The noise and madness vanished into nothingness amidst the roaring engines and interweaving slipstreams. The passionate Brazilians fell silent.
Ferrari takes the initiative. Mercedes goes on the offensive. Car 22 counters fiercely. Cars 5 and 77 react dynamically to seize the advantage. Car 22 and Car 44 engage in a needle-to-wheat-awn, wheel-to-wheel duel. Car 5 takes the lead. Car 22 suppresses Car 44.
Everything happened in less than five seconds. It was dizzying, overwhelming.
Even the battle-hardened David Croft couldn't keep up with the rhythm. He completely lost the ability to think, relying purely on reflex to call out names like reading a menu.
"Vettel passes on the outside!"
"Kai holds his position! He's incredibly tough against Hamilton's attack! He refuses to yield in the Senna S!"
"Bottas's plan to overtake is disrupted! He's forced off the track!"
Chaos! Entanglement! Deadlock!
Kai displayed unbelievable toughness. Holding the middle line despite slightly inferior grip, he used a combination of steering and throttle to secure his position. He stayed slightly ahead everywhere, maintaining rhythm through the continuous Turns 1 and 2 like a tango—flowing yet passionate. Turn left, resist, swerve right, block.
Seamless!
Then, he forcefully took the inside line into Turn 3, brutally shoving Hamilton behind his gearbox.
Whoosh.
Croft stared unblinkingly. He had used up his entire breath and had to watch helplessly as the cars filed through Turn 3 and pierced onto the back straight. The connected afterimages formed a streak of light that illuminated the Senna S, roaring out of the main grandstand's view.
"Vettel. Kai. Hamilton. Bottas. Verstappen."
Crack, crack, crack. A rapid-fire burst, full firepower.
"Wow. Unbelievable."
"Hamilton decisively launched a storm of an attack into Turn 1, but Kai's response was crisp and clean. His tough stance left no room. Inconceivably, he withstood the defending champion's assault and firmly blocked both Mercedes cars behind him."
"Vettel emerges from the chaos to lead the 2018 Brazilian Grand Prix!"
"Wow! The two Ferraris are leading! Running 1-2, firmly locking Mercedes behind them! If the race ends in this order, Ferrari will retake the lead in the Constructors' Championship and gain the upper hand in this season's title fight!"
As soon as he finished speaking, his scalp tingled. An electric current shot from his feet to his head, electrifying his whole body. Croft turned to his co-commentator. Both their faces bloomed with massive smiles, their goosebumps practically screaming—
This kind of confrontation, this suspense, this duel—this is the essence of competitive sports.
Brundle simply couldn't believe it.
"For today's start strategy, the Ferrari strategy team did an unbelievable job. Believe me, I'm doubting my own words."
"But without a doubt, all the praise and credit belong to Kai Zhizhou."
"At the critical moment of the championship fight, this young, first-year driver displayed unparalleled calmness and toughness. Facing layers of pressure, he responded openly, held his position, and led Ferrari to take the most solid step toward the two World Championships of the 2018 season!"
Chaos!
Praise! Gasps! Fanaticism! Noise!
A total explosion. The entirety of Interlagos was swept into a storm. As expected, both Mercedes and Ferrari had thrown caution to the wind.
The clamor rolled in!
While the broadcast eagerly played replays to figure out exactly what happened at the start, the gunsmoke on the track had yet to clear.
Kai didn't have time to worry about anything else because Hamilton was still glued to his gearbox, firmly within DRS range.
Normally, Hamilton wouldn't be this aggressive or risky. But clearly, this wasn't a normal time. With the World Championship on the line, Hamilton's fighting stance was entirely different. His attempt to force Ferrari's hand at the start had failed. His backup plan, Bottas, hadn't worked either and was almost overtaken by Verstappen. Now, with the two Ferraris leading, Mercedes was suddenly in trouble. Hamilton launched an all-out pursuit without hesitation.
He wasn't going to wait. He planned to take the position back on the first lap.
