Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system

Province N, Western Region — 18:00 PM

Light had faded. Darkness crept over the bright, dazzling infrastructure as evening settled in.

On a particular ten-lane highway, a lone, ordinary SUV followed the thick traffic of people returning from work.

Inside, rock and roll music boomed. Two Spirit Fox operators occupied the vehicle.

The driver was clearly enjoying the rhythm—one hand on the wheel, the other twirling her finger to the beat. She even shook her head and tapped the steering wheel in sync.

To a faint-hearted person, her carefree antics at such high speed might induce a heart attack, but her passenger only showed a mixture of helplessness and doting amusement.

After all, they weren't ordinary people. One mistake at that speed might spell disaster for most—but not for Spirit Fox.

The two had been in the unit for a long time now, seasoned through repetitive training cycles and field rotations like military tours.

Under Tang Ziyi's leadership, advanced tactical driving was one of their key skillsets.

Tonight, they had been out patrolling nearby neighborhoods, bored, and were now returning from an established zone back to headquarters—Ling Qingyu's residence.

Taking the highway was routine.

Just as the duo settled into the calmness of the night, a familiar and irritating sound shattered it.

A series of loud exhaust cracks erupted behind them.

Both glanced into the rearview and side mirrors.

The darkness made it hard to see clearly, but the headlight from the cars behind traced shadowy figures that seemed to weave through the traffic.

The unmistakable, obnoxious revving and pops from tuned exhausts triggered their recognition instantly.

The operator in the passenger seat cursed. "Damn! When will they ever stop?"

"We beat the shit out of those devils that plagued our province, made them fear our name. But this new breed of punks—" The driver trailed off, equally annoyed.

The answer became obvious seconds later.

Vroom! Vroom!

A swarm of motorbikes raced past, weaving through cars and deliberately provoking chaos.

They brake-checked vehicles, ruined the flow of traffic, and threw up middle fingers at frustrated drivers.

Some drivers braked, others swerved, most kept their cool to avoid escalation.

Even the black SUV—an ordinary-looking Volvo—was not spared. Dozens of bikes streamed past like locusts.

The operator behind the wheel finally snapped and turned off the music. "These bastards! If not for our duty, I'd have arrested them all right here."

Her partner chuckled. "You can, though."

"Yeah? And they'll be out in a few days, bailed out or fined. Short jail time, maybe. There's no real punishment." She paused, voice heavier now. "Sometimes I seriously wonder… did Spirit Fox somehow give birth to these pests?"

"Honestly," the passenger replied, clicking her tongue, "I didn't think there were this many rich brats around. Back when the gangs and crime syndicates were still running wild, most of these so-called elites stayed low-key out of fear. Now that no one threatens their lives anymore…"

She didn't finish the sentence, but the silence was answer enough.

The two operators understood exactly who these bikers were: second-generation rich kids, thrill-seekers craving attention and rebellion.

They weren't organized gangs. Their crimes didn't involve drugs or extortion—just reckless traffic violations, endangering others and themselves for kicks.

Spirit Fox had cleansed Province N of the real scum—murderers, traffickers, warlords.

Yang Qingyue, as the new commissioner, had once felt triumphant about the progress.

But that sense of victory was short-lived.

A new kind of pest had emerged.

Biker gangs. Illegal street racers. Even rogue pickup truck clubs.

They collectively slapped the public across the face and proved one thing: it was too early to celebrate.

Police units from multiple districts were helpless.

These punks were smart, slipping past AI surveillance and facial recognition systems with masks, filters, and evasive tech.

Worse, they were too many.

Sure, a few got arrested and had their vehicles impounded—but no one cared. The wealthy ones simply hired top-tier lawyers to reduce their charges or get them off entirely.

Yang Qingyue nearly exploded in rage more than once.

She cursed the bloodlines of these nouveau riche families—especially those who'd gotten rich off demolitions and real estate speculation.

Not all offenders were from these backgrounds, but the majority of captured individuals traced back to them.

Determined not to give up, Yang launched a new crackdown.

With Ling Qingyu's help, she upgraded CCTV networks and equipped the police with faster response vehicles—new cruisers and patrol bikes specifically geared to chase down the new menace.

At least on the surface, the police weren't humiliated.

They made arrests. They showcased a response. They tried to prove that the law still held weight.

But in truth, the results were dismal.

The law was too lenient.

Those arrested were back on the streets within days.

Even Yang Qingyue—so persistent and iron-willed—sometimes felt like giving up.

The police did arrest several repeat offenders. But interrogations yielded nothing.

