Chapter 369: 369: Overcoming All Obstacles: Master of Speed

Bottas saw his moment.

If he could pass Hamilton and catch Leclerc, he could pounce on the Ferrari while Leclerc was still trying to find his feet after defending.

No matter what strategy Mercedes had drawn up for Hamilton, Bottas felt he could execute it just as well, contributing his own strength to the team’s desperate fightback.

The Silver Arrow screamed as Bottas pinned the throttle to the floor, completely unaware that his sudden move had pressed pause on the entire Mercedes world.

A sharp intake of breath.

Astounded shock froze in the air. Inside the Mercedes pit box and across the grandstands, fans stared with wide, unbelievable eyes, their bodies locked in extreme tension as they watched the two silver cars tangled up on track.

Bottas tried to launch a late-braking maneuver down the inside. Hamilton, struggling on the outside to keep his car balanced and on the track, had no time for frustration. In the face of crisis, he held his ground with supreme composure.

Wheel to wheel!

Hamilton held his line, delaying his braking point slightly, though he did not push to the absolute ragged edge like before. He knew Bottas’ driving style inside out; a DRS boost coupled with late braking was a classic attacking template. All Hamilton needed to do was go with the flow, using the outside of the next hairpin to reclaim his corner exit rhythm.

He reclaimed stability right in the middle of combat. Even if they entered the turn side by side, the fight was already settled by the time they reached the exit.

Hamilton reclaimed his position and racing line, edging half a car length ahead of Bottas to take corner exit priority.

In the end, Bottas lacked the ruthless aggression to fight to the bitter end. Pushing blindly was not his way, so he delayed his throttle application by a fraction of a second, and the gap widened instantly.

Inside the Mercedes pit box, the tautly stretched nerves snapped back into place. Hearts sank back into chests, but the boiling frustration could no longer be contained.

Fury erupted into a raging inferno.

“How dare he!”

“He knows full well we are fighting Ferrari, and he pulls a stunt like that to drag us back!”

“Good grief, Valtteri, have you lost your mind?!”

“Dammit! It’s ruined, everything is completely ruined!”

Anger, frustration, and bitterness bared their teeth across the garage, threatening to tear Bottas to shreds. A bloody atmosphere hovered over the pit wall, as if engineers were ready to roll up their sleeves and throw punches.

Yet beneath the panic and fury, sheer terror held everyone by the throat.

Vowles kept his eyes glued to his computer screens. Leclerc was locked in complete concentration, seizing the opportunity to steadily elevate his lap pace with calm authority.

It was just a single straight and a sequence of turns, yet Leclerc’s lead had already stretched back out to 1.571 seconds.

In the span of a breath, Mercedes had gone from the brink of a tactical breakthrough to being left far behind in Ferrari’s wake once again.

That was Formula 1. In a single intake of breath, a situation that looked ready to flip turned right back to where it started.

More importantly, there was Kai!

At Silverstone, the entire paddock had witnessed Kai’s absolute command over race rhythm. When he led from the front, everything fell into his hands.

It was impossible to tell whether Kai knew about the battle between Hamilton and Leclerc behind him, but there was no doubt he was actively tuning his pace.

After leaving the pit lane on fresh, cold tires, Kai had widened his lines slightly. By adjusting his turn-in timing and entry angles, he managed his mid-corner speed and exit acceleration, maximizing the SF90’s devastating advantage on the straights and high-speed bends to escape Mercedes’ firing range as quickly as possible.

Hamilton had spent two laps chasing Leclerc, but a closer look revealed that Kai’s lap times during those two laps were almost identical to Leclerc’s.

Then, he unleashed a steady, methodical speed build.

While Hamilton and Bottas were tangled up behind, Kai went faster and faster. His lead over Hamilton expanded to 3.778 seconds.

A “victory” that had felt within reach just moments ago had slipped away in the blink of an eye. The spark from Mercedes’ desperate gamble was snuffed out before it could even ignite.

If Hamilton continued to push aggressively, burning through his rubber without care, the tires would give out long before he could build a pit window, setting aside the stress on the engine and brakes. Even if he made a second stop, he risked dropping even more positions on track.