Through Sector 1, Hamilton stuck to Kai. It was a high-speed section, and the dirty air effect was limited. He wasn't worried.
Entering Sector 2, Hamilton attacked without hesitation. His determined, aggressive posture gave Kai no room to breathe.
Approaching Turn 5, Hamilton made his move.
At this downhill, high-speed left-hander, the bumpy surface of Interlagos usually forces drivers to be cautious.
However, Hamilton unhesitatingly peeked to the outside. Regardless of how Kai reacted, he threw a dummy and instantly dove to the inside.
In an instant, Kai was squeezed to the outside.
Kai had to admit, he was caught off guard.
Today's Hamilton was different from the past. His aggressive, determined, impatient stance defied expectations. His actions and strategy were unpredictable. Kai, having successfully defended his position earlier, didn't foresee this and failed to hold his ground at Turn 5.
Now, Car 22 and Car 44 were completely side-by-side. Hamilton's front right wheel had passed Kai's rear left wheel.
In other words, according to racing rules, Hamilton now held the positional advantage. If Kai forcibly closed the door to defend, leading to a rub or collision, Kai would be deemed at fault and receive at least a 10-second penalty.
In a race like this, a penalty would be fatal.
In qualifying yesterday, Hamilton nearly caused a collision with Leclerc, but the FIA didn't penalize him. That was a signal: other teams better not try to provoke Mercedes, or the FIA would personally step in and let them taste authority.
Kai couldn't take the risk.
So, did this mean Hamilton had calculated this? That Kai would be restricted, hence choosing such an attacking tactic? Desperately clinging to Kai, trying to anger him, to provoke him into committing a foul?
If so, Hamilton was going to be disappointed. Kai wasn't a soft persimmon, but he wasn't a fool either.
Push! Defend!
Although Kai's racing line was squeezed to the outside, he neither took a risk nor retreated. He firmly held his line, even if he was slightly at a disadvantage.
Seeing Car 44 almost catch up entirely exiting Turn 5, the red and silver blurs sped side-by-side down the straight, diving into the continuous technical corners of Sector 2—the section where Mercedes held a total advantage.
Vroom! Vroom vroom!
Relying on his exit angle from Turn 5, Kai made a slight correction to gain better exit speed. He pinned the throttle, re-establishing a slight advantage on the short straight. The crushing G-forces seemed to press entirely against his seatbelts, pinning his chest and neck to the seat. Yet, amidst the lightning speed, his focus remained at 200%. He didn't waver, refused to relax. His knuckles gripping the steering wheel turned white.
Simultaneously, he nudged the steering wheel slightly to the left. It was imperceptible to an observer, but Hamilton could feel the oppressive pressure bearing down on him. The airwave swirled between their wheel arches. The grip on his front tires was slipping away bit by bit. Despite gripping the wheel with all his might, the car felt like it was slipping out of his control.
Then came Turn 6—
Tough! Resolute!
Car 22, like an angry bull, used its horns to solidly push against Car 44. The racing line squeezed outward, bit by bit, almost invisibly.
In the side-by-side, unyielding entanglement, Car 44 felt increasingly uncomfortable but couldn't complain. Its racing line was forced to widen gradually. By the time Hamilton realized it and proactively drifted outward to create space, trying to use the outside line to gain cornering rhythm and suppress Kai, it was too late.
Damn it!
Turn 6, Turn 7, Turn 8.
Three continuous right-handers, the arc growing wider and wider. The entire track curled up like a whirlpool. Kai, holding the inside advantage, firmly locked his position. Giving Hamilton a taste of his own medicine, he used the physical presence of his car to squeeze the space, abruptly "pushing" Hamilton out.
Hamilton completely hadn't expected Kai to use such a "dirty trick." It was like a hidden elbow in a football match—the referee couldn't see it, but the elbow digging into your ribs ached dully, throwing your whole body off balance. It was incredibly awkward.
By the time Hamilton reacted, trying to proactively pull wide to create space, he realized—Turn 8! A sharp, acute corner!
