Chapter 245: Escaping On Highway 69 North!

Chapter 245: Escaping On Highway 69 North!

Rumble. The deafening sounds of engines roaring, rushing wind, and frantic tire squealing filled our ears while we rushed down Highway 69 northbound near North City.

When I looked over my shoulder to my right, I saw a Ferrari 488 GTB, right behind me a McLaren 720S, and on my left side a Porsche 911 GT3 RS.

Clark and his two Lee soldiers had been chasing us relentlessly since Star City, right after we fled out of their observation zone.

Ling Ling was smiling brightly at the absolute chaos we were causing. She was intentionally trying to draw the Lee family's attention away from Star City while our own family moved into hiding.

The engine of the MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR screamed beneath us, a localized thunderstorm trapped between my thighs. At 170 mph, the rushing wind was a physical wall, tearing violently at my leather jacket, but my cultivator physique kept me locked to the machine's frame like solid stone.

To my right, the sleek, dark nose of the Ferrari 488 GTB drifted dangerously close. Its high-performance tires smoked as the soldier behind the wheel fought the highway's gentle curve to stay parallel with us.

Directly in my rearview mirror, the aggressive LEDs of the McLaren 720S flashed, completely glued to my tail. At the same time, the Porsche 911 GT3 RS aggressively hovered on my left, trying to box me into a tight cage.

"Rick! Semi-truck up ahead, blocking both center lanes!" Ling Ling’s voice cut straight through the roaring wind and the mechanical thunder of the engine.

She did not need an electronic earpiece. She focused her Chi directly into my ears, her voice sounding crisp, clear, and entirely unbothered by our deadly speeds. Her slender arms wrapped tightly around my waist, her body moving in perfect, superhuman synchronization with mine as I leaned the bike.

"I see it," I muttered back, tightening my grip on the handlebars.

To a normal human, the sea of taillights ahead at this speed would be a blurry, terrifying death sentence. But with my advanced cultivation, my mind processed the world in hyper-detailed slow motion. The slow-moving civilian sedans and SUVs looked like they were floating through thick molasses.

I calculated the trajectories in a fraction of a heartbeat. There was a gap. It was a tiny, three-foot-wide sliver of asphalt between the massive rear wheels of the semi-truck and a silver Honda Accord in the slow lane.

I kicked the shifter down, the Brutale’s exhaust popping violently as the RPMs spiked, and twisted the throttle to its absolute stop. The front wheel threatened to lift into a wheelie, but I shifted my weight forward, forcing the rubber to bite into the highway pavement.

"Hold on Ling'er!" I yelled, bracing my core.

I flicked the handlebars with sudden, explosive force. The bike snapped to the right with impossible agility, cutting directly across the nose of the Ferrari. I heard the high-pitched screech of its carbon-ceramic brakes as the soldier was forced to stand on the pedal to avoid obliterating his own front bumper against my spinning rear tire.

An instant later, we shot into the narrow gap. The metal container of the semi-truck scraped past my left shoulder, while the Honda’s side mirror flashed inches from my right knee. It was a needle-thread that would have killed a mortal driver ten times over.

We burst through the other side into empty pavement, the digital speedo flickering straight to 182 mph.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw that our trap had sprung perfectly. The Porsche and the Ferrari were completely boxed in by the traffic wall, forced to lock their brakes and weave wildly onto the shoulders to avoid a catastrophic pileup.

But the McLaren 720S was driven by Clark Lee. He was a completely different breed of soldier. Clark had anticipated the traffic jam, cutting hard across three lanes to find a clean line along the far-right emergency shoulder.

The McLaren roared out of the cluster of traffic, its twin-turbo V8 howling as it relentlessly reeled us back in, utilizing its superior aerodynamics to defy the heavy wind resistance.

"The McLaren is adapting," Ling Ling's voice boomed softly in my ear, her tone shifting to the cold, calculating edge of a master superspy as she channeled her Chi. "Clark Lee is going to try and ram our rear tire."

"Not if he can't see us," I replied, a smirk tugging at my lips as I formulated a counter-move.

Up ahead, a massive green overhead sign flashed through the darkness: NORTH CITY - 1 MILE. Directly beneath it was a sharp, sweeping off-ramp leading toward the lower-level industrial district.

I did not slow down. As Clark Lee pulled within striking distance, his headlights blindingly bright in my mirrors, I tapped into the core of my dantian. A subtle pulse of Chi flooded through my hands and into the MV Agusta’s traction control systems, overriding the digital limits of the machine.

