F1: The Speed Legend

”Kai?” Leclerc nudged his teammate’s shoulder. Why on earth did he feel like an innocent lamb stumbling into a slaughterhouse that had absolutely nothing to do with him?

Should he just dive under the car and hide?

Kai turned his head, slightly taken aback by the sheer magnitude of the crowd. The very first thought that popped into his head was, ”I am never, ever taking the subway home from the airport again.”

”What was that?” Leclerc asked.

Kai burst out laughing and waved his hand dismissively. ”It’s nothing. Charles, what do you say we stop for a few minutes and properly thank them?”

In reality, their transport vehicle had clearance to bypass the public terminal entirely. They could have driven straight onto the tarmac to board the private jet without losing a single minute of their schedule.

But taking a moment to reflect on the weekend... he had been completely, obsessively focused on the race. He hadn’t yet found a genuine opportunity to properly acknowledge the overwhelming, terrifying passion of his home-race fans.

This year at the Shanghai circuit had undeniably, profoundly shifted something.

Leclerc didn’t object. ”Sure, absolutely no problem.”

Two seconds later, Leclerc realized he had just violently yanked open Pandora’s Box.

The exact instant the tinted windows rolled down, before Kai could even offer a greeting, a rolling, boiling wall of sheer thermal energy slammed into them. It physically pinned Leclerc back against his leather seat.

The sheer G-force of the crowd’s reaction rivaled the physical sensation of accelerating past 300 km/h.

It was heavy, it was suffocatingly hot, and it possessed a terrifying, world-ending power.

”AH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! KAI AHHHHHHHH!”

The roar was earth-shattering, completely deafening.

In a fraction of a second, Kai’s eardrums were ringing. Because the reaction was so shockingly, violently intense, Kai couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing.

A second later, it genuinely felt as though the structural foundations of the airport terminal were shaking.

It wasn’t just Kai’s side of the vehicle getting mobbed. The reaction on Leclerc’s side was equally terrifying. For the newer, more casual Chinese motorsport fans, Leclerc was admittedly a relatively unfamiliar face.

However—sheer aesthetic beauty is universal justice.

Looking exactly like a Prince Charming ripped straight from the pages of a fairy tale, Leclerc perfectly aligned with Eastern beauty standards. He effortlessly, instantly captured a massive legion of new supporters.

Fighting against the crushing pressure of the crowd exactly as if he were fighting against a Category 5 hurricane, Kai began accepting the barrage of items thrust toward him. Hats, T-shirts, photographs, and an assortment of bizarre, random objects. The manic, overlapping chatter poured into the vehicle like water from a breached dam, instantly saturating every inch of the cabin.

”Kai! Why are you leaving today?! Why won’t you stay home for a few more days?”

”Exactly! It’s so incredibly rare for you to come back! We all assumed you’d stay in Shanghai for a few promotional events!”

”Yeah! Ferrari is hosting a massive activation at the Exhibition Center this week! Are you really not attending?”

Inside every single syllable, Kai could viscerally feel the burning, unadulterated passion radiating from the absolute depths of their souls. It felt as though they were expending every single ounce of their physical energy just to scream his name.

”Work,” Kai answered firmly. ”I have to return to Maranello to work. I promise I’ll try to spend more time during the official fan-meet sessions at the next Grand Prix.”

According to subsequent media reports, a staggering crowd of over two thousand fans had swarmed Pudong International Airport to send him off. The event instantly violently hijacked the top trending spots on social media.

Furthermore, the frontline reports from the fans were rapidly disseminated online. The netizens quickly realized the truth: Kai had aggressively declined to stay in China to film highly lucrative variety shows or reality TV.

Clearly, he still had a massive championship campaign to fight.

With the departure of Kai and Leclerc, the annual Shanghai Grand Prix officially, permanently drew to a close, ending on an absolutely flawless note. However, the massive, cultural hurricane across mainland China was only just beginning to gather momentum. Motorsport was finally, genuinely experiencing its cultural springtime.

Or perhaps... an incredibly scorching summer?

Simultaneously, the Formula 1 paddock was frantically busy. Exactly as Rees had predicted, viewed from every conceivable angle, Shanghai had undeniably acted as a massive turning point for the 2019 season.

Ferrari had successfully defeated Mercedes-Benz for the very first time this season to claim a Grand Prix victory. But it represented vastly more than just a single trophy.

Since the season opener in Melbourne, the W10 had appeared utterly untouchable, maintaining a massive, terrifyingly dominant advantage across the entire grid. But in Shanghai, that invincibility had finally fractured. They failed to secure the top step of the podium. The ”alien-tier” chassis had finally been violently dragged slightly closer to Earth, forced to acknowledge the crushing weight of gravity. Furthermore, Renault and Haas had established a terrifyingly competitive pace during Qualifying, violently shattering the established equilibrium of the midfield. Every single metric and data point suggested the overarching hierarchy of the paddock was experiencing a massive, tectonic shift.

What happened next was entirely predictable—

Maranello immediately shifted into maximum overdrive. Engineers were working brutal, relentless overtime. A victory was a victory, but the aerodynamic upgrade package absolutely had to be aggressively expedited.

