Chapter 35: Driving Skills
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
In the cozy confines of their home, Coral’s family was paralyzed with fear, each member shaking uncontrollably, their eyes wide with dread.
At the same moment, Miles was racing toward Coral’s house in a taxi. Every second felt prolonged, and the vehicle’s speed was frustratingly inadequate for the urgency he felt.
“Could you go any faster?” Miles asked, his voice trembling with a mix of impatience and apprehension.
The taxi driver shot back with a hint of annoyance, “Do you think I’m unaware of the city’s traffic rules? There are cameras everywhere, watching our every move. Exceeding the speed limit isn’t without consequences, you know.” He paused, glancing briefly at Miles. “Trust me, I’m going as fast as I can without breaking any rules. Unless you’ve got wings hidden somewhere, we aren’t getting there any faster.”
Feeling exasperated, Miles muttered, “At this rate, I feel like I could reach there quicker just walking.”
The driver, with a hint of pride in his voice, replied, “Listen, I’ve been driving in this city for over two decades. My skills are impeccable. Have you noticed anyone passing us?”
Assessing the pace at which the taxi was moving, Miles couldn’t help but feel a sinking realization. They might reach Coral’s place too late to make a difference.
Would he be able to save them?
Hope was dwindling fast.
Lost in thought, he whispered, “Three innocent lives and five hundred thousand dollars at stake.”
His fingers inadvertently touched something beneath his skin—a hidden eye, a dormant source of immense power. Miles faced a daunting choice.
Using the ghost domain would allow him to teleport to Coral’s home in a heartbeat. But activating this supernatural power came at a high cost.
This power was a double-edged sword—potent yet potentially lethal. He once ingested an eye to harness its abilities, a dangerous act that left him bedridden. Only a unique red paper pulsating with mystical energy had pacified the rampant force within him.
He was uncertain about the paper’s effectiveness in the future. After a moment of deep thought, he made up his mind.
“I can’t sit here idle,” he whispered, tapping the taxi driver’s shoulder gently. “Mind if I take over?”
The driver raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Trying to challenge my driving skills or doubting my car? Over the years, I’ve outpaced countless vehicles on these roads. You want speed? Offer a higher fare. Pay a thousand, and I’ll get you there in ten minutes. Five thousand, and I promise we’ll be there in five, even if I have to ignore a few red signals.”
Miles retorted, “If I were driving, I’d get there in just one minute.”
The driver chuckled, “You’re quite the comedian, aren’t you? If you manage to reach the residential area in just a minute, I won’t charge you a dime. Having driven around Spear City all these years, don’t you think I’m familiar with its twists and turns?”
Miles chose not to respond. Instead, a peculiar sensation spread underneath his clothing. Several eyes manifested on his body, and an intense red light radiated from him, flooding the taxi’s interiors in a surreal glow.
“Keep in mind our deal,” Miles reminded the driver, his voice dripping with icy calmness. “If we make it there within the next sixty seconds, I’m not paying you a dime.”
“Very well,” the driver responded, somewhat bewildered. But before he could fully comprehend the situation, he found himself abruptly shifted to the passenger seat, his foot flailing in the air where the brake pedal used to be. The transition was so swift that he was left disoriented.
“What just… How did we swap places?” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic and disbelief, as though he’d just witnessed a paranormal event.
Rather than answer, Miles tightened his grip on the wheel, and with a determined push, stepped hard on the accelerator.
The taxi lurched forward with such ferocity that both passengers were pushed back into their seats. The needle on the speedometer raced upward, swiftly passing the eighty, then the hundred mark, and continued its rapid ascent.
“For the love of God, slow down! We’re going to crash into the car in front!” the taxi driver cried out, his complexion drained of color. He assumed the young man was inexperienced and had confused the accelerator with the brake.
With an eerie calmness, Miles responded, “Relax. We’re not just overtaking. We’re going straight through.”
The taxi driver blinked, trying to process Miles’s words. Through? Surely, he didn’t mean actually phasing through another vehicle?
But before he could even form a coherent thought, the taxi rocketed toward a flashy sports car ahead. Instead of slowing down or swerving, Miles accelerated even more. To the driver’s shock, they passed directly through the sports car as if it wasn’t there.
Convinced they were about to crash, the taxi driver closed his eyes tightly, screamed at the top of his lungs, and clutched his seatbelt as if his life depended on it.
Meanwhile, the young owner of the sports car stared in bewilderment as the brazen taxi whizzed by, its exhaust leaving a trail of smoke on his expensive vehicle.
“How dare this taxi try to race me? Does my top-of-the-line supercar mean nothing in this city?” Angrily, he threw his smartphone onto the passenger seat, downshifted, and floored the gas pedal.