I slammed on the brakes at the absolute last possible millisecond, throwing the bike down into an absurd, tire-shredding lean angle right onto the exit ramp. Ling Ling shifted her weight flawlessly, her body hanging off the inside of the turn to keep our center of gravity impossibly low. The footpegs scraped against the asphalt, throwing a shower of brilliant sparks into the night.

Clark Lee, caught completely off-guard by a vehicle cornering at speeds that defied modern physics, could not make the turn. The McLaren skidded violently across the painted gore point, its tires shrieking in protest as it sailed straight past the exit, completely missing the turn and rocketing helplessly down the main highway.

We blasted down the twisting off-ramp, dropping into the deep shadows of the industrial grid. I slowed the bike down to a smooth, rumbling purr, turning off our headlights entirely as we melted into the maze of concrete warehouses.

Behind us, the distant wail of Clark Lee's frustrated engine faded into the midnight air.

Due to our cultivation, we did not even need the headlights of our bike to navigate. But we could not lose them forever, as we needed Adam to track us heading into the northern mountains, where the old Hidden Temple once stood before a lovesick Yandere completely leveled it.

As I turned off the motorcycle engine for a bit, Ling'er straddled around to face me, deeply kissing me after the fun we had just experienced. Her lips were warm and hungry, sending a rush of heat straight to my core. After a few minutes, she broke our intense kiss and grinned, her eyes flashing in the dark.

"Fuck Rick, I have raced with you in your Demon lots, but why did you never tell me you had this MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR before?! I fucking love riding it with you, it is the best foreplay!"

I squeezed her ass firmly through the tight leather outfit of hers, feeling the soft, supple curve of her skin. "It was an anniversary present from Hana, and she told me only she could ride it with me. I drove it on the Lang-Lee Raceway. But due to needing it for our mission, Hana told me to take her out and be safe."

Ling jumped off the bike and looked around the abandoned lot. "Rick dear, why did you pull off the highway? Why not just keep going until we reached the mountains?"

I teased her while pointing directly to the dashboard gas gauge. "Unless you want the world to see me carrying my bike like a superhero, I need to fill her up before we head into the mountains, silly Ling'er."

Even in the pitch dark, my cultivator vision let me see her blush deeply as she lightly kicked my shin. "Dual Cultivating with you has made you smarter and me dumber, sigh. Plus I guess when Adam sees you filling up, we can start our chase again, right?"

I pulled her up to my back again, starting the engine with a roar and nodded. "You got it. Now let us go cause more mayhem, my little imp."

Like going on a thrilling date, Ling Ling's pretty mouth twisted into an evil but thoroughly satisfied smile as I tore off toward the nearest gas station.

So other than causing a distraction, cultivating to Golden Core, and moving my family to our hidden shelter, why exactly were we being chased? The answer started a few hours ago when the sun was still up.

It was a dark, abandoned warehouse by the west docks where Greg Song finally opened his eyes.

He noticed he was bound securely to a heavy chair, with his feet completely sealed into a large block of dried cement. Next to him in another chair was his estranged wife, Melody Lee, who was also trapped and strapped tightly to her seat, her mouth covered by a thick gag.

The first person Greg recognized standing in the dark warehouse was the tall, bald member of the Fire Birds, Luke Fu. The bastard was standing with his arms crossed, wearing sunglasses indoors despite the pitch-black surroundings.

Luke noticed Greg moving his head and looking around. He turned toward the darkness and called out. "Boss, they are both awake now."

I stopped purposefully hiding in the shadows, stepping forward with my Master Level Stealth like Batman. The two captives saw me looking down at them with a smile that was not friendly at all.

"Hello Greg and Melody Lee, it has been a while, right?"

When Greg saw my face, absolute panic gripped him. "Rick Tang, what... what are you doing?! I haven't bothered you or Linda!"

I pointed directly at the beautiful Melody Lee. "You are here at the wrong place and the wrong time because you are still married to her. If you had divorced her after Raymond Lee forced her to miscarry your child, you would not be here right now."

I stepped slightly closer to him to let the gravity of my words sink in. "So why is Melody here? Because she is part of the Lee Traditionalist family, and this is a war of Lee versus Lee. I am waging total war on the Traditionalists, so killing her husband is an absolute must."

Greg shook his head frantically like a crazy worm, trying to deny reality. Meanwhile, Melody's blue eyes opened wide in pure horror as the realization hit her. The masked person who had brutally attacked her in a restaurant to end her pregnancy before she even hit one month was her very own brother.

