TCPUAAV Chapter 30

 

Ruan Shiqing couldn’t help but break into a sweat for Luther.

 

Practicing in a junkyard was one thing, but competing in a brutal, high-stakes race like this was on an entirely different level.

 

Yet, the race continued.

 

Luther narrowly avoided Larkin’s intentional sideswipe by veering to the side and accelerating sharply. In a daring move, he overtook Larkin, who had been leading the entire time, and claimed first place.

 

The black hovercar emblazoned with the Blue Star emblem roared through the junkyard, sending metal debris flying as it began its second lap.

 

“Crash him, Larkin! Crash him!”

 

The sudden shift in the lead ignited a wave of fury among Larkin’s supporters. The spectators who had bet their fortunes on him slammed their armrests and erupted in enraged roars.

 

Trailing half a car length behind, Larkin glanced at the audience and flashed an OK hand gesture. With a sudden yank of his control lever, he accelerated straight toward the rear of Luther’s Gaia.

 

Inside the cockpit, Luther felt the violent tremor as his hovercar was struck. From his rearview display, he saw Larkin flipping him off with a malicious grin.

 

The spectators erupted into a deafening frenzy:

 

“Overtake him!”

 

“Larkin, overtake him!”

 

Gritting his teeth, Luther gripped the controls tightly and did everything he could to stabilize his car. He pushed the accelerator to its limit, racing forward recklessly.

 

But just then, from one of the spectator stands, someone hurled a rock toward him.

 

The rock struck the speeding hovercar, leaving a sizable dent in the body.

 

Gaia shuddered violently.

 

Seizing the opportunity, Larkin zoomed past him, reclaiming the lead.

 

The stands exploded with cheers, with Larkin’s supporters chanting “Larkin for the win!”

 

No one seemed to care about the rock that had been thrown from the stands.

 

The cubs were furious. The little dragon cub clenched his fists and yelled to Ruan Shiqing, “They’re cheating!”

 

Ruan Shiqing’s expression darkened. He was about to contact the organizers to demand an explanation for the race’s lack of fairness when Xiong Fangfang said, “This kind of thing is normal in hovercar races. As long as it doesn’t go too far, the organizers won’t intervene.”

 

Apparently, in every hovercar race, overly passionate spectators would bring rocks or metal scraps to hurl at racers they didn’t like.

 

Both the organizers and racers were well aware of this. However, given that this was an illegal event to begin with, such acts were not condemned. On the contrary, they were seen as part of the spectacle.

 

Occasionally, unlucky racers would be hit in the head or have critical parts of their cars damaged, leading to crashes.

 

The sight of blood often heightened the audience’s excitement even further.

 

Ruan Shiqing fell silent, as did the cubs.

 

The little dragon cub gripped his flower-shaped megaphone tightly and puffed out his cheeks. “If this race is so unfair, we’re not coming back next time!”

 

“Alright,” Ruan Shiqing said softly, stroking his head. “We won’t come back.”

 

Back on the track, the chase grew increasingly intense.

 

Although Larkin had temporarily regained the lead, Luther stayed right behind him, maintaining a half-car-length distance no matter how hard Larkin tried to shake him off.

 

Lap after lap passed.

 

Two laps left until the finish line.

 

Sweat dripped down Larkin’s forehead as he eyed the flashing red warning lights on his dashboard.

 

His hovercar was a top-of-the-line machine, purchased at great expense. It had run for eight consecutive laps without requiring a single pit stop, which he had thought would give him an unbeatable edge.

 

Yet, while other racers were forced to pit for repairs due to overheated engines and worn parts, Luther’s Gaia had kept pace the entire time.

 

He recalled how one of his informants had warned him about Luther’s heavily modified hovercar, advising caution. At the time, Larkin had scoffed.

 

“Damn it,” Larkin growled, his expression turning vicious. If I had known, I would’ve broken that kid’s legs beforehand.

 

Glancing back at Luther’s car, he ground his teeth before letting out a cold laugh.

 

It’s not too late.

 

Larkin deliberately slowed down. When Luther tried to pass him, Larkin suddenly pressed a red button on his dashboard.

 

A high-speed rotary blade extended from the underside of his hovercar and sliced straight into Gaia’s engine.

 

The damage was immediate.

 

Luther’s hovercar shuddered violently as red warning lights flooded his display.

 

The car swayed uncontrollably, and Luther had to focus all his attention on stabilizing it.

