If it were Solaris and Lily dancing, this interruption would have been nothing — a mere inconvenience, a fleeting disturbance, a ripple in still water. Their synergy, their precision, was unshakable, unbreakable. But Shi Min? Shi Min was still struggling to regain his footing, still relearning the patterns that had once come naturally to him. Today was his first practice since his return, and his concentration was fragile — easily shattered. And now, thanks to the chaos, the rhythm had slipped from his grasp.

Shi Min clenched his jaw, tension coiling in his muscles. Frustration burned in his eyes — not just at Fatty's blunder but at himself. He had been doing fine, had been holding his own… until this interruption cracked his focus, sending doubt creeping in.

Lily, sensing his turmoil, gave him a reassuring pat on the arm, her expression calm but firm. "Big Brother, ignore the noise. We'll start again." Her voice was steady — grounding, unwavering.

Coach Sam exhaled sharply, his patience depleted. "Get out!!!" The finality of his command left no room for protest.

Fatty, still recovering from his shock, opened his mouth to protest — but there was no room for defense. He knew he had messed up. Instead, he resorted to scratching his nose in frustration, swallowing his grievance. He could feel the eyes boring into him, could feel the heat of Coach Sam's fury.

Fatty, rubbing the back of his head, grumbled under his breath, but he knew there was no talking his way out of this.

But what irritated Fatty even more? The smug amusement on Four Eyes' face.

Fatty shot him a glare that could cut steel.

Fatty barely had time to process his frustration before Shi Min's death glare landed squarely on him from the dance floor. The intensity behind Shi Min's gaze was lethal, unrelenting, sending an icy chill straight down Fatty's spine.

"!!!!"

Fatty blinked. 'Karma is real!' His thoughts raced, and he swallowed hard. 'I just gave Four Eyes a death glare and immediately received one back! To make it worse — it's from my future brother-in-law!'

Fatty's irritation evaporated, replaced by an almost comical sense of doom. 'My future brother-in-law is glaring at me like this! This is not ideal!'

"…."

Four Eyes, noticing Fatty's inner turmoil, smirked knowingly, barely holding back laughter at his predicament.

Fatty, still rooted in place, gave an awkward cough and quickly averted his eyes, suddenly fascinated by literally anything else in the room that wasn't Shi Min.

Shi Min, however, wasn't letting him off easy. His sharp eyes held firm — a clear warning.

Coach Sam huffed in irritation, and his patience for distractions was completely drained. "OUT! NOW!!!" His voice cut through the air like a blade, and Fatty knew better than to push his luck any further.

At the same time, Pharsa called them over, her no-nonsense voice slicing through the tension. Fatty hesitated, his eyes flickering longingly toward Lily. He didn't want to leave her, didn't want to walk away now. But he had no choice — he followed. His expression was carefully controlled, but Four Eyes saw through it.

Without additional hesitation, he bolted for the door, Four Eyes following behind at a leisurely pace — far too entertained by Fatty's unraveling.

As they stepped outside, the weight of Coach Sam's reprimand lingered, but the moment Pharsa greeted them, all thoughts of the practice hall were quickly replaced.

Pharsa wasted no time. "I'm taking Murphy to the race track. He hasn't practiced in a long time. Madam said I should take both of you as well. You can choose — drive or watch Murphy train."

Murphy, upon hearing his name, halted. "Wait — what? Why wasn't I informed? I'm not prepared!" His tone edged into panic, his confidence momentarily shaken.

Pharsa didn't hesitate — she smacked the back of his head with an audible thud. "Are you a child who needs preparation for everything?" Her tone was sharp, laced with impatience. "By the end of this year, Madam expects you to participate in multiple races to test your skills. So? Are you practicing, or do you plan on disappointing her?"

Chatty straightened instantly, puffing out his chest as though building an invisible wall of confidence around himself. "Of course, I'm going to practice! I won't let myself disappoint Madam's expectations or trust. I need to prove that she didn't invest in the wrong person." His voice was smug and assured, the words dripping with self-importance.

Pharsa loudly snorted, shaking her head in pure exasperation. "Madam doesn't need your words. She wants results."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, her pace brisk, her patience worn thin. She refused to subject herself to another one of Chatty's grandiose speeches.

The four of them drove to the race track along with several bodyguards that Ling Li arranged for them; Goldie was invited by Pharsa to tag along with them. The Race Track is called Blaze Mountain which is a combination of natural terrain and man-made. This mountain is at the far end of Camp Blaze which has its own entrance.

Each of Ling Li's camps have race tracks, they build it for practice and also to hold local and international competitions. Putting them by their camp is also for their further security.

When they arrived, Four Eyes and Fatty were both astonished that their jaws almost dropped. What they are looking at is beyond from their imagination.

The Blaze Mountain Race Track is known for the breathtaking mountain race track carved into the rugged terrain, winding through sharp turns and exhilarating elevation changes. The setting is nothing short of cinematic — mist rolling over peaks in the morning, golden sunlight streaking across the valley at dusk. By night, the entire circuit glows with embedded LED track markings, lighting the way for high-speed races beneath the stars.

The track itself is a marvel of engineering, blending the natural curves of the mountain with precision-designed straights for maximum speed. Each corner offers a new challenge, from tight hairpins clinging to the cliffside to wide, sweeping bends with dramatic elevation shifts.

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