### **Chapter 16: Speed Racing**
Yang Xu wove the white car through traffic, pushing the accelerator harder with each maneuver. Behind him, only the police helicopter and a few cruisers at the intersections remained in pursuit—the rest had long been left in the dust.
He glanced at the growing swarm of news helicopters above and the climbing reputation values on his system panel. A smirk tugged at his lips as he flicked on the radio.
*"—Breaking news! A high-speed chase is underway on New York Avenue, with police in hot pursuit of a reckless fugitive!"*
The broadcaster's exhilarated voice confirmed Yang Xu's suspicions.
**"Classic America,"** he muttered, jerking the wheel to avoid an ambush at the next intersection. The car vaulted over a flower bed, tires screeching as it landed and surged forward.
Ahead, the road narrowed into a twisting mountain pass. The radio crackled again:
*"The suspect's vehicle is ascending the ridge—police units are closing in!"*
Yang Xu checked the rearview mirror. Sure enough, three cruisers clung stubbornly to his tail, their drivers skilled enough to match his evasive maneuvers. As the surroundings darkened into wilderness, he made a decision.
In one fluid motion, he downshifted, yanked the handbrake, and spun the wheel. The car pivoted 180 degrees in a spray of asphalt, now facing the stunned police head-on.
*"UNBELIEVABLE!"* the radio commentator screamed. *"A reverse drift! The suspect just turned the chase around—literally!"*
Though the move looked effortless, Yang Xu felt the car shudder ominously. *This thing's on its last legs.*
The confirmation came seconds later.
**BANG!**
The front-left tire blew out. Metal rim met pavement, scattering sparks like a grindstone. Smoke billowed as the crippled car lurched, but Yang Xu's grip on the wheel never faltered. He forced the vehicle back under control and floored the gas.
**"What's he doing?!"** Tony Stark's voice blared from a live feed on the dashboard. **"He's heading back into the city—that's a death sentence!"**
The police shared his confusion. Yet Yang Xu knew: with a blown tire, outrunning them was impossible. The car's speed and handling were crippled; no amount of skill could outweigh numbers.
Sirens wailed closer. He threaded through traffic, dodging roadblocks until his destination loomed into view—a gas station.
**Time for Plan B.**
With a flick of his wrist, he switched personas. The system's energy surged through him, morphing his reflexes into those of **John Wick**. Instantly, the car became a bucking stallion, fighting his every input.
Gritting his teeth, he wrestled the wheel toward the station's pumps.
**"STOP HIM!"** someone roared.
Too late.
Yang Xu kicked the door open and leapt, tucking into a roll as the car plowed into the fuel dispensers. The impact rattled his bones, pain exploding through his ribs like a grenade. He skidded across concrete, asphalt tearing at his clothes, but forced himself upright.
Behind him, the crumpled hood erupted in flames.
Police screeched to a halt, retreating as fire engulfed the pumps. Director **George Stacy** slammed his fist on the dashboard.
**"Damn it! He's getting away!"**
But the inferno left no choice. **"Call the fire department! Evacuate the block—NOW!"**
By the time the first hose sprayed, Yang Xu had vanished into the labyrinth of alleys. Searchlights swept the rooftops in vain; the shadows swallowed him whole.
Tony stared at the livestream, equal parts grudging respect and fury.
Somewhere in the dark, a man limped toward freedom, his legend growing with every step.
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