F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Paul's voice, which had been high-spirited from securing fifth place, suddenly seemed to be gripped by an invisible hand.

An unsettling silence fell over the radio channel.

Immediately afterwards, James's urgent and angry questioning could be heard in the background, mixed with the sound of documents being slammed down.

As Lin Feng drove the race car past Turn 3, his relaxed nerves suddenly tensed up.

"Paul, what's wrong?" Lin Feng pressed the call button. "Is my car's telemetry data abnormal?"

A full five seconds passed before Paul's voice returned to the cockpit: "Lin... don't go back to the garage, drive straight to the FIA ​​inspection area. Park next to the weighing platform, and don't touch any settings on the steering wheel."

"Vehicle inspection area?" Lin Feng frowned. "They suspect our race car violated regulations?"

"It's that damn patch," Paul said through gritted teeth. "The FIA's technical representative just notified us that we triggered a violation alert, and your car and Alex's car have been impounded."

Since the race organizers had given their instructions, Lin Feng didn't ask any more questions and obediently drove the car into the pit area, stopping at the FIA-designated technical inspection area.

Several inspectors in FIA uniforms immediately surrounded the car and began reading data from the race car's ECU with expressionless faces.

As Lin Feng pulled the steering wheel and climbed out of the cramped cockpit, Albon had just parked his No. 23 race car next to him.

The two looked at each other and saw helplessness in each other's eyes.

An hour later, in the Williams team's internal conference room.

"Bang!"

The usually mild-mannered James Walls slammed a lengthy FIA ruling report, more than ten pages long, onto the conference table.

"Ridiculous! Absolutely absurd!" Worth's face flushed red, and he loosened his tie. "When we uploaded that patch during training, we already reported it to the FIA's technical director! It was a security patch purely for security reasons, designed to fix downgrade lock-up!"

The meeting room was completely silent.

Paul and the engineers kept their heads down, not daring to utter a sound.

"James, what were the FIA's exact words?" Lin Feng asked.

Wols took a deep breath, braced his hands on the table, and looked at Lin Feng and Alben, suppressing his anger.

"The FIA's technical officers determined that the code we uploaded not only changed the engine's braking logic but also optimized the torque output curve when exiting corners to some extent. They believe this constitutes a substantial modification to the car's performance, amounting to a form of traction control assistance."

Worse still added through gritted teeth, "What's worse, during a spot check after qualifying, they determined that we used non-standard software without a final written waiver during qualifying."

"So, what is the punishment?" Albon gave a wry smile. Having been in F1 for so many years, he had already guessed the ending.

"Qualifying results are cancelled." Worth closed his eyes in despair. "For the race tomorrow, Sunday, both of your cars must start from the pit lane."

The conference room erupted in curses from the engineers.

"I spent a full forty minutes in the secretary's office arguing to prove that this patch didn't increase horsepower at all!" Worth's eyes were red-rimmed. "But they rejected the appeal. That old stubborn Joe Bauer said the rules are the rules!"

They went from fifth place overall to last place, and now they have to start from the pit lane.

This means that tomorrow Lin Feng will not only face the turbulence created by all the race cars after they start, but will also lose extra time merging into the track from the pit lane exit.

This is practically a death sentence.

Lin Feng stopped twirling his pen when he saw the furious Worse.

"Alright, James. Stop slamming the table, it's quite expensive." Lin Feng stood up, walked over to Walls, and patted the team leader, to whom he had poured all his heart and soul, on the shoulder. "Since the appeal was rejected, let's accept reality. At least starting from the pit lane has one advantage: if there's a chain reaction at Turn 1 tomorrow, we'll definitely be the safest."

Alben stood up and shrugged. "Lin's right. What we have in abundance at Williams is experience starting from the back of the line. You'll get used to it."

Seeing that the two drivers not only didn't complain, but were even comforting him, Worcester felt even more guilty.

"I'm sorry, Lin. This was a mistake by the team management. I didn't keep a close eye on the FIA's written confirmation process." Wors looked at Lin Feng apologetically. "You set a phenomenal lap time today. You should have started from the front row. We ruined your qualifying."

"Stop with the nonsense. We'll celebrate together if we win, and we'll shoulder the burden together if we lose." Lin Feng waved his hand dismissively. "Since the results have already been cancelled, Paul, take advantage of the exemption to start from the pit lane and do another chassis adjustment on the car's suspension and sidepods tonight. If we're going to overtake in the race, push the top speed to the maximum."

