Return in defeat

Renly stared at Vin with unblinking, deep brown eyes, filled with a sharp, resolute light that pierced through like a hawk's gaze, unyielding.

Mockery.

In those eyes, Vin read a mocking disdain, as if ridiculing his cowardice, hesitation, and fear. Even in an absolute disadvantage, those eyes exuded immense power, unstoppable and fearless, reminding Vin of that nightmare in the parking lot scene. Standing before Renly, he felt like a trembling clown, absurd and laughable.

Shame surged from his feet to his head, consuming him, as impulse burned away his reason. The iron wrench came down hard.

"Ah!" Gal gasped, covering her mouth tightly, fearing she might scream uncontrollably. She wanted to close her eyes, turn away, but her muscles were paralyzed, unable to move, even her eyes, which had turned moist and sore from fear. She bit her lip hard, but it was of no use.

Paul was utterly stunned, completely forgetting they were filming—both he and Jordana were in the shot. He stood there, wide-eyed, watching the scene unfold before him, seeing the red in Vin's eyes lose control as the wrench came crashing down with unstoppable force... The suddenness of it all was so shocking that Paul's mind went blank, forgetting to step in and defuse the situation.

In the blink of an eye, a loud clang echoed through the silent set, sparks flying as metal struck concrete, filling the air with the acrid scent of sulfur, halting everyone's heartbeat.

Justin swallowed hard, his mouth dry, unable to produce any saliva. His throat was on fire, his eyes aching from the tension. Renly was unharmed, Renly was unharmed; Renly hadn't turned into a smashed watermelon, his brains and blood weren't splattered everywhere, Renly was unharmed, Renly was fine.

Realizing this, Justin's knees buckled, and he collapsed into the director's chair, but couldn't sit steadily, slumping to the floor instead. His blood and heart had stopped working, even his soul had frozen into ice, overwhelmed by the terror of narrowly escaping death, as if he'd walked back from the edge of hell.

Renly was unharmed.

This was Justin's only thought, finally feeling his heartbeat again.

Renly's expression remained unchanged as the wound on his cheekbone split open again, no longer just a scratch, looking rather frightening. The blood seemed to have dried, adding a rugged and sinister edge to his handsome face. His deep eyes remained locked on Vin's, the deadly aura slowly spreading, unwavering even in the face of life-threatening danger.

Vin felt a chill of fear. The shame vanished, replaced by a terror that plunged his blood to freezing point, his muscles stiffening to the point of immobility. No fear, no hesitation, no panic—Renly's reckless disregard for death was terrifying. In the final moment, Vin hesitated—

The wrench missed its mark, or rather, from the moment he swung it down, he hadn't aimed at Renly's head. He was scared. Scared of blood on his hands, scared of those ever-watchful eyes. In this face-off, Vin became the one to retreat.

So, the wrench struck the ground beside Renly instead, venting all his anger, shame, and fear in one full-force blow that left a shallow dent in the concrete. The backlash numbed his hand, but it no longer mattered. In Renly's eyes, Vin saw no hint of triumph, only calm, as if mocking his cowardice.

Madman, Renly was a madman.

Vin scrambled back, putting distance between himself and Renly. His eyes filled with deep fear, he muttered, "Jesus Christ," the terror dragging him down like an anchor, pulling him under. He just wanted to get away, far away from that madman.

He could handle a tough guy, a coward, even a woman. But he didn't want to deal with a madman. No one does.

Renly could feel the thrill of dancing on the edge of death—danger, fear, panic—his palms and soles sweating, but the adrenaline surging through him made him feel alive. The thrill of conquest, of challenge, of freedom.

It reminded him of free climbing. Teetering between heaven and hell, between life and nature, every muscle strained to the limit, his mind intensely focused, as if the world's noise had vanished, leaving only his heartbeat, the wind, and the sun.

The moment of success erupted like a volcano.

Just now, he felt it again. In that fleeting moment, he sensed Hobbs' toughness, the thrill of "Fast and Furious," the line between actor and role blurring, everything becoming clear yet hazy. Only freedom remained, complete freedom, like a free fall from two thousand feet up, the wind rushing through every part of him.

At that moment, he felt truly alive. Even if he brushed shoulders with death.

Hormones seemed to merge with his blood, coursing through his veins, the adrenaline fireworks putting him at the peak of his game. Not only was he unafraid, but he wanted to do it again. He decided, during his next vacation, he would learn Chinese martial arts—not the flashy kind, but the real deal.

Slowly sitting up, Renly looked at Vin and smiled slightly, "Pleasure working with you."

If it weren't for Vin losing control, Renly wouldn't have pushed himself to his limit. No wonder they say a great scene partner makes for a perfect scene.

Until now, Renly hadn't truly felt this. Who would've thought he'd experience it in an action movie with someone like Vin Diesel, who's not known for his acting.

But this was just a physical confrontation. Next time, he wanted to test the limits of his acting.

Vin heard Renly's words and recoiled like he'd seen a ghost, retreating in a panic before his back hit the wall. But he didn't care about that—he just wanted to get away from Renly, far away.

Renly didn't mind Vin's reaction. He stood up, dusted off his hands, and then noticed the deathly silent set. Everyone was frozen like statues. Renly, puzzled, glanced around and cleared his throat, "I didn't hear a 'cut,' so... do we need to do another take?"

Another take?

"...No, no." Justin, still sitting on the floor, shook his head repeatedly. "Definitely not. I think that was great, that take was perfect. Really perfect. If you don't believe me, check the playback. It was great, perfect! No need for another take, not at all. One take is enough, more than enough."

Madman, a complete madman.

That was Vin's only thought. From now on, he just wanted to stay far away from that lunatic. If the madman wanted to kill himself, so be it—he wasn't going to get involved. He had a wonderful life waiting for him, tons of money, and plenty of women. A real madman.

Nathan finally snapped out of it and quickly approached Renly, looking him up and down. "Do you need to wash your face? You've got blood all over it," Nathan said calmly. "And your clothes, they're stained too. For continuity, do we need a new set? Oh, and do you need to sit down and rest? The shoot isn't over, not yet."

As he spoke, Nathan's brain finally registered what had happened. In that critical moment, Renly had almost died—almost died right in front of him. Fear, relief, panic, and joy all erupted at once, and Nathan broke down completely, tears streaming uncontrollably.

Nathan raised his hands, trying to wipe away the tears, but his fingers trembled. "Sorry, sorry…" He shouldn't have lost it like this. He was just a bystander, an assistant. He shouldn't have lost control, shouldn't disturb Renly's rest, shouldn't let his emotions get the best of him. But the words stuck in his throat, only able to mutter apologies, "Sorry, sorry…"

Seeing the nearly collapsed Nathan, Renly chuckled, finding it more and more amusing. He took the handkerchief from Nathan and handed it back, "I think you need this more than I do."

"Sorry." It seemed to be the only word Nathan could say, his brain not functioning. He wiped his tear-streaked face, forcing himself to stop. This wasn't about him; Renly was what mattered. "Do you... hic." A hiccup interrupted him, and Nathan clenched his teeth, forcing himself to calm down, focusing on Renly. "Do you need anything? Hic. I mean, hot water? Ice? Coffee? Candy? Or anything else? Or, rest? Do you need to rest?"

"A cigarette. Please, give me a cigarette."