Era of Mist

The moment they accelerated off the line, Lady Pe slammed a small red button. Blue flames instantly erupted from her motorcycle’s exhaust pipe. Her bike then shot forward like a rocket, taking a commanding lead and leaving everyone else in the dust.

Many others had similarly modified bikes; seven or eight of them shot forward, flames blasting from their exhausts. In a race, every second counts, and street racers, in particular, don’t hold back. They’ll use any modification or burst of speed they can to seize the initial advantage.

Right off the starting line, Shi Tiexin had already fallen to eleventh place. Among the sixteen racers, he was surprisingly in the lower half of the pack.

For reasons of their own, Death Fire’s underlings immediately started shouting amidst the crowd.

"Look at that! The Black Venerable is actually falling behind?"

"I told you this guy was no good! He wins a few races and gets a huge head. Ptooey!"

"All big talk and no skills. This time, the ’Black Venerable’ should be renamed the ’Black Pig’~"

This time, however, Ah Fei and the others didn’t jump into a heated argument. Instead, they remained perfectly calm, biding their time.

Having accompanied Shi Tiexin during his practice runs these past two days, his crew knew perfectly well what he was capable of. Falling behind at the start was nothing. This course was long, giving their boss an ample, almost luxurious, amount of time to leave the others far behind.

Their boss’s bike was on the heavier side. Its initial acceleration was powerful for a stock bike, but it still fell short compared to the modified racers. However, his most astonishing skill wasn’t displayed on straightaways. The core of motorcycle racing isn’t about straight-line speed—it’s about the corners.

And when it came to cornering...

"Look, they’re at the first corner!"

"Lady Pe is first, Tokyo Wolf is second. Their form is solid, and their speed control is excellent."

"Now look behind them—Death Fire’s bike just wobbled. Did he run over something?"

𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Death Fire’s form isn’t great, but his bike is powerful."

As the spectators watched the large screen and critiqued the racers, a wave of shouts suddenly erupted in unison.

"HO~~LY~~ SHIT~~!"

"HO~~LY~~ SHIT~~!"

"HO~~LY~~ SHIT~~!"

This perfectly synchronized chorus of "Holy shits" was for one reason and one reason only: Shi Tiexin had just taken the corner.

The racer ahead of him was leaning into the corner and controlling his speed, all while trying to glance back. He wanted to block the path, to stop anyone from cutting past on the inside line.

He never imagined it. One moment, the roar was behind him; the next, it was beside him. Before he could even turn his head, the sound was already in front of him. By the time he looked, all he saw was a taillight. With a nimble flash, that light overtook the next bike ahead, squeezing into ninth place.

"Ward Heaven! How is the Black Venerable so stable yet so nimble through the corners?"

"Does he even use his brakes? Newton must be rolling in his grave!"

Ah Fei really wanted to add, ’Sorry, but our boss only downshifts for corners, at most. He never brakes.’

These past few days, Shi Tiexin hadn’t just been out for a casual ride. Any form of competition requires sweat and effort. Any Cultivation Technique also requires long-term practice and familiarization. Although his Basic Driving Art leveled up quickly, there was no master to carry him; it was a Heart Art he had to cultivate entirely by himself.

Every day, Shi Tiexin would practice on the corners late into the night. Within his gang’s secure territory, he had grinded countless laps on these roads. Just yesterday, through his own cultivation, his Basic Driving Art had advanced to the Profound level. The road-surface indicators became clearer, the night-vision assistance more complete, and the map guidance more concise.

But those weren’t the most important parts. What mattered most was that through repetitive practice, he had finally familiarized himself with every detail of the Black Venerable’s performance. Once he knew the bike like the back of his hand, Shi Tiexin could finally unleash its special effects: a +7% bonus to speed and a +14% bonus to flexibility.

Furthermore, this bonus wasn’t just an improvement over the Passable or Good tiers of the skill. It was a special bonus unique to his "Deja Vu" variant of the Basic Driving Art, even when compared to the standard version at the same Profound level. It was just like how, despite both being at the Profound level of Basic Fist Arts, Shi Tiexin’s punches were far more lethal than anyone else’s.

With a bonus like that, the difference in skill was almost an entire tier.

More stable and more flexible, it gave its rider supreme confidence. That was why he, Shi Tiexin, truly didn’t brake for corners anymore. At most, he’d downshift a bit upon entering a turn—a small token gesture, just to show an appropriate amount of respect for centrifugal force.

Of course, downshifting was the perfect time to overtake. The best racing line? He couldn’t care less. If someone else wanted to block the inside, let them. They were all as slow as crawling turtles anyway; a slight, token turn of the handlebars and he was already past.

With cultivation, you really can do whatever you want.

And so, Shi Tiexin weaved left and right, as nimbly as a food delivery driver dodging a pedestrian. The heavy, massive Black Venerable practically performed a ballet, carving out a few graceful arcs and instantly overtaking several other racers.

On the next corner, he once again slapped centrifugal force in the face as he swung through, overtaking several more.

This heart-pounding overtake left the spectators waiting at the corner utterly dumbfounded. A continuous stream of "Holy shits" came through the live camera feed. The crowd watching the main screen maintained formation, echoing the sentiment with a chorus of "Holy shits" of their own.

"Look, they’re coming out of the mountain roads!"

"The Black Venerable has reached sixth place—no, fifth—wait, fourth! My god, he’s already in fourth!"

"He’s almost on Death Fire’s tail!"

"We’re only a fifth of the way through the race. Don’t tell me the Black Venerable is going to win by a full ten seconds?"

"I heard the Black Venerable’s usual winning margin is at least thirty to forty seconds."

"Quiet, quiet! Look, the long straightaway is up ahead!"

WHOOSH. He shot through the corner like a bolt of lightning. The view ahead suddenly opened up, revealing the great straightaway leading directly into the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. And a long straightaway, one might imagine, is a motorcycle’s most frenzied playground for acceleration. Corners are the core of a race, but the straights are its soul.

Lady Pe was still in first place. A report came through her earpiece from one of her crew, letting her know that Shi Tiexin was catching up. ’Damn it...’ She glanced at her boost gauge. Good, the pressure tank was full again. Lady Pe observed the road ahead, stabilized her bike, and then slammed the boost button.

FWOOSH! Blue flames erupted from her exhaust pipe. Lady Pe’s straight-line speed skyrocketed, and she almost lost her grip on the handlebars. With a whoosh, she shot far into the distance.

The other racers saw this and followed suit. The roar of engines suddenly became hysterical. Flames blasted from their exhausts as the bikes, like horizontally launched rockets, began to accelerate madly down the long straightaway.

VROOM, VROOM, VROOM. One bike after another zipped past him, and Shi Tiexin dropped to eighth place again.

Death Fire’s goons instantly came back to life and started running their mouths again.

Ah Fei shot the goons an annoyed look. ’What a noisy bunch,’ he thought. But he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

’Do you people know what an eight-cylinder engine is?’

’The boss’s bike might be a little heavy, which is why its initial burst of acceleration is a bit behind those modified bikes. But when it comes to top-end power—especially accelerating past 200 kilometers per hour—it is absolutely nothing to scoff at.’