Mercedes-Benz... their headquarters remained fully illuminated throughout the night. They once again displayed the terrifying, icy composure of a true championship organization. From Melbourne to Bahrain, and now to Shanghai, their meticulously crafted master plans had repeatedly absorbed massive, violent impacts until they finally shattered. Yet, there was absolutely zero blind anger and zero panic. Instead, they firmly planted their feet, swallowed the bitter pill, and systematically regained their traditional, calculating rhythm. They methodically, coldly threw themselves back into the grueling work of extracting pace.

Perhaps Shanghai was indeed a massive turning point. But it was equally a turning point for Mercedes-Benz. They completely shed any lingering traces of arrogance or complacency. They returned to a grounded, hyper-pragmatic state, fiercely locking their focus back onto the core fundamentals of the championship fight.

Ferrari violently shattering their constraints to author a miracle, definitively proving that Mercedes-Benz was not invincible... that was undeniably a phenomenal achievement. But simultaneously, they were only three races into a massive calendar. Mercedes-Benz was now fully awake. Exactly like an apex predator shaking off its slumber, stretching its muscles, and entering a state of absolute, lethal focus for the hunt—

Was that genuinely a positive development for Ferrari?

Renault, Haas, Racing Point... every single team on the grid was operating at maximum capacity. Countless rumors were rapidly circulating through the paddock via the ever-reliable network of internal informants. The paddock was undeniably a hive of frantic, desperate activity.

Amidst this massive wave of chaos, with almost all attention laser-focused on the clash between Ferrari and Mercedes-Benz, the suffocating, dangerous aura radiating from Red Bull was largely overlooked.

Clearly, Red Bull was profoundly, violently dissatisfied with the opening phase of their 2019 campaign.

Albon was undeniably still struggling to adapt to the brutal characteristics of the Red Bull chassis. Even though he had miraculously clawed his way to a P6 finish in Shanghai, Red Bull was absolutely not going to pop champagne just because Albon managed to barely hang onto the absolute trailing edge of the ’Big Three’ pack.

That was the absolute baseline requirement, not the ultimate goal.

Temporarily setting Albon’s struggles aside, the true, terrifying crisis triggering massive alarm bells for Horner and Marko was vastly more profound. Entering the season, Red Bull firmly believed they possessed the ultimate strength to engage in a brutal, head-to-head title fight with Mercedes-Benz. They genuinely believed their primary rival wasn’t even Ferrari. But now... forget about challenging Mercedes-Benz. They were currently being brutally suppressed by Ferrari.

Leclerc had finished P5 in three consecutive races. That was undeniably frustrating for Ferrari. But Verstappen had finished P4 in three consecutive races, and the internal fury currently boiling over within Red Bull was exponentially more intense.

Being locked out of the podium positions for three consecutive races was humiliating enough. But the truly agonizing, suffocating reality was the massive, glaring performance gap separating Verstappen from P3. He had absolutely zero genuine opportunity to challenge for the podium. Verstappen effortlessly defeating Leclerc was treated as an absolute baseline expectation. But being completely, hopelessly eliminated from the podium fight from the opening laps was viewed as a profound, unforgivable disgrace.

This meant that, so far this season, the podium battle was occurring in an entirely separate, vastly superior tier of racing that Red Bull simply couldn’t access. For an organization burning with massive, towering ambition, this reality was completely, fundamentally unacceptable.

Rumors swirled that both Horner and Marko had gone on massive, terrifying tirades back at the factory. They were exactly like enraged, charging bulls. Absolutely no one dared to even approach them, terrified of being caught in the crossfire of their wrath. But precisely because of this massive, existential crisis, Horner and Marko—who historically clashed over internal politics—miraculously set aside their personal grievances. They unified their focus entirely on fast-tracking the aerodynamic upgrades.

The 2019 season had only just begun. Regardless of the ongoing blood feud between Ferrari and Mercedes-Benz, Red Bull absolutely, definitively refused to be relegated to the role of a supporting character.

The crushing pressure cascading down from both the Austrian and Thai factions of the Red Bull ownership group transformed the internal atmosphere into a terrifying pressure cooker. The invisible, lethal tension was escalating by the second.

It was almost impossible to imagine the sheer, suffocating weight of the pressure currently resting on the shoulders of their two young drivers, Verstappen and Albon.

However, surprisingly, Albon—having only recently entered the ruthless Formula 1 paddock—completely abandoned his usual goofy, laid-back persona. He didn’t expose a single crack or vulnerability to the media.

The news that Red Bull was actively sharpening their blades didn’t leak through the usual paddock gossip channels. It became public knowledge because Red Bull officially notified the FIA. They were aggressively fast-tracking a massive aerodynamic upgrade package originally scheduled for Barcelona. They were deploying it a full race early, in Azerbaijan. This news acted like a heavy stone dropped into a tranquil lake.

The elite industry professionals, whose gaze had been entirely monopolized by Mercedes-Benz and Ferrari, were instantly jolted awake. Red Bull had been silently, furiously holding their breath this entire time. One should absolutely never underestimate a single member of the ’Big Three.’ Just as Ferrari had violently shattered Mercedes-Benz’s impenetrable blockade in Shanghai, Red Bull was entirely capable of violently overturning the board in Baku.

