It was only Lap 7, and Kai had already shifted into push mode?
—Is the Ferrari strategy team out of their minds? What kind of sick joke is this?
Did they magically solve the SF90's catastrophic long-run tire degradation and cliff-drop performance issues without a single upgrade package? Did they already forget the humiliating "LiCo" meme they birthed in Bahrain just two weeks ago? Or was Ferrari so utterly desperate they were attempting to blindly copy and paste their insane Albert Park strategy here?
Question marks piled up, one after another, practically spilling over.
Following the chaotic melee of the launch phase, the race should have naturally settled into a relatively calm, stable rhythm. However, the pit lane was currently frantic. Out on the track, Kai had unilaterally sounded the horn to attack. The opening stint of the 1,000th F1 Grand Prix completely shattered all conventional expectations, leaving everyone dizzy and disoriented by the rapidly shifting dynamics.
Currently, with the race having only just begun, the average single-lap pace across the grid was hovering in the high 1:39s, potentially even dipping into the 1:40 range—
1:39.773.
1:39.891.
And so on.
First, the cars were heavy, fully loaded with fuel.
Second, cold tires. Today's overcast conditions meant the track surface had stubbornly refused to heat up.
Even though every single car on the grid had started on the Red Soft tires, the lap times during this opening phase were intentionally controlled and kept relatively slow.
To put it simply: the drivers were in management mode. They hadn't engaged push mode yet. Consequently, the performance gaps between the cars weren't glaringly obvious. Race leader Lewis Hamilton and Daniil Kvyat, currently running outside the points, were laying down virtually identical lap times. In fact, to avoid the aerodynamic penalty of running in dirty air, the trailing cars would deliberately slow their pace slightly to build a gap, unless they were actively preparing to launch an immediate overtake.
It was exactly against this specific backdrop that it happened—
Kai set a purple sector.
A lap time of 1:38.977 obviously couldn't be compared to Bottas's pole-setting 1:31.547. However, compared to the current average race pace, it represented a massive, immediate escalation to an entirely different tier. While everyone else was diligently managing their rhythm, Kai had already started pushing?
Incomprehensible! Unbelievable!
So, what exactly was Kai scheming? Pushing this aggressively, this early... wasn't he worried about fuel consumption? Or was he genuinely preparing for a three-stop—or even a four-stop—strategy?
If you paused and thought about it rationally... if Ferrari had intended to run a completely insane three- or four-stop strategy from the very beginning, they would have over-fueled the car. That extra weight would perfectly explain why Kai managed to seize an opportunity during the launch phase but ultimately lacked the raw momentum to convert it into a lasting overtake. Suddenly, all the mysteries and confusion clicked into place.
But could it be true? Was Ferrari truly prepared to take their insane Albert Park strategy, push it even further, and weaponize Kai's raw attacking capability to the absolute maximum extreme?
The debates and chaotic chatter boiled over. The entirety of the Shanghai circuit, both inside the paddock and out in the grandstands, was bubbling like a pot of boiling water—
And then, another gasp of shock ripped through the crowd.
"1:38.891! Kai! He breaks the fastest lap record again!"
This scene was incredibly familiar. It had played out at Interlagos. It had played out at Yas Marina. And it had played out at Albert Park earlier this season.
Instantly, the Mercedes-Benz pit wall noticed it. Their nerves snapped tight.
Clearly, the 2019 iteration of Ferrari was fundamentally different from 2018. The comprehensive, top-to-bottom transformation of the entire organization was visible to the naked eye. But if you asked Toto Wolff, he would pinpoint the strategy team as the most radically transformed element.
First, their overarching race strategies were vastly bolder and significantly more aggressive. They weren't afraid to take massive risks. They weren't afraid to throw a punch. In the high-stakes chess matches against Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull, they frequently dared to strike first. They were far more proactive, infinitely more positive, and exceptionally aggressive.
Second, their live, on-the-fly decision-making was significantly tighter and vastly quicker. They had completely eradicated the agonizing hesitation and paralyzing indecision that had plagued them for the past few seasons, displaying an unshakeable, steely resolve.
It strongly reminded people of... Red Bull.
However, Red Bull was Red Bull, and Ferrari was Ferrari. There were distinct differences between the two.
Red Bull's strategy often possessed a sharp, razor-edged quality; it carried the distinct aura of a desperate gambler. Ferrari, on the other hand, operated more like mad scientists. Beneath the seemingly unconstrained, wildly audacious exterior lay a deeply calculated theoretical framework. This wasn't solely born from raw intellect or mathematical algorithms; it was largely the result of profound, dynamic coordination and mutual adjustment between the technical team and the driver.
This made Ferrari's threat level skyrocket.
Since the opening of the brand new season, Wolff had desperately tried to seize total control of the narrative and establish an absolute advantage. Yet, his footsteps had constantly stumbled. Ferrari's threat felt exactly like a dagger pressed continuously against his back. It was omnipresent. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake them. It was profoundly frustrating and deeply unsettling.
And the exact same thing was happening right now.
