"Hm, Leon, how did you even train your driving skills?" Hattie asked, her face pale.
Her already fair skin had gone ghostly white, lips drained of color as if she were anemic—though really, it was just Leon's insane driving that scared the life out of her.
"Train? Why train? You just press the accelerator and brake, that's all there is to it." Leon shrugged, speaking the plain truth—well, his version of it.
The truth was, he didn't need practice at all. Everything he knew came straight from the system. The moment it activated, driving skills poured into his body as if he'd been born with them. Practice? That word didn't exist in his world.
"Uh…" Hattie was struck speechless. She wanted to argue, but what could she say? Maybe this was the definition of a true genius.
Geniuses don't struggle. They don't grind. They just do what others call impossible as if it were child's play.
What others see as a mountain climb, they treat like walking across the street.
Only that level of talent could explain why Leon's driving was beyond belief.
"Some people are just too damn lucky. I envy you," Hattie muttered under her breath.
She thought back to her own training. As an MI6 agent, her driving scores in the academy had been perfect. She used to feel proud of that. But next to Leon, her so-called "perfection" was laughable.
Compared to him, she was a child wobbling on training wheels.
Even if you gave her the Diomas Nilo, with her skills she could maybe push it to 280 km/h. If she strained herself, perhaps barely 300. But that wasn't even scratching the surface of what the Nilo was capable of.
For this machine, 300 km/h was a leisurely jog—like an old man strolling through a park.
Without Leon, the Diomas Nilo was wasted potential.
That was why both Hattie and Elena admired him so much.
"Warning: High-risk hazard ahead. Spiked barricade detected. Distance: 10 kilometers."
The system's voice filled the cabin. On the HUD, a flashing red alert pulsed.
Ordinary roadblock vehicles extend metal nets from their sides like wings, designed to snare and stop cars. But the Americans had a love for dramatic barricades—like Barricade, the Mustang police Decepticon from Transformers.
In fact, the roadblock car they were using here wasn't far off. A Ford Mustang Saleen S281, fitted with the GT500's V8 engine, pushing over 550 horsepower, reinforced with steel ramming bars and police gear.
Line up several of those across the road, and street racers would have no chance.
Jilong had already tried this tactic earlier, but Leon had shredded through it like tissue paper.
This time, they weren't messing around.
They rolled out the heavy-duty barricade trucks—upgraded monsters fitted with spikes and steel lances.
If you dared to ram into them, the price would be catastrophic.
The barricade trucks were even designed with reinforced ground anchors to absorb impacts, making them immovable walls.
Short of a plane crashing down with massive force, no car on Earth could smash through.
Even if you did, your vehicle would be reduced to scrap.
Leon's mind raced. He quickly asked his car's system:
"Can we just gun them down with the machine guns?"
"Negative," the system replied instantly.
"The barricade nets are reinforced with spikes. Forced ramming would cause severe vehicle damage and endanger passengers."
If it were just plain metal nets, the system could've blasted a hole through and powered on.
But the spikes were the problem—small, sharp, and deadly. At high speed, their penetration power increased exponentially.
Even a bulletproof body wasn't guaranteed to withstand such focused piercing.
"Jump over it!" Elena suddenly shouted from the back seat.
Leon whipped his head around, stunned.
"You've got an idea?"
"Your car is outfitted with a hydraulic lift system," she explained rapidly. "If you trigger it at the right time, the car can vault into the air. Then, ignite the nitrous—thrust plus momentum equals lift. Like a plane taking off!"
Leon's eyes lit up. Brilliant!
Yes—if the hydraulic system provided the initial bounce, and the nitrous gave the push, the Diomas Nilo could leap clear over the barricade.
No wasted bullets. No damage. Just pure air time.
They couldn't fly a hundred meters high, of course, but a clean ten meters? Absolutely doable.
Combined with the car's insane speed and inertia, it would be enough.
"Good thinking! Letting you join the team was the right call after all!" Leon grinned ear to ear.
He turned back to the system:
"Run the simulation. Is it feasible?"
"Running analysis…"
The HUD flickered, displaying a 3D simulation.
The Diomas Nilo raced forward, hydraulics launched it into the air. The nose tilted upward, rear angled down—perfect lift-off geometry. Nitrous ignited, a jet of flame blasted from the exhaust, and the trajectory climbed.
From a mere three-meter hop, the leap shot up to eleven meters—well over the barricade trucks.
The simulation marked the plan green.
"Success probability: above 80%."
"Good! Then we're doing it!" Leon's adrenaline spiked. Another insane stunt, another chance to defy the impossible.
Barricade trucks? To him, the sky was wide open. Nothing could stop him now.
Meanwhile, at the barricade site, the squad waited.
Their commander, Wadia, a hulking Black man with a submachine gun strapped to his chest, watched the road calmly.
"Heh, Jilong really is trash," Wadia sneered.
"Couldn't even stop one damn car."
~~----------------------
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