Chapter Fifty: The Game Segment

“What does ‘great opportunity’ mean?” Mo Shu’s face was full of question marks.

Wang Yining shot him a cold glance and made a face, clearly looking down on Mo Shu for not reading the public day’s event schedule carefully.

But soon enough, the ERC officials provided Mo Shu with an answer.

“Thank you all for coming today. As is tradition, we at the ERC have prepared an exciting interactive game for fans and drivers. If you’re interested, please head over to the ERC test track to take part in the activities.”

Why is there always a test track wherever you go? Mo Shu sighed inwardly; Europe truly is a region where motorsport thrives.

Together with the rest of the crowd, Mo Shu passed through a corridor—not overly long—and through a large, folding, retractable gate. A massive indoor test track unfolded before them.

ERC really is loaded!

That was Mo Shu’s first thought.

By his estimate, the place was the size of ten football fields, about half the area of a standard international racetrack. In Europe, where land is precious and cities are crowded, building such an indoor testing facility in the heart of a city was surely an astronomical expense.

Mo Shu pursed his lips, thinking how wonderful it would be if this were his own team’s training ground.

He glanced at the current track layout and was struck by a sense of déjà vu.

Next to him, Wang Yining held a small booklet. Mo Shu leaned in for a closer look and, realizing it was a track guide, snatched it away to study it in detail.

The diagram showed the test track as a vast rectangle. The northeast and southwest corners marked the start and finish areas. From the starting point, the course split into three branches—left, center, and right—which merged again near the finish line.

Mo Shu’s eyes lit up. This was unmistakably a map straight out of a MOBA game—the kind so popular these days, like “League of Legends,” “Honor of Kings,” and once-famed “Dota.” The left, center, and right lanes mirrored the top, mid, and bottom lanes in those games, with the start and finish serving as the opposing bases—rules Mo Shu knew all too well.

Of course, this was still a real racetrack, so there were no “towers,” “jungle camps,” “rivers,” or “crystals” as in the games.

He saw that the left and right lanes were made of gravel and asphalt, with more curves and likely tighter speed restrictions.

The center lane, meanwhile, consisted of a snowy, icy surface, with fewer bends but a much higher risk of skidding off the track at any moment—a danger that spoke for itself.

It was impressively complex. Mo Shu began to analyze the track guide in earnest, then closed his eyes, trying to commit the three routes to memory.

First, the asphalt lane was smooth and even, much like the circuits he was most familiar with, offering excellent tire grip and easier control through corners. While it didn’t allow for high speeds, it was the safest and most conservative option. Its length and the number of turns made it the biggest challenge on the course.

The gravel lane, on the other hand, was trickier. Judging by what Mo Shu could see, it wasn’t just loose stones—there were also plenty of pebbles mixed in. While the distance and number of turns were less daunting than the asphalt lane, gravel was brutal on tires. Any bumps or jumps would greatly increase the risk of losing control, making it a test of a driver’s rallying experience.

And then there was the icy, snowy lane—probably the bane of every driver there. The slick surface made maintaining speed a struggle, and handling often relied on luck. The snow was manageable enough, but where the ice was exposed, tire grip vanished entirely. If a patch of ice happened to be in the middle of a bend, all a driver could do was pray for mercy. Still, it had its advantages—shorter distance and gentler curves.

Clearly, each of the three tracks had its own style, but the organizers had done their best to balance their complexity and difficulty. No matter which route one chose, it wouldn’t be an easy ride.

Mo Shu now had a rough idea of what to expect. In the end, it was still a race—his old stomping ground. But wasn’t this meant to be a game for fans and drivers to interact? Mo Shu was still unsure how the fans were supposed to participate.

Just then, the ERC officials began announcing the rules, once again answering his question.

“First: Each team is to send one driver to freely choose an opponent. After the selection, each team will pick a co-driver for their rival, but this co-driver must be chosen from the opponent’s fan base.

Second: Once the co-drivers are chosen, each driver or co-driver will draw lots to select a track, and then the timed runs will begin.

Third: Regardless of the chosen track, the team with the shortest time wins and will earn the right to freely choose their starting position for the first ERC main event.”

Wait—what? Fans as co-drivers? This was the first time Mo Shu had heard of such a game.

Could fans even read a pace note? Did they know how to scout a course? Would they get carsick and throw up?

Mo Shu remembered that back in the desert, even seasoned racers like Zhang Aimin could barely handle the disorientation of navigating by pace notes alone, never looking out the window. If fans tried it, surely some would faint on the spot.

No matter—first things first: pick a rival. Mo Shu already knew whom he wanted.

Ron Thomas! Mo Shu stepped forward without hesitation, pointing straight at that arrogant troublemaker.

As luck would have it, he saw that Thomas had picked him as well.

Perfect! You’ve asked for it yourself, so don’t blame me for showing no mercy.

Next came the co-driver selection. In short, Mo Shu had to pick a co-driver for Thomas from among the “Munich Light” fans, while Thomas would do the same for Mo Shu.

Mo Shu, not wanting to disappoint the fans, strode over to the “Munich Light” supporters and selected a young European man, exuberant and waving both hands high.

Thomas, however, was more deliberate. He studied the crowd for quite some time, then grinned slyly and called out, “Dear friends from the East, I’m your good friend Ron Thomas! I’m about to pick a co-driver for your champion—who among you has the most rally experience?!”

“Me! Pick me!”

“Thomas, I’ve got experience!”

“Don’t pick him, pick me! I’ve been an amateur co-driver for two years!”

A throng of male fans were beside themselves with excitement, all scrambling to raise their hands. To pair up with Mo Shu, even once, would be a dream come true.

Thomas nodded in satisfaction, scanning the sea of raised hands.

“Excellent! You, right there!” Thomas made his way into the crowd and pulled out a middle-aged woman, looking awkward and rather plump.

“What the heck, why’d you pick my mom?! She’s only here to keep me company!” cried a young man who’d been especially eager.

The fans were all stunned. Of all the experienced volunteers, the foreigner had chosen a complete outsider—and a middle-aged woman, no less. Clearly, Thomas had never seen the little cars zipping along the streets of Chinese cities, rear windows plastered with “New Female Driver” stickers.

Not that there was anything wrong with female drivers—Wang Yining was living proof of a woman with superb skills behind the wheel. But there truly were some women in the world who had no affinity for machinery.

Mo Shu was just as taken aback—not that he was worried about the co-driver’s skill; after all, none of the fans would be experts. What concerned him was whether this lady could handle the wild ride that awaited her.