F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Chapter 99 Heaven-Defying Punishment

The race has reached the fifty-fifth lap.

The sea breeze blowing from Beihai filled the area around the track with orange smoke, and hidden in this orange mist, which smelled of gunpowder, was a narrow, winding, and almost impossible-to-overtake devil track.

Lin Feng, driving the No. 28 Williams race car, was firmly stuck in fifth place.

In his rearview mirror, a blinding flash of Ferrari red was rapidly magnifying. It was Carlos Sainz, who had been chasing him relentlessly from sixth place.

"Lin, Carlos is 0.4 seconds behind you. He has DRS and his tires are five laps newer than yours."

"Let him handle it." Lin Feng said, panting heavily, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Zanderford has a short straight, and the only overtaking point is Turn 1 at the end of the long straight – Tazan Turn.

Sure enough, just after crossing the starting line, Sainz pressed the DRS button without hesitation. The Ferrari's rear wing opened instantly, with a piercing whistle as it pulled away from the left, ready to overtake Lin Feng on the outside.

Lin Feng had no intention of being polite. He swerved the car, the race car forcefully blocking the braking point on the inside line.

The two cars sped side-by-side toward Tazan Bend at nearly 300 kilometers per hour!

Less than fifty meters from the apex, Lin Feng slammed on the brakes, his left foot perfectly controlling the downshifting rhythm. He deliberately cut the corner angle very deep, pressing the front of the car firmly against the apex, completely blocking Sainz's cutting line.

Sainz was forced to widen the corner, his tires hit the dusty edge of the track, and the car shook violently.

"He changed lanes in the braking zone! He pushed me out!" Sainz yelled angrily into the team radio.

A few seconds later, Paul relayed Sainz's complaint to Lin Feng.

"He slipped and slid out because he lost his grip," Lin Feng sneered from inside his helmet. "Tell him this is F1, not a tour bus in Madrid. If you don't like it crowded, go to the back of the line."

The first shot missed, and Sainz's tires got covered in sand, causing his speed to drop drastically. Lin Feng then pulled away by nearly a second.

Shaking off the clingy guy behind him, Lin Feng immediately locked his gaze on the prey ahead.

Fourth on the list is Oscar Piastri of the McLaren team.

The young Australian driver played very solid defense, but his white tires were starting to wear out badly, and the rear of the car was frequently slipping when cornering.

"Oscar's struggling, Lin. You have three laps to finish him off, then we need to save the pregnancy," Paul instructed.

"Three laps are too much, one lap is enough."

Lin Feng slammed his right foot on the accelerator, and the Williams race car, like a cheetah that had smelled blood, began to frantically push every inch of the track to its limits in the corners.

Lap 61, the famous Turn 3 – Hugenholz Turn.

This is a bowl-shaped bend with an exaggerated 19-degree incline.

To play defensively, Piastri opted for the safest low line, firmly guarding the inside of the corner. This is the standard defensive line for most drivers, as the outside line is too long and prone to sliding off the track.

But Lin Feng did the opposite.

The moment he entered the corner, Lin Feng not only did not slow down to cut inside, but instead stepped on the gas, throwing the car directly up the outer slope with the highest angle of inclination!

A gasp rippled through the Dutch fans in the stands. At that speed, going high on the line, the car could have slammed directly into the barrier at any moment due to centrifugal force.

But Lin Feng knew the limits of the FW46's chassis inside and out. He used the lean angle at the top of the corner to practically "hung" the race car on the slope. The moment he exited the corner, he used the powerful potential energy from the downhill slope to be a full fifteen kilometers faster than Piastri, who was crawling along the inside line!

Just as he exited the corner and entered the short straight, the blue Williams race car appeared as if descended from the sky, roaring past Piastelli on the outside and cleanly completing the overtake!