The sports car roared to life, chasing after the audacious taxi. But what the young man didn’t realize was that Miles’s taxi was no ordinary vehicle. Wrapped in the ghost domain, it blurred the boundaries of reality, transforming it into a ghostly machine with Miles as its ghostly chauffeur.
As the sports car closed the gap, its horn blaring angrily, Miles gave it a sidelong glance.
Reacting to the taxi’s audacity, the young man rolled down his window and extended a middle finger in defiance.
Miles, ever the provocateur, responded by raising both his middle fingers, doubling down on the insult.
“This dude’s got guts,” the young man muttered, fuming. He momentarily let go of the steering wheel, copying Miles’s dual-fingered salute.
Throughout this, Miles maintained his composure, continuing his wordless communication, not even casting an eye at the road that lay ahead.
“Let’s see who has the last laugh,” the young man mumbled, his focus returning to the tarmac.
The traffic light glowed a bright green, signaling a clear path ahead. Determinedly, the young man kept his fingers raised in a sign of challenge, his knuckles white from the strain.
This was no ordinary contest; it was a silent duel of wills. The first to lower their hand would be conceding defeat.
As the seconds ticked by, the tension in the air was palpable. Three seconds in, the young man’s foot hovered over the brake, ready to deploy it in a split second.
By the fourth second, sweat trickled down his temple, and a hint of unease crept into his eyes.
At the five-second mark, he risked a fleeting glance at the road ahead, and a touch of apprehension made him ease his foot off the accelerator.
Miles, in contrast, was a portrait of determination. His fingers remained raised, his gaze unyielding, and his foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal. And even though he seemed completely engrossed in their standoff, a secondary pair of eyes was vigilantly scanning the road for any unforeseen obstacles.
When the clock struck the sixth second, Miles suddenly shifted his hand, pointing accusingly at the young speedster before directing his gaze to the impending danger on the road.
“CRAP!” The realization hit the young man like a ton of bricks as the glowing brake lights of a pickup truck loomed dangerously close. In a swift reflex action, he stomped on the brakes and swerved sharply, the ear-piercing sound of tires skidding echoing in the air.
The force sent his high-end sports car spinning, completing a nearly full circle before finally crashing into a lush patch of shrubs by the roadside.
“That guy’s not just reckless; he’s playing a dangerous game,” the young man gasped, extracting himself from the damaged remains of his once-pristine vehicle. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched, wide-eyed, the faintly illuminated taxi brazenly run a red light. The cab skillfully maneuvered through the throng of vehicles, vanishing into the distance at a speed that must’ve been close to 180 kilometers an hour.
“That’s no madman; that’s an expert,” he mused, lighting a cigarette to calm his jangled nerves. The deep inhalation brought a momentary respite and a newfound respect for the mysterious driver.
This wasn’t just driving prowess; it was a blend of audacity, precise judgment, and supreme confidence. He realized he had witnessed something extraordinary.
He recalled his father mentioning such exceptional individuals, and the day’s experience reaffirmed that belief. If fate allowed, he hoped to meet Miles again and perhaps learn from him.
In the taxi, Miles’s hand remained firmly on the steering wheel, his forehead creased in contemplation.
In the world of geometry, the shortest path between two points is a straight line. And so, Miles coursed through the city’s dense traffic, manicured parks, and impressive skyscrapers, arriving at a posh gated community in just under a minute.
When the taxi finally halted, the original driver practically tumbled out, gasping for breath by the roadside, his eyes round with a mix of awe and terror.
He babbled about the adrenaline-fueled journey, how Miles had outperformed his twenty years of driving expertise, and how one day, he hoped to emulate such celestial skill.
Emerging from the vehicle, Miles stood with an air of serenity, a subtle reddish glow still enveloping him. He looked over at the taxi driver, who was still catching his breath.
The driver, unaware of the supernatural feats Miles had employed during the drive, believed he had simply experienced the thrill of high-speed driving. He was completely oblivious to the reality-altering powers Miles had unleashed, reshaping the very fabric of their journey.
This ability to craft illusions was a fundamental aspect of the ghost domain, a realm beyond the comprehension of ordinary folks.
However, wielding the power of the ghost domain came with its own constraints. Its effects only lasted for a brief span of five minutes. Beyond this window, the internal ghost residing within Miles would become restless, threatening to awaken and possibly take control.
Given that he had already tapped into the domain, every second counted. There wasn’t a moment to waste.
He quickly retrieved his phone and dialed a familiar contact, “Hello, Mr. Beach? I’m en route. Can you provide your exact building and apartment number?”
There was an undertone of urgency in his voice. Miles dreaded the thought of arriving too late and finding Mr. Beach lifeless. If that were the case, his only recourse would be to recover the remains and grapple with the aftermath.