Chapter 117: A Massive Slaughter
Wu Shi rarely logged into his publicly verified social-media accounts, so he had long forgotten his password. He also didn't follow his own public pages, meaning he had no awareness of what was happening online.
Right now, all sorts of information were flying everywhere, and the comment section underneath his name was in complete chaos.
Some comments praised him with blind passion:
> "The youngest Karting Grand Slam winner in history! Six-time consecutive FIA F3 European Championship winner! How is he not qualified for F1?"
> "Correction: It's now seven consecutive championships." (Three minutes ago)
> "Is there anyone in motorsport with a better junior-formula record before entering F1? Once Wu goes in, he'll dominate F1 exactly like he dominated karting and F3."
Wu Shi covered his face.
"Bro… you're going to praise me to death at this rate."
But the next comment was even more ridiculous:
> "With Wu's skill, he could win a championship even in a Caterham!"
Hiss—!
Wu Shi genuinely felt pain reading that. Caterham was even weaker than Sauber; how could he win a championship with that car?
He didn't expect to have so many brain-dead fans. These comments sounded like praise—but only because it's 2014.
If this were 2024, they'd all be called idiots and flamed to oblivion.
The negative comments weren't surprising either: racism, accusations of "custom-tuned cars," bribery talk—stuff every rising driver had to endure.
"Don't you usually look at these? Your popularity right now is higher than all of us combined."
Foucault was genuinely envious; he wanted to try being an internet celebrity himself.
"There's nothing to see," Wu Shi said calmly. "They'll either say I can or I can't. I know whether I can. I don't need strangers to tell me."
"That's exactly what I thought."
Verstappen chuckled. He also hated public exposure, and had no interest in responding to baseless comments—hence his many "classic" answers to reporters.
The three had lunch together, and at 4:30 p.m., the second qualifying session began.
Like always, qualifying was divided into two groups. Fastest lap set the grid for Race 2; second-fastest lap set the grid for Race 3.
Wu Shi was in the second group, letting him observe the earlier runners from the pit wall.
"Didn't you rest at noon? People from your hometown usually take midday naps," Alan said, noticing his dark circles.
"No, I'm not sleepy anymore."
He had planned to rest, but because of the Mercedes rumors, the other drivers kept swarming around him asking questions.
Since the confidentiality clause was crucial, he told them nothing—and even played dumb, asking gossip questions instead. This greatly satisfied the egos of drivers who couldn't beat him on track but finally found something they could beat him at: chatter.
"The pace is much faster today," Wu Shi remarked.
"That's normal. Drivers always push harder in the second qualifying," Alan said.
Why?
"Some of them overextended their limit in Q1. Not everyone can be like you."
In the first session, Rosenqvist topped the board with a 1:10.197—a big improvement—while Blomqvist followed with 1:10.547.
"Your turn. Good luck—bring home pole," Alan said.
"Thanks."
Wu Shi got in the car. After 29 laps in the morning race, his understanding of the circuit had deepened. Matching yesterday's pace would be easier.
Confident, he was the first to leave the pit lane. Two warm-up laps later, he immediately pushed for time.
"Wu, start dominating the laptimes!"
The broadcast instantly cut to Car No. 32. Wu Shi's car weaved left and right through the narrow street circuit like a slippery eel.
"His familiarity has clearly increased. Yesterday, he needed many corrections mid-corner. Today, he barely needs any."
"We're also noticing he's adjusting brake bias and differential earlier into the turns. His driving style has shifted slightly."
The commentary team was sharp, pointing out details casual viewers wouldn't notice.
Wu Shi crossed the line: 1:10.013.
Slightly slower than yesterday, but more than enough for pole.
"Interesting—slightly slower, but consistency is clearly improved," the commentator added.
After parking, he watched the rest. Fifteen minutes later, no one beat him. Closest was Ocon with 1:10.192.
Saturday's sessions ended there.
The forecast said it would rain tomorrow.
By evening, it rained almost nonstop.
---
Race Day
At 11 a.m., the rain eased. The cars lined up after the reconnaissance lap, but five minutes before the start, rain suddenly intensified. Teams rushed to adjust wet-tire pressures.
Three minutes later, Alan said on the radio:
"Race control confirms: no standing start."
Sure enough, the safety car led the field away.
Six laps passed behind the safety car. The rain stopped around Lap 3, but Race Direction waited for a proper dry line before letting them go.