Before the paddock could even fully digest the swirling rumors and frantic speculation, the Azerbaijan Grand Prix violently kicked off.

...

”Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the 2019 Azerbaijan Grand Prix—

Lewis Hamilton!”

”Mercedes-Benz secures their third 1-2 finish of the season! They once again utilize a truly unparalleled, spectacular performance to violently defend their ultimate supremacy, putting their absolute, tyrannical dominance on full display!”

”An absolutely unbelievable performance!”

”And Ferrari’s Kai crosses the line in third, claiming his fourth consecutive podium finish of the season!”

”Wow!”

”As of right now, we are four races deep into the 2019 season, and every single podium position has been absolutely monopolized by the Troika! Hamilton officially claims the summit of the Drivers’ Championship standings, seizing the ultimate lead in the title fight! But make no mistake, the competition remains incredibly, terrifyingly fierce. It is genuinely, brutally intense. Bottas and Kai are breathing directly down his neck. The bayonets-drawn, close-quarters combat between these three elite drivers has injected a massive surge of pure, unadulterated adrenaline into every single Grand Prix this season!”

Awe. Hype. Pure, boiling adrenaline.

Raw language was genuinely incapable of accurately describing the massive, surging wave of emotion currently flooding the paddock. The continuous cheers and breathless exclamations effortlessly conveyed the burning, hot-blooded passion radiating from the fans.

The exact scenario they had desperately prayed for—yet agonizingly failed to witness—last season was finally playing out in spectacular fashion. It had been an incredibly long time since the paddock had witnessed a World Championship fight detonate with such violent, explosive tension right from the opening rounds. Furthermore, it wasn’t just a two-horse race. A staggering three drivers were locked in a brutal, unpredictable dogfight. The continuous, dramatic shifting of the balance of power was enough to make a fan completely lose their mind. The entire paddock was sucked into a massive tidal wave of pure hype. Absolutely no one was immune.

Upon arriving in Baku, Mercedes-Benz executed a massive, highly visible strategic shift. They completely shed the arrogant, domineering posture they had projected at the start of the season. Toto Wolff suddenly became incredibly humble and low-key.

Obviously, absolutely no one in the paddock bought Wolff’s sudden display of humility. ”Ferrari possesses a vastly superior raw pace compared to us. That is the brutal, undeniable reality we are currently facing.”

On the contrary, this specific, highly calculated version of Toto Wolff—quietly biding his time and masking his true strength—was vastly more terrifying. It perfectly highlighted the terrifying depth and resilience of a true championship organization.

However, Free Practice completely shattered everyone’s expectations. Ferrari utterly dominated all three sessions—

Or, to be vastly more accurate: Leclerc dominated. He topped the timing sheets in all three practice sessions. He didn’t just defeat Mercedes-Benz and the heavily upgraded Red Bulls; he comprehensively defeated his own teammate, Kai. This sudden, violent resurgence sent the paddock into a frenzy of frantic speculation and debate.

Could it be... was Toto Wolff actually telling the truth? Was it not just a cynical smokescreen?

However, the elite analysts maintained their reservations. They had witnessed this exact, agonizingly familiar scenario play out in Bahrain. Ferrari violently monopolized the front row in Qualifying, only to suffer a catastrophic collapse in race pace on Sunday.

Clearly, Ferrari possessed the raw, single-lap speed required to defeat Mercedes-Benz in Qualifying. But Sunday’s race was an entirely different, vastly more complicated animal.

The doubts and swirling speculation didn’t linger in the air for long. The exact second Qualifying officially began, Mercedes-Benz violently reasserted their absolute, tyrannical dominance.

Bottas on Pole. Hamilton in P2. Kai in P3.

Furthermore, the performance delta was massive. Hamilton trailed Bottas by 0.059 seconds. Kai trailed Bottas by a massive 0.302 seconds.

These three specific cars were the only ones on the entire grid capable of breaking the 1:40 barrier during Qualifying. Verstappen, sitting in P4, trailed Kai by 0.272 seconds. In other words, Verstappen was over half a second slower than Bottas. On a brutal, claustrophobic street circuit like Baku, a half-second deficit essentially meant you couldn’t even see your opponent’s gearbox.

They were operating in an entirely different, vastly inferior stratosphere!

Mercedes-Benz had once again violently demonstrated their absolute supremacy. Red Bull, having rushed their massive upgrade package in a desperate bid to overturn the board, stared at the Qualifying telemetry in profound, absolute horror—

The klaxons were blaring at maximum volume.

Exactly as the seasoned veterans had predicted. The Mercedes-Benz that had stripped away the arrogant vanity and refocused on absolute, cold execution was the truly terrifying entity. Armed with immense raw performance and brilliant strategic minds, their rationality had fully returned. They were no longer frantic or impatient. They methodically, relentlessly established total control over the entire board. They were extracting 100% of the W10’s terrifying potential, transforming into an absolute nightmare for every single competitor on the grid.

It was also worth noting that Racing Point’s Sebastian Vettel had secured P5.

