Chapter 6: Speed and Fury

On a secluded road without any cameras, a vehicle was playing out its own version of “Fast and Furious.” There were no companions, no pursuers, and no audience. The cheap, battered truck rattled violently, and the one driving was not Skye, but Old Wang.

“Wang… ugh… let go of the wheel, let me drive… ugh… stop, I can’t take it… ugh… don’t… stop… ugh…”

Skye clutched her most valuable possession—a laptop—tightly to her chest, using her body as a shock absorber to protect it. Her other arm braced against the front seat, her small hand gripping Old Wang’s shoulder with all her might, as if she were fighting for her life against his reckless driving.

The jolting was unbearable!

Her stomach felt terrible; the family-sized bucket of chicken she’d eaten just ten minutes ago hadn’t even begun to digest. She couldn’t bear to throw it up—it had cost a fortune, after all. But the discomfort in her stomach was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

No matter how run-down, the truck was something she’d saved for over seven years to buy. Now, with the accelerator pressed to the floor and corners being taken without so much as a lift, it was a miracle they hadn’t flipped over already. Skye kept imagining the sound of screws coming loose and tires screaming in protest.

Every screw that fell wasn’t just a piece of metal—it was hard-earned money!

But even more than the heartbreak, it was the anxiety that gnawed at her. Old Wang, if you insist on driving, fine. If you want to treat this truck like a race car, so be it. Even with your foot to the floor, you won’t outrun a sedan.

If the truck breaks, it breaks. You’re only eighteen—consider this truck sold to you for twenty thousand dollars, pay it back slowly. But could you at least not examine your necklace while driving? You nearly hit someone just now! Taking corners without slowing down, without signaling or flashing your hazards—aren’t you afraid of crashing?

Alright, maybe you’re not afraid of anything, not even an RPG. But I am!

“Ah!” Old Wang sighed.

Classmate Ying, I taught you stance training for three years, all for nothing. Lili, the little one from the Stormbrew family, is much younger than you, and she hasn’t been training for that much longer… She’s just as hefty, yet she can walk on water with her bare hands. No matter how much the boat or truck shakes, she’s unfazed. And you can’t handle a little bumping? Did you put all your talent points into hacking, leaving none for the monk’s path?

Resigned, Old Wang simply released the steering wheel, grabbed hold of Skye’s hand, and sent a surge of true energy from his palm, up her arm, and into her entire body.

In an instant, Skye felt as though she’d landed on solid ground. Her dizziness vanished, her vision cleared, and her legs felt rooted to the spot, immovable.

Her whole body quivered with the tiniest of vibrations—a gentle oscillation—the mark of a higher level of martial training, one she had yet to master.

But most importantly, her organs settled; even the food in her stomach ceased its rebellion and obediently moved on to the next stage of digestion.

“Wang, thank you. I’ll take my martial training seriously from now on… my god, what are you doing? Are you trying to flip the truck?”

Skye was genuinely grateful—until she looked up and saw Old Wang grasping her hand with his right while fiddling with the pendant on his necklace with his left, paying no attention to the steering wheel.

Looking ahead, through the windshield, she saw a large box truck suddenly lurch into the intersection just twenty meters away, about to collide with them.

“Wang…” Skye’s heart jumped into her throat.

But before she could get out another word, the steering wheel moved on its own.

The entire truck jolted, tilted dramatically—she was certain the left wheels had left the ground and the right ones were on the verge of bursting. Yet, in a daring swerve, they veered off course just in time, grazing the other truck by no more than ten centimeters.

“A real driver never flips,” Old Wang said calmly.

“Wang!” Skye felt as if she’d just returned from the underworld, her back drenched in cold sweat. Was Old Wang insane?

He ignored her. For a monk, true energy was simply an extension of hand and foot. Manipulating the steering wheel with it was child’s play. Crashing? Impossible. Monks possessed acute senses—eyes everywhere, ears tuned to every sound. A collision simply wasn’t in the cards.

Another five minutes passed.

“That’s enough,” Old Wang said with a smile, easing the truck’s speed. In twenty-five minutes, they’d managed to cover fifty kilometers along back roads—a feat for a vehicle like this.

They’d had no choice; they had to escape the scene quickly but stay hidden, even covering up the license plate.

An RPG had exploded—no matter how lax the police, they couldn’t turn a blind eye. With over a dozen dead, even if they were gangsters, this was a major case, one that could easily attract the attention of the CIA or S.H.I.E.L.D. Old Wang had no desire to pay S.H.I.E.L.D. a visit—he just couldn’t get used to their coffee.

Truth be told, Old Wang wasn’t prepared to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. yet. These days, S.H.I.E.L.D. was practically a HYDRA branch office. The director’s boss was a HYDRA operative, many top agents were HYDRA, and the rank-and-file were riddled with them.

Far too dangerous.

After eighteen years of hard cultivation, this body still fell short of his former peak. He couldn’t afford to be reckless.

He glanced down at the Heart of Azeroth hanging from his neck and sighed helplessly.

For some reason, it was completely unusable now, constantly drawing his true energy. In just a short while, he could feel it draining him dry.

When she’d first given it to him, it was brimming with essence, the Heart of Azeroth’s powers fully awakened. Now, not a single ability was available; even its most basic functions were gone. It was no different from an ordinary necklace.

With the Heart of Azeroth, Old Wang didn’t dare claim he could take on Thanos head-on, but he’d have been confident against the Hulk or Thor. Now, that was out of the question.

“Hack into the local police and see what’s going on,” Old Wang said, sitting cross-legged to cultivate. The Heart of Azeroth needed energy, so he’d provide it. Maybe once it was sated, it would wake up. He couldn’t afford to lose his golden cheat.

At this, Skye shot Old Wang a fierce glare and opened her laptop.

There were more pressing matters at hand.

It took her less than ten minutes to infiltrate the Los Angeles police systems and extract a trove of information.

“The police arrived within five minutes—faster than ever before. So far, they haven’t found any leads, and we haven’t left any… Wait, another major case just happened—Fifth Street!”

Skye’s voice shot up several octaves, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Twenty-three dead… all members of the Fifth Street Gang!”

“Decisive and ruthless,” Old Wang chuckled.

Clearly, this was Robbie’s doing.

More precisely, it was the work of Robbie Reyes—the Ghost Rider—driven by the Spirit of Vengeance.

The reason was simple:

For vengeance to be complete, every member of the Fifth Street Gang had to die.

Robbie himself wasn’t bloodthirsty, but whether or not to kill was no longer his decision. The Spirit of Vengeance had taken over.

And why the rush?

Simple. With so many from Fifth Street dead, the rest would panic and scatter. Once they fled, it would be far harder to track them down.

It had to be done in one fell swoop.

“No leads for the police? Good,” Old Wang said, finally relieved.

He let Skye take over driving while he focused on his cultivation.

After about half an hour, his expression brightened, and he opened his eyes.

The Heart of Azeroth had stopped draining his energy.

It had awakened.