America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

The burly man rolled down the car window, and the roar of the pickup truck engine was deafening.

"Hey, fried rice boy!" The burly man spat out his tobacco, his face full of mockery.

"It's not too late to beg for mercy now, or my mud tires will fill your exhaust pipe with sand... Your beat-up metal box sounds like a Thanksgiving turkey oven when you drive it, I hope your insurance can cover the emergency room bill."

Chen Ming, with one hand on the massive steering wheel, rolled down the window in response.

"Thanks, but your pickup truck doesn't even have a roll cage welded on... I suggest you check the pricing for dental work in California; filling a front tooth can cost six thousand dollars."

"Go to hell!" The burly man gave him the middle finger, slammed on the gas, and thick black smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe.

Old Joe took the opportunity to peek through the dining car window, his face full of worry.

"Chen, what are you thinking?" Old Joe asked in a low voice.

"These guys from the Iron Horse Gang made their fortune by running underground off-road races in the Mojave Desert. Their driving skills were honed through real, hands-on experience in the mud. That guy's car even has a modified Baja suspension and all-terrain tires. How can you possibly beat him in a food truck?"

"So what if it's hanging properly?" Chen Ming casually tapped the instrument panel.

"His engine was in such poor condition that it sounded like a redneck old man with asthma, and it couldn't even reach its full horsepower."

"I'm not kidding..." Old Joe clung tightly to the car door.

"This is an off-road section, not an urban area. You'll be in danger!"

"Relax, Joe." Chen Ming looked at the bumpy, desolate racetrack ahead and a smile appeared on his lips.

"Don't act like I've never been to an underground car race before."

Old Joe was stunned.

Have you played it?

"Yes, just recently, although I only drove it once." Chen Ming shifted gears, and the food truck emitted a deep, muffled roar.

"Do you know what nickname those guys gave me afterward?"

Old Joe shook his head blankly.

"Next time you go to downtown Los Angeles to buy goods, you can ask around in the racing community..."

"There's a newly crowned champion driver whose nickname is 'The Pilot'."

Before Old Joe could even process the meaning of the name, his henchman, who was acting as the driver, had already fired a shot into the sky.

As soon as the gunshot rang out, the pickup truck charged out like a raging grizzly bear, its mud tires instantly carving out two deep trenches.

Chen Ming's food truck started a beat slower, its heavy body slowly squeezing into the track.

Taking advantage of its horsepower, the pickup truck easily widened the gap on the straight road. The burly man looked at Chen Ming in the rearview mirror and simply slowed down to block the food truck directly in front of him.

"Go eat exhaust fumes, Chinatown boy..." The burly man stuck his thick arm out of the car window and gave the middle finger, then swerved the steering wheel sharply, drawing serpentine lines on the track.

The tires whipped up sand and gravel from the ground, slamming them against the windshield of the food truck with a loud crackling sound.

He is deliberately obstructing the view.

"These bastards!" Old Joe, standing by the starting line, cursed angrily.

This tactic is extremely malicious in desert terrain. By obstructing visibility, it can easily cause following vehicles to run off the road or even overturn...

Inside the dining car's driver's cab, the view was indeed mostly obscured by the sandstorm.

Chen Ming turned on the windshield wipers expressionlessly. The stainless steel kitchen utensils in the back of the car rattled with the bumps, but his hands on the steering wheel were frighteningly steady. The car's speed not only did not decrease, but continued to steadily increase.

The two vehicles, one after the other, quickly approached the first sharp bend—an abandoned, dried-up riverbed.

As the sharp bend drew ever closer, the burly man skillfully applied the brakes and downshifted.

On such loose dirt roads, if a pickup truck doesn't slow down when turning, it can easily run off the road or even overturn.

"Just stay back and eat dirt!" The burly man cut into the apex of the corner and prepared to accelerate out of it.

But just then, he suddenly heard the sound of an engine coming from his right.

Turning his head, the burly man's pupils suddenly contracted.

Chen Ming's Ford food truck didn't brake at all; it was even accelerating through the corner!

The food truck, weighing several tons, shifted its center of gravity rapidly, its tires screeching on the gravel, and its massive body, with its overwhelming inertia, drew a violent yet perfect arc across the sand.

"This is impossible!" The burly man stared in shock.

Amidst the swirling dust, the food truck drifted and overtook the pickup truck with an incredibly smooth, almost grazing side mirrors.

Chen Ming even lowered the glass the moment he overtook the man and gave him a friendly gesture.

"Your taillights are too dazzling, I'll go to the front instead."

The next second, the food truck sped away, leaving the burly man covered in dust.

"Damn it!" The burly man slammed his fist on the steering wheel, then floored the accelerator. After re-entering the straightaway, he tried to use his speed advantage to overtake Chen Ming.

"Trying to overtake?" Chen Ming glanced at the rearview mirror and smirked.

The massive steering wheel felt as light as a toy in his hands, and the several-ton Ford food truck suddenly began to sway wildly from side to side on the narrow dirt road like a boxer.

Because Chen Ming's vehicle was larger, the yellow sand mixed with gravel, several times more intense than before, pelted down behind him like shotgun shells.

"Fuck!"

The burly man's windshield was pounded by flying stones, making loud banging noises, and his vision was completely obscured.

He gritted his teeth and turned the steering wheel, trying to squeeze past from the side, but he dared not press the accelerator all the way down.

Chen Ming's vehicle was a genuine Ford full-size van. With its own weight plus a full load of kitchen utensils and gas cylinders, its tonnage was more than twice that of his pickup truck, which didn't even have a front bumper beam...

If he were to attempt to overtake with his visibility obstructed, and were to be grazed by Chen Ming's moving metal vehicle, his pickup truck would tumble into the roadside cactus bushes like a kicked-over soda can.

If a car overturns in this godforsaken place, it takes half an hour for an emergency helicopter to arrive.

"A madman...this guy is absolutely insane!"

The burly man was covered in sweat.

Looking at the imposingly wide rear of the car ahead, he finally chickened out. Not only did he not dare to press the accelerator, but he was also forced to repeatedly tap the brakes to avoid crashing into the food truck.

"It seems you're still quite afraid of California's high medical costs."

Chen Ming glanced at the pickup truck slowing down in the rearview mirror, leisurely gripped the steering wheel with one hand, and casually turned on the car radio. A classic country song began to echo in the driver's seat.

As the food truck swayed rhythmically, the distance between the two vehicles widened considerably on the desolate highway.

"What the hell... Am I dreaming?"

On the abandoned water tower at the finish line, the Iron Horse Gang's underlings were observing the situation through binoculars. When they saw Chen Ming's food truck speeding towards them from afar, they almost lost their footing and fell off.

A modified pickup truck couldn't even outrun a food truck... If this gets out, they're finished!