Ghost Rider

Inside the truck.

Skye sat in the cab, her palms drenched in sweat.

They were up against the Fifth Street Gang—more than a dozen people, every one of them armed. There were only two of them, without so much as a gun, and they had just barged in like this. Even looking for death wasn't supposed to be this reckless, right?

"Wang... how about we retreat first? Strategically?" Skye's voice trembled slightly.

She was only nineteen!

At the age when girls were in full bloom, she had never faced anything this big before.

"It's fine. Once I get out, drive the truck away. Come back and pick me up later." Old Wang sounded completely relaxed.

A minor situation. Nothing worth mentioning.

He had lived through the Undead Scourge, fought in the War of Ahn'Qiraj, and even stormed the Burning Legion's headquarters. What were a dozen or so people to him?

Were you afraid of Titans as big as planets?

Though he was far weaker now than before he crossed over, he was still beyond the reach of ordinary people.

So what if they had guns?

He had even withstood Fel Cannons, all right?

"Th-then be careful!" Skye did not try to act tough.

She knew her own limits. Forcing herself into this would only hold him back. Besides, Wang was no idiot—if he dared come here, he had to be confident.

Old Wang got out of the truck carrying a suitcase and walked toward Peter, looking as relaxed as could be.

There was not a single cent in the suitcase. There were only two things inside:

His trusty rolling pin, and a half-finished bottle of erguotou.

The suitcase's only purpose was to let him get close to them.

He was ready to make his move at any moment.

The other side had clearly come prepared. More than a dozen people could not escape his senses. That was the benefit of having lived three lives: his soul was strong, and so were his mental senses. He would not claim he could outclass Daredevil, but he should not be much worse.

Suddenly, Old Wang sensed that something was wrong.

He turned and saw a car charging straight at them.

Black, with headlights on the grille and on the hood. Its design was rugged, its lines hard and angular, as manly as a car could get. It was not easy to find a car like this these days, and it was outrageously expensive.

"1969 Dodge Charger Muscle Car?"

Old Wang recognized it at a glance.

It was not because he knew much about cars. He could not afford one anyway.

The key was that the car was on fire!

That was right. Flames billowed from its wheels and body, and the tracks its tires rolled over became two burning trails of fire. The flames also gave Old Wang an evil, familiar feeling, like the Burning Legion he had dealt with so often back then—and whose home base he had personally wrecked.

That was Hellfire, exclusive to Ghost Riders!

The first, second, and Third Generation Ghost Rider all rode motorcycles. There had even been one before them who rode a horse. Only the Fourth Generation Ghost Rider drove a 1969 Dodge Charger, putting him in a completely different class. One Dodge Charger could buy the rides of the first three generations combined, so Old Wang had worked backward from that.

"Who was the Fourth Generation Ghost Rider again?"

"He has a grudge against the Fifth Street Gang?"

Old Wang searched his memories and finally remembered!

No wonder the names Robbie Reyes and the Fifth Street Gang had sounded familiar. They had appeared in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Robbie Reyes was the Fourth Generation Ghost Rider, and he really did have a grudge against the Fifth Street Gang—a blood feud!

Just as he was thinking about it, the Dodge Charger rammed straight into the Fifth Street Gang's car.

"Fuck! Stop it!"

Peter was stunned and hurriedly opened fire.

Was someone really just going to ram them with a car?

Wouldn't he feel bad if it got wrecked?

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The others fired as well. Bullet after bullet struck the Dodge Charger, but they did absolutely nothing—not even leaving bullet holes.

The car was not only on fire, but its windshield was apparently tougher than Titanium Alloy. The bullets could not even scratch it!

Peter was completely dumbfounded.

The Dodge Charger was not a bulletproof car. Had it been modified?

Wait... a Dodge Charger!

Peter jolted in alarm, a chill running down his spine.

He remembered!

This car belonged to Eli. Hadn't it burned down half a month ago? How was it perfectly intact now?

Back then, he had fired several shots through the side window, wounding Eli's two nephews. Then the Dodge Charger had flipped over and caught fire.

He still remembered the license plate. It had not changed at all.

This was a paranormal incident!

Remembering scenes from movies he had watched, an inexplicable terror sent chills through him.

In the truck in the distance, Skye's mouth fell into an O shape. She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures. Was this really not Hollywood filming a blockbuster?

Without even turning around, Old Wang knew the shape of Skye's mouth. He thought the little girl had potential and would need proper training.

He simply tossed the suitcase onto the ground, stood to the side with his arms folded, and watched the show.

This was the Hell Charger!

A Hell Charger transformed by Hellfire. Its defenses could not be called invincible, but ordinary bullets truly could not damage it. Even if it was damaged, it would heal itself at an extremely fast rate.

The Hell Charger was alive!

Peter could not help swallowing.

Had this car crawled out of hell?

Could the driver be Eli's two nephews?

God bless us, send angels to destroy them already!

As the Second-in-Command of the Fifth Street Gang, his nerves were strong. He immediately opened the car door and ran, while shouting for his men to fire.

Bang!

The two cars collided. The Fifth Street Gang's car was sent flying, and the entire vehicle was ignited by Hellfire.

Several people crawled out, their bodies also covered in flames. They screamed, begged for help, and pleaded for mercy as they crawled desperately across the ground. Their will to survive was impressive, but what use was that?

This was Hellfire. Even high-pressure water cannons could not put it out!

After such a violent impact, the Dodge Charger had not even stopped. Clearly, its power system was no longer an engine, but Hellfire.

The door opened, and a somewhat thin man with a flaming Skull Head stepped out, holding a chain.

Wildly burning Hellfire spread from his hand onto the chain.

The chain dragged across the ground, leaving clearly visible scorch marks.

Mighty, domineering—full marks for the entrance.

The moment Peter saw that appearance, he sucked in a cold breath. Today really was cursed!

He recognized those clothes. It was Robbie, Eli's nephew, the one he had shot dead!

Had he crawled out of hell to take revenge on him?

Peter wanted to run, but his legs would not move. They had gone weak. Cursing himself for being useless, he roared, "RPG! Fire! Fire!"

Whoosh!

A rocket flew over from the distance.

Its target was clearly Robbie.

But perhaps the shooter's hands had shaken, because the aim was off. No matter how one looked at it, it was flying toward Old Wang.

I'm the protagonist here, okay?

Old Wang sighed.

He had gathered information, posed as a client to lure them out, and then planned to rob them openly. It had been such a perfect plan, and he was about to wrap it up—so why had a Ghost Rider suddenly appeared to steal his business?

You guys were fighting without involving me. Did you think I was invisible?

Fine, watching the show was no big deal. But why did you have to drag me into it?

Fifth Street Gang, you were asking for death...

Old Wang loosened up his muscles and made his move.