Although the gap to Verstappen was significant, this was the very first time this season Vettel had successfully breached Q3, returning to his familiar, natural habitat near the front of the grid. This also served as further, undeniable proof that the Mercedes customer engine was absolutely not inferior to the Ferrari power unit. Racing Point’s massive pre-season ambitions were clearly not built on empty hype; they possessed genuine, tangible strength to back them up.

So, what exactly happened to Leclerc?

After displaying elite, dominant form across all three Free Practice sessions, Leclerc was practically foaming at the mouth, utterly desperate to unleash his potential and secure a massive result.

The result?

During Q2, navigating the absolute narrowest, most lethal section of the entire circuit—Turn 8—he violently binned it into the wall, completely destroying his chassis and his Qualifying session.

”I am so stupid! I am so stupid! I am so stupid!”

Leclerc’s voice cracked over the radio, practically drowning in agonizing regret and bitter self-loathing.

Ultimately, Leclerc was classified in P11.

Baku absolutely lived up to its brutal reputation. Exactly like Monaco, it was a terrifying gauntlet where a catastrophic disaster lurked behind every single blind apex. The entire Qualifying session descended into absolute, unhinged chaos. It wasn’t just Leclerc. Hulkenberg, Kvyat, and Giovinazzi all violently acquainted themselves with the concrete barriers. Raikkonen and Albon successfully survived the session, only to both be subsequently disqualified for technical infringements during post-session scrutineering. It was a brutal, terrifying reminder of Baku’s lethal nature.

Following Qualifying, the Mercedes-Benz fanbase enthusiastically popped champagne and engaged in wild, toxic celebrations. They immediately launched a massive, coordinated digital assault, ruthlessly mocking Ferrari.

Leclerc had already completely collapsed under the crushing pressure. Kai was left completely isolated, fighting a desperate, agonizingly lonely war. It was highly likely he would suffer the exact same, tragic fate.

”Hey, Student Kai. Do you still vividly remember your incredibly intimate, high-speed collision with Max here in Baku?”

If Mercedes-Benz secured a flawless 1-2 finish, and both Ferraris failed to score any points, the Silver Arrows could violently rip open a massive, insurmountable advantage in both the Drivers’ and Constructors’ standings. They would finally secure the crucial breathing room required to establish true, untouchable dominance. That would be the absolute, perfect weekend.

The Mercedes fans were already eagerly, desperately dreaming of that exact scenario.

Unfortunately—

Setting aside Ferrari’s struggles for a moment, the true, terrifying crisis for Mercedes-Benz was the massive fire rapidly spreading through their own backyard.

During the Shanghai Grand Prix, the vicious, internal dogfight between Hamilton and Bottas had been completely, nakedly exposed to the entire grid. In many ways, it was the exact catalyst that allowed Kai to orchestrate his brilliant, impossible comeback. Yet, arriving in Baku, they had apparently learned absolutely nothing from that disaster.

During the chaotic opening laps, Hamilton launched a brutal, hyper-aggressive assault. Once again, he completely, arrogantly ignored the lethal threat of Kai lurking directly behind him. Hamilton knew perfectly well that the Baku street circuit was incredibly narrow. If he and Bottas went wheel-to-wheel, it would completely choke off the track. Kai would have absolutely zero room to execute an overtake. Mercedes-Benz could effectively utilize their internal brawl to form a massive, impenetrable roadblock, firmly trapping Kai and Verstappen behind them.

However, Bottas had learned his lesson. He was operating in a state of absolute, hyper-vigilance. He flawlessly executed a massive defensive block at Turn 1, violently slamming the door in Hamilton’s face and effectively neutralizing the rest of the pack. He absolutely refused to repeat his previous mistakes, ruthlessly defending his lead.

Hamilton, naturally, refused to surrender. He continued launching relentless, brutal attacks through the subsequent sequence of corners.

During a terrifying, bayonets-drawn brawl spanning four consecutive corners, the tension became so thick and viscous it was practically suffocating. After surviving multiple, near-catastrophic near-misses where the two chassis were millimeters away from disaster, Hamilton finally displayed unparalleled, tyrannical resolve. Projecting an aura of absolute, terrifying dominance, he violently suppressed his teammate, successfully completing the overtake to seize P1 and assume control of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

But this was still absolutely not the end of the story—

Even a cornered rabbit will eventually bite!

Having suffered the agonizing humiliation of being brutally betrayed by his teammate while starting from Pole Position for the second consecutive race, Bottas was burning with silent, seething fury. He drove the absolute wheels off the W10 for the entire race. He stayed glued to Hamilton’s gearbox like a starving predator. The gap between them refused to expand. He remained firmly anchored within DRS range right up until the final lap, relentlessly, obsessively hunting for a microscopic opening to launch a counter-attack and reclaim the victory that was rightfully his.

During this brutal, close-quarters psychological warfare, Hamilton put his true, World Champion pedigree on full display. He executed a flawless, airtight defensive masterclass, refusing to offer Bottas a single, millimeter-wide opening from the first lap to the last.

Ultimately, Hamilton crossed the line first. Bottas followed in second. The final gap between them was a mere 0.813 seconds. The suffocating, lethal tension had persisted from the red lights all the way to the checkered flag.