The race had barely started, yet Ferrari had already unsheathed their sword. Kai had shifted into push mode. Leclerc had also shifted into push mode. The entire maneuver was utterly baffling.
It wasn't just Mercedes-Benz. Red Bull, Renault, Haas—the entire train of teams trailing behind immediately noticed the sudden shift in the race dynamic. Every single pair of eyes snapped toward the front—
Exactly like a marathon. The moment one runner suddenly accelerates, every other competitor is instantly forced to answer the exact same agonizing question: Do I match their pace, or do I let them go? If you don't follow, how do you adjust your own rhythm? If you do follow, are you merely trying to maintain the gap, or are you accelerating even faster to attempt to break them?
Every single car, from the front to the back of the pack, faced this exact dilemma without exception. This was especially true during the opening phase of a race. When someone brutally and unreasonably shattered the established rhythm, the potential consequences multiplied exponentially.
Just as the strategy teams and Team Principals descended into frantic chaos, the drivers out on the asphalt were already physically feeling the suffocating pressure crashing down upon them. Their rear ends were practically on fire.
—Bottas.
"What's happening? Why is Kai back inside the DRS window?!"
Bottas had just managed to pull a slight gap. He was preparing to settle into his own rhythm for a few laps, slowly brewing his momentum before launching an assault on Hamilton to reclaim his rightful lead. Yet, he suddenly realized the driver behind him couldn't contain his impatience and was already swarming his gearbox.
Bottas: ?
When he saw that irritating flash of Ferrari red stubbornly forcing its way back into his rearview mirrors, Bottas felt a surge of exasperation. Kai simply refused to give him a single second of peace.
Like a dagger against his back!
However, upon further reflection, Bottas slightly straightened his spine:
An opportunity.
Perfect timing. Bottas had just been agonizing over how to defy team orders and launch an all-out assault on Hamilton. That position belonged to him, and he intended to reclaim it honorably. But the pit wall was almost certainly going to forbid him from attacking freely. He was desperately searching for a valid, unassailable excuse. And right on cue, Kai arrived—
Like a pillow presented to a sleepy man. Kai, you absolute beauty!
Sure enough! The command came down from the pit wall. Bottas needed to slightly elevate his pace.
And it wasn't just Bottas; Hamilton received the exact same order.
Even though Mercedes-Benz had absolutely no idea what trick Kai had hidden up his sleeve, given their massive overall performance advantage, they absolutely could not afford to simply surrender track position. It wasn't a difficult decision to make.
Similarly, the Red Bull pit wall arrived at the exact same conclusion. Both Verstappen and Albon matched the acceleration, rapidly closing the gap to Leclerc.
The situation on the track shifted violently—
The 'Big Three' universally linked arms and collectively accelerated. The midfield teams trailing behind them were collectively bewildered. A massive, glaring performance gap already existed between them and the leading pack. What exactly were they supposed to do now?
Running in seventh, directly behind Albon, was Daniil Kvyat in the Renault.
He did not match the pace.
The absolute last thing Renault needed right now was to succumb to hot-headed, impulsive pride and engage in a reckless, ego-driven battle. They had already endured far too many disasters since the start of the new season. They desperately, urgently needed a clean, positive race to boost team morale. The current situation presented the perfect opportunity to achieve exactly that.
They might loudly proclaim their burning desire to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the 'Big Three' and boldly state their season goal was to surpass Red Bull. But ultimately, actions speak louder than words. Their bodies were honest: securing seventh and eighth place was their true, pragmatic objective.
In the span of just two or three short laps, the gap steadily widened. The pack fractured. The physical space between Albon and Ricciardo was visibly, continuously expanding. The leading group proudly and aggressively marched away into the distance.
However, Bottas quickly discovered that the situation wasn't unfolding exactly as they had anticipated—
Without expending an exorbitant amount of effort, Bottas had successfully dragged himself out of Kai's DRS window. Furthermore, Kai wasn't continuing to aggressively pursue him. The crisis appeared to have been resolved.
Was this... normal?
In the span of a single, brief season, the seemingly bottomless well of Kai's potential continued to be excavated. The boiling, fanatical gaze of the entire paddock was entirely focused upon him, yet absolutely no one dared to claim they fully comprehended the absolute limits of his capabilities. This young genius, who had exploded out of nowhere, was continuously shattering their understanding of reality.
However, there was at least one thing Bottas could state with absolute certainty—
Kai would never surrender easily.
Of this, Bottas was 100% convinced!
Absolutely no one should underestimate Kai's capability. Equally, absolutely no one should underestimate his terrifying resilience. Even as expectations and threat levels continuously spiked to entirely new dimensions, in Bottas's eyes, it still wasn't enough. Everyone needed to understand that until the absolute bitter end, until the final drop of blood was spilled, Kai would never wave the white flag.
But right now?
It took Bottas less than three laps to successfully push Kai out of the DRS zone, establishing a comfortable buffer of roughly 1.3 to 1.5 seconds.
That was it?
Bottas felt absolutely zero joy.
