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... figures stood poised against the encroaching night. The gentle whisper of the wind stirred their tattered cloaks, as if it were a guardian nurturing the echoes of forgotten history. Above them, the sky, a canvas smeared with dusk, trembled subtly; its swirling colors cracked and faded, creating an atmosphere thick with melancholy and shrouded in mystery.

Fitran's gaze was fixed upon the fading horizon—a desolate expanse that stretched out before him, empty and flat, mirroring the profoun ...

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As a rising Formula One race car driver, Ye Ci had always been criticized.

“Aloof and indifferent, unable to be reasoned with.”

“Suspected to have a mental illness, is this person really suitable for the track?”

“He doesn’t really love the sport, racing is just his way of venting his violent emotions.”

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