Kai braked extremely late, his car lying across the corner, blocking the turning angle.
Hamilton had just pulled his nose out to the side. It was too late to force his way back in and crash. He could only brake extremely late on the outside line, taking a large, very, very large arc through the sharp corner.
Meanwhile, Kai, well-prepared, turned the steering wheel to the right to the absolute limit. Using advanced slip angle control, he rapidly passed Turn 8 and dove into Turn 9 without pausing. In the sequence of technical corners, he shook off Hamilton in a cunning, almost shameless manner, pulling away to take the lead.
Hamilton felt a breath catch in his chest, temporarily unable to make a sound.
"Beautiful!"
"Tough. Smart. Extreme. Going with the flow. Adaptable."
"In the continuous duel of attack and defense, Kai once again showcases his talent and ability. Even facing a four-time World Champion, he shows no weakness. He repels the defending champion's second wave of attacks and seizes the opportunity to open a gap, dropping Hamilton out of DRS range."
"Absolutely brilliant!"
"The first lap at Interlagos has been a rollercoaster from the start, but Ferrari holds their positions! Vettel and Kai lead the Brazilian Grand Prix!"
Hearts surged! Blood boiled!
Only now did the Ferrari pit wall finally let out a sigh of relief. They collectively raised their arms and cheered, clenching their fists and celebrating loudly.
In stark contrast, the Mercedes garage next door was dead silent. There wasn't even a sigh or a complaint.
Wolff stared motionlessly at the live feed, showing no reaction. He just stared at the Number 22 Ferrari without blinking. No one knew what he was thinking, but his tense muscles dropped the temperature in the garage to freezing point.
"Kai, brilliant driving," Arrivabene's voice came over the radio.
Not Pierre. Kai was a bit surprised, but thinking about it, he wasn't. After all, the start strategy had been disrupted again—
The one leading now wasn't Kai.
For the team, it made no difference whether Kai or Vettel led. As long as they finished 1-2, they would lead the Constructors' Championship.
But for the drivers, the top three positions awarded 25, 18, and 15 points respectively. The difference was massive and directly impacted Kai and Hamilton's rivalry. Currently, the points gap between them was exactly 10 points.
Of course, if Kai finished second (and Hamilton third), he would still close the gap by three points. But if Kai won and Hamilton finished third, they would enter the final race tied on points. The entire mindset and situation would be completely different.
So, in this situation, what would Arrivabene choose?
Kai remained calm, showing no abnormality. Since Arrivabene spoke personally, he should at least give the Team Principal a chance to explain.
"Thank you," Kai said.
Arrivabene took a deep breath. "At the start, it was chaotic. Because Mercedes' strategy disrupted our tactical deployment, Seb ran ahead. At that time, Seb had no space to cut back; it was the only choice in a difficult situation. You both did an excellent job."
"Okay," Kai said.
Concise and direct.
He understood the chaotic situation at the start. From the team's perspective, they didn't really want Vettel and Hamilton to take each other out, because they weren't sure if Kai would get caught up in it. In a rapidly changing race, things happen. No problem.
Therefore, Kai didn't assign blame. Instead, he focused entirely on defending against Hamilton. He not only let Vettel past but maintained his focus, withstanding Hamilton's second wave of attacks. From a team standpoint, he had contributed to the Constructors' World Championship.
However, "I need my position back." Kai didn't waste time on nonsense. Understanding didn't mean compromising, and it certainly didn't mean yielding.
There was no need for explanations; the focus was on the subsequent solution. After all, the race had just begun. There were still 70 laps to run.
Arrivabene paused. Honestly, he wasn't surprised by Kai's directness. Clean. Concise. Fair. Candid.
"Okay," Arrivabene was equally straightforward. This was probably the first time this season that Arrivabene fully sided with Kai.
Ferrari needed this championship—not just the Constructors', but the Drivers' too.
Although Arrivabene knew this would grant Kai unimaginable status, it was the result Ferrari and the Tifosi wanted to see.