Not only was he not relieved, but the bizarre abnormality of the situation triggered massive alarm bells in his head. His immediate, instinctual reaction was that Kai was meticulously calculating something, actively digging a massive trap for him to fall into. Otherwise, having successfully breached the DRS window, how could he possibly allow Bottas to simply drive away without even attempting a single, genuine attack? How could he just obediently sit back and passively follow?
Stop pretending to be a harmless, innocent little bunny!
The critical problem was that, in the split-second reality of the moment, Bottas didn't have the luxury of time to deeply analyze the situation. He could only remain on maximum high alert. Step by step, he continued to elevate his own pace—
If I can completely drop this ghost tailing me, maybe I'll finally be able to relax slightly.
It didn't take long for the Mercedes-Benz pit wall to notice the anomaly.
"Valtteri, manage your pace! Watch the front left temperatures!" James Vowles, usually the epitome of stable, icy, hyper-rational composure, was actually sounding slightly flustered.
What on earth was wrong with Bottas's pacing? He was driving like he was being chased by a demon. As a direct consequence, Hamilton, running ahead, was feeling immense pressure from all sides.
Hamilton hadn't communicated with Bono. He simply assumed that Bottas was preparing to seize an opportunity to snatch back the lead. After all, this wasn't the first time this season. Seeing Bottas aggressively accelerating, the usually silent, laser-focused Hamilton naturally responded by elevating his own pace to defend his position.
Wolff: ???
The end result was that the Mercedes-Benz pit wall was thrown into absolute, frantic chaos.
Hearing the voice crackle over the radio, Bottas couldn't help but roll his eyes—
It's easy for you guys to stand there and give orders while your backs don't ache. Do you want to come out onto the asphalt and personally experience what it feels like to have Kai relentlessly hunting you down? Then you'd understand exactly what's happening. It's literally no different than being chased by a ghost. It had gotten to the point where he was actually terrified to check his rearview mirrors, mortified that he would see that menacing flash of red again.
"That's exactly what I'm doing! I am trying to manage my pace, but Kai refuses to let up!" Bottas defended himself, his tone laced with heavy frustration.
On the pit wall, Vowles remained calm, maintaining his rationality. Amidst the tangled mess of chaos and anxiety, he rapidly organized his thoughts, grasped the underlying narrative, and locked onto a single, critical detail.
"No, Valtteri. Kai is not actively pursuing you. He is actively forcing us to consume our tires. Your front left temperature is continuing to spike over a very short window. We absolutely must manage this." Vowles gripped his rationality tightly.
Bottas froze. "Are you sure?"
He didn't believe it. Are you absolutely certain this isn't just a cheap trick by the pit wall to force me to abandon my attack on Hamilton?
Vowles replied firmly, "I am certain. Valtteri, trust me."
Data doesn't lie. This was the absolute truth Vowles believed in. It was the foundational bedrock he used to manage races and control pacing. Every single secret was hidden within the numbers.
It was undeniably true. Starting from Lap 7, Kai had shifted into push mode. While the rest of the field was generally lapping in the 1:39s or even 1:40s, Kai, dropping into the 1:38s, easily established a half-second to one-second advantage per lap. Operating with devastating, unstoppable momentum, he aggressively hunted down Mercedes-Benz.
Because the attack was sudden, unexpected, and incredibly ferocious, both Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull simultaneously began to accelerate in response. But the true, underlying core reason was entirely due to Kai himself—
Entering the 2019 season, absolutely no one dared to underestimate the sheer destructive force Kai possessed. Even the slightest, microscopic lapse in judgment could result in them completely destroying their own race.
Kai was deliberately, precisely weaponizing that exact terror and threat level. He was actively scrambling the judgment of the opposing pit walls, thereby violently shattering his competitors' established rhythms.
Now, looking back at Kai's subsequent lap times:
1:38.777.
1:38.836.
1:38.598.
Incredibly stable. The variance between his lap times was entirely contained within a microscopic 0.3-second window.
In other words, the so-called 'push mode' was entirely a calculated illusion. Kai was deconstructing the circuit using a fundamentally different methodology. Relying entirely on his individual brilliance, he was wringing performance out of the track while actively avoiding severely punishing the car. The reality was the exact opposite of what it appeared: Kai was once again demonstrating his unbelievable, transcendent talent by holding the car perfectly stable at a highly specific rhythm. He was displaying a level of stability and continuity that was practically non-existent in the SF90.
Behind the seemingly effortless, casual driving lay an unparalleled, top-tier capability. He had seized absolute, tyrannical control of the initiative, gripping it firmly in the palm of his hand—
He dictated when to accelerate. He dictated when to manage the pace. He was in total control of the entire board.
By executing this specific strategy, while his opponents violently shattered their own tire degradation curves due to chaotic, erratic pacing, Kai successfully preserved his own rubber.
Over the course of an entire season, Kai had already displayed a vast, multi-dimensional array of talents. But regarding the absolute stability of his single-lap rhythm over a long stint, he was still slightly lacking. It wasn't a fatal flaw, but rather an area with significant room for improvement.
