Chapter 368 368: Fighting to the End

They were coming.

You could tell simply from the thunderous roar reverberating through the air that the train of cars led by Leclerc was entering the pit straight, closing in fast.

Leclerc was giving it everything he had. He was trying to dictate the tempo and lock down into full defensive mode, acting as a crucial buffer for his teammate to grant him a moment to breathe.

Hamilton, however, refused to sit back and wait. Right at the start of the second stint, he applied relentless, suffocating pressure. He was trying to undercut Kai on one hand, while attempting to chew through the Ferrari’s tires on the other, pressing his aggressive edge right up against Leclerc’s spine.

The air itself was burning as heatwaves packed every corner between the pit wall and the main grandstand. Turn 1, La Source, sat right at the edge of vision. Now, it was all down to who could claim the corner first.

On one side, a silver surge swept forward trailing red flames. On the other side, a vivid, brilliant red remained calm, flowing quietly without a sound. It looked fast yet felt oddly slow, unhurried yet clean and decisive. The visual contrast between fast and slow tightened every heart in the stands.

Before anyone could even react, the No. 22 Ferrari spearheaded its way into La Source. At that exact instant, Leclerc had only just crossed the start-finish line.

The gap was over a second. It was not the hair-raising, tangled neck-and-neck duel everyone had anticipated. Relaxing his tense shoulders, Martin Brundle felt all power leave his body as he collapsed back into his chair.

“KAI! LU!”

As Brundle sat limp, Croft’s thunderous shout exploded through the broadcast booth.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! KAI CONTINUES TO LEAD THE BELGIAN GRAND PRIX!”

“An incomprehensible performance! Unbelievable! Peerless! Kai demonstrates his supreme skill once again, standing tall and resolute against wave after wave of Mercedes assaults! His performance in the first stint was nothing short of perfection!”

“From strategy to execution, when faced with variables and a fierce opponent counterattacking, he stayed cool under fire, seized control, and delivered the ultimate response to reclaim absolute dominance over the race!”

“Seamless! Impeccable!”

“Who could have predicted this?!”

“No one! Absolute no one!”

“Amid chaos and turmoil, Ferrari displays the unstoppable aura of true champions, taking complete control of this Grand Prix with sheer force!”

“Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable!”

Croft clutched his head with both hands, his chest heaving, utterly overwhelmed.

Even though everyone knew Ferrari held an edge at Spa, given all the variables, the Belgian Grand Prix was expected to be a brutal brawl. Caught in a web of internal and external tensions, Ferrari faced immense challenges, and no one could have predicted how this weekend would unfold.

Yet Ferrari delivered an answer like this. For the first stint at least, it was pristine and flawless. Mercedes had thrown everything they had at them, but Ferrari still emerged triumphant in this blade-to-blade direct showdown. Strategy, adaptability, decisiveness, they had completely outmaneuvered their fierce paddock rivals.

At the season opener in Albert Park, what Mercedes had tried to pull off was shattered by Kai. Now, as the war reignited at Spa for the second half of the season, Ferrari held off Mercedes’ ferocious onslaught, sprinting headlong toward a perfect fairy-tale ending.

The contrast was stark. The pit lanes of Mercedes and Ferrari had turned into opposite ends of heaven and hell, separated only by a single line.

“Aargh!”

Lu Cheng clenched his fists tight. Unable to contain himself any longer, he roared at the top of his lungs, venting every drop of suppressed emotion.

The anxiety and insecurity that had been burning through his core were finally released. As he shouted, his eyes grew red and welled up with tears. The heavy boulder crushing his chest still had not been lifted, because Antoine Hubert was still in a coma, locked in a desperate battle on the precipice between life and death.

Lu Cheng just kept screaming like that, a lethal spark flashing through his tear-filled eyes, bursting with relentless resolve as his gaze locked onto the live broadcast screen.

“The fight isn’t over! Antoine, can you hear us?!”

“Kai is still fighting! Charles is still fighting! And just like your parents, we are all fighting along with you! Don’t give up! Let’s fight together to the absolute end!”