On the slippery surface, even with wet tyres, Wu Shi felt the car fighting for grip. He had to find alternative lines to get traction.
Five seconds after the safety car pulled in, the race began.
The engines roared, but the acceleration looked sluggish.
For F3 drivers in the rain, no caution was excessive.
At Turn 2, Wu Shi entered conservatively. Rubber debris made the corner extremely slippery. His rear stepped out slightly; he caught it with a quick throttle correction.
That "slow" corner entry was already pushing Ocon behind him to his limit—Ocon braked even earlier.
Then came Verstappen.
Car No. 30 took an aggressive inside line, aiming for a divebomb.
Naturally, the tyres hit rubber marbles. Grip vanished. And Verstappen braked absurdly late.
Screech—!
All four tyres locked instantly.
Car No. 30 went straight at over 140 km/h, sliding toward Ocon's flank.
Ocon had just committed to the corner when he heard an engine screaming behind him. He turned his head—
—an out-of-control car was charging at him.
Snap!
The impact sent Car No. 2 spinning violently.
By the time Wu Shi heard the crash, both cars were already ricocheting toward him.
Holy crap!
He instantly shut off all sensory perception and braced.
Bang!
All three cars smashed into the guardrail. Debris exploded across the track.
"Oh! NO! Huge crash at the front! Verstappen locked up and went straight into Ocon and Wu! The pack is arriving—Foucault just manages to brake!"
Before the commentator finished, the cars behind plunged into the water spray.
Visibility was nearly zero.
The front drivers braked early.
The ones behind—blind in the mist—braked at their usual markers.
Bang!
Two more cars collided and slid straight into the guardrail.
Wu Shi's wreck was struck twice more in rapid succession.
Bang! Bang!
Six cars lay destroyed.
The safety car was deployed immediately. Yellow flags waved everywhere.
Once water spray cleared, the remaining drivers avoided further incidents.
The camera cut to Turn 2: six wrecked cars, leaving only a narrow path for one car to squeeze through.
Wu Shi opened his visor, unbuckled, and climbed out.
He exhaled in relief—his sensory shutdown had triggered instantly. Otherwise, things might have gone very wrong.
He hadn't expected Verstappen to attempt that dive in the rain.
Only he would dare something so extreme.
He set aside his headrest, climbed over debris—and saw one driver lying unnaturally in her seat.
His chest tightened.
He ran over, ignoring passing cars, and opened her visor.
"Hey! Tatiana! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine… just a little dizzy…" Tatiana Calderón murmured, still disoriented.
"Good. Stay still."
He signaled urgently for medical staff.
Ocon and Goddard climbed out and rushed over to help.
Soon, all six were escorted through the guardrail gap to safety.
"Max! What were you thinking?!" Ocon shouted, furious.
"I just… couldn't stop in time," Verstappen said quietly.
"Hah!" Ocon scoffed and walked off.
Wu Shi patted Verstappen's shoulder. "You okay?"
"It's fine," Verstappen replied.
Thankfully, only Tatiana felt discomfort; everyone else was unhurt.
Alan ran to Wu Shi the moment he returned.
"Don't be discouraged. It's just one race."
"What's there to be discouraged about?" Wu Shi laughed. It wasn't his fault, so he felt nothing about losing the win.
"Tsk—let me comfort you at least," Alan said.
The team leader burst into laughter. Losing three cars was bad, but everyone being safe was worth more than any race win.
And with Wu Shi's 175 points plus Verstappen's tally, Prema couldn't catch Van Amersfoort anymore.
A team title was almost guaranteed.
It took six laps to clear the wrecks. Racing resumed.
Four laps later, another driver hit the wall—another safety car.
The race resumed on Lap 20, but lasted only two laps before ending.
Blomqvist won, Jack Dennis second, Giovinazzi third.
For once, Wu Shi stood in the crowd and watched others climb the podium.
"God save the Queen~" he hummed lightly.
"I could almost sing your anthem," Verstappen said.
"Haha, I know the Dutch anthem too—du du du du~"
"Wow! How do you even know that?" Verstappen laughed.
When the UK anthem started, both fell respectfully silent.
Afterward, Wu Shi said, "I really like that melody."
"Really? Haha!"
By the third race at 3:40 p.m., the sun had come out and the track was nearly dry again.