As discussed previously, elite, top-tier drivers like Hamilton possessed the terrifying ability to continuously sprint at high speeds while maintaining an incredibly stable rhythm. The variance in their lap times could be contained within 0.2, or even 0.1 seconds. Maintaining this high-speed, hyper-stable push mode was the absolute key to keeping tire degradation on a smooth, predictable, manageable curve.
Under these specific conditions, tires usually degrade rapidly for one of two reasons: either the car's inherent performance limitations simply cannot sustain the pace, leading to rapid degradation; or the driver becomes embroiled in a vicious offensive/defensive dogfight. Whether it's the turbulence of dirty air or the necessity of sudden, violent maneuvers, both scenarios violently shatter the continuity and stability required for optimal tire management.
This season, one of the most critical factors contributing to the W10's absolute, terrifying dominance lay precisely here: Perhaps its single-lap Qualifying pace wasn't always the absolute fastest, and different circuits presented varying challenges. But in the Race, it possessed the unique ability to continuously, stably output highly efficient, intense lap times. That level of stability and efficiency was lightyears ahead of the competition.
When the W10 was paired with Hamilton, it was an absolute match made in heaven. Once a race fell into Hamilton's preferred rhythm, the other drivers on the grid essentially had absolutely zero chance.
Including Bottas.
During the season opener in Melbourne, Wolff's attempt to orchestrate a 'Total Slam' was absolutely not an act of blind arrogance.
It was precisely because they recognized this reality that Ferrari had formulated their specific strategy for Shanghai—
Utilizing a sudden, unexpected strike to violently shatter Mercedes-Benz's rhythm. Destroying the inherent stability of the W10. Forcing them to dramatically increase their tire degradation due to external interference.
Subsequently, Kai put his rapidly evolving, daily-improving pace management capabilities on full display. Although he still wasn't quite as seasoned or flawless as Hamilton, his performance was incredibly eye-opening.
Therefore, from the very beginning, Kai's overarching strategy was never about attacking or overtaking. It was entirely about pace control and psychological warfare.
Vowles remained icy calm. He wasn't panicking. But a dense wave of goosebumps erupted across his spine—
He realized that, on a purely strategic level, Mercedes-Benz had already lost the initiative.
Had Ferrari been plotting this since the very moment the lights went out? Was even Kai's bizarre, seemingly underwhelming performance during Qualifying part of the grand design?
Vowles abruptly hit the brakes on his own train of thought. He refused to let his mind continue digging down that specific rabbit hole. He knew it was Pandora's Box; once opened, there was no turning back.
Focus!
The situation currently staring them in the face was the only critical detail. It was the only thing that truly mattered. Even though Ferrari had launched the first strike, that absolutely didn't mean Mercedes-Benz was powerless to respond.
Whether it was pure on-track combat or complex strategic maneuvering, Mercedes-Benz still firmly held the upper hand. Ferrari's master plan was now completely, nakedly exposed. What happened next would depend entirely on Mercedes-Benz's counter-attack.
Ferrari surely couldn't be naive enough to believe that they could defeat Mercedes-Benz relying solely on these three rudimentary axe strikes, right?
Immediately, Vowles reeled in his scattered, chaotic thoughts. He re-established his center of gravity, adjusted his radio channel, and relayed the complete, unvarnished situation directly to Wolff.
And then, he presented two distinct options for Wolff to choose from—
Option One: Sacrifice Bottas.
Bottas would transition entirely into a maximum-defense posture. His sole, exclusive responsibility would be to tightly mark Kai. If Kai sped up, Bottas sped up. If Kai slowed down, Bottas slowed down. Relying purely on Mercedes-Benz's inherent performance advantage, he would engage in a brutal, head-to-head war of attrition with Kai, brutally testing whether the W10 or the SF90 was truly the superior machine.
By executing this maneuver, they would guarantee Hamilton the freedom to completely ignore Kai and run his own optimal race rhythm. This would grant the Mercedes-Benz strategy team the crucial breathing room needed to rapidly finalize their necessary adjustments.
Option Two: Bottas accelerates.
Since Kai was actively attempting to dictate the rhythm, Mercedes-Benz would violently seize the initiative by elevating the pace themselves. They would invert the dynamic, violently dragging Ferrari into their preferred rhythm. Given that the W10 possessed a massive advantage in long-run race pace anyway, this aggressive maneuver by Bottas would completely shatter Kai's strategy and re-establish their total dominance.
The unavoidable cost of this strategy was that Hamilton would absolutely be forced to elevate his pace as well.
The true, hidden danger in this scenario was Bottas's soaring ambition.
If Bottas was allowed to run wild and completely drop Kai... once he smelled blood in the water, he would undoubtedly roll up his sleeves and prepare to launch an all-out assault on Hamilton. That was the absolute, ultimate nightmare scenario Mercedes-Benz desperately wanted to avoid.
But... it was a risk they had to acknowledge.
Vowles' responsibility was to collect data, provide feedback, and offer expert recommendations. But the final, authoritative decision always required Wolff's explicit approval.
In truth, from Vowles' perspective, the answer was incredibly simple. He was purely rational and objective, completely devoid of personal emotion. Analyzing the situation strictly from a probability standpoint, Option One was the vastly superior choice.