 

Meanwhile, Larkin overtook him once again, raising his hand to flash a rude gesture. He mouthed the words, Victory belongs to me.

 

Luther clenched his teeth in frustration but knew this was no time for anger. Desperately fighting to regain control, he narrowly avoided crashing into a pile of metal debris and sped toward the pit lane.

 

Larkin was already there, with his crew quickly replacing his burnt-out parts.

 

He cast a smug look at Luther as if victory were already assured.

 

Luther’s pit crew swarmed around Gaia, their expressions grim. One of them examined the gaping hole in the engine and ran a diagnostic before shaking his head regretfully.

 

“The internal damage is severe. By the time we fix this, the race will be over.”

 

Another crew member glanced at Larkin and laughed mockingly. “Looks like Larkin’s going to be champion again.”

 

At this point, only Larkin and Luther were close to finishing the race, having completed over eight laps. The other racers were still struggling through the sixth and seventh laps.

 

Larkin smirked disdainfully at the flushed and frustrated Luther, urging his crew to hurry up. “Quickly now—I’m about to break the record.”

 

The pit lane’s live feed was broadcast on the central virtual screen.

 

The audience erupted with cheers for Larkin, convinced that his victory was inevitable.

 

The moment Larkin had sabotaged Luther with the rotary blade had taken place at the far end of the track. It had been executed discreetly, and no one seemed to notice—or perhaps they did, but no one cared.

 

After all, this wasn’t a fair competition; it was a blood-soaked gamble tainted by greed and chaos.

 

Ruan Shiqing’s frown deepened as he watched the pit lane feed on the central screen.

 

He knew Gaia inside out. A gash that large, paired with such severe internal damage, was highly suspicious.

 

“I’ll go to the pit lane and see if I can help,” he said, lowering his floating seat.

 

It wasn’t until he reached the ground that he realized Snowball was still in his arms.

 

But with time running out, he had no choice but to carry Snowball as he rushed toward the pit lane.

 

When Ruan Shiqing arrived, Luther was in a heated argument with the pit crew.

 

“You’re too slow!” he said, clenching his fists.

 

“We’ve always worked at this pace,” one of the crew members retorted, scolding him in return. “If you don’t like it, fix it yourself!”

 

Luther’s frustration was written all over his face, but he had no solution.

 

“Then we’ll fix it ourselves,” Ruan Shiqing said, stepping forward.

 

His calm yet commanding presence immediately silenced the crew.

 

The pit crew had heard of Ruan Shiqing’s reputation. Knowing better than to argue, they sheepishly backed away from the engine.

 

Placing his wrist-mounted smart device and Snowball on a nearby cabinet, Ruan Shiqing warned the dog cub not to wander off before taking full control of the repair.

 

Without even bothering to change into a work uniform, he dove under the engine. Luther quickly grabbed tools and parts to assist him.

 

Meanwhile, Larkin’s car had already been repaired. Climbing back into his cockpit, he waved mockingly at Luther. “The goddess of victory will always favor me.”

 

Luther ignored him, focused solely on handing tools to Ruan Shiqing. Surprisingly, he didn’t rush or panic despite Larkin’s taunts.

 

With Ruan Shiqing there, he felt an inexplicable sense of reassurance.

 

Perched on the cabinet, Rong Heng watched Ruan Shiqing work, utterly absorbed.

 

Half of Ruan Shiqing’s body was inside the engine. Despite the lingering high temperatures from its eight-lap run, he ignored the heat, wrapping his hands in cloth as he swiftly assessed the damage and made repairs.

 

Each time he called for a tool or part, his voice was steady and firm, betraying no hint of hesitation.

 

Though he still carried the youthful air of a teenager, his determination and composure were undeniable.

 

Rong Heng’s eyes flickered with approval.

 

Perhaps, he thought, when the time came to leave, he would use his true identity to formally meet Ruan Shiqing again.

 

This was someone worth trusting—a reliable partner and a friend worth having.

 

The thought of leaving made Rong Heng glance at the smart device beside him.

 

According to their arrangement, Dares’ men should already be at the venue.

 

And as if on cue, the device lit up with a red indicator.

 

Noah’s voice, intentionally lowered, came through.

 

“Your Highness, Colonel Dares himself has arrived outside the venue. Shall I send him your location?”

 

Rong Heng: ????

