Brian Carter didn’t answer him. He looked around, searching for a larger vehicle passing by. He’d watched countless Hong Kong movies, and many classic films had scenes of people jumping off overpasses or pedestrian bridges onto moving vehicles…

　　“Time to risk it. Maybe those movie scenes are edited, but a lot of stunt doubles really do jump. My physical abilities are already doubled—can’t I manage a single jump onto a vehicle?”

　　He spotted a convertible truck about a hundred meters away, loaded with boxes, about to pass through this area. Brian Carter was already gripping the guardrail, ready to jump at any moment.

　　As the vehicle approached, some police at the checkpoint had already noticed something unusual and were running over. Brian Carter pulled out an NZT-48 from his pocket. “Better play it safe. Damn, I’ve got a cheat code—could gain even more abilities at any time. No need to worry too much about NZT’s side effects.”

　　“I’ve only got one life!”

　　He swallowed an NZT-48. Within seconds, Brian Carter felt completely different. Countless images of jumping off buildings and bridges flashed through his mind. As the convertible truck passed beneath the bridge, he leapt like a soaring cheetah—thud!

　　Landing on the boxes in the truck bed, he rolled smoothly and stood up, exuding powerful confidence. The first thing he saw was a face growing more distant, yet still very clear.

　　Yuan Biao? Which cop is that now?

　　Doesn’t matter. He’d already taken the NZT-48. Even if one pill only lasted up to twelve hours, he had a lot to do in those twelve hours.

　　……

　　On the pedestrian bridge, watching Brian Carter get farther and farther away, Peter Clark was frantic. He looked around, but there weren’t any big vehicles suitable for him to jump onto. He grabbed his communicator and called, “This is Inspector Peter Clark from the Tsim Sha Tsui Major Crimes Unit. I’ve spotted the wanted criminal Brian Carter…”

　　Peter Clark was still reporting, having just given the license plate and direction of the truck Brian Carter was on, when he saw the truck pass right by a convertible double-decker bus.

　　Standing on top of the truck, Brian Carter made a mocking gesture at him, then leapt through the air, landing on the upper deck of the bus like a fish diving into the Yangtze River.

　　The bus and the truck were heading in opposite directions, but neither was going toward Peter Clark. This area near the overpass was a multi-looped, curved intersection.

　　Peter Clark was stunned for a few seconds before speaking again. “Brian Carter jumped vehicles. Damn it, he’s on a public bus now…”

　　At this moment, Inspector Feng was cursing nonstop. Even if it were Chris Brooks, that troublemaker, chasing with his life on the line, he probably couldn’t catch up to this Brian Carter.

　　He’d heard that the first time this punk was arrested, brought to court, and sent to prison, he’d always acted like a harmless, well-behaved student. How did he suddenly turn into a super-elite?

　　……

　　An hour later.

　　Mong Kok.

　　Brian Carter’s height hadn’t changed, but his appearance and aura were now worlds apart from before.

　　He’d always had a student vibe, the fearless energy of a young calf. Now, at a glance, he looked like an elegant gentleman. With just a few accessories and a touch of makeup, his naturally good looks—already over eighty out of a hundred—were pushed close to perfection.

　　Even the police who had personally arrested him and sent him to prison would, at most, think he bore a seventy percent resemblance to the wanted criminal Brian Carter. His gentlemanly demeanor and air of nobility made people instinctively wary of approaching him.

　　Now, walking down the street, even in ordinary clothes, he still drew countless glances from passersby—and even made girls swoon.

　　This was the effect of the NZT-48. His mind was firing on all cylinders. The makeup techniques he’d only indirectly picked up during his school days were now at a master’s level.

　　How advanced was makeup in the 2020s?

　　It was the kind of difference that could turn Zhenyu into Baigu.

　　As he walked, Brian Carter quickly locked onto a few targets: one man and two women, all blond foreigners, exuding class and dressed in luxury. Brian Carter approached with a smile. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. I’m Babe Ruth, a professional tour guide. I wonder if you’d be interested in hiring me as a temporary guide?”

　　Before taking the pill, his English was only at CET-4 level, still preparing for CET-6. Now, he spoke with a perfect American TV accent.

　　A wanted man trying to be a tour guide?

　　What kind of tour guide is that? He needed to make money—he couldn’t just keep swiping clothes, right? He was running out of cash. Was it a waste to use NZT-48 to be a tour guide? No way. In this world, the easiest money to make is from women.

　　It all depends on whether you can spot the opportunity.

　　For example, the man and two women in front of him: Woman A was clearly a rich beauty, the man was pursuing her, and Woman B was her equally wealthy best friend…

　　With makeup, A would rate an eighty, while B was at most a sixty-eight—a clear difference in looks.

　　But up close, just by the scent and color of their perfumes and cosmetics, he could tell both women used products costing tens of thousands of Hong Kong dollars.

　　As long as Brian Carter showed off his master-level makeup skills, he was confident he could fleece these two foreign ladies. Of course, if the white guy wanted to look more handsome and refined, he wouldn’t mind fleecing him too.