Chaim Stout nodded like he was pounding garlic: "Totally convinced! I really am! I was blind not to see Mt. Tai; my petty mind, it’s all my fault. Mr. Flores, whatever punishment you decide, I’ll accept!"
Carson Flores couldn’t be bothered with Chaim Stout; the guy had knelt and admitted defeat so cleanly. Besides, he just mixed in the pharmaceutical factory scene and might need his help managing things there in the future, since local folk can sometimes be quite useful.
Chaim Stout was stunned for a moment, his eyes showing disbelief and surprise. Was he really being let go?
Not breaking one of his hands or legs?
Not extorting a hefty compensation fee?
Chaim Stout stood up but still felt uneasy; he tentatively took a few steps, then turned his head and asked cautiously, "Mr. Flores, so I can go now?"
Carson Flores sneered, "Can’t bear to leave, eh? Then stay here and kneel."
"No, no, no, I was just checking if you had any more orders."
Chaim Stout quickly begged for mercy: "Mr. Flores, you are generous. I’ll get going now and thank you properly another day."
Chaim Stout turned and hastily ran off, fearing Carson Flores would actually make him stay and kneel.
Camille Rhodes looked at Carson Flores with a smile: "Why did you let him go just like that?"
Carson Flores simply replied, "The local folk from the pharmaceutical factory area might still be useful. Besides, when someone kneels down like that, and it’s not a life-and-death feud, wouldn’t I seem small-minded if I insisted on breaking arms or legs?"
Camille Rhodes chuckled, "You really understand the ways of the world. By letting him off today, he’ll surely look up to you in the future. There are some things that fists can’t solve, but people like him can be very effective."
Carson Flores shrugged, smiling, "Right... Let’s go."
Camille Rhodes walked alongside Carson Flores: "Aren’t you afraid of offending the Martinez Family?"
Carson Flores laughed, "Offending or not usually doesn’t depend on me, but on the other party. If they want me to bow and scrape, then offense taken is offense taken. What am I—barefoot—afraid of the shoe-wearing?"
Camille Rhodes patted her chest, pretending to be scared: "Should I feel relieved I haven’t offended you?"
Carson Flores laughed, "I treat those who treat me as an equal with equality. So sometimes, you shouldn’t just blame others for not treating you right; you should think about how you treat them."
Camille Rhodes giggled, "That’s because you have the strength to speak as an equal with anyone."
Carson Flores laughed out loud, "One reads books so they can speak calmly with idiots; one cultivates so that idiots can speak calmly with themselves."
Camille Rhodes was amused, stretching out her hand to pinch Carson Flores, "Stop your nonsense, you’re going to kill me with laughter."
The two returned to the bustling venue. Along the edge of the vast open space, cars of all kinds were parked; a large screen had been set up nearby, and suddenly, its brightness flashed, revealing an image.
The screen split into two. On the left was a bust of Kylan Martinez, his gaze determined, with handsome features. On the right was a thin middle-aged man looking somewhat unremarkable.
Below the photo of the middle-aged man was an intro: Iker Combs, known as the Wild Racing God, three-time champion of the National Off-Road Car Championship, with his best strength being fast turns in the wilderness.
Carson Flores wasn’t much interested in car racing, so he didn’t have a particular impression of Iker Combs, but suddenly there was an uproar in the crowd—whistles, screams, and cheers were incessant.
"The Wild Racing God, oh man, tonight’s gonna be a show!"
"Young Master Martinez has met his match this time!"
"Young Master Martinez is formidable, but compared to the Wild Racing God, there’s probably a gap. I wonder what the odds are for today?"
"I’m betting on Iker Combs; he’s my idol!"
"I’m still betting on Young Master Martinez. Given his undefeated record on this track, I’ll trust him again!"
Camille Rhodes also looked surprised, "Legacy Lozano is really going for broke, inviting Iker Combs here. Wonder how much he spent."
Carson Flores laughed, "For a racer, it’s just one competition. In the face of a billion-dollar project, price is no object. I reckon there must be two prices—one for winning, another for losing."
Camille Rhodes smiled, "As it should be. And the prices will differ a lot. He’s here to race for money, to begin with. If one can’t put in their best effort, then the race is lost before it even begins."
As they spoke, a row of red numbers was added at the bottom of the screen.
Beneath Kylan Martinez was "1:1.3," while under Iker Combs was "1:2.5."
Carson Flores laughed, "Is that the odds? The bookie is Young Master Martinez himself, eh? He’s quite confident in his driving skills."
Camille Rhodes asked, "Right, the betting is his doing. You’re not betting, are you?"
Carson Flores shook his head, "I’m not familiar with either of them. It’s all left to fate, and that’s not my thing. Are you planning to place a bet?"
Before Camille Rhodes could answer, Kylie Martinez’s voice came from behind: "Camille Rhodes, want to bet? Just between the two of us?"