"A beautiful overtake! Lin Feng has moved up to fourth!" Sky Sports commentator Croft exclaimed in the broadcast booth, "Overtaking on the outside of the high line at Turn 3! We haven't seen this kind of ferocious driving in a long time!"

Piastri, who had been overtaken, shook his head in despair inside the car. This kind of completely unreasonable physical suppression was something he couldn't defend against even if he broke the steering wheel.

After securing fourth place, Lin Feng attempted to continue chasing Russell, who was in third place.

However, the severe tire wear and the few laps left in the race made it difficult for him to close the eight-second gap.

"Lin, keep the pace and bring the car back. Fourth place, a fantastic result," Paul reassured him over the radio.

Lin Feng took a deep breath to calm his racing heart rate caused by the intense battle. Although he didn't make it to the podium, finishing fourth on a track like Zanderford, which was completely unsuitable for Williams' cars, was already an exceptional performance.

The 72nd lap.

Amidst deafening cheers and billowing orange smoke, Max Verstappen crossed the finish line first, securing the home victory. Norris came in second, and Russell third.

Following closely behind, Lin Feng drove race car number 28 smoothly across the finish line.

P4 finished the race.

"Well done, guys, have a great weekend." Lin Feng thanked the team as usual on the radio and prepared to unbuckle his seatbelt.

Just then, deep within his mind, that familiar electronic voice rang out precisely on time.

【Ding】

[Match results complete.]

[Our objective: To set the fastest lap time in the race.]

[Result: Failure. (The fastest lap time of the race was set by Lewis Hamilton on the final lap.)]

Lin Feng's hand, which was unbuckling his seatbelt, froze.

What's going on? He clearly set a purple lap on lap 65! When did that old fox Hamilton steal the fastest lap?!

He quickly glanced at the data feedback on the steering wheel screen. Sure enough, Hamilton pitted on the penultimate lap to change to a brand new set of red tires, and managed to break his fastest lap time by 0.2 seconds on the final lap.

"Damn it!" Lin Feng cursed under his breath inside his helmet. These old foxes would do anything for that one extra point.

The electronic voice ignored Lin Feng's frustration and continued its cold pronouncement:

[Mission failure penalty activated.]

[Punishment details: During the Italian Grand Prix (Monza circuit) race next week, the host's body temperature will be kept constant at 40 degrees Celsius.]

A state of severe high fever at 18 degrees Celsius.

[System Warning: Driving an F1 car while suffering from a fever of 40 degrees Celsius and severe dehydration poses an extremely high risk to your life. It is strongly recommended that the host withdraw from next week's Monza race to save their life.]

The system voice disappeared, and everything went black before Lin Feng's eyes.

A fever of 40 degrees Celsius?! And they want me to withdraw from the competition?!

"Withdraw from the competition?"

Lin Feng sat in the cockpit, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his eyes bloodshot, and the tangible ferocity in his bones was fully unleashed.

"Damn system, stop looking down on me! You want me to desert?"

Lin Feng gritted his teeth and roared in his mind, word by word, his chest heaving violently.

"You want to kill me, huh? Fine! Next week at Monza, not only will I not retire, I'll floor the accelerator! You want me to retire? I'll show you by taking first place on Ferrari's home turf! We might as well die on the track together!"

[The system has received the host's decision. The punishment is irreversible. Good luck, host.]

The system sound disappeared.

Lin Feng parked the race car in the closed parking area, took off the steering wheel, and his chest heaved violently with anger.

He pulled the steering wheel and climbed out of the cockpit with a gloomy expression.

Surrounded by celebrating drivers and excited media, the lively atmosphere did nothing to quell Lin Feng's urge to smash the system to pieces.

After a simple weighing, Lin Feng carried the helmet towards the mixed mining area.

All he wanted to do now was quickly appease these reporters, then go back to the hotel to check if the fever reducer contained any prohibited ingredients, or perhaps even figure out how to install an ice-water circulation system in the helmet.

