Ambushed on all sides. Besieged.
Luring the enemy in. Striking from the east while feinting to the west.
Shedding the cocoon. Leaving them in the dust.
In just one single lap, the total chaos had become the stage for an outsider to shock the world. Kai, unflustered by the crisis, had showcased a full arsenal of skills to meet the challenge head-on.
It was a rollercoaster of twists and turns. In a brutal, hand-to-hand combat, he had walked the razor's edge with calm and wisdom. It looked thrilling and precarious, but in reality, he had the whole board under his control, neutralizing every attack with the force of a landslide.
Not only had he not been trapped, but he had brilliantly turned the trap into an advantage, speeding away and leaving his rivals behind in a meat grinder to destroy each other, while he sailed on, steady as a rock, leading the pack.
It looked like a risky move to drive a race lap like a qualifying lap, but in reality, he had cleverly exploited the fact that the tires weren't up to temperature on the first lap to take a calculated risk, seize control, and then bring the race into his own rhythm.
It was just like... just like qualifying at noon. Whether it was the strategy or the execution of the flying lap, everything was inspired.
If this were Hamilton?
No, that wouldn't be surprising. After years in F1, that maturity and wisdom were part of his soul. But a seventeen-year-old rookie?
In his first-ever Formula race?
Breathing was becoming difficult.
Martin Brundle felt his heart slamming against his ribs, the sound deafening in his ears. His blood was boiling, an uncontrollable excitement rising within him.
Deep in his soul, the hunger for speed had returned, leaving his mouth dry.
Brundle had always kept a close eye on young drivers. Those young souls who still believed in dreams, who bravely chased speed, were always shining. They were the source of F1's enduring vitality.
Although Brundle fully supported his fellow Brit, Hamilton, and genuinely hoped to see him continue to chase peaks, he always believed that the next wave was where the hope lay. That was why he insisted on following GP3.
Was there another prodigy right in front of him?
Brundle took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, silently reminding himself not to get ahead of himself.
This was just one race. One race could say a lot, but it wasn't enough. Besides, the race wasn't even over yet.
It was only Lap 1. Rushing to crown a rookie a "genius" now would be premature—trying to pull the shoots to help them grow.
It was forbidden.
Realizing this, Brundle found his breathing rhythm again and calmed down. "Let's take a look at the replay of the start."
David Croft didn't have such complicated thoughts; he was simply happy for the exciting race unfolding before him. He snapped his fingers, cheerful.
"Of course!"
"To be honest, I've been waiting for the replay. The first lap was just too action-packed, we didn't have time. Let's look at the start again."
In sports, this often happens. Everything moves too fast, in the blink of an eye, without warning. You witness a miracle, and the adrenaline surge wipes your memory clean. You don't know, and you don't remember, what actually happened.
This is where the instant replay saves everything, allowing people to appreciate the miracle again and again.
And so it was now.
Even though they had just witnessed the whole process, it had all been crammed into three to five seconds. Before they could react, it was over.
Watching it again, Croft and Brundle confirmed it.
"Brilliant!"
"Without a doubt, the best season opener we could have asked for. Maybe we can expect a legendary season for GP3."
It wasn't just Kai. Aitken, Russell, Boccolacci, Pulcini, and even the drivers further back had all shown incredible fighting spirit, daring to attack, daring to risk. The back-and-forth battles were what made the first lap so spectacular.
It had been a long time since the Barcelona circuit had seen such exciting clashes. The F2 race this afternoon had been calm, without any surprises.
But now, GP3 was carrying the flag!
Croft turned to his partner. "Now, Kai has withstood the impact, taken the lead, and built a gap."
"If he wants to make GP3 history by winning his debut race, what does he need to watch out for?"
Brundle didn't hesitate. "Tire wear."
"Formula racing isn't like street racing. We're chasing speed, but speed isn't everything. Rhythm, balance, tension—these are the keys."
"Obviously, in that intense, knife-edge battle on the first lap, the drivers' tires took a beating. The wear must be significant."
"Not just for Kai leading the race, but for all the top five drivers. Boccolacci especially faced constant dirty air, so the state of his tires is a big question mark. It's a 22-lap race, and there are still 20 laps to go. Finding the balance between protecting the tires and chasing speed will be the key to the rest of the race."
"Clearly, the battle behind him isn't over. They're still trying to gain an advantage. For Kai, who has pulled away, the focus is entirely on rhythm. He needs to run his own race at his own pace, let the rivals behind him burn each other out, and not get distracted."
"It sounds simple, but in reality, it's not. A young driver can't afford to let his guard down."
Croft laughed. "No, Martin, it doesn't even sound simple. These young men are all ready to prove themselves in the season opener. No one wants to surrender without a fight, especially after that opening. Everyone needs to bring their A-game."
"Otherwise... this race might become a one-man show for Kai Zhizhou."
As expected of Sky Sports' lead F1 commentator, Croft had his finger on the pulse.
The race was brilliant.
It was no longer just about winning or losing; it was about dignity and pride. You can lose a race, but you can't lose it so pathetically, especially not to a greenhorn outsider.
A warrior can be killed, but not humiliated.
Every driver dug deep, trying to prove themselves. Even if they couldn't catch the leader, they needed to show their ability.
Chasing, fighting, wheel-to-wheel combat everywhere. It was a glorious mess. Exciting moments came one after another, dizzying the viewers. The cameras had to cover the entire field to catch the action, and Croft and Brundle could barely keep up.
As a result, the Number 2 car was barely seen on screen.
Because Kai had completely entered his own rhythm, running at full speed. He was far ahead, leaving the chasers in the dust.
Forget about being passed; the gap between first and second was only growing. In the end, the race became a lonely time trial for Kai.
And, entering the final stages of the race, Kai was still speeding up, entering "flying lap" mode, constantly resetting the fastest lap time.
Again, and again, and again.
It was like a single-player game. Sure enough, it lived up to the reputation of the "boring" Barcelona circuit.
No surprises, no suspense. Kai steadily completed the final lap and crossed the finish line, ending a race where the leader had been sprinting alone the entire time. It could definitely be called a boring and tedious race.
The championship: secured.
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