The Mercedes-Benz fans had spent the entire race on the absolute edge of their seats, terrified to even breathe. They were on the verge of a collective nervous breakdown. The exact second the race officially ended, they practically collapsed into puddles. Their legs felt like cooked noodles, entirely incapable of supporting their body weight.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression.

For the Mercedes-Benz fanbase, the Azerbaijan Grand Prix was a bizarre, torturous mixture of profound joy and agonizing suffering. Their nerves had been stretched to the breaking point for two hours. How exactly had a supposedly guaranteed, flawless 1-2 cruise mutated into another terrifying, near-death rollercoaster ride?

On one hand, they were absolutely terrified that the brutal, wheel-to-wheel combat between Hamilton and Bottas would inevitably end in a catastrophic collision, perfectly replicating the disastrous Red Bull implosion from last year. On the other hand, they were terrified of Kai, who was lurking ominously right behind them. Whether Kai launched a direct assault, or simply waited patiently to sweep up the pieces after the Mercedes cars inevitably destroyed each other, his massive, oppressive presence was like a knife pressed firmly against their spines. It made it physically impossible for the fans to relax.

Even after the race had officially concluded, it seemed the Mercedes fans still hadn’t managed to reach the final stage of grief:

Acceptance.

They remained trapped in a state of profound, lingering anxiety. Even a flawless 1-2 finish couldn’t bring them genuine happiness.

Although Mercedes-Benz had ultimately, miraculously survived the ordeal and secured the maximum points haul, the terrifying, un-killable ghost of Kai had relentlessly stalked them the entire race. He crossed the line in third, trailing Bottas by a microscopic 2.233 seconds. His relentless, suffocating pursuit finally caused the Mercedes-Benz fans to completely lose control of their emotions—

They unleashed a massive, vicious barrage of insults and pure toxicity directed entirely at Bottas!

Kai, who had spent the entire race trailing the Mercedes duo and observing the chaos firsthand, was actually profoundly dissatisfied with his own performance.

The catastrophic tire degradation nightmare from Bahrain had reared its ugly head again in Baku. He was completely handcuffed. Thankfully, Kai had learned from the previous disaster. He proactively, aggressively managed his pace, successfully avoiding the terrifying ’Lift and Coast’ purgatory. But the ultimate result was still incredibly frustrating.

On the surface, it appeared that Kai had spent the entire race lurking ominously behind the Mercedes duo, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The fact that Bottas had pushed Hamilton to the absolute limit could easily be attributed to Kai’s relentless, suffocating pressure. After all, it looked as though Kai was fully prepared to launch a devastating attack on Bottas at any second. The Mercedes pit wall clearly wanted to avoid a repeat of the Shanghai disaster at all costs, which was why they hadn’t intervened and ordered Bottas to hold position. They desperately needed to establish absolute control over the race’s rhythm.

Fool me once, shame on you. The exact same tactical trap was never going to work twice.

But what was the actual, brutal reality?

Kai knew the ugly truth. He never possessed a single, genuine opportunity to attack.

The Baku street circuit is notoriously narrow. The overtaking opportunities are arguably even scarcer than in Monaco. The brutal, scorching ambient temperatures further crippled his options. Kai had absolutely zero opportunity to detonate his energy and launch a viable overtake. From the red lights to the checkered flag, he had been nothing more than a highly interested spectator.

To be brutally honest, from Kai’s perspective, it was an incredibly boring race.

However, boring or not, Kai remained hyper-focused on gathering crucial telemetry data. He constantly cross-referenced the Baku data with his memories of Bahrain. He meticulously analyzed how the brutal ambient heat, combined with specific chassis setups and driving inputs, impacted the highly volatile tire degradation curve.

Furthermore, this was a street circuit. Understanding exactly how the Baku asphalt chewed up the tires was a massive, critical puzzle they absolutely had to solve before arriving at the upcoming street circuits in Monaco and Singapore.

So, he spent the race meticulously gathering data while simultaneously driving like a maniac, continuously herding the two Mercedes cars like a sheepdog, violently applying psychological pressure. All things considered, it was actually a remarkably relaxing Sunday drive.

However, his personal experience in the cockpit was one thing. Handling the post-race media narrative was an entirely different battlefield.

Kai firmly believed that after the disaster in Shanghai, Wolff had brutally, efficiently realigned his strategy. For Mercedes-Benz, Baku was undeniably a flawless, perfect response to Shanghai. They had successfully returned to their dominant trajectory, re-establishing absolute control over both the Drivers’ and Constructors’ Championships, and aggressively expanding their points advantage.

Wolff absolutely would not care about the ”microscopic friction” between Hamilton and Bottas. He would likely dismiss it as entirely insignificant.

Precisely because of that, Kai needed to aggressively fan the flames.

During his post-race interviews, Kai aggressively, lavishly praised Bottas’s phenomenal performance. He stated that Bottas had undeniably proven his elite-tier speed and firmly established himself as a terrifying, highly legitimate threat for the World Championship. Furthermore, Kai expressed profound admiration for Bottas’s sheer courage. He praised him for violently shattering his constraints and displaying a completely renewed, aggressive posture this season.