The primary reason was that Vowles firmly believed Kai had a massive, hidden trump card waiting to be played. The first variable testing phase was merely groundwork. Even the second variable phase was likely just another link in the chain. The true, absolute focal point of the race was destined to be the third variable phase—and perhaps an unknown, fourth variable phase.
A winner-takes-all climax.
Mercedes-Benz absolutely had to keep the initiative firmly gripped in their own hands. Utilizing Bottas as a dedicated, solitary shield to mark Kai was undeniably the simplest, most highly efficient solution.
However, Wolff was forced to consider a vastly broader, infinitely more complex set of variables—
Winning the race was absolute. It was non-negotiable. There was zero room for debate.
Securing a 1-2 finish was absolutely mandatory.
Of course, Mercedes-Benz could sacrifice Bottas to neutralize Kai. But what was the ultimate cost? It was highly probable that Kai would eventually manage to overtake Bottas in the dying stages of the race, securing a second-place finish. Wolff would absolutely never, ever underestimate Kai's sheer, individual brilliance. He fully believed Kai possessed the capability to reverse a desperate situation and execute a miraculous overtake.
If that happened, Shanghai would essentially become an exact replica of Melbourne. Mercedes-Benz's grand ambition to establish an aura of terrifying, absolute dominance over the paddock would suffer its third consecutive, humiliating setback.
First strike, high morale. Second strike, flagging spirits. Third strike, total exhaustion.
When that happened, not only would the internal morale of the Mercedes-Benz team suffer a devastating blow—leading to widespread anxiety and potentially breeding significantly more catastrophic mistakes—but the entire paddock's fearful reverence and awe for the Silver Arrows would completely disintegrate. Ferrari and Red Bull would inevitably, aggressively accelerate their pursuit.
Wolff himself favored a 'defensive offense' methodology. He wasn't inherently radical; in fact, in many crucial moments, he leaned toward extreme conservatism.
Looking purely at the results: even if Kai finished second, and Hamilton and Bottas both stood on the podium, it technically wouldn't be a disaster. Mercedes-Benz would still be steadily consolidating their advantage and continuously expanding their lead in the Constructors' World Championship.
However, viewing the situation from a long-term, macro perspective?
Furthermore, sacrificing Bottas would highly likely result in Hamilton retaking the lead in the Drivers' Championship standings. Hamilton would be thrilled. But what about Bottas?
Wolff genuinely couldn't care less if Bottas's feelings were hurt. But at this current, highly volatile stage of the season, he desperately needed Bottas to continue playing the role of the ultimate team player. He had to guarantee that the internal contradictions within Mercedes-Benz did not spiral entirely out of control.
Therefore, when the moment demanded action, Wolff would absolutely not be conservative. In fact, his ability to make rapid, ruthless decisions was arguably the most elite among the 'Big Three' Team Principals.
After comprehensively weighing all the variables, the answer became glaringly, blindingly obvious—
Option Two.
By executing this option, they could simultaneously placate Bottas's ego, loudly broadcast Mercedes-Benz's terrifying dominance, and deliver a brutal, frontal counter-attack against Kai and Ferrari's aggressive provocation. Even though it meant accepting the very real danger that Bottas might eventually attack Hamilton... amidst the chaotic landscape, this was the absolute optimal choice to perfectly balance their myriad, competing interests.
In a fraction of a second, his brain operating at maximum velocity, Wolff displayed his ruthless, decisive executive ability. Just as he opened his mouth to issue the team order...
A massive, unexpected variable violently erupted.
"KAI! He shatters the fastest lap record again!"
The venue erupted in shock. The crowd surged violently. Not even the deafening roar of the engines could suppress the boiling fanaticism of the entire circuit. Wolff's heart violently contracted. He instantly snapped his head up, staring at the monitor.
1:38.342.
Once again! It was Kai again!
Even though he was still technically operating within the 1:38 bracket and hadn't achieved a massive, paradigm-shifting breakthrough... he had shaved 0.4, then 0.5 seconds off his time. His rhythm was continuously, relentlessly escalating.
And the spear tip was aimed directly, unmistakably at Bottas!
Wolff choked on his own breath. Was Kai literally treating this like a circus act? Was he actively, maliciously toying with Mercedes-Benz, treating them like performing monkeys for his own amusement?
Wolff was absolutely not an indecisive, wavering leader. After accurately assessing a situation and meticulously calculating the risks and rewards, he was always capable of reaching a rapid, definitive conclusion. Even if it required taking a massive gamble, even if it ultimately resulted in a catastrophic error that demanded a heavy price... in that critical, split-second moment, Wolff would never hesitate, and he would never show fear. He possessed supreme decisiveness.
Yet right now, standing in front of Kai, Wolff's vaunted decisiveness suddenly felt agonizingly sluggish and painfully clumsy.
A moment ago, Mercedes-Benz had finalized their decision: Bottas would accelerate and completely drop Kai.
