"Gary here. Ye, listen to me. These Hard tires—the White ones—are ice cubes right now. And according to the wind tunnel, the VF-25 has zero grip in low-speed corners. Do not push the limit yet..."
Gary's voice in the earpiece was anxious. Impatient.
To him, babysitting a "Pay Driver" was just a job. He just needed to make sure the kid didn't bin the car and destroy the expensive carbon fiber floor.
"Copy."
Ye Tian answered. But under his visor, his eyes were razor-sharp.
Click!
His fingers snapped the upshift paddle. The engine screamed, nearing the 12,000 RPM redline!
"What is he doing?!"
On the Hawk pit wall, Koma jumped out of his seat. He stared at the telemetry screen, eyes bulging. "Full throttle on an out-lap? With cold tires?! He's going to put it in the wall at Turn 1!"
But on the track, Ye Tian was in a trance.
[System Active: The Legend S — Prime Instincts.]
The world changed.
The gray asphalt was no longer just road. It was data.
A glowing "Golden Line" appeared on the track surface, winding through the corners. It was the perfect racing line, calculated down to the millimeter.
More importantly, the car—this VF-25, mocked as a "Mobile Chicane"—was talking to him.
Every flaw was amplified in Ye Tian's mind.
Suspension is too soft. Brake thermal decay is terrible. Understeer... it drives like a boat.
Ye Tian smirked.
Industrial garbage. Confirmed.
But even garbage can fly if you throw it hard enough.
Ahead. Turn 4.
A nasty, downhill right-hander. The VF-25's nightmare. Usually, Hawk drivers braked early and prayed the car would turn.
Ye Tian didn't lift.
BOOM!
The car roared into the braking zone at suicidal speed.
"Brake! BRAKE!" Gary screamed, his finger hovering over the 'Report Accident' button.
Ye Tian didn't brake. Not yet.
Just as the car was about to wash out due to massive understeer, Ye Tian yanked the steering wheel in the opposite direction. Simultaneously, his left foot tapped the brake pedal with surgical precision.
Weight transfer!
The heavy, clumsy VF-25 suddenly snapped its tail out. The tires shrieked in protest.
He was throwing the car sideways!
A Scandinavian Flick! In an FX car!
Lateral G-force hit 4.8G!
The car slid like a rally machine, the rear end dancing on the edge of disaster. The nose pointed perfectly at the apex.
Then—Gas.
Ye Tian stomped on the throttle.
The car shot out of the corner without losing momentum.
He was 25 km/h faster than the simulator's "theoretical maximum."
"This..."
Gary stared at the telemetry. His jaw hit the floor.
The suspension sensors showed the springs had bottomed out. The car should have spun. It didn't.
Is this human?
Further up the track.
The other white Hawk car was starting a push lap.
Esteban. The Frenchman. The veteran.
Esteban was a solid driver, but his reputation was trash. He fought his teammates harder than he fought the enemy.
"Engineer, is the Chinese rookie out yet?" Esteban asked lazily on the radio. "Tell him to stay out of my way. I'm putting in a banker lap to show Koma who the Number 1 driver is."
Silence for two seconds.
Then, his engineer's voice came back. Trembling.
"Esteban... check your mirrors."
"What?"
Esteban glanced at his left side mirror.
It was empty a second ago.
Now, a white nosecone filled the glass.
If he didn't know better, he'd think it was a cruise missile flying at ground level.
"Merde!" (Sh*t!)
Esteban flinched. "How?! He was in the pits! How did he catch me so fast?"
Before his brain could process it, Ye Tian was already sniffing his gearbox.
End of the straight.
Esteban's eyes narrowed. Malice flashed in them.
Trying to pass me? Dream on, rookie. Welcome to FX. Let me teach you the 'Esteban Defense'.
Esteban didn't yield. Instead, right before the braking zone, he swerved!
He blocked the inside line.
A dirty move. Dangerous.
"Hey! He's weaving!" A mechanic in the Hawk garage shouted. "It's Free Practice! They're teammates! Is Esteban crazy?"
Ye Tian saw the block. He smiled.
Playing dirty?
Fine. Let me show you what a real thug looks like.
Ye Tian didn't slow down. He didn't dodge.
He drove straight at Esteban's rear wing!
Chicken game.
Who brakes first?
Just milliseconds before a catastrophic crash, Ye Tian utilized a reaction time that was 0.5 seconds faster than Esteban's. He jerked the wheel to the outside!
Late braking!
Around the outside?!
At this corner in Bahrain, the outside line was the death zone. It was covered in sand and dust. Zero grip.
"Idiot." Esteban saw Ye Tian's move and sneered. "Overtaking on the outside? Enjoy eating sand in the runoff area."
However—
[System Skill: Grip Sensing.]
As Ye Tian hit the dirty outside line, the car didn't slide.
His eyes found the only clean strip of asphalt amidst the sand. A path no wider than a smartphone.
The Hawk VF-25 carved a beautiful, impossible arc.
He traveled a longer distance, but his momentum was so high that he acted like a satellite orbiting a planet. The centrifugal force glued him to the track.
Wheel to Wheel!
They went through the apex side-by-side!
Esteban looked to his right in horror.
He saw Ye Tian turn his head.
Through the dark visor, the rookie stared right at him. Coldly. Like looking at trash.
Next second. Exit.
Ye Tian had the better angle. He floored it.
SWOOSH!
The engine roared as Ye Tian surged ahead!
And as he passed, he deliberately flicked the steering wheel inward. Just an inch.
Cut.
The turbulent air form Ye Tian's rear wing smashed directly into Esteban's front wing.
Esteban lost front downforce instantly. His steering went light.
To avoid a crash, the Frenchman had to slam on the brakes and bail out.
He ran wide, bouncing over the curbs and into the dirt!
"Fxxk!!!"
Esteban screamed on the radio. "That maniac! He cut me off! He almost killed me! Report him! Dangerous driving!"
Nobody answered him.
The Hawk pit wall was dead silent.
Because on the timing screens, the box next to Ye Tian's name for Sector 1 just lit up.
It wasn't Green (Personal Best).
It wasn't Yellow.
It was PURPLE.
In FX, Purple means Fastest of All.
"Purple?"
Koma cleaned his glasses frantically. His hand holding the radio was shaking. " Is the timing system broken? How can our car set a Purple Sector? Even Louis Hamson in the Ferrari only did a Green one!"
The data analyst looked up, sweat beading on his forehead. He looked terrified.
"Boss... system is fine."
"Ye's cornering speed on the outside line... was 15 km/h faster than the wind tunnel's theoretical limit."
"He's driving in a way that violates physics. The floor should have shattered, but he just... caught it."
Koma's mouth hung open.
He stared at the name "Ye Tian" flashing on the screen.
He thought he signed a rich kid to pay the electricity bills.
Instead...
Did he just sign a monster?
On the track.
Ye Tian didn't care about the panic he caused.
Once he passed Esteban, the air was clean. The road was open.
"Gary. Tell Esteban."
Ye Tian pressed the radio button while wrestling the steering wheel at 300 km/h. His voice was calm. No panting. No stress. Just ice.
"Next time he sees this red helmet, tell him to move aside."
"Or next time, he won't just run wide. I'll put him in the wall."
In the garage, the mechanics who were ready to laugh at the "Pay Driver" stood frozen like statues.
And the German reporter from the press conference? He dropped his coffee cup.
Crash.
"This... This is impossible..."