vstars Chapter 1 Attack
Chapter 1 Attack
(The author hereby guarantees that, apart from possible typos in the main text, the protagonist's name will not have any typos. Therefore, if you see any differences from the original work, it must be a copyright issue, so please don't nitpick! ?(?`^′?)?)
(Also, the main couple is the younger brother, and there will be some personal interpretations. The early timeline is similar to the original work, but the later parts are all immature ideas from the author's imagination. If you don't like this book, you can just drop it. There's no need to waste time looking for another good book and leaving a bad review.)
(Finally, I hope you all enjoy reading this book. The author will be keeping track of your comments while updating. Thank you so much! *^O^*)
The racetrack under the sweltering heat and the hot-dressed beauties seem to be a perfect match. The only regret in the hearts of everyone inside and outside the track is that Yan Shen did not participate this year, but instead Yang Mo, whom he personally trained, participated in his place.
When it comes to a disciple's competition, how can the master not show up? So Yan Huai's idea of hiding away for peace and quiet was nipped in the bud before it could even be put into practice. It wasn't that he didn't care, but based on his understanding of Yang Mo, winning the championship was absolutely a sure thing.
Behind his sunglasses, Yan Huai watched the race car driver's perspective randomly switch on the ultra-high-definition screen, his ears filled with the roar of racing cars and the screech of tires on the ground. Yet, he felt remarkably calm, as if he were detached from the events compared to the other members of the club.
As a dark green race car sped across the finish line, the expected screams and cheers were even more deafening than the sweltering summer heat.
Seeing the young man in the race car smiling awkwardly yet arrogantly, Yan Huai couldn't help but smile slightly.
The live stream camera followed Yang Mo as he left the track and took off his helmet. Everyone saw that he ran out of the field without even taking the trophy, and even climbed onto the railing of the audience section where Yan Huai was, without caring about his image. Their eyes immediately met each other's unspoken understanding.
"I won." Yang Mo couldn't contain his excitement. His bangs were pushed back, but he stood firmly three steps away from Yan Huai. He tilted his head back slightly, like a golden retriever frolicking home and waiting for its owner to open the door.
The camera captured Yan Huai's deepening smile, and anyone could tell he was in a good mood. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a rather thick black gift box, handing it to Yang Mo: "It's yours."
Yang Mo thought it was a reward for winning the championship and happily accepted it, but when he opened it, he was stunned.
Inside the gift box lay a car key wrapped in a thin, dark green patterned shell. Yang Mo recognized it as the key to Yan Huai's car, which had won four consecutive racing championships. He said it was now his.
The club members, and even the viewers outside the live broadcast, all saw it. They were all surprised and envious, wishing they could lick it a couple of times to savor the taste, except for Yang Mo.
He looked at Yan Huai with confusion, the excitement in his dark brown eyes seemingly extinguished, and a hint of hurt in his expression: "Brother Yan..."
Yan Huai's expression remained unchanged. As if he had suddenly thought of something, he took out a black card from his pocket and placed it on the key in the gift box: "Have fun."
As soon as he finished speaking, Yan Huai turned and left without warning, leaving behind the club members' attempts to stop him and a stunned man.
After walking for a while, Yan Huai finally managed to escape the hustle and bustle. He took off his sunglasses and walked to the garage where his club was located. He took out a motorcycle key and suddenly felt a strong urge to go back to his house in the suburbs.
Before Yan Huai could even put on his helmet, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. It was Yang Mo, who hadn't even changed out of his competition uniform yet!
Yan Huai casually draped his helmet over the motorcycle seat and looked at Yang Mo questioningly, but the kid hesitated for a long time without saying a word, as if he wouldn't speak unless Yan Huai opened his mouth.
Helpless, Yan Huai could only ask, "What's wrong?"
"Brother Yan... is this a reward or a bet?" Yang Mo held the gift box containing the car keys, his expression clearly conflicted.