But the very next second, before the command could even reach Bottas's radio, Kai had already pre-emptively accelerated. Like a terrifying, inescapable phantom, he materialized once again, filling Bottas's rearview mirrors.
... A GHOST!
Bottas was genuinely, violently startled. It had only been three or four laps! The brief, agonizingly short period of stability hadn't even had time to fully marinate before that terrifying streak of Ferrari red violently reappeared—
Having re-entered the DRS zone, the gap between the Number 22 and Number 77 cars was currently fluctuating erratically between 0.9 and 1.1 seconds.
In the immediate, short term, Kai wasn't positioned to launch a genuine, committed attack. But Bottas was forced to immediately snap back to maximum high alert. He was violently dragged right back into Kai's suffocating rhythm.
Like a fishbone caught firmly in his throat!
So, what was the play this time? Was Kai simply repeating his previous trick, artificially elevating his rhythm solely to apply psychological pressure? Or was he lurking, coiled like a snake, waiting for the absolute perfect microsecond to launch a lethal strike the moment a flaw appeared?
Bottas felt a surge of intense frustration. "Now what? Still not planning to push?"
He voiced the question over the radio, but his hands absolutely weren't idle. Bottas refused to risk losing his track position. His immediate, primal reaction was to accelerate. His rhythm was already steadily climbing.
Running ahead, Hamilton instantly felt the rolling, aggressive heatwave approaching. He couldn't immediately pinpoint Kai's exact track position. His subconscious, instinctual assumption was that Bottas was mounting yet another aggressive comeback. This time, he couldn't hold it back. He complained bitterly over the radio, "What the hell is Valtteri doing?!"
Despite the complaint, Hamilton also immediately began to elevate his own pace.
Wolff: ???
The immediate, disastrous consequence was that the entire Mercedes-Benz pit wall descended into absolute, total chaos.
Hearing the voice crackle over the radio, Bottas couldn't help but roll his eyes—
You try being the one out here being relentlessly herded like cattle!
The metronome of the race was now completely, utterly controlled by Kai. Regardless of how Mercedes-Benz attempted to strategically maneuver or respond, Ferrari was always one devastating step ahead. Like an invisible, tightening noose, they were quietly but surely strangling Mercedes-Benz.
Right now, even if Mercedes-Benz desperately wanted to manage their pace, they were absolutely forced to push. They had zero alternative.
Frustration and profound depression piled heavily in Wolff's chest. It was just... pure, unadulterated frustration.
Wolff genuinely wanted to violently smash his headset against the desk. Since Kai was insisting on constantly provoking them, constantly poking the bear... why didn't they just do the exact opposite? Why not just step aside, let Kai pass, and see exactly what Ferrari actually planned to do next? Three stops? Or maybe even four? Did Ferrari honestly believe they could defy the laws of nature and shatter the absolute physical limits of the race car?
The SF90's long-run race performance was catastrophic. That was an undeniable, objective fact. Unless Kai planned on utilizing "LiCo" for the entire goddamn race, his only possible option for sustaining this aggressive push was to continuously pit for fresh rubber, essentially buying "extra lives."
So, what exactly was going on here? Was Kai simply throwing a youthful, arrogant, hot-headed... temper tantrum?
Heh.
For a brief, fleeting second, Wolff actually entertained the thought of standing back, crossing his arms, and watching to see exactly what kind of ridiculous, impossible magic trick this young man thought he could pull off.
However, it was merely a fleeting thought. Wolff knew perfectly well he couldn't afford to be petty, and he absolutely couldn't afford to be impulsive. He took a long, deep breath, finally exhaling the heavy, suffocating knot of tension trapped in his chest.
Since things had already escalated to this point... then fine.
Go with the flow. Ride the wave.
However, Mercedes-Benz needed to project an aura of absolute, tyrannical dominance. They were choosing to push, but it was absolutely not because Kai was forcing them to like cattle. They were pushing because Mercedes-Benz actively, deliberately chose to push!
Perfect timing. They would give the entire paddock a brutal, front-row demonstration of the W10's terrifying, god-like power. They would force their competitors to understand that in the face of absolute, overwhelming strength, all petty schemes and cheap tricks were nothing more than childish, pathetic games.
"Lewis. Push. PUSH!"
"Valtteri, it's James. You are cleared to push. You have permission to push."
The rhythm was completely, totally shattered—
In the turbo-hybrid era, due to strict limitations on fuel loads and the critical importance of managing tire degradation, rhythm stability and continuity had become paramount. Naturally, as a direct consequence, races frequently became incredibly dull, sterile, and boring. The reliance on executing strategic pit stops to break deadlocks and complete overtakes had become increasingly prevalent. Even though the FIA was constantly tweaking regulations and desperately trying to encourage on-track overtaking, the strict, unforgiving demands aerodynamic setups placed on narrow tire operating windows ultimately acted as heavy, restrictive shackles.
Therefore, on comprehensive, highly technical circuits like Shanghai and Barcelona, if you failed to manufacture a genuine overtaking opportunity during the chaotic opening phase, the gaps would quickly stretch out and solidify.
