F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Silverstone Circuit, the birthplace of modern Formula 1.

For Williams Racing, based in Grove, Oxfordshire, this is their absolute home ground.

Friday's free practice sessions are in full swing.

Lin Feng drove race car number 28, streaking across the Wellington Straight like a blue lightning bolt.

"Lin, prepare to enter Cops Bend. Be aware of the wind direction change; there's a strong crosswind today."

"Understood. The wind is making the front of the car shake, but the chassis can still hold up."

Lin Feng gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, his eyes fixed on the apex of the bend ahead.

Cops Corner is a high-speed right-hand corner requiring full throttle or only a very slight reduction in throttle. The downforce of this car was actually insufficient to support him taking the corner at full speed, but Lin Feng managed to counteract the slide at the rear of the car by using corrections.

Next up are Silverstone’s most famous series of devilish corners – Magtz, Becquetz, and Chappell.

The race car needs to make continuous high-speed left and right turns here, with lateral G-forces exceeding 5G.

Lin Feng's body was tightly bound by the seatbelt in the cramped cockpit, and his neck was subjected to tremendous pulling force, but he did not flinch at all. The race car bounced on his shoulders, and every turn he made was incredibly precise.

At this moment, inside the pit garage of the Williams team.

James Walls was wearing headphones, his hands resting on the console table, his eyes fixed on the telemetry curve on the screen representing the depth of Lin Feng's accelerator and brake pedals.

Reserve driver Franco Crapinto stood beside him, also watching the in-car screen intently.

On the screen, when Lin Feng was going through the Beckers bend, the accelerator pedal did not drop to the bottom completely, but remained at a heart-pounding level.

"Good heavens..." James shook his head, then turned to the young Argentinian beside him. "Franco, you used to drive against Lin in F2. Was he also driving like this, completely reckless?"

When Crapinto heard the team leader's question, he touched his chin, and the familiar Chinese face on the F2 circuit came to mind.

"Boss, to be honest, the Lin Feng I know now is like a completely different person from the Lin Feng I knew in F2."

Clapinto's expression turned very strange, as if he had recalled something incredible.

"Back in F2, his driving style was, how should I put it... very polite."

"Politeness?" James raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, it's politeness, or rather, being overly conservative." Crapinto's eyes darted around as he began to reveal, "I remember once in Monza, we were driving side by side on the main straight. I was prepared for a late-braking battle, but when we were still 150 meters from the corner, he actually eased off the accelerator to let me pass! His reason was that he thought that angle was likely to cause a collision and damage the car's front wing."

Crapinto pointed at car number 28 on the screen, his face full of incomprehension.

"Back then, his F2 results were consistently in the middle range. The only time he made it to the podium was when the top five cars ahead of him had a massive chain-reaction crash at a corner. Because he was driving slowly and far away, he managed to avoid the accident and snatched second place. Who would have thought..."

Crapinto gave a wry smile: "Who would have thought that after he entered F1, he would be replaced by an alien? When he replaced Sainz, I thought he would definitely be last. But look at him now, he doesn't have a trace of that conservative look he had back then."

After listening to Crapinto's story, James thoughtfully picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip.

"That's just how some people are, Franco," James said, his gaze deep. "They might not stand out in lower-level racing, but once you give them a real F1 car, their wildness and talent will be unleashed. Lin is that kind of person; he's destined for greatness."

Crapinto nodded in agreement.

James put down his teacup, his voice lowering as if he were talking to himself.

"You've seen all the rumors circulating about Mercedes and Red Bull lately; reporters are besieging the door every day asking me about it."

James sighed, his tone a mixture of relief and helplessness.

"Actually, I know very well that the Williams temple is too small to hold this great Buddha."

Crapinto paused for a moment.

"Boss, you mean...?"

"I'm already mentally prepared for him to switch to Mercedes next year," James said candidly, shrugging. "Toto, that old fox, has a sharp eye; he won't let Lin Feng go. Our team's current strength is simply not enough to provide him with a machine capable of competing for the world championship."

A relieved smile appeared on James' face.

"But I'm not angry at all. Look at his current results, he single-handedly dragged our team up to fourth place in the standings, and that's enough. He proved himself here and helped us get a generous year-end bonus. It's a win-win situation. When he wears the silver and black team jersey next year, I'll even go to congratulate him in person."

The two were expressing their feelings in front of the screen, completely immersed in the slightly sad emotions of parting.

