In the spectator stands, the woman with dyed hair murmured, still unable to process the fact that the red car hadn't flipped.
All this time, she had been fiercely proud of her own driving skill, believing that apart from the Captain, no one else’s talent surpassed hers in the entire world.
But today, the performance of that scarlet sports car had slapped her across the face. What she couldn't achieve, it had accomplished.
She almost felt the shadow of a figure, its face obscured, silently mocking her.
Her pride was mercilessly shredded into pieces.
“He must have cheated,” the man with long hair suddenly burst out in agitation. “That car must have been specially assembled.”
The helpless dyed-hair woman's eyes lit up, like a drowning person grasping at a straw. “Yes, that has to be it. It must be like that…”
A flush spread across her face, and she abruptly jumped up, ready to rush out, only to be seized by the Captain. “What are you doing?”
“Captain, let go of me! I’m going to file a complaint. Daring to violate the racing rules—I’ll make sure this club shuts down.” The dyed-hair woman’s expression was intense, resembling a wounded tigress.
“It’s useless. This is their turf. If you go, they won’t even listen to you.”
The Captain wasn't as naive as she was. He understood the principle of not provoking a local power. No matter how significant their family’s influence was in Dar City, this was Mingzhou.
“So, they are allowed to profane the sacred sport of racing?” the woman shouted in fury.
“Let’s go back and think of another way,” the Captain said with a hint of helplessness. He could only try to soothe the young lady’s temper, otherwise, heaven knew what chaos she might cause.
As willful as she was, her background was terrifyingly powerful. If anything happened to her here, countless people would suffer the consequences, and he himself might even be implicated.
The dyed-hair woman snorted and conceded to the Captain’s suggestion, raising her gaze to glare hatefully at the red sports car still speeding ahead.
“He might not necessarily have cheated,” the bespectacled man suddenly remarked.
“What did you say?” The dyed-hair woman couldn't help glaring at him.
“Tell us your reasoning.”
The Captain spoke, saying he generally trusted the bespectacled man’s judgment. Facts proved that the bespectacled man rarely erred. Moreover, deep down, the Captain also didn't believe the driver had cheated; he simply lacked convincing evidence.
“I wonder if you all remember, there wasn't just one person in the car,” the bespectacled man said, pushing his glasses up with his index finger. A look of aggressive confidence now animated his face, completely different from his earlier humble and honest demeanor.
The three were slightly stunned. They had been too shocked moments ago and had forgotten that detail. Reminded now, they recalled it.
“An extra person in the car means the vehicle weighed several tens of kilograms more. As everyone knows, at such high speeds, even a slight difference can create infinite variations. Therefore, our experience doesn't directly apply to the red sports car.”
“Even with an extra few dozen kilograms, the difference shouldn't be that extreme,” the long-haired man questioned.
“Exactly,” the dyed-hair woman countered. “How do you know that adding a few dozen kilograms wouldn't cause a flip in that situation?”
Faced with their skepticism, the bespectacled man looked perfectly composed. He pulled out a portable computer from his pocket and displayed the video footage of the red car's turn, freezing the frame at the exact moment it nearly overturned.
“See that?” The bespectacled man pointed to the side of the car that had lifted off the ground.
“See what?” The dyed-hair woman leaned in but couldn't discern anything unusual.
“It looks like…” The long-haired man frowned. “It’s strange, sort of… uncoordinated.”
“Precisely.” The bespectacled man snapped his fingers and entered a command into the computer. A three-dimensional coordinate system appeared superimposed on the image, with the car’s center of mass as the origin.
“Look again now.”
“It really is strange.” This time, the dyed-hair woman spotted the issue immediately. “It looks like… the car has already flipped.”
“Correct.”
The bespectacled man clicked the computer again. Arrows appeared on the coordinates, marking all the forces acting upon the vehicle.
Suddenly, it was crystal clear. The resultant force on the car at that moment was diagonally downward, combined with an almost total tilt. In that scenario, not flipping defied all logic.
“He was definitely cheating,” the dyed-hair woman gritted out. “This is the proof.”
“Hear me out first.”
The bespectacled man smiled faintly, rewound the footage, and began playing it in slow motion. The car tilted to its apex, about to fully overturn, when the chassis subtly swayed and miraculously settled back down.
“What was that…” The Captain’s eyes brightened.
“Exactly.” The bespectacled man seemed to know what he was about to ask and nodded. “The driver of the red sports car must be a master of Tishū (Physical Arts), and his skill level far surpasses ours.”
All three fell silent. Yes, apart from Tishū, there was no other plausible explanation, provided they ruled out cheating.
In truth, it wasn't that they couldn't conceive of this possibility, but rather they projected their own limitations onto others. They themselves couldn't perform such a feat, so they hadn't considered that direction.
After all, everyone present could be considered the favored elite, born into wealth and gifted with extraordinary talent. Their Tishū had already reached the Second Layer at a young age, making them paragons among the younger generation.
Their arrogance and disdain for others were therefore understandable.
“Huh? Where did that red sports car go?” the bespectacled man suddenly exclaimed.
This broke their silence, and they all looked up. Indeed, on the giant screen, the red car bearing license number 001313 had vanished. The video receiver distributed by the club also failed to pick up a signal.
It turned out that while they were arguing, the red sports car had left at some unknown point.
Unable to find the red car, they had no choice but to give up.
Glancing one last time at the main screen, they all felt a sense of anticlimax. The Captain suggested leaving, and the other three agreed.
“I must find out that person’s identity.”
As they departed, the dyed-hair woman clenched her small fists, making a silent resolution deep in her heart. She had to challenge him.
That evening, someone uploaded the complete panoramic video of the red car onto the internet, immediately causing a sensation. It was rapidly reposted across all major sports car forums.
After watching the footage, many enthusiasts instantly crowned the driver of the red car, 001313, as their idol.
“He elevated sports car driving to the realm of art,” one commentator declared.
Indeed, that perfectly natural overtake, that turn free of any trace of effort, like an antelope hanging from a horn, possessed a peculiar aesthetic beauty.
The most contentious part was the final downhill turn. Many insisted the red car had cheated, while the die-hard fans of 001313 vehemently disagreed. A grand debate erupted between the two factions.
The conflict began on an inconspicuous small forum where someone posted a detailed analysis, much like the bespectacled man's, concluding that the red car must have cheated, as there was no other reason for it not to have flipped.
The fans fought back fiercely. Though they lacked hard evidence, they had their arguments: the Mingzhou Racing Club had a sterling reputation, and there had never been any rumor of cheating.
Furthermore, someone claiming to be an employee of the Mingzhou Club leaked information asserting that the cheating claims were pure fabrication; the club’s management was extremely strict, making any such occurrence impossible.
Neither side could convince the other, ultimately resulting in an unsolvable enigma.
Of course, this debate was confined to the circle of sports car enthusiasts and had no impact on the mainstream.