In the mixed zone, reporters from various countries had been waiting for a long time with their cameras and microphones.

As soon as Lin Feng walked over, several microphones were shoved into his mouth.

The first few British and domestic reporters asked routine questions about today's overtaking and tire strategy. Lin Feng suppressed his frustration and answered them half-heartedly.

Just as Lin Feng was about to turn and leave, a male reporter wearing a red vest and holding a microphone with the logo of Sky Sports Italy pushed his way to the front, blocking Lin Feng's path.

"Lin! Please wait a moment!" The Italian reporter spoke in heavily accented English, his tone revealing a fervor and pride that only Italians could understand.

"You beat Carlos today, very well done. But next week, F1 returns to Monza. That's Ferrari's absolute home track! It's the holy land of the world's iron Buddha temples!"

The reporter excitedly waved the recorder in his hand.

"In Monza, Ferrari will be bringing its biggest upgrade package of the season. Our fans are ready to paint the entire grandstand red. What are your expectations for next week's Monza? Do you think a car like the Williams, with its average straight-line speed, will have a chance to compete with Ferrari there?"

The Italian journalist's question was less of an interview and more of a challenge on behalf of the Ferrari team, his tone full of contempt and provocation.

The other reporters around him fell silent, their cameras focused on Lin Feng, eager to see how this notoriously hot-tempered Chinese driver would respond.

Lin Feng stopped in his tracks.

Already extremely irritable due to the system's insane "40-degree fever" punishment, this Italian reporter still insisted on coming and walking right into the line of fire.

Lin Feng turned around and looked coldly at the Italian reporter whose face was full of expectation. He didn't answer immediately, but instead reached out and took off the Williams team hat from his head, and tidied his hair, which was soaked with sweat.

Is Monza the holy land of Ferrari?

Lin Feng stared directly into the camera lens, a cold smile playing on his lips, a smile that was three parts disdain and seven parts arrogance.

"Sorry, I've never believed in superstitions since I was a child. My favorite thing to do is to sabotage other people's businesses."

The Italian reporter's smile froze on his face.

Lin Feng took a step forward and approached the microphone with the Sky Sports Italy logo. The sound wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet mixed zone, every word piercing to the heart.

"You ask me what my outlook is for Monza next week? My outlook is very simple."

Lin Feng stared at the Italian reporter, his eyes as cold as ice.

"Go back and tell your Tifosi to prepare plenty of red smoke grenades. Because when the race ends, they'll need those smokes to cover up the tears of Ferrari's crushing defeat at home."

"Also, a reminder to Carlos and Charles. On the long straight in Monza, they'd better check their rearview mirrors frequently. Because I'll be flying over their heads in this Williams you look down on."

These words caused an uproar throughout the mixed mining area!

All the reporters gasped. This was an attack on the world's largest and most passionate racing fan base, right in front of all the Italian media! If these remarks were broadcast, Lin Feng would definitely become public enemy number one in Italy, and might even be drowned out by boos at the Monza circuit.

The Italian journalist was so angry that his face turned red, his lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

"You're too arrogant!" the reporter finally realized and shouted angrily.

"This isn't arrogance, this is called advance notice."

Lin Feng put his hat back on his head, not bothering to look at him again, and strode away.

PR manager Chloe chased after them so hard her high heels almost broke, covering her face in despair.

"My God—Lin! Do you know what you just did?!" Chloe caught up with Lin Feng and shouted in despair.

As Lin Feng walked, he impatiently unzipped his racing suit, his mind preoccupied with his 40-degree fever next week. He had no interest in the feelings of Ferrari fans.

"Help me contact the veterinarian in the team," Lin Feng suddenly turned to Chloe and said.

"What are you doing? Are you hurt?" Chloe was startled.

"I'm not injured." Lin Feng gritted his teeth. "Have him prepare a few boxes of the strongest fever reducer for me. I have a feeling that Italy will be extremely hot next week."