Though Jerry felt a green prairie growing on his head, the jeers from HAC jolted him awake.
'Enough!'
Jerry shoved the still-arguing Alan aside, blood-shot eyes locking onto the unruffled Jiang Cheng.
Before Jiang Cheng arrived they'd already slapped HAC in the face.
Just now they'd even made a fool of Fu Yang.
Such a huge advantage had been wiped away by this man's few sentences.
Jerry didn't know how powerful Jiang Cheng's background was.
But they weren't Chinese; no matter how big Jiang Cheng's backing, he couldn't touch them.
'A fancy car—so what? Sharp tongue—so what?' Jerry snarled in English, finger stabbing toward Jiang Cheng. 'If you're a man, speak with lap times! I challenge you—right now, in that dark nights sound of yours! Do you dare, or do you only hide behind women and poisonous words?'
The moment those words landed, the easing mood on HAC's side snapped tight again.
Jiang Xin cursed at once: 'Have you no shame? You just ambushed Yang-ge, now you're eyeing Cheng-ge's car?'
Shen An added: 'Cheng-ge isn't an HAC member; he has no obligation to accept your challenge.'
Fu Yang—HAC's president—paled, forcing down pain and fury as he hurried forward.
'Cheng-ge, absolutely not!' Fu Yang pressed his still-bleeding forehead, voice hoarse with urgency. 'These lunatics will do anything! If—if something happens to you, we… we couldn't answer for it!'
He left the words unsaid, but the dread in his eyes was crystal.
Joking aside—Jiang Cheng was here on his invitation.
During New Year he'd already glimpsed how special Jiang Cheng's status was.
If the man so much as scraped a nail, HAC might disband on the spot.
Shen An clamped a hand on Jiang Cheng's arm; even he, ever-cool, sounded grave. 'Cheng-ge, Fu Yang's right—gentlemen don't stand under a crumbling wall. Racing these animals isn't worth it. We've plenty of ways to make them pay; no need for the riskiest. Your safety comes first.'
Though Jiang Xin had seen Jiang Cheng's driving at the Modo Supercar Day, he wasn't worried about the man's skill—only that if anything happened to someone of Jiang Cheng's status, everyone present would be in trouble.
He leaned closer and muttered, 'Cheng-ge, let it go! Yang-ge and An-zi are right—this bastard's clearly planning dirty tricks. Tracks are blind; we don't stoop to his level. We've other ways to fix them.'
Seeing the core members all trying to stop him, Jerry grinned viciously.
'My challenge isn't about HAC. Don't you Chinese say "meet friends through cars"? Even we in Pretty Country know the phrase. You call yourselves a land of courtesy—this is how you treat guests?'
As the others moved to speak, Jiang Cheng raised a hand and silenced them.
He'd never meant to stick up for Fu Yang.
To Jiang Cheng the matter was trivial—barely lifting a finger.
But he was, as always, an egoist.
At his level there was no need to barter favors to ingratiate himself with anyone present.
Had they not provoked him personally, he'd have been happy to watch from the balcony.
A few days earlier in Kyoto, Grandpa had recounted the humiliations Pretty Country had dealt in his youth; Jiang Cheng was already nursing a bellyful of fire.
Old grudges and new merged; hearing those three words now was like a spark in an oil depot.
For years China had been pressed and targeted, and now a mere civilian team, backed from across the sea, dared run wild on home soil?
Do you really think China has no one left?!
The mockery vanished from Jiang Cheng's face, replaced by lethal calm.
He stared at Jerry as at a corpse.
'Want to play?' His voice, though quiet, cut through every other sound. 'Fine. But when you play with me, the stakes follow my rules.'
Jiang Churan, clutching his arm, stiffened, worry filling her eyes.
Xu Yan, Shen Shuang and Han Anning likewise fixed their gaze on him.
None of the four Girls spoke, yet their dread was unmistakable.
'What do you want to bet?' Jerry sneered.
Word by icy word: 'Whatever you did to Fu Yang. Lose, and you drive your own car into the very guardrail—full speed.'
A collective gasp.
The wager was brutal.
Jerry didn't believe he could lose, yet the savage bet still made his face twitch.
So young—how much track experience could Jiang Cheng have? Jerry was sure he'd win.
He figured Jiang Cheng's brain had short-circuited—seeking death.
A venomous glint flashed again in Jerry's eyes.
'Deal! And if you lose?'
Jiang Cheng almost laughed.
He'd seen Jerry's skill—impressive.
With pro-level technique himself he still couldn't guarantee a hundred-percent win.
But he had the dream come true system.
A moment ago scanning Sarah, the Danger Perception Skill had flared; now, with Jerry hopping mad, it stayed silent.
He would win—could not lose.
A faint curve touched his lips: 'If I lose, this dark nights sound—yours to drive away.'
Not just Jerry—every one of the Foreigner' eyes sparked greed.
Such bets weren't rare in racing circles.
But this was a Bugatti dark nights sound—scarce beyond its performance.
Snag it, tune it, and you'd be the track's brightest star.
Worse, losing your own ride was supreme disgrace.
Jiang Cheng was staking plenty.
'Agreed. But if you lose, no backing out.'
'Seems you don't know Chinese,' Jiang Cheng answered coldly. 'We don't share Pretty Country's habit of reneging. A Chinese promise is iron; we don't change it last-minute.'
Jerry's tongue pressed his cheek, silenced.
Inwardly he cursed Trump.
Since the old man took office he'd flip-flopped everywhere, especially in the trade war—countless shameless stunts.
Abroad they got mocked for it nonstop.
Jerry didn't want to dwell; he'd been grilled about it in interviews already.
'Let's start…'
As Jiang Cheng turned to prep, the Girls' hearts clenched.
Jiang Churan, his official girlfriend, stepped close again, small face lifted in open fear, voice soft but trembling: 'Be careful! That lunatic will do anything—I… I'm scared…'
Jiang Cheng squeezed her hand. 'Relax, it'll be over soon.'
Xu Yan moved half a step forward.
Lips pressed, she spoke with quiet concern: 'Jiang Cheng… track's dangerous—safety first.'
She knew fretting too much might overstep, yet worry overrode reserve.
Luckily Shen Shuang chimed in: 'Hey, boss! We know you can drive, but don't show off! If you scratch our dark nights sound for some lousy porsche, I'll nag you for a year!'