And the exact same thing was happening right now. The 'Big Three' and the midfield pack (starting from Renault in seventh) had already fractured into two completely distinct, isolated groups. A massive gap, large enough to accommodate an entire pit stop window, had already formed between them.
One glance was all it took to confirm it: Renault had absolutely no intention of disrupting their rhythm to take a reckless gamble. They were firmly committed to simply defending their current track position. Barring a catastrophic miracle, the brutal reality that every single car from seventh place downward was eventually going to be lapped by the 'Big Three' was already an absolute, undeniable certainty. The race had barely begun, yet it had already entered a stagnant, stable phase. One by one, they were settling into a boring, monotonous rhythm of simply logging laps.
However, Kai's two aggressive, unexpected surges in pace completely shattered that fragile equilibrium. Even though they were technically controlled adjustments, Mercedes-Benz clearly smelled the unmistakable scent of a high-stakes tactical war. Hamilton and Bottas were forced to initiate a push to defend their positions. Simultaneously, the strategy team on the pit wall launched into frantic analysis. Countless theories and possibilities continuously erupted. A massive, adrenaline-fueled shot in the arm was violently injected into what was shaping up to be a sleep-inducing race. Instantly, it became incredibly thrilling to watch.
Involuntarily, Brundle's eyes lit up.
As expected, Kai was Kai. He never failed to deliver spectacular surprises.
Of course, Verstappen was the same. His fiery, explosive energy was undoubtedly a massive highlight. But the critical difference was that Verstappen was still incredibly raw and highly impulsive. He possessed the ability to manufacture absolute chaos, but he fundamentally lacked the ability to systematically dismantle the seasoned, veteran cunning of Mercedes-Benz. At least, not yet. He occasionally managed to land a lucky, chaotic haymaker that knocked out the seasoned master, but those were rare, isolated incidents.
Right now, all hopes rested entirely on Kai.
"Martin, what exactly do you think Kai is scheming? A three-stop?" Croft was working hard to keep the atmosphere lively and engaging. A race completely devoid of on-track action relied entirely on the commentators to salvage the broadcast.
Brundle nodded gently. "It is certainly a distinct possibility. Kai began slowly elevating his pace starting from Lap 4. The severe, chronic issue with Ferrari's tire degradation remains a massive, insurmountable obstacle staring them right in the face. It's impossible that he's just blindly charging forward without a meticulously calculated plan. This is already his second aggressive surge in pace, further violently scrambling the rhythm of the leading pack. He absolutely must be factoring his own tire condition into the equation. A three-stop strategy is undeniably an option on the table."
"But?" Croft picked up on the subtle, lingering hesitation in his partner's tone.
Brundle continued seamlessly, "But... Kai hasn't applied absolute, maximum pressure. His single-lap times are still hovering in the 1:38 range. The sensation is incredibly bizarre. It feels exactly like he's exerting force, yet simultaneously holding massive amounts of power in reserve. His primary, overarching objective seems to simply be to startle Mercedes-Benz. To beat the grass and startle the snake, explicitly to force Mercedes-Benz into a reactive panic."
"Are you suggesting that now that Mercedes-Benz has officially responded, Kai actually has another trick up his sleeve for his next move?" Croft was absolutely fascinated, his voice brimming with a massive smile.
Brundle replied, "It's merely a hypothesis. Just a wild, unverified guess. But, David, we are both intimately familiar with Kai. We know exactly what kind of terrifying, elite racing intellect this young man possesses. It's not just about raw, brute force, and it's certainly not just about raw, single-lap speed. His ability to exert absolute, tyrannical control over the overarching, grand narrative of an entire race is genuinely awe-inspiring."
Croft nodded vigorously in agreement. "The Mercedes-Benz strategy team is essentially forced to do battle against the entire Ferrari strategy team... plus Kai. Oh, Ferrari is playing incredibly dirty. They possess the unfair advantage of having an extra, elite strategist out there on the asphalt."
A lighthearted, witty joke. The atmosphere in the booth instantly became incredibly joyous and relaxed.
But before the laughter could fully escape his throat, Croft instantly noticed a sudden, violent shift in the dynamics on the track. He nearly choked on his own saliva.
"Ferrari— FERRARI JUST SWAPPED POSITIONS!"
The words were an involuntary reflex. Pure, primal instinct forcing the words out of his mouth. A fraction of a second later, his conscious brain finally caught up, realizing exactly what spectacular, impossible scene they were currently witnessing.
Ferrari's Number 22 and Number 16... had actually, genuinely executed a position swap!
WHAT THE FUCK?!
Last season, Kai and Vettel had repeatedly found themselves confronting this exact, highly volatile scenario. The outcomes were almost universally disastrous, culminating in a catastrophic, near-fatal disaster at Interlagos.
And it wasn't just Ferrari. Practically every single driver in the paddock faced the exact same, agonizing dilemma at some point—
"Team orders demand that you surrender your position and swap with your teammate. Are you willing to comply?"
Drivers are inherently, aggressively competitive. Their desire to win is terrifyingly fierce. Who on earth is willingly, meekly going to surrender their hard-fought track position? Of course, if they were languishing dead last with zero points on the line, that would be an entirely different story.
