In just an instant, Yang Fei's McLaren sports car had overtaken the Bugatti Veyron.

The sports car turned into a streak of blue lightning, charging forward.

This overtaking maneuver, although not resulting in a collision, crushed the spirit of the Bugatti Veyron's driver.

Keep in mind, both cars were traveling at speeds exceeding 250 mph.

If they had actually collided, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

The Bugatti Veyron sports car sharply slowed down, and didn't dare to attempt overtaking anymore.

Through his binoculars, Fang Tang clearly saw the wealthy young driver of the Bugatti Veyron leaning on the steering wheel, his shoulders shaking as he wiped away tears.

He was actually crying from fear.

In front of Yang Fei, there were two more sports cars.

If he could overtake these two, he could surpass Song Rong's Porsche sports car before reaching the finish line.

The driver ahead was steering a Maserati supercar.

This race car did indeed have some skill, maintaining a steady third place while continuously charging forward.

However, having seen the near-fatal and frightening scenario of the two cars behind him through his rearview mirror, he had peed himself in fear.

Seeing Yang Fei's McLaren charging up, this timid guy didn't dare block him; instead, he terrifiedly moved aside.

Face is certainly important, but when compared to one's life, it's worthless.

Yang Fei's McLaren passed the Maserati like a flash of lightning.

Yang Fei floored the accelerator, and the McLaren shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, overtaking the second-place car.

The car in second place was a fiery-red Porsche.

The entire vehicle was like an American Panther, moving easily and swiftly through the forest, fast as lightning.

The driver of the Porsche was a skilled racer.

Under his control, the fiery-red Porsche sports car maintained a stable position hot on the heels of Song Rong's car, ready to overtake him at any moment and claim first place.

Yang Fei's McLaren roared, its speedometer needle already in the dangerously red zone.

Just then, the fiery-red Porsche suddenly spun out.

The rear of the car blocked Yang Fei's path.

"Damn it, this guy is truly fearless,"

Yang Fei hadn't expected anyone to be crazier than himself.

He cursed loudly, and suddenly yanked the steering wheel.

The huge inertia caused the left rear wheel of the McLaren to lift off the ground.

The entire vehicle, like performing acrobatics, twisted on its side through an otherwise impossible overtaking lane and shot out.

Vehement friction between the vehicle's body and the ground, the tires screeching, produced a burning stench.

The friction between the vehicle's body and the ground sparked large, flying sparks.

Bang!

The McLaren sports car had overtaken the Porsche.

Its left wheels hit the ground, and it wobbled but surprisingly continued speeding forward unharmed.

Meanwhile, the Porsche behind him, shocked and terrified, swerved violently.

With a loud crash, the Porsche slammed into the mountain road, its front end terribly smashed.

Seeing this hair-raising scene, everyone's eyes bulged out.

Holy cow, that's even possible!

In the crowd's astonished gaze, Yang Fei's McLaren continued to race forward.

In just a matter of seconds, the McLaren had overtaken the Porsche and reached the finish line of the track.

Song Rong stopped his car with a complexion ashen as death.

Fang Tang, Brother Song, and several other wealthy young men watching the race from the Observation Platform were all dumbstruck.

These ardent speed freaks only realized today what real racing meant!

Compared to this odd-job man, their so-called glorious achievements were nothing but rubbish.

Brother Song violently turned around, his eyes furiously fixed on Fang Tang.

"Fang Tang, didn't you say that this guy was just an odd-job man at a hotel?"

"He was clearly top notch, a fierce racing driver."

In less than twenty minutes, ten million in crisp silver bills had vanished; to say it didn't hurt would be impossible.

Brother Song immediately unleashed all his anger on Fang Tang.

Fang Tang was so scared that he was at a loss what to do with his hands and feet.

"I... I didn't know either, but he was clearly just an odd-job man at a small hotel. How could he be racing?"

"You ask me? I'm asking you!"

Brother Song grabbed Fang Tang by the collar and shoved him fiercely, his anger unabated.

Just then, Song Pin sighed, "Stop talking. We've met a master."

"This hotel odd-job man is really hiding his light under a bushel."

In his eyes burned a fighting spirit, like tiny flames.

However, his tone was incredibly calm.

"It seems I have no choice but to make a move and gamble with him, otherwise, how could we save face?"

"Song Pin, you're willing to make a move?"

Brother Song was immediately overjoyed.

In their circle, Song Pin's driving skills were top-notch.

If he was willing to step in, Yang Fei was definitely in for a thrashing.

Song Pin nodded, and said nonchalantly, "The face lost by my brother, I will naturally retrieve."

"Good, teach this kid a lesson."

"With Brother Song stepping in, that kid is sure to hit the road."

...

A few of the shocked elite offspring gathered their senses.

Upon hearing that Song Pin was willing to make a move, they all became excited.

Ten minutes later, the second racing round began.

The wager was still the ten million put up by Brother Song.

This time, Yang Fei's opponent was the professional racer, Song Pin.

And the result of this gamble made everyone sigh in disappointment.

Song Pin actually lost, and by only 0.005 seconds.

This kid wasn't strong, but rather lucky.

Yang Fei took the ten million dollar check from Brother Song with a radiant smile, exceedingly smug, a typical case of a small-minded person triumphing.

That ten million, plus the earlier ten million from the wager, in less than an hour, this group of elites had given Yang Fei a total gift of twenty million.

Dammit, that was all cold hard cash there.

No matter how wealthy their families were, this was simply too wasteful.

Brother Song's heart was bleeding.

Yang Fei used the two checks in his hand as a fan.

This bastard had a provocative look: "How about it, want to race again? Is this your best level? Too slow."

Seeing him like that, Brother Song's heart raced with anger, his eyes blazing.

A group of wealthy young men were fully indignant, all clamoring for another round.

Song Pin also felt slightly regretful.

He always felt that he hadn't performed well that round.

If he could better coordinate his hands and feet during the operation, he should have been able to beat Yang Fei.

With eyes blazing, Brother Song looked at Song Pin and said fiercely, "Another round, can you beat this SOB?"

Song Pin hesitated briefly before nodding decisively.

He said calmly, "Every racer has their limits, and I've felt that this guy's limits aren't that great."

"And I still have room for improvement; another round, and I'll definitely beat him."

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