2025, Bahrain. The Sakhir Circuit.
The desert sun hammered the asphalt. The air shimmered, thick with the scent of high-octane fuel and burnt rubber. This was the holy land of speed. The opening round of the new FX (Formula X) season.
But inside the Paddock Media Center, the atmosphere was hotter than the track. It was toxic.
This season was supposed to be the "Twilight of the Gods." Louis Hamson, the Seven-Time World Champion, had made a historic switch to Scuderia Fire, donning the legendary red suit. Meanwhile, the tyrant Max Vesper was aiming for a fifth consecutive title with Crimson Energy, looking to cement his dictatorship over the sport.
Yet, the cameras weren't pointed at the gods today.
They were pointed at a young man with black hair, black eyes, and yellow skin.
Ye Tian.
The newly announced driver for Team Hawk.
A complete rookie. A nobody who hadn't even finished a full season in F2. A ghost from the East.
"Mr. Ye."
A German reporter from The Daily Speed didn't even bother standing up. He slouched in his chair, holding his recorder like a weapon. His voice dripped with arrogance.
"Everyone knows 2025 is the brutalest year in FX history. Scuderia Fire has their dream team. Crimson Energy is invincible. And Team Hawk..."
The reporter smirked, glancing at Team Hawk's new Principal, Koma, who sat nervously next to Ye Tian.
"Team Hawk fired the experienced Magnus to sign you. Rumor has it your sponsors wired over 40 million euros. So, I have to ask: In the Hawk VF-25, which everyone agrees is a tractor on wheels... are you here on a vacation? Or do you actually believe money buys talent?"
Laughter rippled through the room.
A few British journalists whispered loudly enough for the mics to catch.
"Another Pay Driver."
"Rich Chinese kid. Probably doesn't know how many buttons are on the wheel."
"FX is a joke now. Team Hawk will do anything for cash."
Humiliation.
Raw, unfiltered humiliation.
In the seventy-year history of this sport, Asian faces were rare. Winners were nonexistent. In the eyes of these European elites, a Chinese rookie in a garbage car was just comic relief.
Ye Tian sat under the blinding spotlight. His face was stone.
He wore the black-and-white Team Hawk kit. He didn't look nervous. He looked bored.
Tap. Tap.
He knocked on the microphone. The sharp screech of feedback silenced the room instantly.
"Done asking?"
Ye Tian leaned forward. His dark eyes locked onto the German reporter. Predatory. Cold.
"First, let me correct you. Team Hawk signed me because I brought money, yes. But that money isn't to buy my seat. It's to upgrade this trash car—otherwise, I'm afraid it won't even finish the formation lap."
Dead silence.
Next to him, Koma buried his face in his hands. Oh my god. Why is he telling the truth?!
Ye Tian ignored his boss. He held up one finger.
"Second. You talk about the 'Twilight of Gods'? Louis Hamson in Red? Max Vesper's dynasty?"
Ye Tian laughed. It was a dry, mocking sound.
"I don't see any gods here. Vesper's four titles? Hamson's legacy? That's the past."
He stood up, towering over the table.
"Now that I'm here, the rules are going to change."
BOOM.
The room exploded.
Arrogance!
Pure, unadulterated insanity!
A rookie who hasn't raced a single lap dares to trash-talk the Seven-Time King and the Current Emperor? This wasn't confidence. This was a mental breakdown.
"He's crazy!"
"Just a clown looking for attention!"
The German reporter's face turned red. He stood up, shouting, "Mr. Ye! Talk is cheap! Tomorrow is Qualifying. If you can't even beat your teammate—Esteban, who is known for destroying rookies—will you retire on the spot?"
Esteban.
The name made the journalists sneer. Esteban was the "Teammate Killer." He defended against his own team harder than he defended against rivals. Ye Tian was going to be eaten alive.
Ye Tian adjusted his collar. He looked down at the reporter like he was looking at a bug.
"If I don't score points this season, I'll retire."
"But if I do..." Ye Tian's lips curled into a smile that sent shivers down spines. "I want you to run three laps around the paddock. Naked. Shouting 'FX needs Chinese Speed.' Do we have a bet?"
The reporter stepped back, intimidated by the sheer pressure radiating from the rookie. But his ego wouldn't let him back down.
"Deal! I can't wait to watch your career die!"
Ten minutes later. Team Hawk Garage.
SMASH!
Koma threw his headset onto the desk. He pointed a shaking finger at Ye Tian's nose.
