Dominate the Super Bowl

Step, step, step, step.

The sound of footsteps colliding with the gravel on the road, the rustling noise clearly conveys tension and pressure, the murderous intent presses closer with each step in the night.

Inexplicably, there's a sense of crisis as if teetering on the edge, making one shiver with fear.

Like an undercurrent, silently encircling Li Wei's Mercedes-Benz, which hadn't completely stopped yet, in an ambush-like action.

Well-trained, decisive in killing.

The rolling killing intent attempts to accurately and sharply cut off Li Wei's breath.

However, at this moment, a burst of cheerful, jubilant cheer breaks the silence.

"Surprise!"

Straight ahead, the shadows hidden around Li Wei and Mahomes' residences all surged out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, without enough time to take in the whole scene, the view is already filled with figures densely packed, like a flood breaking through the constraints of the night.

Rolling waves of air, rushing in.

Journalists: Damn it!

A wave of fright and a wave of stupefaction, a survival instinct erupts from the depths of the soul, the hair on the entire body stands on end, the footsteps striving forward come to a halt immediately.

Trap?

The scene ahead, like a horror movie where hunters stalk their prey, they think they are hunting the prey in front of them, but don't realize they have stepped into a trap, in an instant, the hunter becomes the prey, trapped in a desperate situation.

The reversal's fright and fear instantly overturn the situation they thought they were controlling—

Pissed themselves!

Literally.

Someone, in a frenzy of panic and tension, instinctively presses the camera shutter.

Click.

The flash goes off.

All the shadows ahead come to a stop, their gaze instantly locking onto the journalists before them.

"Who!"

A shout, like thunder out of a clear sky.

Now, the journalists finally see the true faces of the shadows ahead—

Kelsey. Moore. Hill. Watkins. Fuller. Chris Jones.

And so on and so forth.

Those faces are precisely the main players of the Kansas City Chiefs.

Moreover, not just one or two, at a rough glance, there are more than a dozen people.

Then, belatedly noticing, a crowd also thronged in front of the windows of Li Wei's residence, each holding meatballs, chicken legs, pizzas, just like a group of beastly brutes, watching every move happening outside through the window.

Matty. Higgins. Clark. Brilland. Sorensen.

Also all Kansas City Chiefs players.

Judging by the scene, the whole team seems to be here.

And now, it's awkward.

"Trap!"

The keyword flashing in the reporters' minds first, if by now they haven't realized this is a trap set by Li Wei for counterattack, then that is true stupidity—

Evidently, they hoped to twist the facts and turn white into black, pushing Li Wei into a storm of scandal; but Li Wei smartly intercepted ahead of them.

So now, look who's really the arrogant one, blind to their own conceit?

What to do? What to do what to do what to do!

Crisis, fully alarmed!

The air caught in a subtle standoff, you look at me, I look at you, both parties are fully tense in vigilance, no one dares to make the first move.

Shortly after shock and amazement, some journalist quickly comes up with a countermeasure—

"Li Wei mobilized the whole team to defend Ariana Grande!"

"Ariana Grande has gained the full approval of the Kansas City Chiefs!"

Even further manufacturing a bombshell, deliberately concealing information about Ariana.

"Li Wei flies into a rage for love, determined to protect his mysterious lover's true identity at all costs."

Thus, journalists don't even need to capture a photo of the passenger seat, just press the shutter towards this scene, how the story unfolds next all relies on the journalists' skill.

In any predicament, journalists can gain the upper hand, Li Wei is like Sun Wukong, no matter how he struggles and resists, he can't escape the Five Fingers Mountain of the Great Buddha.

In the tense confrontation scene, a reporter prepares to strike back, but still a step behind.

Someone seizes the initiative.

Bang.

The sound of a car door closing breaks the silence, everyone's gaze focuses over there, in the hazy glow, Li Wei's handsome face reveals a fierce and brutal expression, with a hideous look erupting in killing intent.

"Get lost!"

"All of you get out! Patrick needs to recover, what are you doing here!"

Journalists: ???

Damn it! They came for Ariana, why is Mahomes appearing?

However, before the journalists react, the players led by Kelsey are already clenching fists in fury surrounding them, launching a charge against the reporters, with a momentum comparable to a thousand troops galloping.

Typically, standing by the sidelines, the picture of powerful collision among a thousand horses sets one's blood boiling and heart racing.

Now, facing fierce and savage fiends and demons firsthand, the whole body freezes, knees turn to noodles, directly pissing themselves.

Some journalists reflexively turn around to flee for their lives, only to fall short and tumble to the ground, flapping helplessly like a mudskipper.

"Stop!"

A thunderous shout erupts, saving the reporters' lives at the last moment.

Wait, Li Wei?

Why would Li Wei save the journalists?

"If we attack, they'll act victimized and gain public sympathy; we should expose their scheming faces, let everyone know the truth."

Next, Li Wei pulls out his phone and shoots the reporters before him.

Journalists: ???

What, you can do that?

The site reporters are completely caught off guard, despite their vast experience and expertise, everything happening right now unfolds with such swiftness, faster than a blink of an eye, leaving no room to catch a breath, unexpected turns and incidents pour down like a flood overtaking them, suffocating their throats.

Then, they transform from hunter to prey.

Click! Click, click, click!

Kelsey and the others all pull out their phones, purposely turning on the flashlights, flooding the scene with blinding light, capturing the disheveled state of the reporters.

Comparable to hell.

Always, it's journalists flaunting their might, aiming lenses at players, wielding their pen as a weapon to make these public figures tremble, who'd have thought, they'd face such a day themselves.

Moreover, behind those flashes, those burly men's twisted and fierce faces seem to vent all the pent-up anger and frustration, ready to tear them to pieces anytime.

Facing exposure and threats is bad enough, but if the players ahead beat them, then falsely claim to act in justified defense, leaving them bruised without recourse, that's truly humiliating.

Rolling in fear!

Scrambling away like rats!

Once commanding and assertive journalists, now every one of them scramble and crawl in panic, fleeing with all limbs.

But the Kansas City Chiefs players persist relentlessly, mimicking the journalists, raising phones high, swarming the reporters in a relentless pursuit.

Run!

Run fast!

Those reporters only curse their own legs for not being fast enough, gritting their teeth while sprinting towards their vehicles, fumbling to release the parking brake, quickly mobilizing the engine that was still running in haste—

No time to distinguish direction, under a barrage of flashing lights they flee frantically.

In a flash, leaving only a mess.