 

Why did Dares come in person?

 

Rong Heng’s face darkened.

 

Taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention, he gripped his smart brain device in his mouth, leapt off the counter, and hid on a relatively concealed shelf.

 

He was just about to instruct Noah to send a message telling Dares to stay put and that he would go to him directly. However, his gaze swept over to the young man who was diligently working nearby.

 

The boy’s face was smudged with black grease, but he didn’t appear disheveled. His eyes were clear and filled with determination.

 

If he left at this moment, the young man might blame himself for being careless and losing track of him, right?

 

He’d definitely feel guilty.

 

Rong Heng hesitated for a moment. When he input his command again, the message changed to: “Tell Dares to stay put. Departure is scheduled for midnight—I still have unfinished matters to handle.”

 

Ruan Shiqing worked with incredible speed. After replacing the internal components, he picked up a metal plate, preparing to weld it directly over the engine’s side tear. This rough-and-ready solution would be the fastest way to seal the opening.

 

As he worked, he asked in a low voice, “This tear looks like it was caused by something sharp. What happened?”

 

Gritting his teeth, Luther recounted the events that had taken place.

 

Ruan Shiqing’s expression grew colder as he listened.

 

After a brief moment of contemplation, he discarded the smooth metal plate and instead retrieved two jagged, spike-covered metal plates of high hardness. He fastened them securely to either side of the engine’s outer shell.

 

Now, Gaia’s engine resembled a pair of massive spiked clubs.

 

This scene was broadcasted live, sparking a flurry of discussion among the audience. Even the commentators chuckled.

 

“Welding on such heavy metal plates? Those spikes will increase drag as well. Gaia’s speed will probably drop by at least ten percent. Maybe even twelve and a half.”

 

“Is he planning to use those spiked clubs to ram Larkin? With that weight, I doubt he’ll even get close enough to sniff Larkin’s exhaust.”

 

“This is the dumbest strategy I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Larkin is already half a lap ahead. There’s no way Luther can win.”

 

Ruan Shiqing ignored the jeers echoing from the racetrack. In a low voice, he said to Luther, “Gaia still has an overdrive mode. If you max out the hydraulic system settings, you can instantly boost your speed by an additional twenty percent. But this overdrive will put extreme stress on the engine—it can only sustain it for ten seconds. Beyond that, the engine will overload and shut down. You’ll need to time it carefully.”

 

Luther donned his goggles, nodded firmly, and charged back into the race.

 

By this point, Larkin was already more than half a lap ahead, about to finish the ninth lap.

 

Larkin even had the leisure to wave and gesture to the audience.

 

Luther, however, kept his eyes on the display screen, calculating the distance between them in his head.

 

Closer. Just a little closer…

 

Gaia surged forward like an unsheathed blade, its speed ferocious and unyielding. The other racers who tried to overtake him were left far behind, unable to keep up.

 

Meanwhile, the gap between him and Larkin was shrinking bit by bit.

 

When Luther calculated that the gap had closed to just under a quarter lap, he followed Ruan Shiqing’s instructions. With a swift motion, he pushed the hydraulic system settings to their maximum. Then, leaning back, he yanked the control lever hard. The entire car shot forward like a black arrow, aimed directly at Larkin.

 

Gaia became a black streak on the racetrack, almost impossible to follow with the naked eye.

 

The audience, who had been cheering wildly for Larkin, fell silent for a moment. Then the cubs in the stands raised their megaphones again, shouting enthusiastically, “Go, Luther! You can do it!”

 

Up on the high platform, the host’s voice quivered as she pulled up data and projected it onto the central screen. Her excitement rendered her nearly incoherent.

 

“What just happened? Gaia’s speed just shot up to 1,286 kilometers per hour!”

 

“This is the highest speed ever recorded in the history of hovercar racing!”

 

Her eyes remained glued to the footage. “Can Luther catch up to Larkin?”

 

Larkin was wondering the same thing.

 

After a round of repairs, his hovercar’s speed had dropped slightly. But with his main rival seemingly defeated, he wasn’t particularly worried about securing the victory—

 

—so long as Luther didn’t suddenly pull off a miracle.

 

However, the display screen in his car showed that the black dot representing Luther was rapidly closing in on him.

 

Furiously, Larkin worked the control lever, but his car refused to accelerate any further.

 

And then—Luther was right behind him.

 

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One!

