Chapter 138: Rapid Descent, The Battle Begins

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, two months had passed.

Mo Shanhe had spent this time training his son extensively in racing, even accompanying him to the fourth round of the ERC in France.

With his father’s guidance, Mo Shu made rapid progress. Even without the system’s enhancement now, he would still be considered an outstanding racer.

However, it wasn’t just the father and son duo who had been working hard these past two months.

Take Wang Yu, for example—he had arguably worked even harder than Mo Shu.

Not only did Wang Yu serve as the team manager for the Divine Racing Team at the ERC, but whenever he had the chance, he flew back home to oversee the preparations for the Cloud Summit Downhill Race.

Of course, effort and reward go hand in hand—the Cloud Summit Downhill Race arrived on schedule without a hitch.

What delighted everyone greatly was that, besides the top domestic racers from China converging in Nanshan City, legendary racers from the international arena flocked here, drawn by Mo Shu’s rising reputation.

Just how legendary were these racers?

There was Elton Fisher, a British driver ranked third among the Six Realms Sovereigns and hailed as the Eternal Star of Masters Tournaments—hardly a mere mortal.

Then there was Simon Arto, the Finnish racer ranked second, a twelve-time endurance race champion, arguably even more formidable than Fisher.

Not to mention dozens of elite drivers from Europe, the Americas, and Oceania, who had come to support the event, turning the Cloud Summit Downhill Race into an electrifying international motorsport spectacle.

Of course, apart from closely monitoring these stars, Mo Shu and Wang Yu were both anxious about one particular driver who had yet to show up.

That was Guan Mie.

Guan Mie was not drawn into the same group as Mo Shu in the driver lottery, which gave Mo Shu a temporary sigh of relief.

But as the competition progressed, the two would inevitably face each other—it was only a matter of time.

The audience’s greatest anticipation lay in the battles between Mo Shu and the two Sovereigns.

After all, Guan Mie’s name had never appeared in the world of motorsports, neither now nor in the past.

Moreover, the Cloud Summit Downhill Race featured a highly captivating competition rule:

One-on-one duels.

Though this format was time-consuming, it provided spectators with an exhilarating viewing experience.

Two cars would launch simultaneously from the mountain summit of Cloud Peak, racing down to the valley floor.

Hundreds of broadcast-grade cameras were installed along the route, delivering live footage.

Spectators at the event could choose to watch the race on massive screens or immerse themselves at various vantage points along the course, offering multiple perspectives to enrich the sensory experience.

Early in the morning, Cloud Peak’s summit was already packed with spectators: young couples, cheerful families, and numerous devoted racing fans who had traveled from all over the world.

Their shared goal was to witness firsthand the extraordinary skills of the legendary racers.

The opening ceremony of the Cloud Summit Downhill Race was brisk and efficient.

Both Mo Shu and Wang Yu had risen from ordinary car enthusiasts to professionals; they knew well that on such a bright, sunny day, no one wanted to stand idly baking under the scorching sun, waiting endlessly for the race to begin.

Thus, after completing the necessary formalities and speeches, the inaugural race kicked off immediately.

The opening race was as crucial as the golden opening chapters of an online novel, setting the tone for the entire motorsport festival.

Therefore, after careful deliberation, the organizing committee led by Wang Yu decided to unveil their ace, Mo Shu, right from the start.

Mo Shu took it in stride; after all, no matter whom he raced against, the victor would ultimately be himself.

It wasn’t because Mo Shu had the backing of the organizing committee, but simply because everyone understood.

His opponent in this first duel was David Berbis, a South American drift racer with some international renown.

David had long competed in a drifting scene that was still nascent in this world’s island nations and had once been honored as one of the “Top Ten Stylish Drifters.”

Though David’s temperament was notoriously fiery and his technique somewhat rough around the edges, his violent yet aesthetic driving style earned him a devoted fanbase.

His admirers had even dubbed him the “Equatorial Deathgod.”

The Equatorial Deathgod’s ride was a North American muscle car, a Mustang GT, modified with a gleaming full-aluminum body.

Since the organizers placed no strict limits on vehicle modifications, this Mustang GT boasted nearly 700 horsepower—absolutely breathtaking.

As the crowd roared in support of the Equatorial Deathgod’s arrival, Mo Shu made his entrance, carrying the aura of a race founder.

“Good heavens!” gasps echoed through the stands.

“I can’t believe my eyes!”

“This is terrifying... what is that?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” even the foreign fans couldn’t help but exclaim.

The S15 Silvia, a model discontinued since the early 2000s, left everyone utterly stunned.

Mo Shu himself had undergone a lengthy period of mental preparation before deciding to race with this S15.

“Hahaha!” the Equatorial Deathgod burst out laughing loudly.

“So this is China’s top racer? This is what a top racer drives? Racing me in this thing—isn’t that an insult?” he sneered, spreading his arms mockingly.

Some spectators began to whisper complaints, growing restless.

“This car’s really not doing our Chinese pride any favors, is it?”

“Whoa, Mo God’s lost it? What’s going on here?”

“Mo God, Mo God, where’s your RT5 TCC ride? You’re worth so much, don’t you have a better car? Why on earth would you choose this relic? What even is this thing?”

In reality, these grumblers were mostly ordinary fans unfamiliar with cars.

The few seasoned enthusiasts who truly understood the S15’s history chose not to reveal the truth just yet.

They had no way of knowing how much sweat and toil Mo Shu and his tuning team had poured into this S15, nor could they guess what kind of beast lurked beneath its modest exterior.

Everything would only become clear once the race began.

Mo Shu shrugged and raised an eyebrow at the Equatorial Deathgod, silently saying, “Enough talk, let’s race.”

The Equatorial Deathgod’s fiery temper flared; arrogant and provoked, he spat out the window and waved his huge hands aggressively at Mo Shu in a “Catch me if you can” gesture.

Mo Shu sighed; he knew this posturing could go on forever.

It was time to hit the track and let the arrogant challenger eat his dust.

Thus, the pre-race provocations finally came to an end.

A beautiful young woman, dressed lightly, stepped to the center of the track.

With delicate fingers, she untied a black ribbon wrapped around her left arm and raised it high.

At once, the engines of both cars roared even more wildly.

The two vehicles became increasingly ferocious!

“Go!!!”

Flames danced seductively from the exhausts, like venomous serpents striking fear into the hearts of all.

The Cloud Summit Downhill Race was about to make history—the mountain summit battle had begun!