Chapter 139: No Respect for Kindness

After the start, Mo Shu continued with the driving style his father had taught him. The strategy was clear from the beginning: no early exertion. This was their carefully planned tactic.

As for the Equator Reaper, his driving style didn’t deviate from what Mo Shanhe and his son had anticipated—fierce but lacking any real experience on downhill courses. Although the Mustang GT accelerated rapidly and boasted impressive speed on the straights, its glaring weakness in stability, especially around corners, was now fully exposed.

By all appearances, the progress of the opening race unfolded exactly as father and son had predicted. Mo Shu felt no pressure, calmly trailing behind the Mustang GT and conserving his strength.

Halfway through the race, Mo Shu experienced for the first time how tedious a beginner-level competition could be. The Mustang GT was taking the corners too slowly, leaving no chance for Mo Shu to unleash the vector drifting technique he had practiced diligently for two months.

“Is this a race for elementary school kids? I seriously doubt the caliber of this Yunding Peak downhill competition.”

“Downhill racing? No wonder it’s so unheard of—turns out it’s just a contest of who’s slower.”

The sluggish pace frustrated the live audience immensely. They craved excitement and fierce competition, not Mo Shu’s sympathetic driving style towards his opponents.

“Mo Shu... Mo Shu...” Mo Shanhe’s voice came through the team radio.

“Dad, what’s up?”

“Why don’t you just overtake him? Give the crowd some excitement. The audience here is booing non-stop; everyone’s saying your relaxed driving is just not thrilling enough.” His tone was awkward, after all, it was he who had devised this strategy for his son.

“Uh, alright. I guess I can’t waste this rare chance to take it easy,” Mo Shu said with resignation, flashing his headlights twice, still hoping the car ahead might pick up the pace.

Mo Shu hadn’t expected the Equator Reaper to be so incompetent. Had he known this, he would have arranged for a more capable opponent for the opening race.

“Set the tone! Such an important opening race can’t be ruined by this idiot!”

If the Equator Reaper could hear that, he would surely feel deeply wronged.

Inside the Mustang GT, David Burbis, desperate to showcase the power of the “Equator Reaper,” was anything but relaxed. He had thought downhill racing would be simple—just floor it and run—but the hairpin turns clinging to the cliffside unsettled him profoundly. Panic, fear, and negativity swirled around him.

This was a world apart from the flatland drifting competitions he was used to; he even contemplated lifting off the throttle.

“Don’t wait around! The other guy’s hopeless. You need to push yourself now; some fans are already leaving,” Mo Shanhe urged his son anxiously.

To leave the opening race early would be a disgrace, a blow to the prestige of the Yunding Peak downhill competition. Mo Shu refused to let that happen. He finally lost patience with the Equator Reaper’s performance.

He resolved to settle things at the next corner and finally placed his right hand firmly back on the steering wheel.

“Attention, viewers! I’ve noticed Mo Shu’s car is accelerating; it seems he’s planning to overtake his opponent!”

“Yes! We can see the S15 is closing in on the Mustang GT with great effort. When and how will Mo Shu make his move? Let’s all wait and see.”

The two commentators, previously struggling for words during the dull moments, finally found a topic to discuss. Mo Shu’s action also halted the departing spectators just in time.

Better to watch the overtake first; after all, who isn’t curious?

The giant screen atop Yunding Peak displayed Mo Shu swiftly changing his racing line. Since the Mustang GT stubbornly occupied the outer line that minimized corner radius, Mo Shu had no choice but to attack from the inside, aiming to take the lead before entering the turn.

An inside-line overtake? The knowledgeable audience sensed the risk.

What if the Equator Reaper stuck to the “outside-inside-outside” line?

What if Mo Shu failed to pull ahead before the turn?

There was no room for hesitation. Once Mo Shu decided, he was determined to succeed.

Although the S15’s horsepower was average, maintaining speed before the turn made gaining half a car length lead entirely feasible.

But Mo Shu overlooked one crucial fact.

His opponent, nicknamed the “Equator Reaper,” was no ordinary driver.

He cared little whether Mo Shu held the inside line or not. Sportsmanship and respect were foreign concepts to him.

As Mo Shu poked his nose ahead, the Mustang GT aggressively squeezed inward from the outside lane.

Damn! Cutting me off!

It was clear the Equator Reaper was willing to risk fouling just to deny Mo Shu a favorable position. Mo Shu, legally occupying the inside line, refused to yield.

But accidents often happen because both drivers assume the other won’t brake.

Then came the screech of tires.

The S15’s right front fender briefly grazed the Mustang GT’s left headlight.

Mo Shu snapped his head to glare at his rival, only to see him flipping the middle finger.

Shameless!

Trailing behind is trailing behind; yielding to the lead car is an ironclad rule in every motorsport.

But rules are made for the well-mannered; for the Equator Reaper, they meant nothing.

Relying on his heavier car, the Mustang GT once again brutally forced its way into Mo Shu’s space.

Fine, you asked for it. No mercy from me now, Mo Shu decided grimly.

Timing it perfectly before the turn, and following the Mustang’s leftward pressure, the S15 suddenly swung left.

A drift? Starting a drift on a straightaway shocked everyone.

The Equator Reaper hadn’t expected this. He intended to force Mo Shu to brake, but instead, Mo Shu maintained speed and violently drifted sideways.

This meant the Reaper’s attack would fail.

Moreover, his excessive left steering caused the Mustang GT’s front to lose control, veering towards the inner side of the mountain bend.

With a fierce flick of the S15’s rear, the Mustang GT smashed through the guardrail, unable to stop its momentum as it rolled over.

“Sorry... you left me no choice...” Mo Shu stabilized his car and offered a quiet apology to the Mustang GT tumbling down the ravine.

All racers are one family; there’s no need for division.

Mo Shu always respected every opponent, even if many didn’t reciprocate.

“Wow!!! Mo the God is mighty!!!”

“Spectacular! Thrilling!”

“Did you see how that Mustang GT bullied our Mo? Serves him right!”

“Serves him right! The so-called Equator Reaper ended up destroying himself.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, and those about to leave returned to their seats.