A Hummer suddenly roared wildly, charging like an untamed beast toward the car Xia Feng was hiding behind. With a brutal crash, it shoved the vehicle several meters aside, exposing Xia Feng pletely.

  In the split sed before the collision, Jasina, nimble as a cat, rolled off the Hummer and fired two shots at Xia Feng’s position. But mid-roll, in that fleeting window, she missed as Xia Fe aside like lightning.

  Gunfire erupted all around—nobody would pass up the ce—but both Xia Feng and Jasina dodged with uny agility, leaving every shot wasted. The gurayed each shooter’s position, and nearby rivals turned on each n the more distant Xia Feng and Jasina.

  Jasina sprang onto a wall like a cat, grabbing a wall mp with one hand while firing downward with the other. Two dueling petitors dropped instantly. Before anyone could take aim, she flipped back down—a move so swift, less than a sed, her lithe form truly feline.

  Meanwhile, Xia Feng took down two foes, but seeing Jasina’s dispy, he knew one more kill for her would seal his defeat. It was now or never! Sing in a fresh magazine, he braced to charge her hiding spot when a buzzer bred from the ceiling: “Match paused! Your as have endahers’ safety. The match is suspended!”

  “Damn it!” Xia Feng grabbed a broken brid smashed the buzzer down, the onto a car roof. Two quick shots knocked out a pair of stunned oppos. To a true extreme rider, thrill and risk were the soul of the sport—their ultimate pursuit. Rules? Screw the match!

  Bang! A shot from eight meters away sent a chill through him. Instinct told him it was aimed at him—at that range, any petitor was a dead shot, especially Jasina! Reflexively swinging his gun toward her, he pulled the trigger. The garage exploded with gunfire as they emptied their magazines in an instant, only to find—stuhat both still stood firm.

  After a few seds, Xia Feng realized the refs must’ve remotely disabled their eleic suits, nullifying any hit sensations.

  The garage door burst open, and a dozen firefighters stormed in, frantically dousing tw cars from the crash. A ref-dressed official charged up to Xia Feng and Jasina, waving his fists and yelling, “You broke the rules and endahers! You’re both disqualified!”

  Tossing his gun aside, Xia Feng ighe ref, giving Jasina a faint smile. “I lost. You’re the best extreme rider.”

  “You haven’t lost,” Jasina replied, her expression as cool as ever. “We haven’t settled this.”

  “Hope we get another shot someday.” With that, Xia Feng turned and walked off. Passing the firefighters, he noticed one of his stunned foes had fallehe burning cars—without the suspension, that guy might’ve been toast.

  “Such a shame for a thrilling match!” A sigh broke the darkness. The massive TV wall had gone bck, the live feed cut off. The mysterious figure who’d been glued to the event seemed disappointed. Unwilling to let it go, he turo the er. “Without that act, who’d have won?”

  Silence hung food ten seds before a faint sigh drifted from the er. “No idea. Either could’ve taken it.”

  The listener nodded slightly, then shook his head. “If Jasina didn’t have the women’s bonus, she’d have lost for sure. This setup’s unfair to men—real bat doesn’t give womera points. So, I’m pig hree, Xia Feng. Any objes?”

  Aense sileretched before the er voice replied, “You’re overlooking the real-world bonus pretty wome, but I’ve got no issue with your choice.”

  “Good! It’s settled!” He pressed a button oer and ordered, “Get the third-pce finisher from the Extreme Olympics All-Around here ASAP. Be polite and courteous!”

  The moment Xia Fehe venue, reporters swarmed him, thrusting mi his face, questions flying:

  “Do yret getting disqualified? Will you appeal?”

  “How’d you get All-Around King Dumas’s amulet? What’s your e? Why isn’t he here this year?”

  “Who’s better—you or Flying Cat Jasina? Who’s this year’s top rider?”

  “Do you have a girlfriend? Does she support your extreme sports?”

  “Will you pete year to prove you’re the best?”

  Xia Feng tu all out, blind to the reporters and cameras. Escorted by event security, he boarded a bus to the Olympic Vilge. But when it arrived, the waiting journalists were stuhe suddereme sports prodigy had vanished into thin air.

  “Xia Feng, age twenty-two, Eurasian mix—one-quarter Aryan, three-quarters ese. Father: renowned ese F1 racer Xia Bohan. Mother: mixed-race tennis queen Aisinma from two decades ago. No wonder! Stelr genes, a perfect blend! From childhood, he’s loved all things daring—beyond typical extreme sports, he’s into illegal street rag, underground bare-knuckle boxing, no-holds-barred fights, and por expeditions.”

  The TV wall now dispyed Xia Feng’s bio. Reading it, he habitually touched the pink diam on his finger, murmuring, “Notice a pattern? The craziest extreme nuts often e from wealth. Things most people chase their whole lives—money, power, status, women, fame—they get on a ptter. Life’s too dull for them, so they risk it all, pushing limits to feel alive. Lucky or cursed? Who knows.”

  The er voice shot back coldly, “Life’s an adventure anyway. What’s mu death?”

  Caught off guard, he didn’t respond. The inter buzzed. “Doctor, we’ve brought Mr. Xia as you requested.”

  “Let him in!” He switched off the device. Mier, the heavy oak door creaked open, and Xia Feng—dressed like a on punk—stepped iantly. The host rose, smiling warmly. “Wele! Please, sit. Make yourself at home.”

  He knew few could refuse his invitations—his men always found a way to “persuade” his guests. How they did it didn’t i him; only that the right person showed up.

  Sitting at the host’s gesture, Xia Feng asked bluntly, “Who are you? Why’d y me here?”

  With a slight, apologetic shrug, he adjusted his rimless gsses. “If my guys upset you, I’m sorry. But I’m sure they wouldn’t dare offend or disrespect you.”

  “Yeah, real gentlemen,” Xia Feng quipped with a grin, inwardly cursing. Halfway back to the Olympic Vilge, he’d slipped off the athletes’ bus in disguise, dodgiers and fans, aiming to blend into the crowd. But two stiff, poker-faced suits intercepted him, calling him by name and insisting he meet their boss.

  He’d resisted, but one line piqued his curiosity: “If you think you’re the best extreme rider and want to prove it, meet our boss. The truest top riders don’t bother with publitests.”

  That wouldn’t sway most, but for Xia Feng, it hit hard—he’d always been that kind of guy.

  Life was monotonous. Deep down, everyone craved a twist, good or bad. Curiosity or boredom—whatever it was—he’d ended up following those stiffs here.

  “Drink?” The host slid open a hidden panel on the bookshelf, revealing a wall-mounted bar stocked with every liquor imaginable.

  “Nah.” Xia Feng popped his gum loudly. “From yuys’ tone, I figured their boss was some elite rider. You don’t look the part. So, what’s this about?”

  The host studied him closely. Xia Feng’s skin and hair were distinctly Eastern, but his sharp features and angur face echoed Aryan traits—a fwless East-West fusion. His eyes stood out most: deep bck with a faint aquamarine glimmer. Unfazed by the jab, the host smiled, p two gsses of red wine and sliding one over. “I need you to do something for me.”