On one front, he was actively pouring gasoline on the competitive fire burning inside Bottas. For two consecutive races, Bottas’s optimal strategies had been violently derailed by Hamilton. That had to be an incredibly bitter, agonizing pill to swallow.

On the other front, he was actively, ruthlessly provoking the already boiling anger of the Mercedes-Benz fanbase. The tsunami of toxicity and vicious criticism currently crashing down on Bottas was only going to intensify. It was a massive, coordinated psychological siege.

It wasn’t just Kai. Nico Rosberg suddenly emerged as an unexpected, massive catalyst, actively pouring jet fuel onto the inferno.

Following his retirement, Rosberg hadn’t distanced himself from the paddock. In fact, he was arguably more active than ever. He was a permanent fixture on the frontlines, operating as an elite journalist and pundit, frequently appearing on popular motorsport YouTube channels to aggressively promote the sport.

Since the beginning of the new season, Rosberg had repeatedly, lavishly praised Bottas. He was absolutely thrilled by Bottas’s newfound aggression. He praised him for having the sheer courage to directly challenge Hamilton in Melbourne, and explicitly stated he was eager to see Bottas fully embrace the ruthless, cutthroat mentality of a true World Champion.

His commentary following Baku was exactly the same. Rosberg firmly asserted that Bottas possessed the genuine aura of a champion. Mercedes-Benz absolutely needed to trust Bottas more. They couldn’t afford to be conservative. They needed to fully unleash both drivers, aggressively pushing the limits to completely and permanently eradicate the threat posed by Ferrari and the rest of the grid.

Kai and Rosberg were practically performing a perfectly choreographed comedy routine. Every other sentence out of their mouths was about Bottas. They hyped him up so aggressively you would have sworn Bottas had actually won the Azerbaijan Grand Prix. They successfully inflated Bottas’s ego to the point where he was practically floating in the stratosphere.

The Mercedes-Benz fans were absolutely losing their minds with fury. They were gnashing their teeth in pure, unadulterated rage.

Although Wolff had rapidly stabilized the ship and successfully repelled Ferrari’s immediate assault, it was glaringly obvious that he was no longer the only grandmaster manipulating the board. There were simply too many highly volatile, uncontrollable variables in play. The suffocating, brutal deadlock was going to persist for the foreseeable future.

The narratives surrounding the podium finishers were deafening. But the stories unfolding within the points-paying positions were equally dramatic.

Verstappen: P4.

Leclerc: P5.

For the fourth consecutive race, ”Verstappen the Fourth” and ”Leclerc the Fifth” stubbornly, immovably maintained their exact positions.

For Leclerc, the pressure was immense and unyielding. That P5 finish felt incredibly, agonizingly hot to the touch. But Baku was slightly different. After the catastrophic, humiliating crash in Qualifying, he had finally managed to fully unleash his raw, terrifying talent during the race.

Starting from P10, he drove an absolute blinder. He carved his way through the pack, executing a series of spectacular, aggressive overtakes. He put his phenomenal offensive capabilities on full display, ultimately clawing his way back to finish P5.

P5 was still P5, but the context surrounding this specific P5 felt fundamentally different than the previous three.

For the vast majority of the race, the absolute primary focus of the broadcast had been locked onto Leclerc. Although the tense, high-speed game of cat-and-mouse between Hamilton and Bottas never fully left the screens, watching Leclerc violently brawl his way through the impossibly narrow streets of Baku was undeniably the true, visceral highlight of the Grand Prix.

However, the mood at Red Bull regarding Verstappen was entirely different. They were profoundly dissatisfied. The entire Azerbaijan Grand Prix weekend had been an absolute, unmitigated disaster. Albon binning the car into the wall and suffering a DNF only poured salt on the wound, inflicting unprecedented, crushing pressure on the Red Bull pit wall.

They had fast-tracked a massive aerodynamic upgrade package specifically for Azerbaijan, only to discover it completely failed to deliver the projected performance gains. Instead, it introduced a massive wave of new, terrifying technical challenges. Albon’s crash was one issue, but Verstappen’s explosive, highly vocal frustration with the ”upgrades” was a vastly more serious crisis. Nothing was functioning according to their meticulous simulations. A massive, terrifying storm was violently brewing within the Red Bull organization.

The crisis was absolute and immediate!

Precisely because of this, the entire Red Bull organization ignited with a terrifying, desperate fighting spirit. From the engineers pulling all-nighters at the Milton Keynes factory to the mechanics in the garage, they worked around the clock. This team, famous for its ruthless internal pressure and hot-blooded aggression, burned 200% of their energy to violently shatter the deadlock. They successfully became the second team of the 2019 season to author a massive breakthrough and violently overturn the board—

Compared to Kai violently shattering Mercedes-Benz’s blockade to claim victory in Shanghai, Red Bull’s breakthrough in Barcelona held arguably even greater historical significance.

Because this time, Verstappen had finally, violently shattered the established podium monopoly. He became the fourth driver this season—joining Hamilton, Bottas, and Kai—to stand on the podium. The World Championship fight was no longer an exclusive, three-horse race. Red Bull was no longer just an irritating disruptor; they had officially, aggressively inserted themselves as a genuine, terrifying championship contender.

