Chapter Twenty-Nine: Seizing the Car

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At half past nine in the morning, the sun hung high in the sky, radiating a fierce heat that bore down relentlessly: on treetops, on grass, on the surface of the lake, and most of all, on the people. In the Changchun Garden, tourists packed shoulder to shoulder, already wilting under the oppressive warmth. They dabbed their foreheads with tissues, or simply raised their arms to wipe sweat from their faces and heads with indiscriminate gestures. Some fluttered their hands near their ears, as if such motions could conjure a whisper of breeze. A few teenagers, each clutching a tiny portable fan no bigger than a child’s palm, let the buzzing blades stir their hair as the miniature motors whirred.

As the crowd alternated between cursing the damned weather and marveling at the grandeur of this centuries-old imperial garden, an astonishing scene unfolded before them all. Striding along the lakeside path was a tall, striking young man whose skin gleamed with a luster like polished jade. His features were handsome, his hair shorn so close that the dark scalp beneath was almost visible. There was nothing effeminate about him—instead, he wore a rare, rugged determination that lent him a peculiar magnetism seldom seen in the youth of this era. An earbud nestled in one ear, his gaze fixed intently ahead, a faint, cold smile at his lips, he marched purposefully toward the exit.

His steps were powerful, his movements athletic. Though he did not appear to be walking particularly fast, in the eyes of a few young women who had just noticed him, their eyes sparkling as they whispered, “He’s so handsome,” “So cool,” he seemed to glide effortlessly through the dense throng. Left and right he slipped, twisting his way between bodies, and in a few heartbeats had vanished from view, as if the press of humanity posed no obstacle to him at all—not so much as a moment’s delay.

“What’s that guy up to?” There was a ripple of astonishment through the crowd, as people exchanged bewildered glances.

Five hundred meters, three hundred, two hundred... Lei Dong’s footsteps pounded out a peculiar rhythm, driving him forward like the wind. Not only was his target locked within his senses, but now he could see the figure with his own eyes among the crowd. In just a dozen seconds, he’d clear the gates and enter striking distance. Lei Dong gathered his strength, the cold smile on his face growing more pronounced.

But in the next instant, the smile froze. Aiyim Navarre abruptly pulled open the door of a black Jeppendi SUV parked by the roadside and slipped inside, shutting the door with a bang. The vehicle growled to life and sped northwest.

“Damn it!” Lei Dong swore under his breath, sprang forward, and shouted, “Excuse me—coming through!” Waving his arms, he shoved aside the people in front of him. Amid startled yelps and curses—“Hey, what the hell!”—he darted across nearly a hundred meters in a flash, bursting through the gates. He had no time to worry about attracting attention, nor to wonder what devilry Aiyim Navarre was up to. All that mattered was that the bastard must not get away!

Lei Dong had barely cleared the gate when Aiyim Navarre’s SUV was already several hundred meters ahead. At Lei Dong’s speed, a full-out sprint might have caught up, but such a spectacle would cause chaos on the road. Worse, it might alert his quarry—if that madman realized he was being tailed, who knew what catastrophe he might unleash?

Lei Dong scanned his surroundings anxiously. If life were a police thriller, this would be the moment when a taxi would appear at just the right time, and he could leap in, command, “Follow that car!” and give chase.

But amid the endless traffic, not a single taxi was in sight.

“Why can’t life follow the script? Why can’t things go as they should?” Though he knew full well that taxis were always everywhere when you didn’t need them, and never around when you did, Lei Dong couldn’t help but grumble in frustration.

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There was no time for hesitation now. Cursing under his breath, Lei Dong dashed into the street and waved down a passing car. With a screech, the nose of an old, mid-range Silver Dragon sedan dipped sharply as the driver slammed the brakes, stopping just in front of him.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” shouted the driver—a burly man with a bushy beard, his face flushed with shock and anger. Before he could let out a string of curses, the handsome stranger had already flung open the passenger door and leapt inside. Barely seated, he blurted out the most iconic line from a thousand TV dramas: “Follow that car!”

The driver, about to voice his indignation, was suddenly amused. “What’s this, buddy—a movie shoot?” He glanced around for cameras, then shook his head. “Don’t see any film crew. Unless... did that guy steal your girl?”

Lei Dong had not expected this burly fellow to be such a chatterbox, just like most taxi drivers in Hanqing City. On another day, he might have traded jokes, but now was not the time. He snapped, “Drive!”