"...Seb." Riccardo Adami thought he had prepared himself. The secret had been spilled during the pre-race strategy meeting when they arranged the start tactics. But when it was time to actually speak, his throat felt dry. He didn't know how to say the words he had prepared.
Before Adami could continue, Vettel's voice came over the radio. "Fuck off."
Adami was stunned. "Seb?"
Vettel: "If you want me to swap positions, fuck off."
The anger finally erupted. Vettel bared his fangs. "You can tell Maurizio to fuck off. This is my track, this is my race. If he wants the position, he can overtake me fair and square on the track. If he expects me to cowardly swap positions and make way for a baby driver, no chance."
"Over my dead body."
A general in the field is not bound by the sovereign's orders—
If Kai could refuse team orders, so could Vettel. Let those self-righteous, arrogant idiots on the pit wall go to hell.
Adami's ears rang. He looked at Arrivabene helplessly.
Arrivabene heard the entire exchange.
Adami felt his temples throbbing. "Seb—"
However, Arrivabene ignored him. He looked at Pierre and nodded, giving the signal. The hesitation and wavering of the entire season had no place now.
Pierre: "Kai, you are clear to attack."
Silence on the radio, then Kai's voice. "Fuck."
Pierre was taken aback.
Kai didn't stop. "I know you're all listening, not just Pierre."
"Don't think that allowing me to attack is some sort of favor I should be grateful for. This is your mistake. How to fight for the championship, how to formulate strategy—it's all a mess. We are at a critical juncture in the World Championship fight, and this kind of mistake still happens? I am paying for your mistakes."
"He should voluntarily give the position back to me. He shouldn't even need a team order. If I hadn't given him a slipstream at the start, he'd be nowhere."
"You think I need your permission? No, I don't. Because that was my position to begin with. I tried to respect him, respect his pride as a World Champion, respect our power as a team. But clearly, I was wrong."
"Rest assured, I will take my position back. Fair and square, on the track."
"But definitely not because you permitted it."
He wasn't fighting for those bastards. He was fighting for himself, for the Tifosi, for Marchionne.
A fire raged in Kai's chest.
Anger? No, fighting spirit!
On the track, nothing is free. You have to take the initiative, fight with real swords and spears, and earn your place.
In a short moment, Kai calmed down, regaining his reason. His brain went into overdrive, his eyes locked onto the red Ferrari ahead.
Things weren't that simple. When Hamilton was tangling with Kai, Vettel had seized the opportunity to pull away. Although he wasn't pushing fully, he still opened a gap. Currently, the distance between them was about 1.2 seconds.
First, he had to consider the tactical layout of the entire race.
Second, the current situation was different from other races. The performance of the two cars was almost identical, and the tire conditions were similar. Plus, it was the very beginning of the race, making pursuit even harder.
Actually, the best method was an undercut through the pits with team strategy coordination. But that carried risks; Vettel might not submit. Moreover, Interlagos was full of variables. Kai refused to hand over the initiative.
So, his brain whirring, Kai treated the Number 5 car ahead as an objective opponent and formulated an overtaking plan.
He couldn't be anxious, nor could he be blind.
Kai didn't roll up his sleeves and rush forward impatiently. He first steadied his footing, communicated quickly with Pierre, and grasped the real-time dynamics.
Sector 1 and Sector 3 were Ferrari's strong suits. Kai maintained the same pace as Vettel, not over-pushing the car's performance.
In Sector 2, Ferrari's weak area, Kai found hidden speed in the corners through precise racing line selection. With identical car performance, he increased his rhythm bit by bit, closing the gap, slowly creeping up on Vettel.
On the surface, the race entered a brief calm period. But the broadcast immediately noticed the hidden undercurrent: Kai had quietly entered Vettel's DRS range!
And not just DRS range. A 0.6-second gap ensured Kai could launch an attack at any moment!
Although the gap was already small, considering the car, tires, and stage of the race, Kai using three laps to position himself within striking distance was a testament to his sheer one-lap pace. This young man was truly shining aggressively.