Like a boulder dropped into a lake, the shockwave rippled through the paddock. Did this mean Red Bull had finally returned to their former glory? Was the brutal, three-way war between the ’Big Three’ officially reignited?

The mere thought was enough to make everyone’s blood boil with anticipation.

...

The world had finally descended into absolute silence. The night in Barcelona was thick and heavy. The annual Spanish Grand Prix had officially concluded. But the pit lane remained brilliantly illuminated. Every single team was frantically packing up their massive garages, preparing for the massive logistical operation to transport everything to Monaco for the next round of the championship.

The races came thick and fast, a relentless, high-speed grind with absolutely zero time to breathe. For the personnel who lived and died in the paddock, this grueling routine was simply a way of life. They worked furiously, chatting and joking amidst the chaos. Despite the brutal schedule, this brief window before the madness of the next Grand Prix officially began offered a microscopic sliver of relaxation.

A fleeting moment of stolen peace.

The night sky was a canvas of deep, shifting colors. Even as the rolling, suffocating heat of the day finally dissipated, you could still faintly feel the lingering adrenaline and high-speed tension of the race. But the laughter and lighthearted banter drifting on the sea breeze offered a brief respite from the cutthroat, bayonets-drawn reality of their jobs. At the end of the day, despite operating in a hyper-pressure environment, they were all just ordinary people.

Binotto stood on the second-floor balcony of the Ferrari hospitality unit. He stared out at the hazy, blurring lights blooming across the darkened circuit, listening to the faint sounds of laughter drifting on the wind.

He let out a long, slow exhale. He didn’t linger. He turned back inside, preparing to leave. But as he passed by the main conference room, a sliver of light caught his eye.

He stepped closer. The door was slightly ajar. Looking through the gap, the bright fluorescent lights perfectly illuminated the silhouette of a familiar set of shoulders. Binotto paused. The corners of his mouth curved upward. Seeing this exact scene play out was no longer surprising. In fact, he was slowly beginning to expect it.

Binotto couldn’t help but wonder... exactly when had this started?

Spa!

Yes, last year at Spa. The scene playing out in front of him perfectly overlapped with his memory of that specific night. Although the visual was nearly identical, the underlying emotion was fundamentally, profoundly different.

Knock, knock.

Binotto tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. ”Hey, workaholic. You need to dial it back. The engineers back in Maranello are already under a terrifying amount of pressure. If you keep pushing them like this, they’re going to suffer a collective nervous breakdown. You do realize that Italians fundamentally despise working overtime, right?”

The figure turned around. Seeing Binotto’s trademark curly hair, a bright smile broke across his face. ”The Italians’ stance on overtime might be debatable, but I know for an absolute fact that the French violently despise it.”

It was, of course, Kai.

Binotto pushed the door open and walked in. ”So, have you managed to spot any catastrophic anomalies in the data?”

”Ha.” Kai let out a sharp laugh, completely ignoring Binotto’s question. Instead, he fired back with one of his own. ”It seems our performance has massively derailed from our optimal projections. The Qualifying pace was a disaster, and the Race pace was equally catastrophic. Did a certain ’Gentleman’ immediately call you to vent his fury?”

The ’Gentleman’ was obviously a thinly veiled reference to John Elkann.

A flicker of helpless resignation passed through Binotto’s eyes. ”You don’t need to concern yourself with those matters.”

Kai was completely unbothered, offering a light shrug. ”You can just throw me completely under the bus. Tell him the entire upgrade path was my idea. Even if you don’t snitch, the little birds currently infested throughout Maranello have probably already briefed him on every single microscopic detail. I imagine he’s currently sitting in his office, grinding his teeth in pure rage.”

Binotto maintained his slow, unhurried demeanor. ”You are undeniably the Number One driver, but I am the Team Principal. Are you heavily implying that I possess absolutely zero actual decision-making authority?”

It sounded deadly serious, but it was purely a joke. That was Binotto’s highly specific brand of humor.

Kai’s eyes were practically overflowing with amusement. ”I’m just pointing out the obvious. Even if you try to protect me, that ’Gentleman’ is inevitably going to use the media to dump all the blame squarely onto my shoulders anyway. Therefore, the most logical strategy is to simply roll with it. You should pretend to align yourself with him. Operate as a double agent. Use that leverage to buy us significantly more time and breathing room to actually fix the car.”

”If throwing me to the wolves buys the engineering team the crucial time they need to perfect the aerodynamic upgrades, I am entirely comfortable playing the sacrificial lamb.”

A genuine, profound smile touched Binotto’s eyes.

Of course, he possessed the political power to execute that exact maneuver. But he actively chose to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Kai and the technical department, carrying the crushing weight of the pressure entirely on his own shoulders.

He absolutely refused to repeat Arrivabene’s catastrophic mistakes.

In Barcelona, Ferrari’s highly anticipated, heavily delayed aerodynamic upgrade package had finally arrived. Barcelona had served as the designated winter testing circuit for years. Its comprehensive, highly demanding layout was universally recognized as the ultimate aerodynamic benchmark. Ferrari was absolutely desperate to see exactly how the upgraded SF90 performed here, hoping it would establish a rock-solid foundation for their future development path.