Worse yet, if Hamilton pushed hard and failed to pass Kai, or even failed to clear Leclerc, his track position would plummet. At that point, Bottas would no longer be his only concern, a whole queue of cars behind him would become immediate threats.

The risk was multiplying by the second.

Despite the chaos and noise around him, Vowles stayed laser-focused, warning Wolff at the first opportunity, “Our window for taking risks is closing fast.”

There was no reply from the other end of the radio, not even the sound of breathing. The pit box fell dead silent, as if time itself had stopped.

Vowles was not the only one completely dialed in. Kai was the exact same.

Undistracted, fully immersed in his own world, as if the entire Spa-Francorchamps circuit belonged to him alone.

This was a race, but not a race against anyone else. It was a duel with himself, charging forward relentlessly in pursuit of ultimate speed.

Just like two years ago when he first stepped onto the Spa circuit and sat in a Formula 1 cockpit, it was not about wins or contracts. It was purely about speed, returning to where it all began, feeling the raw magic of motor racing, charging toward the sun like a moth to a flame, just as Antoine Hubert always had.

Brundle was the first to notice the lap times. Kai was not pushing wildly to set the fastest lap, yet he maintained a high-frequency, rock-steady tempo, pulling away from Leclerc millimeter by millimeter.

No matter what strategy Mercedes was cooking up, Kai remained completely unbothered. He refused to shake, refused to compromise, driving the race strictly on his own terms. This meant the window for Mercedes to make a desperate move was closing, and even a wild gamble would likely achieve nothing.

Kai was exerting pressure with absolute authority, smothering his opponent’s counterattack right in the cradle.

Emotions surged and burned.

Yet Brundle’s chest felt heavy, as if stuffed with cotton. Amidst Kai’s sharp, unstoppable momentum, Brundle caught a faint trace of sorrow. Transforming pain into raw energy, Kai continuously tested his limits. In that flashing silhouette of speed and spreading wings lay all the vibrant vitality of youth and the reflection of a shared dream.

He drove alone, resolute and unyielding, sprinting toward the edge of time. Like a burning flame, his vitality cut through the dark to light the way, illuminating Antoine Hubert’s path back to the track.

A lump caught in Brundle’s throat, leaving a bitter taste.

Unconsciously, Brundle straightened his back and held his head high.

He had watched Kai step up after Marchionne’s passing to unite the Tifosi. He had watched Kai pull Ferrari back from the brink with sheer willpower after their brutal summer setback. He had watched Kai single-handedly overturn impossible odds when opponents held absolute dominance.

Motor racing was just racing, letting drivers command machines to showcase their style and identity on track, breathing soul into metal and carbon fiber.

Yet racing was so much more than that. It was a challenge, a spirit, a dream. It was not merely a playground game for billionaires; it was humanity using wisdom and courage to challenge physical limits, demonstrating the true weight and value of life.

Kai was not fighting alone.

This was no longer just a clash between Ferrari and Mercedes. It was a battle between Antoine and the Reaper, a struggle between human willpower and the laws of physics.

The roaring symphony of the engines proclaimed Kai’s absolute resolve: to fight to the bitter end!

Brundle watched car No. 22 in silence as it swept across the circuit.

He knew the race was far from over. In a deeper sense, even though Kai held a comfortable lead, the race belonging to him and Antoine was still underway.

Kai was actively summoning the spirit of this unique Spa track. With fearless courage, he took Eau Rouge and Raidillon flat-out, passing yesterday’s crash site at absolute full throttle, pushing the speed to its limits as he conquered that formidable hill time after time.

Brundle was honored to stand by Kai’s side in spirit, along with Antoine.

Behind the Ferraris, Mercedes was still trying. Hamilton trailed Leclerc closely, hunting for an opening, refusing to surrender.

Yet Toto Wolff had finally come back to his senses. He was no Horner; once the reckless urge to challenge everything cooled down, logic reclaimed his brain.

Prudence over extreme risk.

