F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Chapter 98 A Dilemma

During the match weekend, Zanderford was completely transformed into a sea of ​​orange.

These Dutch fans practically used up all their year-end fireworks allowance in advance. From Friday's first practice session, the orange smoke generators in the stands never stopped, and thick orange smoke billowed onto the track with the North Sea breeze, while the Autobots' cheering music could be heard from the stands from time to time.

"DuDuDuDu,.ma verstappen,.DuDuDuDu."

Lin Feng sat in the cockpit, and even through his helmet, he could smell the pungent smell of gunpowder.

"Paul, did those Dutchmen not control the heat properly while grilling meat in the stands? My car looks like a bacon-smoking workshop now," Lin Feng complained over the radio, coughing as he spoke.

"Bear with it, Lin. This is Max's lair. Be careful when you open it." Paul's voice sounded helpless.

The Zanderford circuit was practically a torture device tailor-made for Williams' FW46.

This track has undulating terrain and sharp, narrow corners, which places extremely high demands on the downforce of the race cars.

Williams cars are known for their high top speed on straightaways and strong downforce in corners. Driving the FW46 on this track feels like ice skating on a bar of oiled soap in a public bathhouse.

During Saturday's qualifying session, Lin Feng pulled and shoved the car on the edge of losing control on the exaggeratedly steep inclines of Turn 3 and Turn 14.

When Lin Feng got off the car, he felt like his neck was about to be snapped by the terrifying centrifugal force. Fortunately, his time was acceptable, starting eighth. As for pole position, it was unsurprisingly taken easily by Verstappen, who was racing on his home track.

Sunday, the main competition, arrived in the blink of an eye.

It was 2:30 PM. Twenty race cars were neatly parked in the starting grid.

The idling engine roared so loudly it made one's chest tingle. The hundreds of thousands of orange-clad spectators in the stands erupted in a deafening roar.

Lin Feng had just fastened his six-point seatbelt and placed his hands on the suede steering wheel. Before he could even adjust the radio, a crisp "ding" sound suddenly rang out from deep within his mind.

The unlucky sound made Lin Feng's hand gripping the steering wheel tremble violently.

[System task triggered: Zanderford Flight Circle.]

[Task objective: Set the fastest lap time in today's race and maintain it until the end of the race.]

[Mission failure penalty: Unknown.]

After looking at the semi-transparent task panel in front of him, Lin Feng's vision went black, and he almost spat out a mouthful of blood onto the instrument panel.

"Holy shit! System, are you targeting me?!" Lin Feng roared in his mind, "Get the fastest lap time?!"

Look at the junk I'm driving! You want me to take a Williams tractor and compete with Red Bull and McLaren for the fastest lap time? You might as well just make me get out and push it!

In F1 racing, there's usually only one common but effective way to get the fastest lap time: near the end of the race, when the car is at its lightest and fuel is depleted, pit for a new set of soft tires, and then go all out for one lap.

However, this requires a hard prerequisite: you must have enough time to enter the station, or you don't care at all what place you finish.

What sent chills down Lin Feng's spine was the unknown punishment.

In the past, at least I was mentally prepared, but this time it's completely unknown. Who knows what kind of insane tricks this broken system will come up with!

If they make him take off his pants in public during a post-race interview, or force him to go to the Red Bull pit lane and kiss Verstappen, then his career in motorsports is completely over.

"Lin? Radio test. Why is your heart rate suddenly beating so fast? What happened?" The voice of the competition engineer, Paul, sounded tense in the headset.

"N-nothing." Lin Feng swallowed. "Paul, we might need to make today's game a bit more exciting."

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"Don't do anything too exciting! Finish safely! Keep your points!" Paul hurriedly reminded him, startled.

Just then, the departure signal light in mid-air lit up.

One cup, two cups, three cups, four cups, five cups.

Red light off! The game begins!

The cheers of hundreds of thousands of fans were instantly drowned out by the roar of the engines.

Lin Feng's reaction speed was as abnormal as ever. The Williams race car left a trail of blue smoke on the straight, its rear wheels screeching wildly as it headed straight for the first corner, Tazan.