None of them noticed that in the maintenance driveway outside the pit lane, the number 28 race car had already finished its final test run of the second practice session and was steadily pushed back into the garage by the mechanics.

Lin Feng nimbly jumped out of the cockpit, took off his helmet and fireproof hood, and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.

He had just walked behind the control table when he heard James say, "I'm mentally prepared for him to join Mercedes next year."

Lin Feng stopped, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He then tiptoed behind the two, deliberately slowing his breathing, and crept closer like a ghost.

James continued, "After he's gone, Franco, you'll have to take on more responsibility. We need..."

"Boss, are you in such a hurry to sell me to a trust company?"

A cheerful voice suddenly rang in James and Crapinto's ears.

Holy crap!

James was so startled that he shuddered and spilled the half-cup of black tea he was holding onto his trousers, nearly sliding off the bar stool.

Clapinto, standing next to him, was even more dramatic. Like a startled rabbit, he suddenly jumped forward and crashed into the stand of the data screen, clutching his head and groaning "Ouch, ouch!"

The two turned around, still shaken.

Lin Feng, with a white towel around his neck and a bottle of mineral water in his hand, was leaning against the wall next to the command platform, laughing so hard he was doubled over.

"Lin! How come you walk so quietly! Don't you know that you can scare someone to death!" James frantically grabbed a tissue to wipe the tea off his pants, yelling angrily.

"Your footsteps were so loud when I walked over, you two were whispering too much behind my back, weren't you?" Lin Feng unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp of water, then walked over and patted Crapinto on the shoulder. "Franco, I think I just heard you spilling dirt on me? What do you mean I used to be polite while driving? I was just obeying the law!"

Crapinto rubbed his head and laughed awkwardly, "No, no, no, I was just reporting your amazing progress to the boss. I'm praising you, praising you."

James finally managed to dry his pants and glared at Lin Feng with annoyance.

"How was the second practice session? Looking at your throttle opening at Becquerels, were you trying to wear down all our tires?"

When racing was mentioned, Lin Feng put away his joking attitude and became serious.

"The chassis is pretty good. The high-speed corners at Silverstone suit this car very well. However, Red Bull and McLaren are still a bit faster on the straights than us. If I want to get into the top two rows in qualifying tomorrow, I'll have to take advantage of their slipstream a bit more."

James nodded, indicating his approval of the feedback.

"It's good if you can maintain this pace. This weekend is our home game, and I'll be happy as long as you finish safely and get as many points as possible. As for where you'll go next year, we'll talk about that at the end of the season. Don't distract me now."

Lin Feng was actually quite touched by James's fatherly concern. Although the team leader often nagged him, he truly supported him wholeheartedly.

He tossed the towel over his shoulder and made a casual joke.

"Boss, considering you just praised me as someone of great talent, and since this weekend is our absolute home turf, just getting some points isn't enough. How about I go all out and bring you a podium at Silverstone on Sunday, as a thank you for taking care of me these past six months? What do you say?"

James laughed out loud after hearing this, taking it as just Lin Feng's usual arrogant trash talk.

"Great! Lin! If you really do manage to win the podium at Silverstone, I'll treat you to a lavish meal at London's best Michelin three-star restaurant next Monday, all out of my own pocket! Order whatever you want!"

"It's a deal!" Lin Feng smiled and bumped fists with James.

Just then.

Deep within Lin Feng's mind, the system that usually pretended to be dead and only came back to life when drawing prizes or issuing tasks suddenly emitted a crisp "ding" without warning.

A pale blue holographic screen popped up on Lin Feng's retina.

[System notification: The host has been detected making a bold statement; the main quest has been triggered.]

[Mission Title: The Glory of Home Ground and the Price of a Feast]

[Mission Objective: To achieve a top-three finish on the podium at the Silverstone Grand Prix in the UK.]

Seeing this, Lin Feng was still thinking to himself: How come this system is so cooperative now? It even issues tasks for me to casually brag. I guess it will reward me with points or something.

However, when his gaze fell on the red text at the bottom, the smile on his face froze instantly, and he stood there stiffly, as if struck by lightning.

[Mission Failure Penalty: Given the host's strong craving for "Michelin-starred meals," if the mission fails, for thirty days after the competition ends, any food the host ingests that the system deems "delicious, gourmet, and high-calorie" will be forcibly transformed into the taste of 100% pure, fresh excrement.]

[System Reminder: Eating shit is not a pleasant experience. Host, please give it your all! Good luck!]