Chapter Forty-Four: The Ultimate Battle (Part Two)

Not only Jiang Xuan, but the global world of racing had never seen a driver run 35 consecutive laps on a dry track with full wet tires and still clinch victory. Even an expert like Jiang Xuan had stated that in the latter stages of the race, Mo Shu’s lead would inevitably shrink as the drivers behind gained ground; the fans watching the race took this as gospel.

This was especially true for those following the race via livestream. Not only could they question the strategy, but they could also comment and post bullet messages to declare their opinions. At this moment, fans of the Kunsheng Team had gathered, unleashing a torrent of doubts and derision in the livestream’s comment feed.

“He’s lost his mind, Mo the Dog!”
“Using full wets on a dry track, what the hell...”
“Amateur, utter amateur!”
“Crush Mo the Dog, my Black Mirror will surely win!”
“This kind of racing won’t get far. I’ve followed motorsport for over a decade myself! There’s just no precedent!”
“So naive—if full wets could actually deliver an advantage on a dry track with their pathetic speed, why would all the teams bother developing soft tires? The Stellar team is really asking for trouble!”

Meanwhile, the supporters of the Stellar Team had already lost their will to fight back. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to rally a counterattack online; it was just that Mo Shu’s glaring blunder had left them completely at a loss. All they could do was furtively discuss matters among themselves in their fan chat groups.

“What’s happened to Mo the God? Is he just going to hand the title to Black Mirror?”
“Brothers, my heart’s about to shatter.”
“Why are you panicking? Isn’t Mo the God still leading by a lot right now?”
“Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t understand! Didn’t you hear the experts on the broadcast? Wet tires are useless on a dry track. I suggest you brush up on your tire categories before joining the discussion!”
“Exactly! I’m about to turn off the stream and go do something else—this is a guaranteed loss. My heart aches for Mo the God.”
“What a rookie mistake. I’m backing Black Mirror for this one. If Mo keeps being stubborn and refuses to pit for slicks, I’m switching allegiance to Kunsheng Team next year.”
“Traitor alert! Get out! Leave the group!”
“Is the admin here? Kick that mole out!”
“To hell with it, I don’t need you to kick me, I’ll leave myself!”

Arguments broke out, and the fans descended into infighting. Even the group admin had gone into hiding, not daring to show his face, silently praying in his heart: Mo the God, what exactly are you playing at? You have to win this one! Otherwise, the fan groups I’ve worked so hard to build will be empty after this race!

Just as the fan group was embroiled in a bitter quarrel, someone spammed the chat with urgent news: “Stop fighting! Stop fighting! It’s lap 10—Mo the God is pitting for tires!”

Heavens! Hope was rekindled. Mo the God and his team had finally come to their senses. Everyone hurriedly switched their screens back to the livestream window.

Sure enough, Mo Shu was pitting. The main broadcast still showed the race, but the lower left picture-in-picture was now streaming his pit stop live.

“Old Wang, sorry, I overestimated the wet tires’ performance—they can last at most 27 laps, so please have the crew get another set ready for me!” Mo Shu communicated to Wang Yu over the team radio.

“OK, don’t worry about it. After all, the decision was only made last night—a new strategy always brings new problems,” Wang Yu replied reassuringly.

To make the broadcast more entertaining, sometimes the team radio was played live, and these two lines were heard by every spectator watching the race.

The on-site expert commentator, Jiang Xuan, hurriedly explained, “Looks like my prediction was right. The Stellar Team really did want to take a gamble this time, but... alas... their engineers made the wrong call!”

Online, the Stellar fans finally dared to respond to the Kunsheng supporters—if only a little.

“So what if it was a minor slip-up? You haters, did you not see that Mo the God was still over a lap ahead when he pitted? With new ultra-softs, he’s still a hero!”

“Mo the God is unbeatable! With the ultra-softs, Black Mirror doesn’t stand a chance!”

“Go Mo the God!”

In the pit lane, the Stellar crew’s tire change was as fast as ever. From afar, Wang Yu flashed a victory sign to Mo Shu, who nodded back with confidence before racing back onto the track, seizing every second.

“My God is back! He’s going to widen the lead again!” Stellar fans erupted in cheers in the bullet comments.

But then, suddenly, a wave of mocking and derisive comments swept in, drowning out their jubilation.

“Hahaha, I can’t believe it—they’re still using full wets!”

“Are they crazy at Stellar? I thought I was seeing things!”

“Mo the Dog is still celebrating—maybe take a closer look before you howl. No wonder he’s a dog...”

The Stellar fans fell silent. Though scattered across different cities and places, they were all now doing the same thing: staring intently at their screens.

Was it really still full wets?!

Mo the God! God, my foot!

What was the journey from heaven to hell like? In just over a minute, the Stellar fans experienced it in full.

A single thought rang clear in every heart: Mo Shu, have you lost your mind?!

At that moment, Mo Shu was just clearing the pit lane speed limit zone and managed to re-enter the track ahead of Black Mirror. But the lap-and-a-half advantage he’d held was nearly gone; glancing in the rearview, Mo estimated the gap couldn’t be more than five seconds.

After all, having just exited the pits, he needed to ramp up his speed as quickly as possible.

But Black Mirror, having just come off the main straight, was only accelerating, steadily closing the distance between them.

Four seconds... the official data ticked along the bottom of the screen.

3.59 seconds...

2.83 seconds...

It was over! Mo the God was about to be overtaken! The remaining calm Stellar fans were hopping with anxiety.

Damn this strategy! Damn these wet tires! He’s sure to be overtaken!

1.33 seconds...

Black Mirror had already drawn up alongside, poised to make his move.

The livestream feed switched to the camera inside Mo Shu’s cockpit, giving every viewer a sense of being right there in the race. The dashboard data was digitally overlaid in the lower right, giving the audience an even stronger sense that they were playing a racing game themselves.

Everyone could see that Mo Shu’s current speed was 176 kilometers per hour, in third gear, revs over 5,000, foot hard on the throttle, engine temperature still on the low side.

Over 5,000 revs and still not shifting up? What was Mo Shu doing? The viewers couldn’t make sense of it.

But then—6,000... 7,000... 8,000... 9,000—still in third gear, but now the engine temperature was finally reaching optimal.

This can’t go on in third gear—at such high revs, the engine would quickly burn out! Just as Black Mirror was closing in, and everyone thought it was over, something astonishing happened on Mo Shu’s in-car camera.

Suddenly, the view jolted; Mo Shu’s body, strapped tightly by the six-point harness, was thrown back as if by a sudden surge. The spectators were shocked—was he accelerating?

They looked at the digital dashboard—third gear had jumped to fifth, the revs dropped back to around 4,000. Mo Shu had shifted up two gears at once!

But what about the speed? There’s a big difference between race fans and actual drivers—fans always care more about the speed.