Thump! Thump!
Hearts pounded. A scent of blood surged in the air. The sharks were getting restless. The calm surface of the sea began to churn, seemingly brewing a storm.
"Ferrari should swap positions."
"Obviously, it's positive for both the Constructors' and Drivers' Championships. But the problem is, we don't know the Ferrari pit wall's strategy."
"Will they swap positions?"
In the commentary box, before the words even faded, the broadcast showed Car 22 catching Car 5's slipstream on the main straight.
Gasp!
The crowd inhaled sharply, collectively stunned. Kai attacked.
Pull out, cut inside, secure the position. Seamless.
Always brewing, always setting up, Kai had remained patient, waiting for the fatal strike.
When the opportunity appeared, he cashed it in cleanly and decisively.
It was clear to see: Kai cut to the inside line, giving Vettel absolutely no time to react. The cars were alongside. Kai's front wheel passed Vettel's rear wheel, claiming the apex of Turn 1 first. Rhythm, timing, line—everything was perfect. It just happened.
Vettel tried to defend his position in the corner, holding out wheel-to-wheel against Kai, relying on maintaining the racing line to keep up with the corner's rhythm. But Kai left no chance. His timing using the slipstream to attack was flawless. His cornering rhythm completely suppressed Vettel. He exited Turn 1 first, brutally leaving Car 5 behind, exiting the corner with higher speed and better positioning.
At this point, Kai could even cross the corner from inside to outside, fluidly switching racing lines, refusing to yield the line for the second part of the S-curve to give Vettel a chance. He claimed the apex of Turn 2 first. His passage through the entire Senna S was smooth and dashing, precisely nailing every angle and position.
Vettel was caught completely off guard. He couldn't even mount a decent defense. He surrendered the position so pathetically. Those bold words and ambitions felt like a harsh slap to the face, leaving a clear handprint on his cheek.
When the two Ferraris entered Turn 3, Kai had completely left Vettel behind, opening a gap of nearly half a car length.
A fatal blow!
"Kai Zhizhou!"
"A clean, decisive overtake! Flawlessly calculated! Total control! Timing, line selection, rhythm control. Everything was perfect!"
"Ladies and Gentlemen! Kai reclaims his position! He is leading the 2018 Brazilian Grand Prix!"
If the race ended with these standings, Abu Dhabi would host the ultimate showdown of the season. All suspense, all victory and defeat, would be decided in the desert!
However, Croft's exclamation was still swirling in his throat when the rapidly changing race on track dragged his heart swiftly into the clouds.
"DRS! Vettel opens DRS! He's preparing to take the position right back!"
"God! What is Vettel doing?!"
The Ferrari pit wall was stunned, unable to believe their eyes. Kai had cleanly taken the position back; the race was finally back on track.
But Vettel?
Adami's heart tightened. His pulse drummed. His mouth went dry. He exclaimed tensely over the radio, "Seb! Do not attack! Do not attack!"
Click.
The radio was cut off. Adami's words were blocked in his throat. He felt like he was falling from the sky in freefall, crashing into an ice cave.
Everything happened in a flash!
Straight, DRS, slipstream, pull out, swerve outside!
On the straight leading to Turn 4, Vettel unhesitatingly and decisively launched an immediate counter-attack. His pride, his dignity, his belief—in this moment, they transformed into a murderous intent in his eyes, bursting with unbelievable energy. He charged forward, risking everything, as if his entire career hung by a thread.
The crisis rolled in, piercing the skin—
Kai sensed it instantly.
Focused, unyielding. But Kai immediately went on alert. Vettel chose the outside line. One look and you knew it was a trap, forcing Kai to brake extremely late and burn his tires. DRS looked fierce and direct, but the real killer move would likely be hidden in Turn 5 or even Sector 2. When Kai's tire grip faltered, that would be Vettel's chance.
In a flash, Kai held his racing line, but he didn't brake extremely late. Instead, he firmly secured his position, refusing to panic in the face of Vettel's immediate counter-attack, maintaining his rhythm toward Turn 4.
