Chapter 84: All Are Blind but I Alone See

The double doors swung open simultaneously, and two magnificent horses, one chestnut and one black, thundered out. The horse beneath Li Chaoying was bright-eyed, its coat gleaming with health, lean and powerful—a prime specimen in the prime of its life. The steed that carried Hong Chen, though seemingly just as robust—perhaps even more so—betrayed, upon closer inspection, signs of age: a slight swelling about the body, considerable loss of mane. To the practiced eye, these and other subtle marks revealed it as an old horse, well past its prime.

For the first hundred meters, the two horses ran neck and neck, but after that, Li Chaoying began to pull ahead. By the end of the three-hundred-meter straight, he had gained four lengths. Entering the curve, Li Chaoying’s expert horsemanship shone—he hugged the innermost edge, taking the shortest possible route with a speed that outmatched Hong Chen, who was forced to take the outer lane.

In truth, Hong Chen was no novice; during his time in Jianghai City he’d been infatuated with horseback riding, even hiring a proper coach. Among amateurs, he was certainly above average, but compared to a professional, there remained a clear gap—especially when facing the likes of Li Chaoying, whose prowess in the saddle rendered even professional jockeys like Cao Ranjie hesitant to challenge him.

The gap widened before the assembled crowd’s very eyes. Soon, as Li Chaoying emerged from the bend, he straightened his body to a thirty-degree angle, gave his mount a sharp flick of the whip, and the steed surged forward. By the time Hong Chen rounded the curve, nearly forty meters separated them.

Everyone watching could only shake their heads in resignation. In this contest, neither horse nor rider were matched in the least. Hardly one-third of the race had been run, and already the outcome was clear. If this trajectory continued, Li Chaoying might well cross the finish line before Hong Chen even exited the final turn.

Such a result would not only see Jiang Tao lose a hundred million in stakes, but would also leave his reputation in ruins—a living burial, so to speak.

While the crowd resigned themselves to the race’s foregone conclusion and began lamenting Jiang Tao’s impending loss of both money and face, Hong Chen himself remained unperturbed. There was not a trace of anxiety on his face; he seemed either unaware of his disadvantage or simply indifferent to the outcome.

“Black Whirlwind, you are the king of this racetrack. If you could choose, I believe you’d want to summon one last storm today, ending your racing life in unparalleled glory, rather than dragging out these last months in obscurity…”

The live broadcast showed him leaning forward, gently stroking the thinning mane along Black Whirlwind’s neck, murmuring words reminiscent of a lover’s confidences. His other hand, however, shielded from view, now held four silver needles of varying lengths between his fingers.

“Brother, just look at this. Even now, must you persist in such folly?” Seeing the gap between the two horses widen as the race reached its halfway point, Jiang Ying could no longer restrain herself and snapped coldly, her words biting.

“Ying, leave it to me. I’ll make him regret this for the rest of his life.” A sinister glint flashed in Cao Ranjie’s eyes, his hatred for Hong Chen rooted not only in the fact that Hong Chen had tricked his girlfriend’s brother, but even more in Jiang Tao’s favoritism—fueling his jealousy to the point of obsession.

Earlier, Jiang Tao had declared that win or lose, Hong Chen would remain his brother, but should Cao Ranjie lose, he was to leave Qing City for good.

“Master Jiang, if you hadn’t stood up for him that night at the King’s Club, he’d be either dead or crippled by now. You never imagined he’d repay your kindness with betrayal, did you? Isn’t this a modern-day tale of the farmer and the wolf?” Wang Shaokun interjected with a sly, ambiguous smile.

“It’s even worse—a farmer and a snake,” someone else added.

“There’s only one way to deal with such a thankless wretch—destroy him.”

This immediately drew a chorus of agreement.

Lu Huarong exchanged a glance with Lu Ming. Uncle and nephew both seemed relaxed, their eyes alight with amusement; such an outcome was an unexpected windfall for the Lu family.

Jiang Tao remained silent, his expression inscrutable, though inwardly he felt a twinge of resentment. True, Hong Chen had once saved his life; no matter how humiliating today’s defeat, he would not blame Hong Chen. Still, he couldn’t deny that his current predicament was largely orchestrated by Hong Chen, founded on his trust in him. Whatever Hong Chen’s motives, he clearly did not regard Jiang Tao as a friend.

Just then, a piercing whinny split the air, startling everyone and drawing all eyes back to the race. Black Whirlwind, beneath Hong Chen, was suddenly accelerating, its hoofbeats pounding faster and faster.

The crowd gasped in surprise as, second by second, the scene before them defied belief. Black Whirlwind, shrieking wildly, was gaining speed, a veritable storm in pursuit of the chestnut ahead.