It was not just Lu Cheng. To be precise, Lu Cheng was merely a single drop in a vast ocean. Across the entire Ferrari pit box, everyone clad in red shirts with blue accents stood up. Deeply stirred by the soaring battle spirit Kai was beaming back from the track, every single one of them raised their fists and bellowed without restraint. The rolling heatwave almost blew right through the television screen.

Nathalie Cabel-Hubert sat dazed in the hospital corridor, staring blankly at a dark speck on the wall. The moment her focus slackened, her vision blurred and scattered. Her mind was an absolute blank.

It was not until a sudden burst of noise from a ward diagonally across the hall pulled her attention back to earth. Jolting upright, she looked around in confusion.

A few seconds passed before it registered. As if drawn by an invisible thread, Nathalie’s feet began moving toward that room, the roaring cheers growing louder as she approached.

“The crowd on site is chanting Antoine Hubert’s name!”

“Kai’s performance today is peerless! The pair of wings on his light blue helmet looks ready to take flight! We all know the deep personal friendship between Antoine Hubert, Kai, and Charles Leclerc. For the Ferrari twin stars, this race carries a profound, heavy weight.”

“They are pushing themselves to the absolute limit, sprinting forward, trying to wake Antoine Hubert up with their driving!”

“Don’t fall asleep just yet! You will never walk alone! Let’s fight side by side!”

Nathalie’s footsteps ground to a halt. In one glance, she saw the boiling sea of red on the television screen.

Though it was the iconic, vibrant Ferrari Red, the baby-blue typography took flight like spreading wings, each instance of “Antoine” burning brightly across the broadcast. In an instant, it pierced Nathalie’s eyes with sharp pain. Flustered, she shut her eyes tightly, only to find them so dry that it stung.

She had not dared to watch today’s race. Even the slightest sound would awaken the terror buried deep inside her. Lacking the courage to touch that open wound, she had fled far away from the circuit, hiding in a hospital room like an ostrich, praying silently for Antoine to wake up as soon as possible.

She had not slept a wink all night. She was exhausted to her very bones, yet sleep proved completely impossible.

Closing her eyes now, she could not even remember when she had last closed them. Brundle’s voice still echoed in her ears, slightly trembling yet steadfast and firm. The engine roars reverberating over the Spa circuit poured down like a summer downpour, while the muggy air plugged every pore of her body. She could not breathe.

Finally, Nathalie summoned her courage once more and opened her eyes. In an instant, her gaze locked onto that vivid splash of Ferrari Red. Car No. 22 was commanding the race from the front. Wherever it passed, the grandstands rose to their feet in a surging, boiling wave of vibrant life.

Then, Nathalie turned around.

She walked with wide, deliberate strides back toward Antoine’s room. Pushing the door open with a sharp thud, Francois, who had been curled up into a ball in the corner, was startled. His body gave a subtle shudder, and he stared woodenly at Nathalie’s movements.

Nathalie paid him no mind. She walked straight to the front, grabbed the remote, and switched on the TV.

The thunderous roar of race engines instantly flooded the room.

Francois could not believe his eyes. He scrambled to his feet, eyes filled with grief and desperation as he looked at her.

Nathalie did not avert her gaze. She looked straight back at Francois, steadily turning up the volume. The engine roars cascaded down over them, engulfing the entire room in seconds. Even though Francois began shouting at her, nothing could be heard, as the entire world was reduced to the rolling heatwave of racing cars.

Nathalie turned to look at her son lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to various tubes and monitors. Though consumed by sorrow, a look of unyielding strength settled in her eyes.

Quietly, she stood there watching him. The corners of her mouth nudged upward into a faint smile. “Hey, Antoine… do you hear that? It’s your favorite sound, the roar of the engines.”

The soundwaves surged continuously, passionate and fierce, breaking free from their restraints to pour over the world.

To and fro, attack and defense. The high-stakes chess match between Ferrari and Mercedes spilled over from the track into the pit lane, before feeding back onto the tarmac again. The heavy smoke of battle spread wildly, swallowing the Spa-Francorchamps circuit whole, pulling every single spectator into the heart of the storm.

And Kai’s performance remained cool-headed, dominant, razor-sharp, brilliant, and effortless. Amidst the deadly clash of blades, he flaunted his talent without reserve. Right from the start, he had withstood wave after wave of attacks to maintain his lead with supreme authority.