There was no need to gamble everything for a single win. Securing a double podium, maximizing points, and playing the long game was the proper way to fight for a Constructors’ World Championship.

The war between Ferrari and Mercedes would not be settled at Spa. This was merely the opening act of the season’s second half, and there was no point in letting emotion dictate tactics.

Hamilton could maintain the pressure. If rain arrived or a Safety Car was deployed, they could grab the opportunity to push further. But burning through resources for a microscopic chance at victory was a losing proposition.

Verstappen had already learned that lesson the hard way today.

Defensive aggression was Wolff’s true style. That streak of madness, after slamming hard into the red wall of Ferrari, had finally quieted down.

Exhaling softly, Wolff kept a calm facade, yet the anger and anxiety deep within his gut continued to grow wild.

He was not Vowles. Numbers were just numbers to a strategist, devoid of emotion. No matter how Wolff rationalized that this was the smart call, the stark reality remained undeniable: Kai was the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

If there had been even half a chance, Mercedes would not have given up so easily. It was only when Kai pulled away into clear air, smothering their last hope and pushing Mercedes’ aggressive gamble to its absolute limit, that Wolff’s remaining logic was finally awakened.

Though he did everything to control himself, his organs burned with frustration. This was not how the post-summer break restart was supposed to look. Arriving at Spa overflowing with confidence, only to be struck with a stinging slap across the face, leaving them to swallow their pride in silence.

It was only when his fingernails dug into his palm, almost drawing blood, that Wolff realized he had been frozen in the same posture for far too long.

Still, he could reveal no weakness. The live broadcast cameras and the Netflix crews were trained directly on him; he could not expose a single flaw in Mercedes’ armor.

This time, however, Wolff was overthinking it. The broadcast cameras had no time to focus on Mercedes, because a brand-new focal point had emerged on track: Alexander Albon.

Mercedes might have felt aggrieved, but Red Bull was experiencing true disaster!

Coming out of the summer break, Red Bull had been eager to make a statement, aiming to build momentum and solidify their claim as genuine title contenders.

Instead, they were left behind by Ferrari and Mercedes in qualifying, as Red Bull’s major summer upgrades failed to deliver expected gains. Then came Albon’s power unit penalty, forcing him to start from the back of the grid despite setting a strong lap. To top it off, Verstappen paid a heavy price on lap one for his own rash aggression.

And then… there was nothing.

Even Horner had largely checked out mentally. A satisfying result at Spa was out of the question, and Marko alongside Austrian Red Bull leadership would undoubtedly pile on the pressure, pushing the noise surrounding Albon’s seat to dangerous new heights.

Yet life often moves in unexpected ways. Just when Horner was bracing for internal conflict, Albon summoned his inner fire on track.

Ever since Antoine’s crash, the media spotlight had shone exclusively on the Ferrari duo, alongside Gasly and Ocon. But everyone in the paddock knew that Albon, Russell, and Norris were also close friends with Antoine. While Leclerc and Gasly showed early talent to step up first, Antoine had joined the younger generation to chase the dream together.

For Albon, the crash was not merely about a friend fighting for his life on a hospital bed, it was a stark reminder of how hard the journey to this dream really was.

During the last off-season, Albon had been ready to abandon his F1 dream entirely, only for fate to grant him a second chance in the paddock.

Just like Antoine, they were not once-in-a-decade prodigies, nor did they come from wealthy backgrounds. On the path to their dreams, they had to carry the weight of real life while facing grueling personal tests.

Albon was fortunate because Thai Red Bull gave him a shot, reigniting hope at the corner where all paths seemed to end. Antoine, sadly, did not get that chance.

Last night, Albon had tossed and turned, sleeping less than two hours.

Even as he stepped onto the track for the formation lap, Albon was unsure whether he should be racing, whether he could finish, or whether he could go full throttle through Eau Rouge without fear. He was simply going through the motions.

He had no way back, did he?

He could not afford to waste his chances or his life, otherwise how could he ever look Antoine in the eye?