Li Chaoying sensed something amiss; his mount was spooked, its pace increasing involuntarily. He knew at once it was being driven by the black horse behind—those frenzied cries left no doubt.

He risked a glance back, meeting Black Whirlwind’s bloodshot gaze, and an ominous chill crept over him.

Both horses accelerated into the final third of the race, the gap closing to less than thirty meters as they entered the last bend. Li Chaoying, seeking safety, pressed himself low against his horse’s back, intent on maintaining control.

But while Li Chaoying played it safe, Hong Chen gambled everything. Three silver needles were already embedded in Black Whirlwind’s body, unlocking its latent power and restoring its former glory—but only for a short time. That was not enough. Hong Chen’s eyes flashed; his hand reached for the horse’s head.

With the fourth needle driven into its skull, Black Whirlwind let out an ear-splitting scream, its eyes instantly flooded with crimson. Blood trickled from the corners, as if the horse had been transformed into a supercharged engine, redlining at full throttle. It was a sight to behold.

A violent black whirlwind swept through the final curve. Hong Chen was no longer riding in the saddle but was lifted nearly a foot into the air, clutching the reins with all his might to avoid being thrown off.

As they exited the turn, the black horse continued its wild charge, the gap shrinking with every stride—five lengths, four, three…

Suddenly, the chestnut horse let out a terrified scream, its forelegs buckling as though in surrender. The momentum flung Li Chaoying from the saddle; though he managed to shield himself, he rolled twice across the ground. Less than two hundred meters remained to the finish.

The crowd stood dumbstruck, watching as the black whirlwind swept across the finish line, unstoppable.

After crossing the line, Black Whirlwind staggered on for several dozen meters before collapsing, its limbs giving way. It let out a final, complex whinny—tinged with sorrow, defiance, and indomitable pride.

Hong Chen leapt deftly from the saddle, landing lightly on his feet. He knelt beside his horse, which lay foaming at the mouth, its blood-red eyes fixed upon him. Gently stroking its head, Hong Chen sighed, “A true hero dies on the battlefield, wrapped in his horse’s skin. This racetrack has been your lifelong arena. To fall here, at the peak, is a fitting end. You have no regrets. I will see to it you are buried here, with a monument to your name.”

Meanwhile, the spectators finally shook themselves from their reverie. Lu Huarong’s face was thunderous as he grabbed Gong Xu by the collar and roared, “Were you bribed? Did you set me up on purpose?”

Gong Xu blanched, shaking his head frantically. “Master Lu, I wouldn’t dare…” His eyes darted toward Li Chaoying, who was now making his way back from the track.

Li Chaoying’s face was dark as a thundercloud. In all his years of racing, he had never experienced such a reversal—not just defeat, but a humiliating fall.

“Enough! Isn’t this disgrace enough for you?” Lu Huarong shoved Gong Xu to the ground and turned to confront Li Chaoying, only for Lu Ming to stop him with a sharp call.

The result was plain for all to see. With so many witnesses—Mo Fei, Director Lu among them—any display of temper would only cheapen the Lu family’s standing.

Suddenly, a burst of laughter rang out—loud, brash, and wildly inappropriate. Jiang Tao, having endured too much for too long, finally let himself revel in vindication. To stand alone in clarity while all others were blind—what a joy!

After a good ten seconds, Jiang Tao turned to Jiang Ying and shook his head. “Ying, you said I should open my eyes—perhaps you should learn to judge people from your brother.”

His gaze shifted to Cao Ranjie. Jiang Ying he would spare, but for the others, he had no such qualms. His eyes sharpened to a blade. “Don’t think I can’t see through your pettiness. You resent that I treat Hong Chen differently, that your heart seethes with jealousy. But look at yourself—aside from a passable face and a smooth tongue, you’re nothing but a useless fraud. You think you deserve my respect?”

Cao Ranjie flushed a deep, livid purple, humiliated beyond words, but dared not retort. Jiang Tao’s status was unassailable, and what he said stung all the more for its truth.

Jiang Tao snorted, his gaze sliding to Wang Shaokun. “A farmer and a wolf, was it?”

Wang Shaokun flushed with embarrassment as Jiang Tao swept his eyes over the rest of the assembly. None dared meet his gaze. At last, his eyes settled on Lu Huarong.

“Lu Huarong, you must have been delighted, watching me walk step by step into your trap. You probably called me a fool a thousand times. Well? Who’s the fool now? Give me a smile, let’s see it!”

With that, he burst into laughter once more—a sound filled with mockery, like a stinging slap across Lu Huarong’s face, burning with shame.