Paul suddenly looked up, his eyes lighting up again: "Okay, let's revise it tonight!"

By 8 p.m., the hunting grounds had become much quieter.

Lin Feng sat alone on the terrace outside the team's rest room, looking at the half-empty can of iced cola in his hand.

To be honest, even with system tasks on my mind, the contrast between such extreme joy and sorrow can be quite frustrating.

"Oh, looks like Williams's meals haven't improved at all. Is he drowning his sorrows in alcohol?"

A familiar voice in Chinese came from behind me.

Lin Feng turned around and saw Zhou Guanyu, the Chinese driver for the Sauber team, walking over carrying two paper bags.

He finished fourteenth in qualifying today, which is pretty good.

"Brother Guanyu, what brings you here?" Lin Feng smiled and pointed to the chair opposite him.

"Come see the unlucky guy." Zhou Guanyu placed the paper bag on the table, which emitted an enticing aroma. "I saw a nice Chinese restaurant on my way back to the hotel and brought you some sweet and sour pork ribs and stir-fried beef noodles."

Lin Feng didn't stand on ceremony. He took a piece of pork rib from his chopsticks and stuffed it into his mouth, saying indistinctly, "Thanks. Food from back home is still the most reliable."

Zhou Guanyu pulled out a chair, sat down, and sighed.

"Our team also received the FIA's penalty notice. Bro, this is really messed up." Zhou Guanyu looked at Lin Feng. "Everyone in the paddock knows that your patch was just skirting the rules. If it were Mercedes or Red Bull, the FIA ​​might just turn a blind eye and give a warning. But you're Williams, that's the politics of F1."

"I know." Lin Feng swallowed his food and took a sip of cola. "They always pick on the weak. Ferrari is probably celebrating with champagne right now, having gotten rid of one troublesome guy."

"It's good that you're able to take it easy. I suffered a lot of these kinds of setbacks in my first two years in F1." Zhou Guanyu patted Lin Feng's arm. "But everyone in the paddock saw your P5 lap time today. Even if you start from the pit lane tomorrow, as long as you can overtake a few cars and come back, no one will question your ability. Just drive normally, don't try to force your way over the wall."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Tomorrow I'm not only going to overtake, I'm going to get back the points that are rightfully mine." Lin Feng's eyes were particularly determined in the night.

Just as the two were eating and chatting, Lin Feng's phone, which was on the table, suddenly vibrated.

The screen lit up; it was a WeChat message notification.

Having previously added He Muni on WeChat, Lin Feng was naturally added to a small group called "Overseas Wandering Athletes." Subsequently, an account with the username "Frog Princess" proactively added him as a friend.

The message was sent by Gu Ailing.

Lin Feng put down his chopsticks, picked up his phone, and opened the chat window.

Eileen Gu: [I saw the news (angry expression)]

Gu Ailing: [What do those old men in suits know about racing! It's clearly you driving fast, but they insist it's a software problem. It's infuriating!]

Gu Ailing: [But it's okay! So what if I started in the pit lane? True champions all start from hell! I once made a mistake while skiing and dropped to last place, but I still managed to come back and win the championship!]

Eileen Gu: [I'll be watching you on TV tomorrow for the main race. Go for it! Give it your all! Go go go! ️]

Looking at the rapid-fire text and a bunch of fancy emojis on the screen, Lin Feng couldn't help but chuckle.

Zhou Guanyu leaned over for a glance, then raised an eyebrow gossipingly: "Wow, an Olympic champion personally sent a WeChat message to comfort you. Lin Feng, your qualifying results being disqualified is actually a blessing in disguise."

"Go to hell."

Lin Feng locked his phone screen, tossed it back onto the table, stood up, and stretched. "Keep an eye on the cars in front of you when you start at Turn One tomorrow."

"Don't worry about me, I'm perfectly fine. But you, take it easy when you come out of the repair area, don't cross the white line and get another five-second penalty." Zhou Guanyu waved with a smile, picked up the trash, and left. "Get some rest, tomorrow's going to be tough."

After Zhou Guanyu left, Lin Feng stood alone in the night wind of the hunting grounds.

The system's notification still hung silently in my mind.

[Mission Objective 2: Finish in the top ten of the points bracket in Sunday's main race!]

[Task Reward: 2000 System Points.]

He fought his way back from last place, twentieth place, to the top ten.

Lin Feng raised his head and looked at the dark night sky, remaining silent for a long time.