capital—why hide them? Why not put them on full display? That's the only way to honor the effort and pain it took to earn them. Besides, if I hadn't 'shown off' back then, do you think I'd still be standing here, giving you this interview?"

Of course, at this moment, Zhuifeng didn't realize the significance of what he had just done. Instead, he laughed sheepishly to himself, embarrassed.

But Yamamoto wasn't laughing. Zhuifeng's bold maneuver didn't just widen the gap between them; it completely derailed Shimada Kanrei's meticulously planned ambush.

"...Remember, Yamamoto," Shimada had instructed earlier, "I know your skill, but I'm not counting on you to outrun that Chinese driver. What I need is for you to ignite his fury. When you reach that hairpin turn, even if you're ahead of him, I want you to fall back. Stick to his rear bumper, no matter what. Koizumi will be waiting just past the turn. Whether it's you or the Chinese driver who exits first, Koizumi will ram them. The Chinese driver won't just sit there and take it—he'll try to evade, and that's when you strike his rear with everything you've got."

"Timing is everything, Yamamoto. Hit too early or too late, and the plan fails. Execute perfectly, and there's no escaping this Killing Array. If we pull this off, we'll all be rich. But if you mess up..." Shimada's chilling smile said the rest.

Yamamoto understood all too well. If he failed, it wouldn't just be his career that ended—it would be his life.

Watching Zhuifeng's taillights vanish into the hairpin, Yamamoto's palms began to sweat. He had no time to hesitate. Gritting his teeth, he shifted into fifth gear, ignited the hydrogen system, and pushed his car to its limits, recklessly closing the distance.

As the roar of engines grew louder, Shimada Kanrei tightened his seatbelt and eased his car onto the road. In his rearview mirror, Koizumi's car loomed. Shimada smirked faintly. "Relax, Koizumi. Think of the payday waiting for us."

"...Yes, boss." Just as Koizumi responded, headlights pierced the darkness, accompanied by the ferocious growl of an engine.

"They're here. Go!"

Without needing further instruction, Koizumi, still bitter over his earlier humiliation at Zhuifeng's hands, shot forward like a starved beast spotting prey.

What the hell?! How is there a car here? Wasn't the road supposed to be cleared?

Zhuifeng barely had time to process his shock. Instinctively, he yanked the steering wheel hard to the right, trying to avoid the oncoming vehicle. But what began as surprise quickly turned to terror. The other car didn't slow down or veer away as he'd expected. Instead, it accelerated, angling sharply toward him, aiming for a collision.

Shimada Kanrei, the mastermind behind the plan, didn't feel any satisfaction as the trap was set into motion. His ever-calm face remained unchanged, save for a faint, bitter smile. It's over, he thought. The plan had failed—after all, Yamamoto, who was supposed to be tightly tailing Zhuifeng, was only now exiting the turn, far too late to execute the ambush as planned.

But Zhuifeng didn't have the luxury of pondering why the car was targeting him. He knew only one thing: he couldn't let it hit the side of his car. He wasn't about to wait for the collision to happen. At the very least, he could ensure that the car struck his front bumper rather than the side, where the damage—and danger—would be far greater.

Screeching to an abrupt stop, Zhuifeng calculated quickly. If I stop in time, he'll hit the front, not the side. That's a better outcome... right?

And so, the supposedly flawless "Killing Array" unfolded in the most ridiculous fashion.

Koizumi, barreling forward at full speed, saw Zhuifeng brake sharply. But it was already too late. His car was moving too fast, and there was no time to adjust. Turning the wheel now would only reduce the force of impact, which would contradict his orders. Without hesitation, he kept his foot down and aimed directly at Zhuifeng's front bumper.

His calculations were correct; he couldn't hit the car's side, but he could still slam into its nose.

Both drivers' math checked out perfectly. The problem? Neither of them accounted for Yamamoto, who was speeding toward Zhuifeng's rear bumper.

Zhuifeng had no idea Yamamoto was working with the enemy. Why would he worry about his tail when he had a car bearing down on his front? Meanwhile, Koizumi, consumed by rage over Zhuifeng's earlier tap on his bumper, was too focused on following Shimada's orders to care about his supposed teammate Yamamoto.

"BANG!"

Came the first impact. Zhuifeng's Audi A4 lurched violently as Koizumi's car rammed into its front bumper.

Not this again. Zhuifeng's vision blurred as his car began spinning uncontrollably on the road. He forced himself to keep his eyes open this time, determined not to panic. Watching the world twist around him, he worked desperately to steady the car, fighting to regain control.

Having experienced this once already, he didn't close his eyes in fear this time. Instead, he kept them wide open, carefully observing the movements of the car as he desperately tried to stabilize it. His gaze caught a glimpse of the car that had just collided with him, and his frown deepened. "It's him?" he muttered to himself. "Is this because of that bump earlier? Is he seriously this petty? Damn it! Screw you! I didn't shove you off a cliff to avenge Mr. Cheng, and you still have the nerve to come after me? You Japanese piece of…"

Before he could finish cursing, something else entirely unexpected happened.

The belated Yamamoto had finally caught up. Just as Zhuifeng was spinning, his eyes caught another blur—Yamamoto's car smashing violently into the rear of his Audi.

"BANG!"

The Audi A4, now under repeated impact, seemed to have had enough. Oh, you're allowed to ram me, but I can't hit back? While this wasn't exactly Zhuifeng's intention, the chain reaction caused by the repeated collisions had left his car spinning even faster. The initial force from the first collision hadn't yet dissipated, and with Yamamoto's hit coming right after, the Audi's momentum only grew stronger.

The car's front end whipped sharply to the side, and, spinning out of control, it hurtled toward the nearby Mazda, which had already been drifting slightly leftward from its earlier collision with Zhuifeng.

"BANG!"

This was the third collision Zhuifeng had heard in the span of just a second or two. Unlike the first two, which had been forced upon him, this one was, in a sense, "voluntary."

The Mazda, already off balance and leaning to the left, was now completely destabilized. Its center of gravity shifted even further to the side.

Yamamoto closed his eyes in silence. He didn't even have the strength to scream. The word regret suddenly carved itself into his mind. But it was too late for reflection.

He could feel the car beginning to spin, and then the world around him seemed to collapse—violent shaking, dizziness, disorientation. And finally, the last thing he heard was a deafening "CRASH."

After that, there was nothing.

From a cliff dozens of meters high, no one could survive such a fall.

Yamamoto's soul no longer belonged to him. It belonged to the devil. For a man like him didn't deserve an audience with God.

Zhuifeng's Audi, battered and spinning, somehow managed to come to a stop. Blood still trickled down his forehead, but his grip on the steering wheel was ironclad. He was dazed but alive.

But as the saying goes, "Once there's a first, there will be a second."

Two deaths in one race. First, it was Teacher Cheng. Now, it was Yamamoto.

Who would be next?

Would it be Zhuifeng himself?

Shimada Kanrei?

Or Koizumi?

No one knew.

No one could tell whether this was truly the end—or just the beginning.

To be continued…