The Zanderford circuit is ridiculously narrow; if you don't get a good position at the start, overtaking becomes incredibly difficult once the pack spreads out.

Lin Feng looked at the Ferrari to his left and had no intention of reasoning with it. Relying on his boldness, he braked more than ten meters late on the outside of Turn 1.

The tires screamed in agony on the asphalt, and the car almost slid past the sidepod of Sainz's Ferrari.

"Damn it! Did this guy's brakes break down?!" Sainz cursed over the radio, forced to swerve to avoid it.

By force of his own, Lin Feng climbed to seventh place!

Next up is the famous Turn 3. With a lean angle of up to 18 degrees, the race cars appear to be glued to the wall when cornering.

Lin Feng was pressed firmly into the seat by the immense G-force, feeling as if his head was about to be flung off. He could only grit his teeth and squeeze the steering wheel as hard as he could.

For the first fifteen laps, the race was a close back-and-forth battle.

Lin Feng relentlessly chased after the Mercedes ahead, while Russell wasn't having an easy time either. The straight at Zanderford was too short, significantly reducing the effectiveness of DRS. Lin Feng tried to pull away several times, but Russell forcefully blocked him before the corner.

Following closely behind Lin Feng was Carlos Sainz, who had been overtaken by Lin Feng's initial start.

Sainz was like a red plaster, stuck to Williams' rearview mirror, constantly sticking his car out to test the waters.

"Carlos is 0.8 seconds behind you. His red tires are starting to wear off. Guard the paint and don't give him a chance," Paul announced live on the radio.

"He can only get over there by flying over the roof of my car," Lin Feng sneered.

On the twentieth lap, the station entrance window opened.

Overtaking is difficult, so all teams are focusing on their pit stop strategies. Everyone is trying to use the undercut to gain a better position on the track.

"Bo! Bo!" Paul gave the command.

Lin Feng turned the car into the narrow pit lane.

Williams' mechanics performed exceptionally well today; the tire was changed and the car was on the ground almost immediately after the pneumatic wrench clicked.

"2.4 seconds! Let's go, let's go!"

Lin Feng stepped on the gas and sped out of the repair area.

The exit zone is crucial.

Lin Feng was standing on brand new hard tires. Although they hadn't reached their optimal operating temperature yet, he didn't care and pushed the race car to its limit.

He even floored the accelerator in the high-speed blind spot of Turn Seven, the rear of the car skimming over the gravel and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Sainz pits on the next lap.

As the Ferrari emerged from the pit lane, preparing to merge onto the main track, a blue car sped past it with a whooshing sound.

Lin Feng, through relentless pressure outside the pit lane, successfully overtook Sainz! Not only that, he also managed to leave Russell, who was slightly slower to enter the pit lane, behind him!

Two truckloads in a row!

"Great! Lin! You're in fifth now! Russell and Sainz are right behind you! Keep the pace, protect the tires!" Paul's voice cracked with excitement on the radio.

Lin Feng was panting heavily in the car, sweat running down his fireproof hood and into his eyes, stinging painfully.

"Received it. I'll try to treat this white-painted set like a family heirloom," Lin Feng replied half-jokingly.

The next twenty-odd laps were pure torture.

The four guys ahead of them—Verstappen, Norris, Piastri, and Leclerc—who were driving Mars rovers, have long since disappeared. Lin Feng is now the leader of the second tier.

But Sainz, who was behind him, had no intention of giving up.

Ferrari's chassis had a clear advantage in the corners of Zanderford. Every time they entered a low-speed corner, Sainz's front end was practically touching Lin Feng's gearbox.

"Defense, change lanes, and seize the inside lane."

Lin Feng's mind was focused on only these three actions. He frantically drew dragons on the straightaways to cut off the tailflow, and parked his car across the middle of the road in the curves to become a road hog.

"How can Williams' car be so wide! He's completely blocking the road!" Sainz complained angrily to the Ferrari control center over the radio.

"Be patient, Carlos. His tires will wear out before yours. Find an opportunity," the Ferrari engineer reassured him.

The race has reached the fiftieth lap.

