F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Chapter 105 The Miracle of Monza

The fierce battle of fifty-three laps has entered its final stage.

The asphalt road surface was radiating intense heat, and the blue Williams race car and the red Ferrari race car were lined up one after the other, the two beasts making their final sprint.

Lin Feng's fireproof underwear was already completely soaked with sweat, and the temperature inside his helmet was approaching 60 degrees Celsius.

The dehydration caused by a high fever of 40 degrees Celsius was destroying his nervous system, and he even saw double on the straight road in front of him.

"Charles is 0.3 seconds behind you! He's activated DRS! He's holding the paint!"

Lin Feng simply didn't have the strength to press the call button to respond. He clenched his teeth, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue being the only stimulus that kept him conscious.

Arrive at the hard braking zone of deceleration curve number one.

In the rearview mirror, Leclerc's Ferrari screeched through the air as it pulled away from the right, ready to take the apex of the corner.

Without hesitation, Lin Feng slammed his right foot to the brake pedal. The carbon ceramic brake discs instantly erupted in blinding flashes of light. He deliberately delayed the braking point by two meters, and the race car, with its violent inertia, cut into the apex of the corner, the chassis slamming heavily onto the curb, sparks flying everywhere.

This reckless, late-braking defense forced Leclerc back to the perimeter.

"He's insane! How dare he brake so late in this state!" Leclerc was forced to release the accelerator to avoid him.

After passing the Ascari bend, head towards the final Parapolica bend.

Lin Feng's vision blurred completely. Relying entirely on the muscle memory he had developed in the system simulator yesterday, he precisely skimmed along the inner white line.

Exiting the corner, full throttle!

The black and white checkered flag waved in mid-air.

Car number 28 crossed the finish line first!

Won!

David Croft jumped up from his chair, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Lin Chong Line! He beat Ferrari at Monza! This feverish Chinese driver has created a miracle in front of the Iron Buddha Temple!"

The moment he crossed the finish line, the system's voice echoed deep within Lin Feng's mind.

[Ding, the match is over.]

[Punishment revoked. Host's body temperature returns to normal.]

The dizziness that felt like my brain was being burned out quickly subsided.

The system can recover body temperature, but it cannot recover the energy severely depleted over the past hour. High temperature and dehydration, muscle spasms, coupled with the sudden relaxation after intense mental stress, caused an overwhelming surge of fatigue.

My stomach churned violently.

Lin Feng did his best to drive the race car into the closed area, and the tires stopped precisely in front of the sign with the number "1" printed on it.

He reached for the steering wheel, but his fingers trembled so much that he couldn't muster any strength, and he couldn't even open the seatbelt buckle after pressing it twice.

"Lin! Can you hear me? How are you feeling!" Paul asked anxiously through the earpiece.

Lin Feng opened his mouth, but could only make hoarse gasps; he couldn't utter a single word.

His vision blurred, and he collapsed in the cockpit, completely losing all strength and ability.

Leclerc and Norris, who were parked at positions two and three next to each other, had already jumped out of the car.

The two had originally planned to go over and argue with the guy who had been playing the line so wildly today.

Norris walked ahead, peeked into the cockpit, and his expression changed drastically.

"Charles! Come quick! He's not moving!" Norris shouted.

Leclerc rushed forward without even taking off his helmet.

The two scrambled to grab the edge of the cockpit, Leclerc reaching in to press the seatbelt buckle, while Norris ripped the steering wheel off Lin Feng's hand.

"Lin! Wake up!" Leclerc patted Lin Feng's helmet hard.

The two men, one on each side, grabbed Lin Feng by the armpits and dragged the tall man, who was over 1.8 meters tall, out of the cramped cockpit.

The moment his feet touched the ground, Lin Feng's knees buckled, and he fell headfirst.

Norris quickly braced himself against him.

Lin Feng ripped off his helmet and fireproof mask, his face deathly pale, his lips cracked and peeling. He pushed Norris's hand away, took a half-step to catch up, and bent down, his hands gripping the side of the race car.

"vomit--!"

The water he drank before the match, mixed with stomach acid, was vomited up all over the floor.

This footage was broadcast live and reached the entire world without any blind spots.

Los Angeles, USA, across the ocean.

Gu Ailing stood in front of the television, tears streaming down her face. She bit her lip hard, her hands clutching the hem of her clothes tightly, and looked at the man on the screen who was so weak he could barely stand, her heart aching with unbearable pain.

"I told you not to risk your life, but you wouldn't listen, you big idiot! You crazy person!" she cried and cursed.

In the family compound in Haidian District, Beijing.

Lin's mother was so frightened that she covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Lin Guoqiang jumped up from the sofa, his fists clenched tightly, his eyes fixed on the paramedics rushing into the screen, barely daring to breathe.

Inside the closed parking area.