Wheel-to-wheel!
The two Ferraris entered Turn 4 side-by-side again. A second ago, Car 5 held a slight advantage thanks to DRS, but Car 22 held its line and rhythm, stubbornly resisting the DRS attack. The next second, Car 5 lost the position in Turn 4. Car 22 effortlessly drilled out of Turn 4, relying on a stable mid-corner rhythm to exit first.
However, this wasn't the end.
Car 22's racing line deliberately swung slightly wide, squeezing Car 5's line, forcing Car 5 to widen its arc on the outside. After passing the left-hand Turn 4, it had to continue taking the long way around through the left-hand Turn 5. The arc of two consecutive left turns was causing Car 5 to lose position.
So, what should he do?
A breath caught in Vettel's chest, unable to go up or down. His flushed cheeks looked like a tomato ready to explode.
For the second consecutive time, in an attack-defense duel, the young and vigorous Kai used the simplest, wisest, and most efficient method to gain the advantage on track. It made Vettel look clumsy, stupid, weak, and powerless. He couldn't even mount an effective entanglement in the duel. That feeling of frustration was indescribable.
Then, decisively, a look of resolve appeared in Vettel's eyes—
Since he was squeezed to the outside and losing position in the continuous left-turn arcs, he might as well yield the position, cut inside across the back of Car 22 (a switchback), claim the apex, aim for a faster exit speed, and complete the counter-attack on the subsequent straight.
A four-time World Champion is not a title given lightly.
Seeing Car 22 about to exit Turn 5, Vettel turned left, preparing to switch lines through the narrow passage.
Just then... BANG!
The world seemed to hit pause.
"Beautiful!"
"Kai's defense is precise and efficient, making the wisest choice amidst the DRS assault to withstand Vettel's immediate counter-attack!"
"Kai's maturity and wisdom are making Vettel's race incredibly difficult. Vettel clearly hasn't given up, still sticking closely to Kai—" GASP!
"Contact! Puncture! Blowout!"
"God! Oh! God! Vettel and Kai collide! Vettel's tire is punctured! He goes straight off the track! Vettel might be out of the race!"
The world fell quiet. The noise vanished, time stopped. Even all the clamor and surging in sight retreated into the void. Sucked into a black hole, floating in endless desolation, unable to grasp any center of gravity or feel gravity, as if abandoned in nothingness.
Then, the sound of the blowout slammed into hearts at the speed of light—shattering them.
Clear froze. His heart contracted violently. Despair choked his throat, but he couldn't hold it back: Fuck!
"No—No no no no no!"
"Kai's right rear tire is also punctured! The leader of the Brazilian Grand Prix has a blowout!"
"It looks like both Vettel and Kai will retire from the race! Hamilton is about to become the race leader! A disaster! An absolute disaster! Ferrari is destroying their own race with their own hands! Unbelievable! I simply cannot believe this is happening before my eyes!"
"No! This shouldn't happen! Jesus Christ, none of this should happen!"
Everything happened too fast, in just a brief moment.
Kai had successfully shaken off Vettel. He noticed Vettel's movement in the rearview mirror and prepared to continue defending. He didn't even have time to hear the sound of the blowout. The car's dynamic balance was broken, his heart sank instantly. A terrible disaster swallowed him like a tidal wave. He finally realized what happened, and his anger, no longer containable, completely exploded.
"FUCK!"
"What the hell is that arrogant, stupid clown doing?! If he wants to die, he should find a quiet corner and hang himself with his belt! Or better yet, piss on the ground and drown in his own reflection! There's no need to make a fool of himself in public!"
"Ruining his own race! Ruining his own life! And now he's dragging everyone else down with him! Who does he think he is?!"
"FUCK AHHHHHHHH!"
Furious, apoplectic. Pierre, Arrivabene, Adami—the entire pit wall was dead silent, devoid of any sound.
Pierre had known Kai for a long time. This was the first time he had seen Kai lose control, whether in daily life or during a race.
