It Wasn't About Whether He Was Good

The Santana 3000 shot past the finish line marked by the girl in the baseball cap. Then Zhang Heng even pulled off a drift, bringing the car to a stop against the steps before the swimming pool entrance, its right wheels parallel to the steps and less than half a centimeter away.

Zhang Heng then killed the engine and pulled out the key.

The group that had been waiting at the finish line early on was completely dumbfounded at the sight.

They had already spotted the tattooed man's Jaguar and had even prepared beer to celebrate the birth of the champion. Beating a Santana was nothing to celebrate, but there were still seven other cars, after all. This counted as an internal competition for their modified car club tonight.

Yet at the final moment, Zhang Heng and his Santana suddenly descended from the heavens.

In the end, their whole group, with so many luxury cars, had actually lost to a Santana that might not even sell for ten thousand yuan on the used-car market.

The girl in the baseball cap opened her mouth wide enough to fit a dragon fruit inside. After standing there in a daze for a while, she even wildly speculated, "Did it have nitrous installed?"

Nitrous boosting had become an overused trope in racing movies over the past few years. Almost everyone knew about it.

The basic principle was to burn N2O, releasing oxygen and nitrogen. The oxygen supported combustion and increased the engine's output, while the nitrogen cooled the cylinders, thus achieving acceleration.

Fortunately, most of the people here tonight knew cars. Upon hearing her, a man immediately shook his head. "Impossible. Putting NOS on a Santana with that trash engine and exhaust is practically suicide. It'd wreck itself before its speed even went up."