No snitching. No real information.

The deterrence had failed. The cycle resumed.

And despite everything, Yang felt too ashamed to ask Spirit Fox for help.

After all, Spirit Fox wasn't built for this.

Their mission was to combat terrorism, dismantle organized crime, and neutralize high-level threats to national security in Province N.

Yes, Spirit Fox could clean up these street rats if they wanted.

But to what end?

They'd jail them, only for the system to release them later.

It would be overkill—for minimal, temporary gains.

Yang Qingyue knew she couldn't justify that bargain.

Spirit Fox understood the dilemma.

They sympathized.

But they had their hands full too. While the streets appeared calm, there were buried threats still festering beneath the surface—threats Spirit Fox operators worked tirelessly to eliminate.

The repercussions weren't visible in headlines. But the fight was real.

"I bet our way is still the best," the driver grumbled, eyes narrowing at the bikes ahead. "Just slam the pedal, break through their formation. They'd be gone for good. Injured, traumatized, permanently disabled."

"Come on, Sis," her partner replied with a tired chuckle. "They're annoying, yeah. But they don't deserve that much wrath."

"Wait until someone actually gets hurt because of their fun," the driver muttered, shooting a cold side glance.

They had seen plenty of these pests before—on previous patrols.

If it wasn't motorbikes, it was flashy supercars.

Fortunately, their boss wasn't passive.

She'd already proposed building multiple racing tracks across the province to redirect this thirst for thrill into something constructive.

By hosting regulated competitions, the idea was to give these second-generation brats what they craved—excitement, recognition, and a sense of achievement.

It might be the most effective long-term solution.

Because at the root of all this chaos was a simple truth:

These kids didn't want to hurt people.

They just didn't know how else to prove they existed.

"Look, look at them—wheelies and dancing," the operators joked, watching the stunts through the windshield.

Some of their sisters had learned to ride bikes and could even pull off a few tricks themselves.

So they weren't too impressed.

Especially not when their boss, Ling Qingyu, was in the picture.

That woman wasn't just a phenomenal driver—she was a damn lethal biker too.

Nobody had expected the seemingly ordinary businesswoman to possess such insane, jaw-dropping skills.

She didn't just ride—she captured audiences with every move.

In their eyes, Tang Ziyi and Ling Qingyu were godlike.

And Ling Qingyu even more so, since she came from the elite financial world. A deadly force with a credit rating higher than most people's net worth.

Suddenly, the onboard computer screen flared red and let out a sharp, blaring alert.

It was part of Spirit Fox's emergency protocol—run directly by dispatch and their proprietary AI.

Unlike the conventional police system, where dispatchers would alert officers after AI notification, Spirit Fox's infrastructure operated under Athena's direct management.

That meant faster alerts, seamless handoffs from human dispatchers, and, sometimes, predictive warnings that came before a crime even happened.

The passenger leaned in and read the brief note flashing on the screen—most likely from their liaison at Athena.

These messages usually arrived minutes, sometimes tens of minutes, before any call reached the regular police.

A capability that had baffled everyone—especially the Spirit Fox team, who were endlessly curious about Athena's methods.

Compared to the Province N police AI—capable of issuing real-time alerts and some preventive warnings—Athena's system was simply in another league.

"Possible home intrusion. A woman and a kid in danger," the passenger read. "We're the closest unit. It's a preliminary warning."

The driver didn't hesitate.

"Doesn't matter. I'm tired of sticking around these punks' rear ends. Let's take the call. Besides, it costs nothing to react. Golden hour, pal."

"On it."

The passenger tapped the address, patching the route directly into the GPS overlay.

"I've selected the fastest route. Now, kick that gas."

"With pleasure."

The driver grinned, flipping open a compartment and pressing a series of buttons.

Instantly, the sirens lit up.

The lightbar burst into red and blue, and the previously ordinary SUV howled to life—its engine note rising in pitch.

From stealth to full-blown law enforcement in seconds.

The change sent shockwaves through the biker group.

Several nearly lost control—especially those mid-stunt.

Some screamed and accelerated, tires screeching as they fled the scene.

In the blink of an eye, they'd committed multiple traffic crimes right in front of the police.

"Nice timing, dumbasses," ordinary road users muttered.

Most of the group cursed out their leader, who was now visibly shaking.

They hadn't expected to pull their stunts next to Police.

Meanwhile, the surrounding drivers honked and clapped, thinking justice had finally come.

Their joy would be short-lived, but for a moment, karma looked like it was doing her job.