In recent years, Lei Dong’s cultivation had grown immensely. Hardened by countless near-fatal trials, his very tone carried an undercurrent of menace. The bearded driver felt as if the temperature in the car had dropped, a chill running down his spine, his hair standing on end, goosebumps prickling all over. He glanced nervously at Lei Dong’s steely expression, stammered twice, and hurriedly shifted gears. But the car didn’t move at all.

“Damn it! Start the engine!” Lei Dong was exasperated. This was an old manual-transmission sedan, and the guy had stalled it when he braked!

“Ah, right, right...” Glancing at Lei Dong’s shaved head, the bearded driver grew inexplicably flustered, fumbling to restart the engine. Cautiously, he got the car moving again, the Silver Dragon lurching and swerving onto the road.

Lei Dong exhaled in relief, eyes locked on the black SUV ahead. Thank heavens—though the rush hour had passed and the road was no longer choked with traffic, this was still inside the Fifth Ring, near a popular tourist site, so the streets were far from empty. The SUV wasn’t moving especially fast, so as long as their own car kept pace, he wouldn’t lose it.

And as long as he stayed on the target, there was still a chance to capture Aiyim Navarre alive.

But within minutes, Lei Dong’s expression darkened. Aiyim Navarre was clearly an adept driver. Though he wasn’t speeding, he weaved through the traffic with the agility of a fish, constantly changing lanes and overtaking, steadily widening the gap. Meanwhile, his own burly driver sat rigidly upright, hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes glued to the road, but creeping along at a snail’s pace.

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“Faster, step on it!” Lei Dong urged repeatedly, a sense of foreboding gnawing at him. The bearded man responded with a flurry of “Okay, okay,” but the car’s speed barely increased. The black SUV was growing ever more distant, nearly at the entrance to the North Fifth Ring.

“Turn right, accelerate, overtake!” Lei Dong was truly desperate. If this went on, there was no telling where Aiyim Navarre might escape to.

“Please, man, have mercy! I just can’t do it!” The bearded driver was on the verge of tears. “I only just got my license, just bought this car from the used lot, and today’s my first time driving it!”

“Damn it!” Lei Dong’s mind buzzed—had he left the house without making an offering to the gods? What luck, to run into a rookie like this! He thought of jumping out to flag another car, but not only would that commotion risk alerting Aiyim Navarre, even if he managed it quietly, who knew if he’d get another boneheaded driver—or worse, a terrifying woman behind the wheel? That would ruin everything!

With grim resolve, he pulled out his officer’s ID, flashed it—careful to cover the details—at the bearded man, and said coldly, “Police! I’m requisitioning your vehicle!”

The bearded driver froze, then actually seemed relieved. “You’re hilarious, man. Almost had me fooled...” His words trailed off as his face went rigid with terror—a black pistol was now pressed to his temple, its icy barrel sending a jolt of dread through his entire body. His legs jerked reflexively, and with a shriek of brakes, the Silver Dragon screeched to a halt. The bearded man didn’t dare move a muscle, but tears and snot streamed down his face as he wailed, “Please, have mercy! My mother’s eighty, my child is eight...”

Lei Dong had no patience for this nonsense. “Out!” he barked, giving the driver’s shoulder a gentle shove with his gun hand. The bearded man felt a surge of force lift him clean off his seat, hurling him toward the door. Lei Dong twisted left, his hand flashing out to swing the door open just in time, flinging the driver out, then sliding nimbly into the driver’s seat himself. Before he’d even settled, his right hand twisted the key, the door slammed shut, and the Silver Dragon roared off like an arrow from a bow.

The bearded driver, tossed from the car, felt as though he’d been swept up by the wind. He braced for a bone-shattering fall—perhaps even to be run over again and again by passing cars—and nearly burst into tears from terror. But just as he was about to hit the ground, some invisible force steadied him; his feet touched down without so much as a stumble. Dazed, he realized he was standing safe and sound on the sidewalk across the street, while his precious newly bought car was already a distant speck, barely visible.

Amidst the astonished and bemused onlookers, the bearded man stood frozen for a long moment before it dawned on him: his car had just been stolen! Nearly frantic, he whipped out his phone and dialed emergency services, blubbering, “Help, police, someone’s stolen my car...” His whimpering, aggrieved cries scattered on the wind.