Dual Transmigration: American Prison, Surviving to a Fantasy Development Stage

A staff member nearby handed Lin Feng a standard protective helmet for riding a bull.

Lin Feng waved his hand, directly refusing.

The young cowboy with freckles on his face paused for a moment, then said urgently in heavily accented English, "Hey, buddy, are you crazy?"

No helmet? Do you think this is a horseback riding stroll?

If you get kicked by this giant's hind legs, or fall down and get stepped on, your head will explode like a watermelon!

He tried to convince Lin Feng with data, "Do you know PBR (Professional Bull Riding Competition)?"

Even with full protective gear, professional riders who have trained for several or even more than a decade still lose at least three lives each season on average.

Many more suffered broken ribs, punctured internal organs, and lifelong paralysis.

"You're a complete newbie, not even wearing a helmet. Are you trying to go straight to meet your maker?"

Lin Feng didn't even look up when he heard this, and said in a flat tone: "Since it's about riding a bull, isn't the point to seek excitement?"

Wear a hammer, or don't wear one.

There's a Chinese saying: "Life and death are preordained, wealth and honor are determined by Heaven."

The staff members who had gathered around, including the freckled cowboy, looked at each other and shrugged.

One of the older men even gave Lin Feng a thumbs up, but there was no admiration in his eyes, only pity for a dying man.

If you insist on courting death, they can't stop you.

In his view, Lin Feng was not brave, but foolish.

Next, Lin Feng changed into professional bull-riding boots.

These boots differ from ordinary riding boots in that they have exceptionally high and stiff heels.

Most importantly, the right boot heel is fitted with a metal spur with small gears.

It's not just for decoration; it's a real tool used to stimulate the bull during the game, making it more aggressive and causing it to jump higher.

Lin Feng stretched his ankles a little to get used to the weight and feel of the boots.

Despite repeated persuasion from the staff, Lin Feng insisted on wearing only a cowboy hat.

At Lin Feng's insistence, a burly man wearing a white cowboy hat and smoking a cigar nodded and agreed to Lin Feng's request.

He is the person in charge here.

However, Lin Feng was still made to sign a waiver of liability.

Whether Lin Feng lives or dies is irrelevant; just don't create legal trouble for them.

In the United States, especially in places like Texas, personal choice is paramount.

If you want to take risks or risk your life, go ahead, nobody's stopping you.

There is no "safety first" mentality here, and the prevailing approach is more inclined towards a "let it fend for itself" system.

If you like to court death, then go ahead and do it.

Looking at Lin Feng after he signed the document, the person in charge gave Lin Feng a thumbs up for his courage.

Everything is ready.

At this moment, the host in the center of the venue raised the microphone and shouted in an even more excited, almost distorted voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, amazing news."

Our challenger from the East, Lin, has made a truly courageous decision.

He refused to wear a protective helmet, wanting to confront the bull's rage in the most primal and naked way.

Let's cheer for this courage, or perhaps this madness, once again!

Upon hearing this, the already noisy arena exploded as if a giant rock had been thrown into a cauldron of boiling oil! Exclamations, whistles, and incredulous shouts mingled together.

Wow!

"My God!"

"He must be insane!"

"That's fucking awesome!"

"This is what a real cowboy is like."

Rhyming is a human gene.

It's the same in every country.

In the audience, many people gaped, their expressions filled with extreme shock. Many women instinctively covered their mouths, all of them able to imagine Lin Feng's fate.

Riding a bull of this caliber without a helmet is, in their view, beyond the realm of sport and almost tantamount to suicidal performance.

However, this extreme danger is just like the strongest stimulant, violently stimulating the adrenaline of the vast majority of people present.

The local redneck audience, in particular, were extremely excited.

They have a direct way of thinking, admire toughness, courage, and even recklessness. In their simple understanding, daring to face death without much protection is itself a manifestation of the Western spirit.

Just like in old Western movies, two cowboys walk back to back for ten steps, then turn around, draw their guns, and shoot at each other, life and death in an instant.

Lin Feng's actions, even before he stepped onto the stage, had already ignited the most fervent atmosphere in the entire arena in an extreme way.

Many tourists, especially those from other states or countries, hurriedly pulled out their phones and cameras and switched to video recording mode.

They originally came just to experience cowboy culture and watch regular performances, but they never expected to encounter such a hardcore live show.

This is a hundred times more exciting than any well-choreographed performance.

In the stands, the expressions on the faces of the Chinese tourists were even more complex. Amidst the shock, there was a clear sense of worry; some even whispered among themselves in Chinese.

"It's too dangerous, why bother?"

"Yeah, it looks scary."

I wonder if Red Bull is sponsoring this?

Lin Feng ignored the noise around him.

Guided by staff, we walked toward the starting fence on one side of the field.

Inside the enclosure was a North African bull, nearly 1.8 meters tall at the shoulder, with well-defined muscles and a glossy black coat.

At this moment, the bull was pacing restlessly within the narrow enclosure, breathing heavily, its hooves constantly pawing at the ground, exuding wild power and agitation.

There was only a leather rope about the thickness of a wrist on the cow's back, and Lin Feng held the end of the rope tightly in his gloved left hand.

There was no saddle, nothing else to grip.

An old cowboy wearing a referee's hat walked to the fence and shouted to Lin Feng, who was already straddling the cow's back, "Kid, keep an eye on it."

"Black Whirlwind" is one of the most irritable guys around here, a full 500 kilograms of pure muscle and a bad temper.

Listen, the professional rule is 8 seconds, but if you can last 3 seconds on its back, I guarantee you with my 40 years of cowboy experience that you're a real man.

Considering you are not a professional, we will not strictly consider the bull's rotation range and the height of its hind hooves in the air.

My child, may God bless you.

Lin Feng had already bent down, smiled, and didn't say anything. He just gripped the rope tightly with his left hand and held his right hand outstretched in the air to maintain his balance.

The rules require riders to hold the rope with only one hand.

He turned his head and gave the old cowboy a casual smile: "Alright, let's begin."

"Okay, good luck." The old cowboy shook his head, said no more, and retreated to a safe area.

At this moment, in the middle of the field, there were several cowboys on horseback holding ropes, ready to rescue Lin Feng at any time.

The live music suddenly stopped, and a tense silence quickly spread, leaving only the bull's heavy breathing and the suppressed whispers of excitement from the audience.

Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on the fence.

"On your marks!" The referee's shout broke the silence.

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

"Go!!!"

The gate suddenly sprang open!