However, Pierre couldn't bring himself to speak. Even words of comfort felt weightless and powerless.
The usually calm and serious Arrivabene finally couldn't hold back. He smashed his headset to the ground, cursing loudly, but it was to no avail.
Perhaps this still wasn't the end. The upcoming race in Abu Dhabi could still overturn the situation. But they all knew hope was very slim. Working hard for a whole season, fighting for a whole season, sprinting all the way, only to draw a close in such a hollow manner... that feeling couldn't be described in words.
So, was this the end?
Ferrari was still the "familiar" Ferrari. The red circus, once again becoming the laughingstock of the entire paddock. Having clearly pushed the defending champions into a corner, they threw away their victory with their own hands in such an absurd and ridiculous manner.
Could Ferrari, without Marchionne, truly return to the summit?
The whole world fell quiet. Even the engine roars in the paddock faded away. The mighty red sea of the Tifosi completely quieted down, plunging into dead silence. They couldn't even utter a curse.
Hope had been ignited, burning fiercely, shining brightly, almost illuminating the entire universe, only to be snuffed out in such an absurdly ridiculous way, plunging into the endless darkness of a bottomless abyss. It would have been better not to ignite hope from the beginning; then they wouldn't have to experience this profound despair now.
Their hearts ached so much they couldn't breathe, unable to make a sound.
That brilliant, boiling red sea gradually lost its vitality, becoming dim and dull.
Then, from the boundless darkness came a voice, faint but firm—
"Pierre. The race is not over."
It was undeniably Kai.
Pierre's frozen heart reawakened, but his voice was stuck in his throat.
Not just him. Mekies, Clear, everyone in the garage froze, unable to believe there was still a voice on the radio.
On the track, Hamilton had passed. Bottas, Verstappen, Ricciardo had all passed. Kai, with only three working wheels, was utterly defenseless. But Kai's voice remained calm and firm. His anger was still burning fiercely, but it had transformed into soaring fighting spirit.
"I will not give up. I will not surrender. Do you understand?"
"Sometimes, you think you have no choice but to give up. But even then, we still cannot give up. We need to keep holding on. We need to fight to the end."
"Pierre, do you know what the Boss said when he convinced me to join Ferrari? He said I only needed to be myself, to always fight to the end on the track. That was enough."
"I promised him, and I should keep my word."
He took a deep breath. No one knew his situation better than Kai. The so-called "fight to the end" was far more than just a slogan or a bowl of chicken soup for the soul. A mere thread of belief couldn't reverse the current predicament.
But Kai still hadn't wavered.
"I will fight to the end. As long as I haven't crossed the finish line, the race isn't over. But I can't finish this race alone. I need your help. Pierre, this is what you yourselves said today at the surprise party: I am not fighting alone."
Clear was a mess of tears and snot, looking utterly disheveled. But he wiped his face hard, completely ignoring his embarrassment and vulnerability. He clenched his fists, burning with high fighting spirit, and roared loudly at the garage, "We will fight to the end! Do you hear me?! We will not let Kai down! We are fucking Ferrari! Everyone, straighten your backs and hold your heads high! FIGHT!"
"Fight!" Mekies was the first to follow the call.
Clear, his face contorted, roared again, "FIGHT!"
The entire garage twisted into a single rope. "FIGHT!"
One voice higher than the last, one wave covering the next!
The Ferrari garage was split in two. Next door, the Garage 5 crew was mired in a mix of shock and despair, unable to react for a moment. Then, they felt the fierce, boiling bloodlust from Garage 22. One by one, they froze, all standing blankly in place.
Gazes turned. Complex emotions quietly churned deep in their eyes.
Pierre took a deep breath. Even trying his hardest to stay calm, his voice trembled slightly uncontrollably. "Kai, how can I help?"
On the radio, Kai had put the accident and disaster behind him, focusing on what was in front of him. "The floor and rear wing. Check if there's any damage. I'm returning to the pits now to change tires. I'll be right there."
The race was not over.
No, he refused to surrender.