The Mercedes pulled up on a London street beneath the night sky.
A steel beast thundered behind them, relentless in its pursuit.
The Thames flowed beside them, its shimmering waters disturbed by the murderous energy above, turning the city’s dreamy reflections into swirling, dazzling whirlpools.
The battered Mercedes faced off with the motorcycle gang. It looked like it was about to fall apart, a wreck waiting to happen—but also like a master finally getting serious, ready to make a move.
Wham! Jill Young slapped the shattered windshield out of the car. Night wind swept in, tossing her white hair as golden light flashed in her eyes. Her pupils narrowed, her vision zooming past the blinding lights to lock onto the motorcycle gang’s leader—a woman in a tight leather suit, curves and legs to die for, the picture of athletic beauty.
The leader watched the Mercedes in silence. Jill could see silver pupils behind the black helmet visor—cold, cautious, like some inhuman predator. Suddenly, the woman jolted, as if provoked, and sprang into action.
She raised her gun, barked an order, and the motorcycle gang sprang to life, charging in with wild abandon.
Now this is getting interesting—though don’t you think we’re kinda twinning here? Jill licked her lips. "As a lady, nothing annoys me more than someone showing up in the same outfit, damn it!"
Her veins surged, energy flooding through her. Supreme Skill, honed for ninety-nine years, spread from the cockpit like artificial nerves, filling the car. Jill stomped the gas pedal, and suddenly, the battered old ride perked up, ready to go wild.
Let's dance~
Accelerate...
Accelerate....
Accelerate—
ACCELERATE!!!——!!!
Both sides charged ahead like bulls and wolves clashing on the open plains. Tires screeched, smoke billowed, and both teams pushed their acceleration to the absolute limit.
The gap closed in a blink. At the leader’s command, the gang spread out, forming a trap to swallow the Mercedes whole. Over a dozen submachine guns were raised, ready to unleash a hail of bullets from every angle.
Fingers squeezed triggers, and the staccato roar of gunfire erupted like a torrential downpour.
The motorcycles were fast, the bullets faster, but the riders’ cocky laughter was fastest of all.
But their laughter died instantly, because Jill Young was even faster. She didn’t do much—just flicked the steering wheel left and right, subtly tweaking the tires’ friction with Supreme Skill. Then, the Mercedes performed a jaw-dropping series of arcs—graceful as startled swans, fierce as flying dragons, lightning-quick and thunder-strong.
First to the left—bam! One rider was sent flying.
Then to the right—crash! Rider and motorcycle totaled, flying debris everywhere.
Swerving left, then right, then left again—the heavy Mercedes seemed to come to life. To the stunned bikers, it was no longer just a car.
For a split second, it was like a samba dancer shaking its hips wildly, ready to take anyone down.
Or like a baseball prodigy swinging left and right, sending every pitch flying with unpredictable brilliance.
It was like a master swordsman, blending divine swordplay with brute force dragon palms, while the bikers were nothing but cannon fodder—none could land a single hit.
How is this possible?!
Inside the black armored car, a bald man with painted face stared ahead in disbelief. A gloomy middle-aged man in robes muttered, "The target’s tougher than we expected."
"Of course she’s tough." A giant over two meters tall loomed like a mountain of muscle, staring at the flying silver hair with wild, animalistic breaths and crazed eyes. "If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be her!"
You know her?
"Of course I know her—no one could forget that woman!" The giant grinned, fierce and chilling. "Go ahead, hit her with everything you’ve got. Let’s see if you lot have what it takes to bring her down."
Me, can’t take her down? Just some nobody? Ha! That’s a joke! The bald man’s tattoos began to glow as he raised his hands, sending a dozen metal cards floating in the air. He brushed his fingers over each one, charging them with explosive energy.
Go on—explosions are an art!
The metal cards spun through the air, swift and silent like butterflies in the night, aiming for the dancing Mercedes. At the same time, the car reached peak frenzy—Jill spun the wheel hard, sending the Mercedes whirling like a snowy blossom, spinning and charging ahead.
If the Mercedes were a person, it would be whipping its tail like a divine dragon—and Jill Young’s dragon tail was always the fiercest, the most exhilarating.
Bullets and bike crashes twisted the car’s doors and hood beyond recognition, pieces flying off like scrap metal. Yet this wrecked frame swept away every biker in its path with wild abandon. Screams echoed—no one expected the best riders to be flattened by a car.
Bang!
The biker leader’s motorcycle was swept out from under her, parts flying everywhere. But at the last second, she twisted in midair, landing lightly and kneeling atop the spinning Mercedes.
She knelt, one sturdy shoe planted on the roof. The spinning Mercedes turned the world into a kaleidoscope, centrifugal force threatening to fling anyone away, but the leader held fast, grabbing the edge with one hand and readying her machine gun with the other.
Suddenly, with a crack, a pale hand burst through the roof, lightning-fast, grabbing her collar and yanking down—
Thud!
The biker leader’s spine nearly snapped—she couldn’t resist the force. Her head slammed into the roof, filled with ringing noise.
That hand moved like lightning—too fast to see. With a flick, there was a pop, and the helmet spun off like a bottle cap. Another grab, and she hooked the woman’s neck, yanking her down—sharp metal scraped her cheek as Jill pulled the leader’s head through the hole into the cabin, right between the front seats.
Healing fast—looks like she’s a vampire.
The voice rang out, and the biker leader forced herself to focus. Through the haze, she saw a white-haired woman at the wheel. The woman grinned—a dazzling smile, but for some reason, it sent chills down her spine.
“Sit tight for a bit.” Jill Young caught the flying helmet, tossed it back, and snapped it onto the woman’s head, locking it in place.
With a tap to her forehead, a strange, powerful force vibrated through the helmet, locking her body completely. Eyes wide, she struggled, but couldn’t move—a limp fish dangling from the roof.
More like a lollipop, wedged in the roof—stuck, unable to get in or out.
“Yo?” Jill glanced back, then stomped the brakes. The spinning Mercedes stopped abruptly, and the leader’s body spun around her neck like a wild braid growing from the roof.
Even with the helmet hiding her face, Orlando winced at the scene—pure nightmare fuel. Jonathan heard the grinding of her neck and figured it couldn’t feel good.
The “braid” spun several times, then collapsed to one side, limp and still. Heavy, ragged breathing echoed inside the helmet, and thick blood dripped out. Any normal person would be dead, but this woman still managed to groan—her life wasn’t in danger.
So-called immortality, huh? Interesting.' Jill glanced back. 'I wonder if those guys behind us are just as bold because they’re immortal too.'
On the steel juggernaut behind, the gloomy middle-aged man floated to the front.
Wind whipped around him as he spread his arms wide. Surging magic resonated with the void, his eyes flashing blood-red. The crimson glow lit up the street, accompanied by unearthly chanting—he unleashed a unique blood ritual, empowering all his blood kin.
Awooo—!!
Agonized, frenzied howls erupted as the battered bikers clawed their way out of the wreckage. Their screams were wild, driven by a violent energy building inside. Under their helmets, red eyes glowed in the night. Leather ripped as their bodies swelled unnaturally, strength surging.
Go!' The gloomy man waved, and a dozen bikers charged ahead, leaping after the Mercedes.