Starting from 17th, Albon’s race did not begin smoothly. He drove with hesitation. But after Verstappen’s early exit brought out the Safety Car, Albon found himself elevated to 15th and suddenly realized the points positions were not far away. His focus snapped into place.

Years of racing instincts took control of his body, and step by step, he found his groove.

At this point, Red Bull’s raw performance advantage over the midfield could no longer be hidden. Though Red Bull was a step behind Mercedes and Ferrari at Spa, the Big Three remained an insurmountable top tier. As long as the driver made no silly mistakes, opportunities were always there.

Carving his way through the field, Albon realized he was climbing steadily:

10th place, inside the points.

The next target? Pierre Gasly.

Had it been any other opponent, Albon’s mindset might have been different, but Gasly was a special case.

Gasly was not only Antoine’s childhood friend, but also his current roommate in Nice, a true brother.

Clearly, Gasly felt the same complex mix of emotions about racing today.

On top of that, the battle between Gasly and Albon over the Red Bull seat during the summer break had been cutthroat. Though managed by agents behind the scenes without personal animosity, their relationship was inherently awkward. They were direct rivals in a winner-take-all fight.

With all these threads entwined, Albon inevitably found himself locked in combat with Gasly.

Gasly was an exceptional driver whose performance often hinged on his mood and mental state. When he was on form, even a Toro Rosso could hold off a Ferrari for four or five laps.

The two young drivers, fighting directly for a Red Bull seat, showcased their full arsenal in a razor-sharp duel across Spa.

The broadcast cameras abandoned the lonely race leader to focus on the edge of the points, capturing this fateful clash between the two drivers.

A fierce duel where only one could prevail.

“Wow! Brilliant move!”

“Alexander Albon steps up!”

“The two Red Bull drivers are delivering an incredible duel! Pierre Gasly held off Albon’s repeated charges for five whole laps with flawless defensive lines, leaving zero openings and showcasing his refined skill as a driver.”

“Yet Albon’s patience and composure have left a deep impression. Unhurried, waiting for his moment, he piled relentless pressure onto his rival across those five laps until the crack finally appeared.”

“Down the Kemmel Straight, late on the brakes, hugging the apex!”

“Seamless execution!”

“Gasly offered only half a car’s width of space, an almost imperceptible flaw, but Albon pounced!”

“A decisive strike!”

Albon passed Gasly and continued his charge, quietly climbing to 9th place to guarantee two points for Red Bull.

Yet that was nowhere near enough.

For other teams, climbing from 17th to 9th was a massive achievement worthy of applause, even Mercedes and Ferrari would offer a polite nod.

For Red Bull, however, it fell short of expectations.

Taking five full laps to pass Gasly was not something Marko would praise. Albon should have been more decisive, aggressive, and swift with his overtakes. Did he honestly think Red Bull would celebrate a 9th-place finish? He needed to pass quickly and charge toward the podium contenders!

Marko stared blankly at the screen, casting a disdainful glance at Horner’s back on the pit wall. “That’s it?”

“This is the teammate you painstakingly picked for Max? This is your asset to counter Max? Heh.”

On track, Albon seemed to anticipate the cold eyes watching him from the pit wall.

He knew the team was not satisfied. He knew this could not be the end of his story.

After passing Gasly, Albon did not lift, charging forward without missing a beat:

First, pull away from Gasly to secure the gap.

Second, sprint ahead and set his sights on Daniel Ricciardo.

“Daniel Ricciardo covers the middle! Holding his ground!”

“A textbook defensive line!”

“Alexander Albon sweeps around the outside!”

“This time Albon shows none of the patience he displayed against Gasly. He opts for a sweeping outside attack, slotting into the gap to Ricciardo’s left!”

“Wheel to wheel!”

“Ricciardo’s response is rock solid!”

“But wait!”

“THE SWITCHBACK!”

“Albon makes a bold, almost crazy choice through the chicane! Ricciardo refuses to yield, holding his racing line, which leaves virtually zero room for Albon!”

“Fair attack! Fair defense!”

