Chapter Ninety-One: Smashing the Car-Supreme Champion of the Racing World(Shuyuan Sheng)

The young man was crestfallen. There was nothing left to compare; he was certain to lose.

Three point six four seconds—that was the best time his Saturn supercar had achieved after repeated official tests. With his current driving skill and reaction speed, it was impossible for him to beat the official figure.

Damn it. If only he had waited until Tang Xiu had finished modifying the car before racing, he might still have had a sliver of hope.

The young man stood rooted to the spot, his trembling fists clenched, as though he had lost the ability to move.

"Why isn't he doing anything? Has he admitted defeat?" someone in the crowd muttered.

"Probably. Looks like the opponent's time scared him stiff."

"Was the white-haired boy really that fast? He was driving an SUV, after all."

"If you really know cars, you'll know that three point zero three seconds to sixty should put him among the top five production cars."

"Really? Then Saturn doesn't stand a chance."

"Of course not. If it were a heavily modified machine or a factory Ferrari, there might still be a way back. But now... ah..."

The murmurs around him swelled louder and louder, and the young man felt more and more certain that defeat was inevitable.

Mo Shu stepped down from his father's SUV and walked up to the young man with a confident stride.

"Go on, at least give it a try," he said lightly.

But the young man no longer even had the courage to lift his eyes and meet Mo Shu's gaze. He only stared miserably at the ground.

"Hey! Have you conceded?" an impatient onlooker shouted.

"Yeah! Are you racing or not? If not, we'll disperse."

"Exactly. If you've given up, start smashing the car already, hahaha!"

"Hey, I almost forgot—the loser smashes the car. Then we can't leave!"

The impatient voices fell like pebbles into a still lake, sending ripples through the crowd.

"Smash the car!"

The crowd had not forgotten the wager that the loser would smash the car; that was the greatest spectacle of the whole contest.

A few thrill-seekers somehow produced an iron hammer. Judging by its weight, breaking the windshield would be effortless.

The young man was somewhat stunned, and his girlfriend once again collapsed onto the ground.

Seeing that he had been frightened rigid, and fearing he might bolt and refuse to honor the bet, the crowd raised its cries for the car-smashing still higher.

After all, that Saturn GTS was worth nearly two million. Was he really going to let them smash it?

Even the son of a nouveau riche family must be bleeding inside by now.

The young man could not bring himself to do it. This was the dream car he had begged his mother for more than half a month before finally getting his hands on it.

"Well, well. So he's just a coward after all. If you're a coward, why race in the first place?"

"Hahaha, does anyone know him? Such a spineless idiot should be kicked out of our tuning circle!"

Perhaps unable to bear the crowd's mocking taunts, the girlfriend, who had been sprawled helplessly on the ground, suddenly sprang up and roared, "Can you act like a man and smash it for them to see?"

The young man was frightened of Mo Shu, and frightened of the crowd's ridicule as well. But in front of his girlfriend, he still felt he retained the right to speak.

"If you hadn't run into their car, none of this would've happened! And you have the nerve to order me to smash it? It wasn't your money, was it?"

It seemed the young man was truly nothing more than a coward who only dared to bully the woman at his side.

Smack!

A sharp slap landed on the young man's left cheek.

Smack!!

This young man once again proved himself a master at bullying women; without hesitation, he raised his hand and returned an even louder slap to his girlfriend.

"Ugh—he hit a woman!!!"

"Trash! Trash! If you've got the guts, hit that white-haired boy instead!"

"Come on, come on, let's go. The race has turned into a domestic dispute. No point watching!"

Most people who loved cars were hot-blooded sorts. When they saw this kind of scum beating a woman, they lost all interest and goodwill.

A trace of contempt also appeared at the corners of Mo Shu's mouth. He suddenly decided to let the man go—to let this pitiful, pathetic young man go.

How boring. Stooping to the level of someone like this really would lower his own class.

Just as Mo Shu was about to open the car door and return his father's vehicle to its parking space, he suddenly heard a chorus of cries erupt behind him.

"White-haired kid, watch out!"

"Shit, he's going dirty!"

Mo Shu only felt a fierce rush of wind screaming toward the back of his head, as though something was hurtling straight at him.

It turned out that the young man could no longer endure the crowd's mockery. In a fit of humiliation and rage, he had snatched up the iron hammer and swung it hard at Mo Shu.

"White-haired brat, I'll smash you to death! Who told you to force me into losing face!" the young man snarled through clenched teeth.

Ah... What a shameless creature there is in this world. I spared you the loss of your pride, and you repay kindness with treachery.

With a silent sigh, Mo Shu lashed out with a flying kick, striking squarely in the center of the young man's chest just as the hammer began its deadly arc.

Bang.

Though the young man's balance was thrown completely off, the iron hammer still came crashing down with full force.

Crash!

The windshield instantly blossomed with cracks, and the hood was left a sorry wreck.

"Oho! The moment of miracle has arrived!"

"Haha, at last he smashed the car! Wahahaha!"

Those who had been hurrying away were drawn back by the exchange, and the smashed-car spectacle that followed was even more entertaining to behold.

Mo Shu's kick not only knocked the young man off balance, but also robbed him of the instant needed to aim properly.

Wobbling and staggered, he struggled helplessly against the iron hammer suspended in the air, only to watch it veer from its intended path and plunge toward his own Saturn GTS.

It was over. He had tried to catch a chicken and lost the rice instead. Who told him his skill and arm strength were so evenly matched that he was no better than a coin toss?

"Wuwuwuwu..."

What was this? Who had started crying?

The crowd, busy celebrating, could not help but prick up their ears and look around.

Needless to say, it had to be the young man. The car was gone, the girlfriend was gone, and his dignity was gone too. What else could he do but cry?

Mo Shu shook his head. Suddenly he remembered a line written by a great Chinese literary master from one of his high school textbooks.

There are always hateful things about pitiful people...

"Haha! I never expected Mr. Mo Shu not only to possess astonishing driving skill, but also to be so accomplished in combat!" said someone Mo Shu had absolutely not expected, stepping out from the crowd.

"Heh. President Zhu Tao, what wind blew you here?" Mo Shu replied with equal sarcasm. Another shameless man—there was no need to be polite.

"Oh, oh, Mr. Mo, please be understanding. I, Zhu, was also compelled by circumstance before," Zhu Tao said courteously.

Had the sun risen in the west? Mo Shu was a little startled by the other man's one-hundred-and-eighty-degree shift in attitude.

This was the chairman of the Automobile Association, who had made things difficult for him and Zhang Aimin all morning—how had he suddenly become like a different person?