"Ye! Are you out of your mind?! Retire? Score points? Do you know what the VF-25 is? Wind tunnel data says our downforce is dead last! Worse than Team Williams! It's a miracle if this pile of scrap metal crosses the finish line, and you promised points?!"
Koma was on the verge of a stroke. He took over this team to survive, not to be the center of a circus. He just wanted Ye Tian's sponsorship money to pay the bills.
Ye Tian calmly pulled on his fireproof balaclava. He picked up his helmet—painted bright red with five yellow stars.
"Koma. Relax."
"Relax?!"
"Just get the champagne ready."
"You..." Koma was speechless. The kid's mental strength was either diamond or delusion.
Ye Tian turned and walked toward the car bay.
The white Hawk VF-25 sat there. Ugly. Bulky. Beside it, leaning against the other car, was his teammate.
Esteban.
The Frenchman was chewing gum, looking at Ye Tian with prey-eyes.
"Hey, Rookie." Esteban's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Stay away from me on the track. My defense is... aggressive. Don't crash your daddy's money."
Ye Tian didn't even look at him. He stepped into the tight cockpit and slid his legs in.
"You'll see my taillights. If your vision is good enough."
"You little sh*t!" Esteban's face darkened.
Ye Tian ignored him. His hands gripped the complex carbon-fiber steering wheel.
And then, it happened.
[DING!]
[System Detecting FX Race Car (2025 Spec).]
[The Apex Predator System is Activating...]
A cold, mechanical voice exploded in his skull.
Finally.
He had endured three months of training, three months of mockery, waiting for this moment. The cheat code had arrived.
[Activation Successful.]
[Scanning Host Body... Reaction Time: S-Tier. G-Force Resistance: S-Tier.]
[Distributing Rookie Gift Pack...]
[Congratulations! You have received: The Legend S (Prime Era) Absolute Car Control!]
[Congratulations! You have received Passive Skill: Machine Empathy (LV.1) — You can sense the vibration of every screw. You will predict any mechanical failure 1.0 seconds before it happens.]
WHOOSH!
A massive stream of data flooded Ye Tian's brain.
It was memories. Not his, but His.
The Red Baron. The Rain Master.
Calculations of grip levels down to the millimeter. The exact friction of the tarmac. The wind direction. The tire degradation rate.
The dashboard, which looked like a confusing spaceship console a second ago, now felt as familiar as his own fingers.
The stiff carbon seat felt like an extension of his spine.
Ye Tian closed his eyes. Inhaled.
When he opened them, the calmness was gone. Replaced by a terrifying, feral hunger.
"Radio check." Ye Tian pressed the button. His voice was deep. Steady.
"Loud and clear, Ye," came the voice of Gary, his Race Engineer. Gary sounded bored. "It's just Free Practice 1 (FP1). Take it easy. Esteban is out. Follow him, learn the lines, don't spin..."
"Negative."
Ye Tian cut him off.
"What?" Gary paused.
"Turn off the Traction Control (TC). Set Brake Bias to 58% Rear." Ye Tian commanded. "This setup is too conservative. It drives like a grandma's grocery cart. I want to unleash it."
In the garage, the mechanics exchanged horrified looks.
"Is he crazy? The VF-25 has a loose rear end! If he turns off the assists, he'll spin into the wall in Turn 1!"
Koma grabbed the radio to scream at him, but then...
The engine of the white car roared.
It wasn't a normal startup. It was a beast waking up.
VROOOOM!!!
The revs hit the limiter instantly!
Ye Tian didn't gently roll out of the garage. He dumped the clutch. The rear tires spun violently against the concrete, screaming, kicking up a cloud of white smoke.
The car shot out of the pit box like a cannonball!
Aggressive. Violent. Fast.
It bolted into the pit lane, narrowly missing a red car that was just cruising by.
Scuderia Fire. Louis Hamson.
"Whoa!"
Inside the red cockpit, Hamson jerked his steering wheel to avoid the collision. He pressed his radio, voice shocked.
"What the hell was that? Was that the Hawk? Since when do they launch like that?"
On the track, the wind howled.
Ye Tian felt the G-force slamming him into the seat. He saw Esteban's taillights in the distance. His blood began to boil.
"FX 2025. I'm here."
"Esteban, right? Teammate? No. You're just the first sacrifice."
He whispered inside his helmet. And then, he stomped the gas pedal all the way to the floor.