Chapter Forty-One: No Longer the Li Xun of Years Past

"Riiing~~~" Mo Shu was sprawled on his bed, utterly engrossed in the online miracle created by the "Stellar Racing Team Supporters," when Wang Yu's call came in.

"Hello! Was this your doing?" Wang Yu’s voice brimmed with barely contained excitement.

"What do you mean, my doing? I have no idea what you’re talking about!" Mo Shu feigned ignorance, still playing dumb.

"Cut it out. What’s this about the Stellar Racing Team Supporters? And who’s this Night Patrol in Brocade?" Wang Yu couldn’t wait to uncover the truth.

"Hahaha, so you've seen it! Am I impressive or what?" Mo Shu boasted, full of self-satisfaction.

"Come on, spill! What happened?!"

"Answer me first, am I awesome or not?!" Mo Shu pressed relentlessly.

"Alright, alright, my almighty Mo. As the eldest son of the Wang Corporation, I admit you’re truly remarkable!" Wang Yu grumbled, but had no other choice.

"Good, as long as you know," Mo Shu continued to keep him in suspense.

"Just tell me already! Or I’ll drive over to your place right now!" Wang Yu threatened, and he was serious—he’d even considered bringing Wang Yining along for backup.

"Fine, fine, let me explain it all to you..." Mo Shu began, unhurried.

Now, as for this "Night Patrol in Brocade," it wasn't that Wang Yu was too dense to figure it out—he simply wasn't well acquainted with Li Xun.

Li Xun, Mo Shu's rival in the desert, the blond youth who had hosted the Stellar Racing Team in Germany.

And what was he capable of? Before heading to Germany, he was a notorious "princeling" in Nanshan City. If not for the lesson Mo Shu had taught him in the desert—leaving him thoroughly chastened and reformed—he’d probably still be throwing his weight around Nanshan.

Wang Yu, on the other hand, though also a second-generation rich kid, was a model student. He rarely hung out with so-called "bad company," had a small social circle, and wasn’t particularly sensitive to the subtleties of networking. After so much time back from Germany, he’d all but forgotten Li Xun’s name.

Though both Wang Yu and Li Xun came from privileged backgrounds, they were like parallel lines—aside from racing, their paths seldom crossed.

Mo Shu recalled a bit of philosophy: one should always view things dialectically.

So, loving to study is a good thing, but not being academic and instead making friends far and wide isn’t necessarily bad either. In situations like this, the advantage of Li Xun’s wide network became abundantly clear.

What Mo Shu hadn’t anticipated was just how reliable Li Xun turned out to be. Upon receiving Mo Shu’s plea for help via WeChat, Li Xun replied instantly and immediately mobilized his "bad company" back in China to rally the troops.

And his friends? They were no ordinary crowd. Several were influential figures in their respective industries; beyond the usual business owners who could call on their employees, more than a dozen were founders or partners in internet companies. In just half a day, this crew had gathered hundreds of thousands of people, each with their own social networks. Thus, the "Stellar Racing Team Supporters," numbering in the millions, was born overnight.

Mo Shu recalled that ever since returning from Germany, his phone often buzzed with messages of concern from Li Xun, who was still overseas.

Li Xun had even said more than once that, when he’d mastered his craft, he hoped to follow Mo Shu onto the track and bring honor to China.

At first, Mo Shu didn’t want to reply. They didn’t share a deep friendship, and he worried Li Xun might still resent their desert conflict.

But as Li Xun repeatedly brought up the past to apologize, Mo Shu found it hard to keep his distance. Gradually, they talked more and more, and through Li Xun, Mo Shu gleaned bits of news about Russlein—news he’d been longing for, as he was determined to uncover the truth behind the Russlein incident.

When Mo Shu finally acquired Russlein’s race car in Rome, he sent a photo to Li Xun with a request to pass it on. Unexpectedly, even the Six Realms Grandmaster—still recovering in the hospital—entrusted Li Xun to tell Mo Shu not to be formal, and that the car was his from that day forward.

Through these exchanges, Mo Shu’s understanding of Li Xun deepened. They spoke at length several times about Russlein, and thanks to Russlein’s complaints and revelations, Mo Shu and Li Xun gradually pieced together the web of interests around Wilmin and the ways Kunsheng Group had schemed to curry favor and elevate Wilmin’s position.

On the other end of the line, Wang Yu listened as if engrossed in a novel. Who would have thought that, beneath the surface of the vibrant, passionate world of international racing, figures like Wilmin were plotting to seize power and manipulate everything from the shadows?

It seemed Wilmin, the Six Realms Grandmaster who sidelined Russlein, and even Kunsheng Racing Team all faced the same looming crisis.

They were playing with fire—and might just get burned.

Mo Shu and Wang Yu’s call lasted nearly an hour and a half. At last, Wang Yu had learned everything he wanted to know, bid Mo Shu goodnight, and urged him to take care of his health. After all, the final race would decide the Stellar Racing Team’s honor.

Mo Shu hung up, but he didn’t go straight to bed. Instead, he opened his laptop, staring blankly at blueprints for race car structures.

He was pondering: what if he could fit the W20, the six-turbocharged engine from Russlein’s car, beneath his own car’s hood—even if just for one race?

And if he dared take the risk and use a non-compliant engine, how could he possibly evade the strict post-race inspections and make the results count?

For the team’s technicians and even the chief designer, this would be a mission impossible. But Mo Shu was done playing by the rules. To defeat Black Mirror more securely, to give his team and himself a perfect ending to a year of struggle, he was ready to risk everything.

So Mo Shu locked himself away, working in seclusion for several days and nights.

When the new week began, Mo Shu appeared in the team’s assembly workshop, hair disheveled, face unwashed—so much so that Wang Yu almost didn’t recognize his own driver, thinking instead some vagrant had wandered in.

"I’ve got a solution..." Mo Shu, dark circles heavy beneath his eyes, poked Wang Yu’s forehead with a finger.

"What solution?" Not just Wang Yu, even the chief designer had no idea what grand scheme Mo Shu harbored.

"It’s Monday today. Tomorrow’s Tuesday, and we leave for Qing City. Give me one night—let me modify the car once more!" Mo Shu looked as though he could fall asleep standing.

"You...in your state, pulling an all-nighter isn’t a good idea," the chief designer said, embarrassed. It seemed everyone would need to stay up another night with Mo Shu.

"It’s fine, just let me sleep five hours. This afternoon I’ll..." Mo Shu didn’t finish his sentence. Leaning against the lift, he really did fall asleep.

"Hey..."

"He works too hard!"

"Such dedication!"

"If even Mo the God is going to work overtime, we should too."

The team’s mechanics all sighed in admiration.

None of them noticed the bead of sweat trickling down the chief designer’s forehead.

Damn it, you’re all young guys. I’m an old man with a family and kids...