Game Era – Lost Odyssey

A Hummer suddenly roared wildly, charging like an untamed beast toward the car Xia Feng was hiding behind. With a brutal crash, it shoved the vehicle several meters aside, exposing Xia Feng completely.

In the split second before the collision, Jasina, nimble as a cat, rolled off the Hummer and fired two shots at Xia Feng’s position. But mid-roll, in that fleeting window, she missed as Xia Feng leapt aside like lightning.

Gunfire erupted all around—nobody would pass up the chance—but both Xia Feng and Jasina dodged with uncanny agility, leaving every shot wasted. The gunfire betrayed each shooter’s position, and nearby rivals turned on each other, ignoring the more distant Xia Feng and Jasina.

Jasina sprang onto a wall like a cat, grabbing a wall lamp with one hand while firing downward with the other. Two dueling competitors dropped instantly. Before anyone could take aim, she flipped back down—a move so swift, less than a second, her lithe form truly feline.

Meanwhile, Xia Feng took down two foes, but seeing Jasina’s display, he knew one more kill for her would seal his defeat. It was now or never! Swapping in a fresh magazine, he braced to charge her hiding spot when a buzzer blared from the ceiling: “Match paused! Your actions have endangered others’ safety. The match is suspended!”

“Damn it!” Xia Feng grabbed a broken brick and smashed the buzzer down, then leapt onto a car roof. Two quick shots knocked out a pair of stunned opponents. To a true extreme rider, thrill and risk were the soul of the sport—their ultimate pursuit. Rules? Screw the match!

Bang! A shot from eight meters away sent a chill through him. Instinct told him it was aimed at him—at that range, any competitor was a dead shot, especially Jasina! Reflexively swinging his gun toward her, he pulled the trigger. The garage exploded with gunfire as they emptied their magazines in an instant, only to find—stunned—that both still stood firm.

After a few seconds, Xia Feng realized the refs must’ve remotely disabled their electronic suits, nullifying any hit sensations.

The garage door burst open, and a dozen firefighters stormed in, frantically dousing two burning cars from the crash. A ref-dressed official charged up to Xia Feng and Jasina, waving his fists and yelling, “You broke the rules and endangered others! You’re both disqualified!”

Tossing his gun aside, Xia Feng ignored the ref, giving Jasina a faint smile. “I lost. You’re the best extreme rider.”

“You haven’t lost,” Jasina replied, her expression as cool as ever. “We haven’t settled this.”

“Hope we get another shot someday.” With that, Xia Feng turned and walked off. Passing the firefighters, he noticed one of his stunned foes had fallen near the burning cars—without the suspension, that guy might’ve been toast.

“Such a shame for a thrilling match!” A sigh broke the darkness. The massive TV wall had gone black, the live feed cut off. The mysterious figure who’d been glued to the event seemed disappointed. Unwilling to let it go, he turned to the corner. “Without that accident, who’d have won?”

Silence hung for a good ten seconds before a faint sigh drifted from the corner. “No idea. Either could’ve taken it.”

The listener nodded slightly, then shook his head. “If Jasina didn’t have the women’s bonus, she’d have lost for sure. This setup’s unfair to men—real combat doesn’t give women extra points. So, I’m picking number three, Xia Feng. Any objections?”

Another tense silence stretched before the corner voice replied, “You’re overlooking the real-world bonus pretty women get, but I’ve got no issue with your choice.”

“Good! It’s settled!” He pressed a button on the intercom and ordered, “Get the third-place finisher from the Extreme Olympics All-Around here ASAP. Be polite and courteous!”

The moment Xia Feng left the venue, reporters swarmed him, thrusting mics in his face, questions flying:

“Do you regret getting disqualified? Will you appeal?”

“How’d you get All-Around King Dumas’s amulet? What’s your connection? Why isn’t he here this year?”

“Who’s better—you or Flying Cat Jasina? Who’s this year’s top rider?”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Does she support your extreme sports?”

“Will you compete next year to prove you’re the best?”

Xia Feng tuned it all out, blind to the reporters and cameras. Escorted by event security, he boarded a bus to the Olympic Village. But when it arrived, the waiting journalists were stunned—the sudden extreme sports prodigy had vanished into thin air.

“Xia Feng, age twenty-two, Eurasian mix—one-quarter Aryan, three-quarters Chinese. Father: renowned Chinese F1 racer Xia Bohan. Mother: mixed-race tennis queen Aisinma from two decades ago. No wonder! Stellar genes, a perfect blend! From childhood, he’s loved all things daring—beyond typical extreme sports, he’s into illegal street racing, underground bare-knuckle boxing, no-holds-barred fights, and polar expeditions.”

The TV wall now displayed Xia Feng’s bio. Reading it, he habitually touched the pink diamond ring on his finger, murmuring, “Notice a pattern? The craziest extreme nuts often come from wealth. Things most people chase their whole lives—money, power, status, women, fame—they get on a platter. Life’s too dull for them, so they risk it all, pushing limits to feel alive. Lucky or cursed? Who knows.”

The corner voice shot back coldly, “Life’s an adventure anyway. What’s mundane but death?”

Caught off guard, he didn’t respond. The intercom buzzed. “Doctor, we’ve brought Mr. Xia as you requested.”

“Let him in!” He switched off the device. Minutes later, the heavy oak door creaked open, and Xia Feng—dressed like a common punk—stepped in hesitantly. The host rose, smiling warmly. “Welcome! Please, sit. Make yourself at home.”

He knew few could refuse his invitations—his men always found a way to “persuade” his guests. How they did it didn’t interest him; only that the right person showed up.

Sitting at the host’s gesture, Xia Feng asked bluntly, “Who are you? Why’d you drag me here?”

With a slight, apologetic shrug, he adjusted his rimless glasses. “If my guys upset you, I’m sorry. But I’m sure they wouldn’t dare offend or disrespect you.”

“Yeah, real gentlemen,” Xia Feng quipped with a grin, inwardly cursing. Halfway back to the Olympic Village, he’d slipped off the athletes’ bus in disguise, dodging reporters and fans, aiming to blend into the crowd. But two stiff, poker-faced suits intercepted him, calling him by name and insisting he meet their boss.

He’d resisted, but one line piqued his curiosity: “If you think you’re the best extreme rider and want to prove it, meet our boss. The truest top riders don’t bother with public contests.”

That wouldn’t sway most, but for Xia Feng, it hit hard—he’d always been that kind of guy.

Life was monotonous. Deep down, everyone craved a twist, good or bad. Curiosity or boredom—whatever it was—he’d ended up following those stiffs here.

“Drink?” The host slid open a hidden panel on the bookshelf, revealing a wall-mounted bar stocked with every liquor imaginable.

“Nah.” Xia Feng popped his gum loudly. “From your guys’ tone, I figured their boss was some elite rider. You don’t look the part. So, what’s this about?”

The host studied him closely. Xia Feng’s skin and hair were distinctly Eastern, but his sharp features and angular face echoed Aryan traits—a flawless East-West fusion. His eyes stood out most: deep black with a faint aquamarine glimmer. Unfazed by the jab, the host smiled, pouring two glasses of red wine and sliding one over. “I need you to do something for me.”