“A clash of absolute precision! Albon tried to force the issue with a switchback to provoke a mistake, but Ricciardo shows unbelievable resolve, leaving no gap whatsoever.”

“Good grief!”

In a flash of dramatic camera footage, Ricciardo’s exit line was picture-perfect, shooting straight toward the outside edge of the track. Albon, fighting wheel-to-wheel alongside him, was squeezed toward the outer perimeter, running out of track on exit.

Onto the kerbs!

Car No. 23 mounted the exit kerb completely, with only its two left tires dangerously hugging the white boundary line, hovering precariously between track limits and the grass as dust and debris kicked into the air.

At that moment, Albon matched Ricciardo’s grit with unyielding determination of his own.

Even fully mounted on the kerbs, he held his line, using his exit speed to eat away at the gap millimeter by millimeter, before launching past Ricciardo in a straight line.

The crowd erupted!

“ALEXANDER ALBON!”

“Passing Ricciardo right after Gasly! He keeps climbing!”

If passing Gasly highlighted Albon’s patience, overcoming Ricciardo put his raw determination and edge on full display.

Finally, movement rippled across the quiet Red Bull pit wall. Horner’s mood flared with excitement as he keyed his radio.

“Great job, Alex!”

Though Horner held high expectations for Albon, he was as ruthless as Marko when it came to survival of the fittest. Only the strong survived. If Albon failed to deliver, Horner would replace him before Marko even stepped in. He needed a capable wingman, not a passenger.

Today was the test. With Verstappen knocked out early, Albon had to show how far he could carry the Red Bull flag.

It was not just the Red Bull garage watching; the broadcast cameras and grandstand spectators were glued to car No. 23. Albon was acting as a true midfield disruptor, single-handedly tearing through the pack to carve out a path of fire. Even non-Red Bull fans began cheering him on.

Albon felt the energy, and the fighting spirit in his blood fully awakened:

8th… 7th… 6th!

Overcoming obstacle after obstacle, he climbed to an unbelievable 5th place!

Inside the Red Bull pit box, fists clenched tight. The suppression that had weighed over their entire weekend finally broke free, bursting into relief.

Fifth was not the podium, but ahead of him sat two Ferraris and two Mercedes. Albon had started too far back, and by the time he carved his way through, the top four had pulled away into an unreachable distance. Fifth was the absolute ceiling reachable within race distance today, and he had grabbed it with both hands!

A masterclass in recovery!

The main grandstands erupted into wild cheers, hailing Albon’s drive. This was Spa at its finest, a true celebration of speed and passion.

Inside the Ferrari pit box, Jiang Mo glanced anxiously up at the sky outside.

Clouds were gathering, and the ambient light across the circuit was noticeably dimming. The forecast had predicted rain at Spa, but mostly after the race. Looking at the skies now, was the rain coming early?

Furthermore, the broadcast feed was entirely absorbed by Albon’s recovery drive, with occasional cuts to Hamilton and Leclerc. It had been a long time since anyone had seen footage of Kai.

Beside her, Lu Cheng noticed her anxiety. He felt just as worried, his heart hanging high in his chest. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “No camera time means everything is going smoothly. That’s a good sign.”

Uncertain if he was comforting Jiang Mo or himself, Lu Cheng added, “The radio has been quiet too. Mattia and the engineers are completely calm.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Borreipaire stepped over to look at Binotto. The two exchanged a quick glance, sending Lu Cheng’s heart straight into his throat.

What happened? Is there a problem?

Binotto had his back to the garage, hiding his facial expression, but the tense lines of his shoulders betrayed a trace of emotion.

Then, Binotto leaned forward slightly and nodded, giving a clear, affirmative answer.

Borreipaire looked back at Binotto in surprise. He had not expected Binotto to agree. They held complete control over the race, with victory practically in the bag. The last thing they needed right now was an added variable. From a team perspective, they rejected any potential risk, yet Binotto had given the green light?

Noticing the look, Binotto realized the garage might be watching him. He straightened his back, making his stance clear without saying a word: he stood fully behind Kai.

Win or lose, whatever challenge came next, they were a team, and they would face it together.