Although Yan Huai is only two years older than Yang Mo, it is undeniable that he is indeed his master. As the disciple who has won the championship for four consecutive years, Yang Mo will naturally be provoked before the competition. On the surface, the provocation is directed at him, but in reality, the target is Yan Huai.
"Since Yan Shen has trained you, it's a tacit agreement that he's retiring. Everyone in the industry says that his race car is the true symbol of a champion. How about we make a bet? Whoever wins gets the race car!"
Although Yang Mo had a very arrogant personality, under Yan Huai's influence, he treated such self-righteous provocations as utter nonsense. He was just about to retort when he was very unhappy with the implication that Yan Huai was going to retire, when he unexpectedly heard Yan Huai's rare response from behind: "Let the results speak for themselves."
While Yang Mo simply thought that this was just Yan Huai's trust in him, he also felt uncontrollably uncomfortable with Yan Huai's tacit agreement.
It wasn't until the match ended, and the gift box in his hand seemed to grow heavier and heavier, that Yang Mo realized it might actually be real...
Yan Huai straightened up slightly. He looked into those unfocused and bewildered eyes and roughly understood the problem. He also felt it was necessary to correct Yang Mo's thinking; the result he mentioned did not refer to winning or losing the competition.
"The outcome of the event does not represent the outcome of our perspective. In my view, winning or losing, honor or disgrace cannot be decided by betting. What I want is the outcome on the field, such as you living."
"What does that mean?"
What did you say to me when you left the field?
"...I won?"
Yan Huai smiled, and Yang Mo, who had been dazed, suddenly felt his anxious heart relax and return to its original place.
"Xiao Mo, remember this: the stakes on the field are not winning or losing, but your life or death. If you live, you win."
Yang Mo recalled the exhilarating experience on the track, where he disregarded life and death in every moment; that was the true meaning of the gamble.
"So... will you retire?"
“Yes,” Yan Huai answered without hesitation. “Someone has already proven that he can win as long as he’s alive, so I should give him my proof of being alive as well, and you can do the same in the future.”
Yang Mo pursed his lips. He felt that Yan Huai's words made it seem as if they were two completely unrelated individuals, just doing their jobs as a continuation of their previous work.
They were clearly related—mentor and student, brothers, or even, on a larger scale, comrades on the track. He wanted Yan Huai to be with him, to see him win a few more championships, and then, like just now, when he won, he would smile at him…
But why did Yang Mo feel, watching that figure put on the helmet and leave so decisively, that there was no chance left?
The competition venue was far from Yan Huai's house in the suburbs, about a four-hour drive away. He drove at a moderate speed, which added another half hour to the journey. By the time he arrived, it was already dark.
The motorcycle headlights shone in front of me, and the wind blew through my jacket; I could vaguely see the shadow of the house.
"Host...I am, *zzzz*—System...Requesting binding... *zzzz*—Warning! Warning! Danger! *zzzz*—Danger...Leave..."
A broadcast tone, sounding like an old electronic device, blasted into Yan Huai's head, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall into the ditch by the roadside.
Frustrated, Yan Huai slammed his hand on his helmet, slowed down, and stopped by the roadside. He thought some brat had played a prank on him, but as soon as he took off his helmet, before he could take a closer look, a foul stench wafted from his right side, and the motorcycle headlights were instantly swallowed by darkness.
Yan Huai only had time to catch a glimpse of a dark figure rushing towards him. He instinctively swung his helmet to block it, but he and his motorcycle were tackled to the side of the road by the foul-smelling figure. His left leg was pinned under the motorcycle and he couldn't move. His helmet was thrown off, and when his struggling hand touched the dark figure, it felt like hair.
The accident happened so fast that Yan Huai didn't have time to react. His last memory was seeing a pair of bloodshot, beastly eyes, and then feeling his shoulder being bitten through by sharp teeth, and his left leg being dragged out from under the motorcycle by a dark shadow.
And it seemed to have traveled a very long distance...