However, the results were profoundly, catastrophically disappointing.

Previously, Ferrari possessed a terrifyingly competitive Qualifying pace; their primary crisis had been restricted entirely to their catastrophic long-run race pace. Now, their massive Qualifying advantage had been completely, violently obliterated.

During Barcelona Qualifying, Bottas had secured his third consecutive Pole Position. His lap time was operating in an entirely different, vastly superior stratosphere. He utterly annihilated Hamilton—who finished P2—by a massive 0.654 seconds. He essentially made the rest of the grid look like they were driving Formula 2 cars. It wasn’t just the sheer terror of the W10; Bottas was rapidly evolving into Mercedes-Benz’s ultimate, lethal secret weapon.

Simultaneously, Verstappen had successfully defeated Kai in Qualifying for the very first time this season, securing P3. Kai was relegated to a frustrating P4, while Leclerc languished in P5.

—The situation was deteriorating rapidly.

The Mercedes-Benz fans, leading a massive chorus of toxic mockery, were ruthlessly kicking Ferrari while they were down. But this time, even the elite, objective industry analysts were expressing profound concern. They universally concluded that Ferrari’s aerodynamic upgrade path had suffered a catastrophic failure. Ignoring the long-run race pace for a moment, permanently sacrificing their absolute Qualifying advantage was a fatal, potentially season-ending error.

Right now, forget about challenging Mercedes-Benz. Red Bull, having finally managed to optimize their own massive upgrade package, had violently overtaken them.

When the checkered flag fell on Sunday, the final results seemed to brutally confirm the experts’ dire assessments.

Hamilton: P1. Bottas: P2.

Mercedes-Benz secured their fourth 1-2 finish of the season. They were currently leading the Constructors’ Championship by an astronomically massive, completely unassailable margin. Hamilton had now successfully defeated Bottas in three consecutive races.

Anyone with functioning eyes could clearly see the truth. Following the brutal betrayal in Melbourne, Hamilton had officially activated his lethal ’Killer Mode.’ He was currently executing a ruthless, cold-blooded massacre against his teammate.

The internal atmosphere at Mercedes-Benz had to be incredibly, terrifyingly toxic.

Verstappen: P3. He secured his very first podium of the season. Red Bull’s agonizingly long wait for a breakthrough had finally ended.

Kai: P4. Leclerc: P5.

—The results spoke for themselves.

You didn’t even need to run a complex data analysis to viscerally feel the crushing, top-down pressure currently suffocating the entire Ferrari organization. The massively hyped upgrade package had not only failed to close the terrifying gap to Mercedes-Benz, but it had actually resulted in them falling behind Red Bull. As the season progressed, the distance between Ferrari and the ultimate World Championship crown was expanding by the second.

The most immediate, terrifying pressure wasn’t actually emanating from the Tifosi. In reality, the Tifosi were displaying remarkable, unprecedented patience. They had suffered through this exact, agonizing cycle of false hope and catastrophic failure countless times before. In the past, this scenario would have triggered massive, violent fan revolts. But because Kai was currently steering the ship, the dynamic was fundamentally different. As long as their Captain remained fiercely resolute, the Tifosi were willing to stand by the team through hell and high water. The true, lethal pressure was emanating entirely from the media and from deep within Ferrari’s own corporate structure.

For example, John Elkann.

The elite technical analysts universally agreed that Ferrari’s development direction was fundamentally flawed. The new upgrades had completely failed to resolve their catastrophic lack of mechanical grip in the low-to-medium-speed corners, while simultaneously severely crippling their absolute top-speed advantage on the straights. This catastrophic double-failure was the root cause of their disastrous Qualifying and Race pace. The experts were expressing deep, profound alarm.

Obviously, Elkann was violently furious. Binotto and Resta had practically sworn blood oaths, demanding more time and promising immediate results. He had granted them the time.

And this was the pathetic result?

However, Binotto silently, stubbornly absorbed the crushing pressure. He had absolutely zero desire to discuss Elkann. He knew Elkann was currently just throwing a massive tantrum. He wouldn’t actually execute any executive firings just yet. There was no immediate need for panic.

Binotto looked at Kai, smoothly picking up the thread of the conversation. ”Don’t worry. We possess more than enough time to rectify this. Everything is proceeding exactly within the parameters of our projections. I genuinely thought you’d be completely unbothered. You look as solid as a mountain. Even when you were facing the firing squad during the media scrums, you were still casually joking around, practically overflowing with absolute confidence.”

The temporary collapse of their Qualifying pace had been fully anticipated. They hadn’t panicked in the slightest.

The absolute, overriding priority was resolving their Sunday race pace. They desperately needed to cure the SF90’s catastrophic long-run tire degradation issues. Otherwise, the miracle of Shanghai would remain an isolated anomaly.

Kai’s expression remained perfectly, utterly transparent. ”Mercedes-Benz is absolutely desperate to see us panic and collapse. I, on the other hand, derive immense, profound pleasure from watching Toto Wolff grind his teeth in pure frustration.”

Binotto froze for a microsecond. He completely failed to suppress his amusement. The corners of his mouth relaxed, curling upward into a massive grin.