The fans in the stands had already started singing and dancing to celebrate Verstappen's steady lead.

For Lin Feng, however, the real hell had just begun.

He stubbornly held on to fifth place in the narrow Zanderford, relying on tire-eating and relentless defense. Sainz was stuck in sixth, about two and a half seconds behind, and although he never gave up, he looked somewhat desperate.

This is a result that should make the Williams team celebrate nationwide! To finish fifth on a track that is so unsuitable for their car is practically robbery!

Paul's voice on the radio was beaming: "Well done, Lin! Your defense was textbook perfect! Keep this pace, hold onto fifth place, and we'll have a fantastic day! Fifth place in the team standings is ours!"

But Lin Feng, sitting in the car, had his back soaked in cold sweat, and even his palms, which were gripping the steering wheel, were covered in slippery sweat.

He couldn't feel happy at all.

He glanced down at the real-time data displayed on the steering wheel screen.

Fastest lap time of the day: 1 minute 13.2 seconds, set by Max Verstappen.

Lin Feng's fastest lap time: 1 minute 14.8 seconds.

It was a full 1.6 seconds off!

On the Zanderford circuit, where each lap is just over four kilometers long, a difference of 1.6 seconds is practically an insurmountable chasm.

There are 22 laps left in the race.

The white tires Lin Feng was wearing had already completed thirty laps, and their surface was worn down to a tattered state, with the grip visibly decreasing. Every time he exited a corner, the rear of the car would uncontrollably wiggle twice.

Trying to set the fastest lap time with these old, nearly bald white tires? That's a complete pipe dream. You couldn't even break the accelerator pedal.

The only way is to enter the station.

He pitted to change into a brand new set of soft tires, and while the car was almost out of fuel and at its lightest, he went out and gave it his all for a flying lap, hoping to beat Verstappen's fastest lap.

The problem is, he's currently ranked fifth.

Sixth-placed Sainz was less than three seconds behind him. Seventh-placed Russell was only six seconds behind.

At Zanderford, it takes a full twenty-two seconds for you to go from slowing down to entering the service area to changing a tire and then accelerating out again!

This means that if he chooses to switch to red tires now, he will fall out of the points zone and drop to outside twelfth place!

Moreover, on such a narrow track where overtaking is impossible, even with the new red tires offering unparalleled grip, it would be difficult for him to regain his position within the remaining ten laps. Not to mention setting a clean fastest lap time amidst the chaotic overtaking frenzy.

Position or fastest lap time?

If he manages to finish fifth safely, the entire Williams team will treat him like a hero. After the race, he'll definitely be tormented by the system's "unknown penalty," and might even be forced to wear a bikini and perform a pole dance in front of tens of thousands of people at the starting line.

If he goes in to change tires and set a new lap time, he can escape punishment. James and Paul will probably be so angry they'll have a stroke and be taken away by ambulance, and the media will criticize him for being out of his mind, giving up ten valuable points to mess around with some crazy fastest lap time.

This isn't a multiple-choice question; it's a death trap!

Sitting in the nearly 50-degree Celsius cabin, Lin Feng felt like a skewer of meat being grilled over a fire, sizzling and dripping with oil on the outside, while the inside was completely cooled down.

Advancing means death, retreating means death.

"Paul————"

Lin Feng swallowed hard, his finger hovering over the green radio communication button on the steering wheel, hesitating for a long time before pressing it.

"I'm here, Lin. What's going on? How are the tires feeling? Do we need to adjust the front wing angle next time?" Paul asked patiently as soon as he heard the noise.

Lin Feng looked at the long, straight road ahead, then glanced at the Ferrari red in the rearview mirror, which looked like a malignant tumor.

"No—it's nothing."

Lin Feng finally released the radio button.

He took a deep breath, his eyes becoming unusually complex, even tinged with a sense of tragic grandeur.

Just then, on the big screen of the track's broadcast, the director mischievously switched to the current fastest lap time leaderboard.

Verstappen's name is prominently displayed at the top of the list.

"This damn system really leaves us no way out."

Lin Feng gritted his teeth and cursed in despair.

What should we do?

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