 

Luther counted silently in his mind. As he overtook Larkin and passed him in a blur, he abruptly reset the hydraulic system settings and yanked the control lever to the right. The entire car swerved sharply to the left.

 

The engine, covered in jagged spikes, swung out with the full force of inertia and slammed viciously into Larkin’s hovercar.

 

The red hovercar was flung off the track by the massive impact, crashing through several towering piles of scrap metal before rolling over multiple times and finally coming to a stop.

 

The audience fell into stunned silence for a brief moment before erupting into chaos. Countless people leapt to their feet, slamming their hands against the tables in front of them as they roared:

 

“Larkin! Get up!”

 

“Larkin! Don’t lose!”

 

Blood dripping down his face, Larkin pushed open the cabin door and tumbled out of his hovercar in a disheveled heap.

 

Though he clearly needed medical attention, the furious spectators who had lost their bets turned their rage toward him. They screamed and cursed, some even hurling rocks and chunks of metal at him, roaring, “Get up! Defeat him!” and “You useless piece of trash! Get up and chase him!”

 

Ruan Shiqing stood in front of the repair bay, holding the little pup in his arms as he looked up at the massive virtual screen in the center.

 

Larkin lay crumpled on the racetrack; Luther had already begun his final lap, while the other racers—desperately trying to catch up—were destined to fail.

 

Around them, the audience, consumed by fury, shouted like madmen, their voices blending into a cacophony of chaos.

 

The whole scene, a convergence of frenzied voices, distorted silhouettes, and flickering lights, was unsettling.

 

Each shout, each figure, was like a cog in the engine of this desolate place, burning with reckless fervor.

 

This gray planet, so far from any star and devoid of sunlight, had managed to survive only by burning people as fuel.

 

Perhaps one day, at some point, when everything had been consumed, this planet would finally succumb to eternal darkness.

 

Ruan Shiqing suddenly felt a suffocating weight press down on him.

 

This shouldn’t be the way things are.

 

A sense of helplessness rose within him. Holding the little pup, the young man lowered his gaze and murmured quietly, “It shouldn’t be this way.”

 

But if this wasn’t how it should be… then what should it be?

 

He had no answer, leaving only a faint sigh behind.

 

Rong Heng raised his eyes to look at him, his gaze deep and understanding, as though he knew exactly why Ruan Shiqing sighed.

 

Turning away, Rong Heng looked out over the desolate scrapyard, his expression tinged with cold disdain.

 

Indeed, it shouldn’t be this way.

 

Planets like B3024 were far too common. These worlds, barren of resources and hostile in environment, devoid of life, were conveniently designated as dumping grounds for the waste of prosperous planets.

 

Initially, these planets were chosen because the garbage on thriving planets was beginning to harm their ecosystems. The Empire passed laws mandating the search for lifeless planets like B3024. Transport fleets and colonial soldiers were dispatched to these barren worlds, where they established energy centers, converting trash into stored energy to be shipped back to the wealthier worlds.

 

These planets were supposed to house only government workers.

 

But over time, as corruption spread through the Empire, the energy center workers began using these planets for their own purposes: harboring criminals wanted by the Empire, colluding with interstellar pirates, and turning these worlds into pirate havens.

 

Over millennia, the energy centers became cesspools of deception, and these barren planets gradually filled with a “gray population”—people who lived outside the law.

 

The decaying Empire, however, remained blissfully unaware.

 

Or perhaps, it knew but was powerless to act.

 

The war with the Zerg was draining the Empire of its once-vast resources. The massive financial conglomerates that had grown rich from the war now held the Empire’s economy in a stranglehold. With their immense wealth, these capitalists infiltrated every facet of the Empire, bribing countless officials who willingly became their puppets.

 

Even the royal family was forced to yield under this powerful web of influence.

 

Rong Heng’s mother had once fought to change all of this, but she had died on the front lines.

 

Now, the royal family—the Ymir clan—had only him left.

 

He had to return and bear this burden.

 

Luther crossed the finish line first.

 

The spiked and jagged Gaia roared through the red line, claiming victory and raising the championship banner.

 

But aside from the excited cheers of a few small cubs, only a smattering of voices celebrated his win, quickly drowned out by sobbing and curses from the furious audience.

 

Only the commentator on the high platform remained enthusiastic, passionately inviting the new champion to deliver a victory speech.