The ambulance rushed in with its siren blaring, and the convoy doctor and Williams staff immediately gathered around it.

After vomiting, Lin Feng actually felt a little more sober.

He leaned against the race car tire, panting heavily, and waved away the stretcher offered by the team doctor.

"I won't lie down," Lin Feng said in a terribly hoarse voice. "Help me up. I want to go to the podium."

James, sweating profusely, rushed over and yelled, "Lin! Stop messing around! You need to go to the medical center for an IV drip right now! You're severely dehydrated!"

Lin Feng looked at James and said, "I said I'd take the championship, so you have to stand on it yourself."

James looked into those bloodshot eyes and knew he couldn't persuade this stubborn mule.

As is customary, the top three drivers would tidy up their attire in the lounge before walking up the steps to receive cheers from the fans.

The entrance to the podium.

Lin Feng was now walking unsteadily, his feet feeling like they were floating.

Norris sighed, stepped forward, and placed Lin Feng's left arm on his shoulder. Seeing this, Leclerc also silently walked over and placed his right arm on Lin Feng's shoulder.

"This is the first time in my life I've helped the person who beat me onto the podium," Leclerc muttered irritably. "Lin, you owe us all a huge favor today. Next time on the track, you have to give me the inside lane."

"You wish," Lin Feng retorted weakly. "It's all about skill."

Norris rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, and walked upstairs: "Alright, say less and save your energy. You look skinny, but you're so heavy. Come on, let's get on stage."

The three of them, supporting each other, walked out of the dimly lit passage and appeared under the spotlight of Monza's huge suspended podium.

At that moment, the boos that had been prepared in the main stands completely disappeared.

One hundred thousand Ferrari die-hard fans dressed in red looked up at the Chinese driver, who was being supported by two men on either side, his face pale and needing his opponents' support even to stand.

Everyone already knows the news that spread in the paddock: he ran the entire course while running a fever of 40 degrees Celsius.

In Formula 1, a sport that challenges the limits of human physicality and machinery, this obsession with victory and the pushing of physical limits transcend all conflicts between teams.

In the stands, an elderly Italian man wearing a red Ferrari hat was the first to raise his hands and clap them vigorously.

Immediately afterwards, the applause grew louder and louder, spreading like wildfire.

In less than ten seconds, the entire Monza circuit erupted in thunderous applause!

There were no boos, no insults.

This is the highest tribute that 100,000 members of the Iron Buddha Temple offer to a pure rider.

The Italian media were stunned, their cheeks burning with pain.

The award was presented by John Elkann, Chairman of Ferrari.

He had prepared a whole speech to comfort Leclerc, who had missed out on the home championship. But when he reached Lin Feng and saw the young man's exhausted yet still bright eyes, he stopped in his tracks.

John Elkann raised the championship trophy, symbolizing Monza's highest honor, with both hands and solemnly handed it to Lin Feng.

"You conquered Monza; you are a true fighter," Elkan said sincerely.

"Thank you." Lin Feng accepted the trophy with both hands.

The Chinese national anthem resounded in the Italian night sky.

The five-star red flag was slowly raised at the highest point.

Lin Feng listened to the familiar melody and looked at the red flag in the distance.

The intense pressure of the past month, the system's inhumane punishments, and the life-or-death torment of a fever of forty degrees Celsius all transformed into a flood that burst its banks at this moment.

His eyes reddened, and his nose tingled.

Instead of raising the trophy, he turned around, hugged Lando Norris who was standing next to him, buried his head in Norris's shoulder, and cried uncontrollably.

This wasn't the kind of touching, silent weeping; it was a real, loud wail, with tears and snot all over Norris's papaya-orange racing suit.

"Lando—I've had such a hard time—" Lin Feng complained incoherently while crying.

Norris stood with his hands raised in the air, looking helplessly at the hundreds of thousands of spectators and countless cameras below the stage, his face flushed red.

"Hey! Lin! Calm down! This is a global live broadcast! Tens of millions of people are watching!" Norris was so embarrassed that he dug his toes into the soles of his shoes, desperately trying to push Lin Feng away.

But feeling the exhaustion emanating from Lin Feng and hearing his unguarded cries, he finally sighed helplessly, lowered his hand, and gently patted Lin Feng's back.

"Alright, alright, I know you're awesome, but don't wipe your snot on my clothes! I have an interview coming up!" Norris protested irritably.

Leclerc, standing on the other side, couldn't help but burst into laughter at the comical yet touching scene.

This is absolutely the most unpretentious yet most authentic champion's podium in Monza's history.

The applause from the audience lasted for a long time.

While watching the man on the screen, who was holding Norris and crying like a three-year-old, Gu Ailing, who was far away in the United States, chuckled, though tears still clung to her face.

"What a disgrace." She smiled as she wiped away her tears, but her tone was full of pride.