Chapter Seven: Whirlwind (Still climbing the ranks, asking for your votes~)

(Sweatdrop. Well, this is an urban supernatural novel—the protagonist naturally has his own abilities… It’s just that they haven’t been revealed yet…)

Chapter Seven: [Frenzy]

"Hey, kid! Get down and don't move!"

Chen Xiao quickly saw that there were four robbers in the bank lobby, all wearing gray jackets and black hoods that only revealed their mouths and eyes. The one pointing a handgun at him was a short, rotund man whose chubby face bulged beneath his mask.

"Kid! What are you staring at? Never seen a fat guy rob a bank before?" snapped the fat robber, glaring at Chen Xiao.

Chen Xiao had no choice but to squat obediently to the side. The fat man, clearly annoyed by him, even kicked him: "Damn it, I hate prissy little pretty boys like you the most."

Of the four robbers, three were frantically stuffing cash into duffel bags, while the fat man kept watch with his pistol, eyes darting around, and barked loudly, "Everyone keep calm and you’ll be fine! We’re only after money, not lives. We’re professional robbers, so as long as you cooperate—"

"Cut the crap! Get over here and help pack the money!" shouted the tallest of the robbers, glaring at the fat man.

"No, boss, all the shows say you have to leave someone as a lookout or it doesn’t seem professional! What if the cops catch us all at once because no one’s on watch?" the fat man retorted self-righteously.

The leader nearly exploded with rage. "All at once… at once, my ass! Don’t jinx us!"

But the fat man insisted, unhappily, "Boss, you're being unreasonable! My sister is your wife, so my mom is your mom too—"

The leader glanced at the hostages and, seeing the odd looks they were giving him, nearly choked with fury. "Shut up!"

He turned to the other two. "Are the bags ready?"

"Four bags, all packed!" the others replied coolly.

"Good! Each grab a bag! Let’s go!" The leader was the first to charge out the bank doors.

The fat man was last, but he grabbed Chen Xiao, pressing a gun to his head. "Move! If the cops catch up, you’re my hostage! I’m a professional, and a proper robbery isn’t complete without a hostage!"

—

A black Buick had been parked a hundred meters from the bank for two minutes. Inside, a woman in red suddenly heard the distant wail of sirens. Several police cars, lights flashing, sped down the avenue.

At that moment, a clear gunshot sounded from within the bank.

A gunshot?

The woman in red arched an eyebrow, her languid expression instantly sharpening. Moments later, the bank’s alarms blared and four armed robbers burst out the doors. Three carried large duffel bags—obviously their haul. A minivan was parked at the curb; its door was thrown open, and the three with the bags dove inside. The fourth, empty-handed, had his arm clamped tightly around a teenage boy’s neck, pistol pressed to his head, dragging him roughly into the vehicle.

Barely had the fat robber gotten Chen Xiao into the van when the leader growled, "Idiot! Who told you to take a hostage?"

The fat man hesitated, mumbling, "That’s how they do it on TV. Not taking a hostage looks unprofessional."

"Professional, my foot! And where’s the fourth bag of money? Didn’t I tell you to carry it? You were so focused on the kid you forgot the cash!"

"Uh… I’ll go back for it!" the fat man stammered.

"If you weren’t my brother-in-law, I’d—" the leader gritted his teeth, seething. "Forget it! No time! The cops are coming! Get in and go!"

In the distance, the woman in red watched from her Buick, laughing so hard she nearly ran out of breath, then sighed. The target she’d been monitoring was truly unlucky—caught up in a bank robbery and even picked as a hostage by sheer misfortune.

Just then, the police cars screeched to a halt outside the bank, but before they could form a blockade, the robbers’ van roared to life, smashing headlong into the lead squad car. With a crash, the police car spun sideways, its front caved in, and while officers inside cursed furiously, the robbers’ van sped off.

As the police hurried to give chase, the woman in red smiled. "Now things are getting interesting."

A spark of excitement flashed in her gentle features. She swiftly gathered her long hair into a ponytail, adjusted the stylish earpiece on her ear, and a stream of data flickered across the lens before her left eye:

"Accelerator preheating... Complete.
Please activate surveillance jammer... Activated."

Her eyes gleaming with anticipation, she slammed the gearshift, floored the accelerator—

ROAR!

The engine thundered like a beast. Though the car was an ordinary family sedan, worth no more than two hundred thousand yuan, the sound was more befitting a two-million-yuan sports car.

The black Buick shot forward like a whirlwind—but not in pursuit of the robbers and police. Instead, it sped down a side road in the opposite direction.

The woman bit her lip in excitement as the speedometer rocketed from zero to over a hundred in just five seconds—far beyond the capabilities of any regular family car.

She drove like a black lightning bolt, blazing through three red lights in a row. The traffic cameras at each intersection, despite her reckless maneuvers, showed not the slightest reaction.

One hand on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead, she pressed her earpiece. "City map, LORD loaded. Fourth Avenue... left, six hundred forty meters; right, four hundred forty meters... Optimizing route... Calculation complete... Best route displayed..."

Numbers and route lines flashed rapidly across the lens before her eye. She whistled, mashed the gas, and the speedometer needle leapt to two hundred thirty.

She tore through city streets at over 230 kilometers per hour, her reflexes astonishingly sharp. The black Buick weaved through traffic with hair’s-breadth precision—several times missing other cars by mere centimeters, yet always threading through at the very last instant.

How many of those terrified drivers would develop heart problems later was anyone’s guess. But those who witnessed the Buick’s wild flight would later exclaim to friends, "I’ve never seen anyone drive like that! It’s like she just bought new insurance and was eager to die!"

—

After a ten-minute dash, careening down side streets, she reached a small alley and spun the wheel sharply.

Screech!

The car slid sideways, tires burning twin black arcs into the pavement—a maneuver so precise even professional racers might envy it. The Buick shot into the narrow alley, barely wider than the car itself; both side mirrors shattered against the walls.

Garbage bins went flying as the Buick barreled through. A hundred meters later, she burst out onto a main street.

Behind her, the sound of the robbers’ van and police sirens echoed faintly, still far behind.

She brought the Buick to a halt, blocking the road, stepped out, fished out a pack of cigarettes and a sleek silver lighter, and lit a smoke. After a few leisurely drags, she saw the robbers’ van finally lumber into view.

"Hmph. Driving like snails, and they dare rob a bank," she scoffed, flicking her cigarette away.

The glowing tip traced a perfect arc through the air, landing squarely in a roadside trash can.

(Still fighting for the rankings—please vote! Another chapter coming tonight!)