"A Wuling Hongguang?" The rich second generations looked at each other, not sure whether they should laugh or not.
Zhang Menglong is at least the world's richest man, so his collection of cars must be countless. Surely, he wouldn't be lacking such common knowledge, right?
These are all top-level sports cars, with each one capable of speeds over 400 kilometers per hour. A Wuling Hongguang wouldn't even match up to one of their tires; this kind of joke isn't funny at all.
To rely on a Wuling Hongguang to beat those supercars, perhaps only the God of Cars, Takumi Fujiwara, could have that level of skill if he were still around, right?
"Brother Zhang, you really have a sense of humor!" said the son of the artillery brigade Commander.
"Joking? I'm not joking," Zhang Menglong said with an innocent face, "Racing depends on the person. The car is merely a tool. Even with a Wuling Hongguang, my friend can definitely win."