 

Luther, however, simply held the trophy in his hands, bowed in the direction of Ruan Shiqing, and said:

 

“I stand here today to prove one thing: those who discriminate against other races are idiots!”

 

He thumped his chest with his fist and declared firmly, “Ancient humans are not inferior to any race! Not today, not ever. For the rest of my life, I will continue to prove this to you!”

 

The insults from the crowd ceased momentarily, and countless people stared at him in shock.

 

Among them, the few ancient humans scattered in the audience straightened their backs, slamming their tables and cheering wildly. Their faces brimmed with pride.

 

They began repeating Luther’s words:

 

“Ancient humans are not inferior to any race! Those who discriminate are idiots!”

 

The chant grew louder and louder.

 

Luther raised the trophy high, gesturing toward the stands, and gave a deep bow before jumping down from the stage and sprinting toward Ruan Shiqing.

 

This tall, sturdy man appeared awkward and unsure in front of Ruan Shiqing. All he could do was place his right hand over his left chest in a solemn gesture, making his vow with utmost sincerity:

 

“Today’s victory is as much yours as it is mine. After the race, I’ll head to Sikkim. But no matter where or when, Ruan Shiqing, you will always be the lighthouse guiding my way. If you ever need me, Luther Montague will be at your service, no matter the cost.”

 

He lowered his head deeply, showing his respect.

 

“This is a glory you earned yourself,” Ruan Shiqing said with a smile, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Stay in touch. If I ever have the chance to visit Sikkim, we’ll meet again then.”

 

The prize for winning the high-speed hovercar championship included a pass to Sikkim and 500,000 star coins in prize money.

 

Luther immediately claimed his winnings and sent half to Ruan Shiqing.

 

Ruan Shiqing refused the transfer and instead showed him the betting interface, smiling. “You’ve already earned far more for me than this. If you ever need money in Sikkim, don’t hesitate to ask—I’ll charge you interest.”

 

Before the race began, online betting odds had placed Luther near the bottom, with odds of 20.8 to 1. Meanwhile, Larkin’s odds, ranked first, were just 2.5 to 1.

 

The gap was enormous.

 

But sometimes, the greatest risks brought the greatest rewards. Ruan Shiqing had placed a bet of 100,000 star coins on Luther. Based on the odds, his final payout was:

 

100,000 x 20.8 = 2,080,000 star coins.

 

His initial bet had multiplied more than twentyfold.

 

Seeing this, Luther finally relaxed and stopped insisting.

 

After bidding farewell to Luther, Ruan Shiqing went to find the Xiong brothers and the cubs in the audience.

 

The little dragon and fox cubs were perched on the brothers’ shoulders, while the small robot, 09, was pushing the mermaid cub’s stroller. The flying drones they had used to cheer for Luther had all been carefully packed away by the diligent little robot.

 

Because of Luther’s victory, everyone was brimming with excitement.

 

Xiong Yuanyuan rubbed his hands together gleefully. “I bet 2,000 star coins on Luther to win—now I’ve struck gold!”

 

Xiong Fangfang glanced at him and displayed his own betting interface. “I bet 5,000 star coins.”

 

The two brothers exchanged a look and burst into hearty laughter.

 

The little dragon and fox cubs reached out to Ruan Shiqing, who picked them up. The dragon cub asked excitedly, “Is Luther going to Sikkim now? Can we go too?”

 

Nota pouted. “There are a lot of bad people in Sikkim. If we go, we’ll get bullied.”

 

Her home planet, Tutar, was close to Sikkim, and Sikkimites frequently visited. In her view, Sikkimites were as arrogant and rude as the people from Tutar—nothing but trouble.

 

Going there would be dangerous.

 

Even the mermaid cub let out a soft “Ah” in agreement, tugging on Ruan Shiqing’s sleeve and gently shaking his head.

 

Don’t go to Sikkim.

 

Ruan Shiqing patted the cubs’ heads and said warmly, “We won’t go. We’ll stay here on B3024.”

 

The cubs’ thoughts were simple, but Ruan Shiqing’s considerations ran much deeper.

 

The cubs’ identities were sensitive; they were outcasts in their own respective societies, forced to live in the shadows.

 

If the day ever came when he had to take them away from B3024, he would need to be strong enough to protect them.

 

 

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Congrats to Luther! That bit about the corruption of the empire was so sad :’(

 

Thanks for reading!

For every three ko-fis, I will upload a bonus chapter~