Obviously, Kai was absolutely no exception to this rule.
Even though Kai constantly offered perfectly polished, PR-friendly soundbites during interviews—claiming that whoever held the more advantageous track position should dictate the initiative, that ultimately, the team's overarching interests had to take absolute priority, and therefore, position swaps were a perfectly logical, completely acceptable reality... you couldn't take those statements seriously. The mentality of a Number Two driver is fundamentally, intrinsically different from the mentality of a Number One driver. The mindset of a chaser is vastly different from the mindset of the leader.
Last season, Kai was the aggressive, hungry challenger. Naturally, he desperately wanted Vettel to move aside and surrender the position. But this season, Kai was the defending king defending his throne. How could he possibly, willingly hand over his position? When the moment required actual, tangible action, it was highly probable Kai would resort to blatant double standards, generating an endless stream of chaotic, bullshit excuses to stall and outright refuse the order.
Furthermore, since the very beginning of the new season, Leclerc had been charging forward with terrifying, aggressive momentum. He hadn't bothered to hide even a fraction of his burning, obsessive desire to defeat Kai.
The situation was incredibly, dangerously complex.
AND YET! HOWEVER! UNBELIEVABLY!
Right now, directly in front of their eyes, Kai and Leclerc executed a flawless position swap. Clean, crisp, and incredibly decisive. No agonizing hesitation, no complaining over the radio, no dramatic stalling. They didn't even give the broadcast booth enough time to process the situation before the maneuver was entirely, seamlessly completed—
This...?
Was the driver currently sitting inside the Number 22 car actually Kai? Or had Rubens Barrichello somehow magically possessed his body? Had the year 2019 suddenly, violently reverted seventeen years into the past?
What... what in God's name was happening?!
It wasn't just Croft; Brundle was equally stunned. The two men rapidly exchanged a look of profound, total bewilderment. The words completely died in their throats. Their brains entirely crashed.
The entire sequence of events was just too shockingly unexpected. The sheer impact hit them squarely in the face. Even for two seasoned, elite veteran commentators, they were momentarily rendered completely incapable of formulating a coherent response.
However, Brundle recovered almost instantly—
Kai was absolutely not that simple.
It is an undeniable truth that all elite drivers possess a terrifyingly fierce desire to win. But the scope of that desire varies wildly.
For some drivers, their desire to win is incredibly narrow and localized. It's impulsive, reckless, and hopelessly short-sighted. They are entirely obsessed with the immediate, microscopic battle playing out right in front of them, absolutely refusing to yield even a single millimeter of asphalt. Once their blood boils over, they are fully capable of recklessly destroying their entire race. Sure, they might successfully vent their immediate frustration, but the race itself is completely, irreparably ruined.
For other drivers, their desire to win is intensely rational and profoundly wise. Their focus is locked entirely onto the macro, overarching big picture. They genuinely do not care about a temporary loss of track position. The only thing that truly matters is the final, ultimate result. If there is a viable path to the podium, why on earth would they settle for stubbornly defending a meaningless position in the lower points? If there is a genuine opportunity to fight for the victory, why wouldn't they take a massive, calculated gamble?
Exactly like a coiled spring. Retreating isn't a sign of surrender or defeat; it is a meticulously calculated strategy to gather potential energy before launching a devastating, explosive assault.
Clearly, Kai belonged firmly in the latter category. He was actively playing a massive, intricate game of chess. And they were all nothing more than insignificant, clueless ants trapped completely within his board. They were panicking and making a massive fuss over localized, temporary gains and losses, completely blind to the overarching grand design. If viewed through that specific lens, everything that had transpired so far could finally be perfectly, logically explained.
Brundle froze. Since when did my evaluation and respect for Kai reach such astronomical, almost reverent heights?
But upon further reflection, Brundle knew with absolute certainty that he wasn't exaggerating, nor was he deifying the young driver—
If it was Kai, absolutely anything was possible.
A million different thoughts and possibilities violently rushed into his mind. Amidst the deafening roar of shock and awe, Brundle latched onto a single, highly critical focal point.
"What exactly is going on with Leclerc?"
Where on earth did the usually quiet, relatively low-profile Leclerc suddenly materialize from? The live broadcast director hadn't even noticed Leclerc breaching Kai's DRS window!
The absolute, most critical crux of the entire situation was this: even if Kai miraculously decided to be an obedient, compliant little boy and follow team orders... why on earth would Ferrari issue such a phenomenally stupid, logic-defying directive in the first place?
Kai was operating in absolute peak form. His two consecutive, aggressive surges in pace had successfully, violently scrambled Mercedes-Benz's rhythm. His mere presence on the track was a massive, lethal threat. Both Hamilton and Bottas were being forced to push with absolutely everything they had. Yet, at the exact, critical juncture where Kai was supposedly launching an all-out pursuit of Bottas... Kai and Leclerc swapped positions?!
This... completely defied all rational logic!
—And anything that defies rational logic must inherently be hiding a terrifying, monstrous secret.