Farming Life Starting in Africa

Is this Wonder Woman? No way! This isn't the DC Universe, is it? He hadn't seen any news about Gotham City in this world, no Bruce Wayne gossip! And no that little red and blue dot on the Metropolitan skyline!

But the face in front of him was indeed too similar. From the forehead to the chin, from the brow bone to the corner of the mouth, every line perfectly overlapped with the face he had seen countless times on the screen.

She noticed the moment Rosen was stunned, a faint smile curving her lips. Then, her gaze swept past him to the tattooed man named Luke, and she asked Rosen curiously, "Your big toy can beat him?"

Rosen shrugged and said honestly, "I don't know, I've never raced a car."

After Rosen finished speaking, the surrounding crowd was silent for about half a second. Then, as if a valve had been turned on, a chorus of boos erupted from all directions.

Luke's face flushed with excitement, even his bald scalp glowed with a glossy pink.

He turned to the crowd beside him, spread his palms, and laughed triumphantly, "You all heard that, right? Haha..." Then he turned back to Rosen and grinned, his smile filled with barely suppressed smugness.

To him, the man in front of him driving a big pickup truck was a generous benefactor who had come to give him money. If he beat him, not only would he make a fortune that night, but Jenny would also get to spend a happy night with him.

Among the onlookers, some were taking out their wallets to place bets. The beams of flashlights shone back and forth on the hoods of the makeshift gambling tables, and colorful banknotes were pressed against the cold metal surfaces. Someone was using a marker to write down the odds on a torn piece of cardboard.

Rosen noticed that there were significantly more people betting on Luke than on him, and his odds had jumped from 2 to 1 to 5 and were still going up.

Giselle stood in front of Rosen, leaned closer, and asked, "So what are you doing here?"

Rosen's gaze returned to Giselle's face. "Looking at a beautiful woman, huh? Winning the match while you're at it. Can you tell me your name?"

He asked the question that he most wanted to know the answer to.

Gisele raised her chin slightly, a faint smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. "Gisele Yesa, and you, handsome?"

Rosen chuckled mischievously, and when he uttered a name, even he felt it was a bit outrageous: "Just call me Michael."

Upon hearing this extremely perfunctory name, Gisele's lips twitched. Since Rosen was unwilling to reveal his real name, she didn't say much more.

She reached out and took the wad of five thousand dollars in cash from Rosen's hand. She counted it briefly to make sure it was five thousand, then rolled it up and stuffed it into her pants pocket.

Giselle's gaze lingered on Rosen's eyes: "If you win later, shall we find a place to have a drink?"

Rosen took a step closer, leaning forward so that his lips were just close to Giselle's ear. He smelled her perfume, and it tickled a little when it entered his nose.

"Does losing mean I can't contact you anymore?"

Giselle turned her head and squinted.

The light from the streetlamp shrank to two tiny dots in her pupils. Her gaze was fixed on Rosen's sharply defined face. "If you lose, you won't be able to catch me."

Rosen shrugged and said helplessly, "Alright then, where's the track?"

Giselle glanced in the direction of the abandoned buildings, then her gaze returned to her black pickup truck. "Your car can have GPS, right?"

"Of course."

Giselle reached up and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen to the side of her face. "In half an hour, park your car at the west exit. I'll give you a GPS with the destination marked on it."

At this point, Giselle added, "No one closes the road, there are no rules, you can crash and take shortcuts, it's a 5-mile stretch, whoever gets there first wins."

After saying that, she swayed her slender waist and turned to walk back towards the crowd.

Rosen didn't pay much attention to this absurd rule. "If we really can't outrun them, I'll pull out a rocket launcher and see if they can run that fast."

He watched the woman leave, savoring the scent of her hair he had just smelled. He finally breathed a sigh of relief; thankfully it was just a wild horse, not Wonder Woman, whose Lasso of Truth was his greatest fear.

I've never heard of that. Truth is hard to swallow. How could a model young man from a communist society listen to such things?

Rosen locked the car door and wandered around, discovering that many modified cars had large bombs installed, which he found hard to accept.

Although he used to bury landmines near his home, he wasn't doing it for himself; he wouldn't step on them anyway.

The nitrous oxide cylinders that these people were carrying were for their own use; anyone who carries that stuff is incredibly daring.

Suddenly, Rosen noticed a white 1969 Anvil Mustang parked in the corner. It was a fastback, with a long hood and a short rear, and the curved roofline flowed smoothly to the rear edge of the trunk. The moonlight and the light from distant headlights created a soft, flowing effect on its paint.

A woman was sitting on the hood of the car, wearing a well-tailored dark suit with the trousers slightly wrinkled at the knees and a pair of shiny leather ankle boots.

Her medium-length hair was neatly trimmed, and a small tattoo was visible behind her ear at her temples, extending all the way down to below her collar. She also had tattoos on her fingers and the backs of her hands.

The woman had a cigarette dangling from her mouth, the cigarette holder gently bitten by her teeth, leaving it slightly flattened with bite marks.

She sat casually on the hood of the white Mustang, her legs crossed and her wrists resting on her knees.

Rosen noticed her because nobody here wore suits. Everyone was wearing hoodies, leather jackets, cargo pants, or jeans, and some were even shirtless, showing off their full-back tattoos.

A woman in a sharp dark suit appearing at an underground racetrack is as incongruous as seeing someone in an evening gown carrying bricks at a construction site.

He vaguely remembered this woman; she seemed to be a supporting actress in some movie. But it didn't matter. It's all about Fast and Furious; they've made so many movies, who can remember what they've all made?

Just before the match was about to begin, Rosen launched a drone, stabilized it at an altitude of 200 meters using a control terminal, and activated follow mode.

From the ground, it appears as a tiny dark dot in the sky, blending into the background clouds and starlight, and is virtually undetectable unless you look closely.

This is the cheat device that Rosen used. The control terminal is strapped to his wrist. It's not very big, and the screen is pressed against his skin with the inside facing inward. He can see the live video feed by simply flipping his palm over.