As heavy tears flowed from the bound woman's eyes, Greg pointed with his chin toward his wife, instantly trying to bargain for his own life. "Rick Tang, just kill her, and I won't say a single thing! You only want to kill her family, right? I can help you! Adam is tracking us right now using our electronic devices, so he can hear us. Just let me go, okay?"

I held up a black box with the name RAID written clearly across it. I pointed to the device, explaining the situation to the dead man like any good villain should during a confrontation.

"Only your GPS is running for Adam, as he can only tell that you and Melody are currently arguing with one another at the beach area. He has been played with for years in the palm of my hackers' hands, seeing only exactly what we want him to see. Adam will live only a month longer than you, but he will die for sure."

Greg begged while sniveling, finally understanding exactly what the heavy block of cement around his feet meant. "Please, don't kill me, I am not a Lee! I... I can tell you where Raymond is based at!"

My evil smile grew even wider, and Luke laughed deeply like a loyal minion as I delivered the crushing truth.

"Jefferson Tower, floor 13, apartment number 7. He is using that apartment to spy on my work habits at Phoenix Tower, and he has a sniper nest ready to kill me there when Adam is about to become the Yellow Emperor. Yeah, all of his plans are already completely known by us."

I scoffed loudly at the sheer incompetence of our enemy. "Fuck, my wife and friends literally own that goddamn building, so how stupid is he? Of course we offered to sell it to the moron after his Limp Dick whorehouse business went well, limp."

Both of the crying hostages stopped their sobbing, completely stunned into silence after hearing how thoroughly I had everything under control. I was pulling every single puppet string.

I pointed directly at Greg, giving my next order. "Take Melody's gag and use it to gag Greg. I don't want to hear another word from him ever again, thanks Luke."

"No, no, no, stop—"

Soon Greg's pathetic begging was cut off completely. Melody sat there entirely calm, knowing her life was no longer hers to control, but the profound sadness in her eyes was incredibly deep, running deeper than the blue of her irises.

I stepped closer and asked Melody directly. "Do you know why I am going to kill off the Traditionalists, Melody?"

She became noticeably more rational and calm the more immediate danger she was in. She honestly shook her head. "I think it has to do with your father and grandfather, but that is all I know, other than the fact that my branch wanted to get rid of your branch. Raymond was a die-hard martyr. And is it true? Was it really Raymond who ended my early pregnancy?"

I handed Luke a smartphone to play back a specific video file, showing the proof to Melody as I spoke to everyone, shocking them all to the core.

"Two thousand years ago, the Li family fled to the barbarian lands of what is now Eurasia. The Conservatives, Traditionalists, and Political Li branches were all carried away by our closest, most loyal servants to flee China. Why did they flee? The answer is because the Traditionalist corrupt noble clans in China were causing a coup to remove the current Conservative Emperor from the throne in open rebellion."

While I delivered my evil monologue, Melody watched the screen intensely. The video showed the man with a covered face punching her hard in the restaurant and fleeing into a dark alley, only to show Raymond removing his mask blocks away. It was a file that was supposed to be completely deleted by Adam, but it seemed someone else had captured the video first.

When Melody had begged Adam to find out who did it back then, he had lied to her, telling her there were no video cameras in the area and that the bad guys got away.

"Anyway, long story short... The Traditionalists were the ones who made the other branches revolt, forcing the true Li clan to run like dogs. And for the past two thousand years, the bastard usurpers of the Traditionalist branch have been slowly killing off my family, the direct descendants of the true and rightful ruler at the time."

I lifted Melody's chin gently to look her straight in the eyes. "Both my biological mother and stepmother, my grandmother, and my wife's mothers all died at the hands of your Traditionalist branch family. So tell me, do I deserve to be angry? They died because of your family's endless greed to replace me as the Yellow Emperor."

Melody's blue eyes contracted violently as all of my past deeds and calculated actions suddenly made perfect sense. I smiled warmly at her and asked the final question. "All males with the Lee Traditionalist name will die, but some women and children will be spared from the purge. Do you want to be one of the lucky few? But you will have to marry selected males and make babies to ensure the bloodline of the future Yellow Emperor does not die out. Melody, are you willing?"

A few minutes later, the heavy sound of scraping concrete on stone echoed through the warehouse as Luke dragged a brand-new coral reef along the docks.

Soon, a sudden, heavy splash of water echoed out as Greg was sunk into the dark ocean with a pair of active smartphones resting in his pockets. The three of us stood quietly by the edge, sending him off into the deep.