Night fell over the Bahrain International Circuit.
Floodlights turned the track into a river of artificial daylight. Free Practice 2 (FP2) was underway. This was the most critical session, mirroring the exact time and temperature of tomorrow's Qualifying and Sunday's Race.
Right now, 80% of the global broadcast feed was fixated on one car.
The white Hawk VF-25.
Even the "Red King" Louis Hamson, who had just made the biggest transfer in history, was losing screen time.
Why?
Because the Chinese maniac was still painting the timing screens purple.
Scuderia Fire Garage.
The atmosphere was weird. Tense.
Louis Hamson, dressed in his new scarlet racing suit, stared at the telemetry screens. His brow furrowed. Two lines overlapped on the graph—his SF-25 and Ye Tian's VF-25.
"Fred," Hamson pointed at the S-curves data. "This isn't science. It's magic."
Fred, the Scuderia Team Principal, chewed his fingernails.
"Look at the apex speed," Hamson continued, shaking his head. "He's carrying 12 km/h more speed than me. I've seen the wind tunnel data for Team Hawk. That car has the aerodynamic efficiency of a brick. At that speed, the Hawk should lose rear grip and fly off the track."
Fred's eyes narrowed. "Unless... they are hiding something under the floor. Illegal Active Suspension? Or maybe a flexi-wing?"
"Whatever it is." Hamson put on his helmet, the prancing horse logo gleaming. "I'm going out. I'll follow him. If he's cheating, I'll see it."
On track. Green light.
The engine roared, tearing through the silent desert night.
Ye Tian guided the Hawk out of the pits. Despite the tweaks, the car was still a nightmare. It vibrated like it was falling apart.
[System Warning: Rear tires overheating. Grip levels dropping by 30%.]
The mechanical voice rang in his head.
"Understood."
Ye Tian gripped the wheel. His eyes flashed with a reckless light.
So the grip is gone? Fine.
If the car can't grip, I won't ask it to.
Rally Mode: Engaged.
Ahead lay Turn 10. A nasty, sharp, off-camber left-hander. It was a braking zone that punished mistakes. Lock up here, and you ruin your tires.
In front of Ye Tian was the dark blue car of Crimson Energy.
Max Vesper. The Four-Time World Champion.
Vesper approached the corner like a machine. Brake in a straight line. Turn in. Hit the apex. Smooth. Boring.
Then came Ye Tian.
He didn't brake at the normal marker.
"He missed the braking point!" In the commentary booth, guest commentator and former champion Nico shouted. "Rookie mistake! He's going to torpedo Vesper!"
But in the next second, millions of viewers witnessed the most absurd thing ever seen in modern FX.
Ye Tian didn't turn the wheel left.
He feinted right.
Weight transfer. The rear of the car swung out violently.
Then—he slammed the wheel to the left and tapped the hand-clutch!
SCREEEEEECH!
White smoke erupted from the rear tires!
The car wasn't pointing at the corner. It was perpendicular to the track!
He was sliding sideways!
Drifting?!
In FX, where tires cost more than a house and precision is everything, someone was drifting like he was in a Fast & Furious movie?!
"Oh my god!" The commentator clutched his head. "Is this FX or the World Rally Championship?! He's treating a $15 million car like a toy!"
Just as everyone thought the Hawk would spin into the gravel, Ye Tian stomped the gas at the exact millisecond the car passed the apex.
The slide killed the car's natural understeer. The nose pointed straight at the exit instantly.
BOOM!
Rocket launch!
While this style murdered tires, in this specific low-speed corner, it eliminated the Hawk's weakness. His exit speed was terrifying!
Max Vesper, who had just cleared the corner, checked his mirrors.
He saw a cloud of smoke, and then a white nosecone sniffing his exhaust pipe.
"What the hell?!" Vesper shouted on the radio. "What is that thing? Is he drifting?!"
Behind them, Louis Hamson saw the whole thing from his Ferrari.
The Seven-Time King's hands actually trembled on the wheel.
"Bono... sorry, Riccardo," Hamson whispered, disbelief coloring his tone. "Did I just see a Hawk... Tokyo Drift through Turn 10? And he didn't lose time?"
"Louis," his engineer replied, voice flat. "Telemetry confirms... he was 0.4 seconds faster than you in that corner."
Hamson took a deep breath.
"That's not a rookie. That's a monster."
Thirty minutes later. Session over.
Ye Tian parked the car in P3. Third fastest.
Again.
Nobody called it luck anymore. You don't drift a Formula X car by luck.
He pulled into the garage. Before he could even unbuckle, a group of men in white shirts surrounded the car. They wore the logo of the GIA (Global International Auto - the governing body).
Leading them was Joe Power, the Technical Delegate. The man who decided if a car was legal or illegal.
He held a roll of yellow "SEALED" tape.
Standing behind him, looking smug, were the team principals of Crimson Energy and Scuderia Fire. The giants had united to crush the bug.
"Mr. Ye. Team Hawk."
Joe Power pointed at the car's engine cover. His face was grim.
"We are impounding this vehicle. Immediately."
Koma ran over, panicking. "Hey! Joe! What is this? What did we do?"
Joe Power scoffed. He spoke loudly, ensuring the cameras caught every word.
"We received a joint protest from Crimson Energy and Scuderia Fire. They strongly suspect Team Hawk is using illegal Traction Control systems and a flexi-floor."
"There is no other explanation for that cornering speed. A Hawk cannot be faster than a Red Bull. Physics forbids it."
Flash! Flash! Flash!
The media swarm descended. Sharks smelling blood.
"Cheater."
That word was a death sentence. If proven true, Ye Tian would be banned before his career started. The "Naked Run" bet would be a joke.
Koma turned pale. He opened his mouth to beg, but a hand stopped him.
Ye Tian stepped forward.
He held his helmet under his arm. Sweat matted his hair, but his face was fresh.
He looked at the GIA officials. Then he looked past them, locking eyes with Max Vesper, who was watching from a distance with a cold smirk.
"Check it."
Ye Tian spat out the words.
"Tear it apart. Strip it down to the last bolt."
He started to laugh. A low, arrogant chuckle that grew into a roar. He tapped his temple.
"But I have bad news for you. You won't find any illegal hardware."
"Because the engine that makes this piece of garbage fly..."
Ye Tian pointed a finger at his own chest. Right over his heart.
His eyes burned with a fire that made the Technical Delegate step back.
"...is right here."