This roller-coaster duel acted like an electric current jolting the heart of every spectator present. The blood burning in every corner of their bodies surged toward their hearts before detonating into pure adrenaline. Goosebumps exploded across their skin.

The 2019 Belgian Grand Prix reached its fever pitch at this very moment.

The overwhelming heatwave swallowed the pit lane whole. Yet at the entry, the Mercedes pit box remained dead silent in an eerie, suffocating quiet.

The mechanics, who had been unable to stay seated due to nerve-wracking anticipation, stood frozen. They had instinctively stood up, hearts pounding as they watched the screens, yet the moment they reached the climax, the roller coaster plunged straight into the abyss, leaving every single one of them stunned in place.

Some stood with hands on hips, others with arms crossed, their spines stiffened with shock. The breath caught in their throats could not be swallowed as they stood there, utterly shell-shocked.

An invisible shadow hung heavily over their heads. It felt as if a whirlpool had formed beneath their feet, swallowing their ankles inch by inch, dragging the entire Mercedes pit garage down into a black hole.

How did this happen? The Belgian Grand Prix weekend Mercedes had painstakingly planned was not supposed to look like this. How on earth had they ended up in this desperate corner?

Toto Wolff was remarkably calm right now. Very, very calm.

Ferrari was using Mercedes’ own Australian Grand Prix strategy against them, attempting to assert their voice here at Spa with a dominant victory from the top of the paddock, sending all challengers, haters, and dissenters straight to hell.

When that happened, it would not just be a victory. It would be a resounding slap right across Mercedes’ face, sounding the war horn for the rest of the season.

This had once been Wolff’s playbook, but now that weapon had been turned around and aimed squarely at Mercedes.

When fury reaches its absolute peak, it swings back to the opposite extreme, reclaiming calm and logic. Wolff entered full battle mode in a split second.

The race was far from over. If Ferrari thought this was the end, Mercedes did not mind reshuffling the deck. He who laughs last, laughs best.

Here at Spa, unlike Silverstone or Hockenheim, one could never underestimate the unpredictable weather of the Ardennes region. Rain was an ever-present variable, and there had even been races canceled entirely due to torrential downpours.

If Ferrari could pull off a turnaround at Silverstone, why couldn’t Mercedes do it at Spa? Rain, crashes, unexpected chaos, anything was possible. Now was the time for Mercedes to display their championship pedigree and defend their throne.

Mercedes was not about to sit idly by and wait for good fortune either. Regardless of what the weather did next, they needed to strike proactively.

Without looking back at the pit box, Wolff opened his radio. “James, what do you think if we execute Plan B right now?”

The so-called Plan B was a two-stop strategy.

During the first half of the season when Ferrari was on the back foot, they had tried every crazy plan imaginable. Now, it was Mercedes’ turn.

The key to Kai holding off the attack and keeping his position earlier lay in Ferrari’s sharpness. They had smelled Mercedes’ play in time, and Leclerc’s superb defensive driving had held the line, acting as a natural shield between Kai and Hamilton.

However, Mercedes still had a window. Right now, the gap between Leclerc and Kai was less than 1.3 seconds, and Hamilton was less than three seconds off Kai. As long as Hamilton could clear Leclerc quickly, his next move would be a direct strike on Kai.

Still, Wolff had not lost his mind. He understood the risk of this play lay entirely in tire degradation. Expecting Hamilton to use this set of tires to pass Leclerc, pass Kai, and then hold off a counterattack all the way to the checkered flag was virtually impossible.

Hence, a two-stopper.

Hamilton would use this set of medium yellow tires to push flat-out without care, completing the overtake in the shortest time possible. He would then sprint ahead continuously, burning through his rubber to build a pit window that would allow for another stop. Even if the gap was not wide enough, he could extend his lead during the second stint, pit for a set of red soft tires, and settle the score in the final stint, using his tire advantage to snatch the victory.

Bold and crazy.

Building upon their initial stint strategy, Wolff took it a step further. Like a mad scientist, a manic glint flashed in his eyes.

In truth, it was not that Wolff was afraid to take risks or gamble, it was purely a matter of timing. When it was not necessary, why would he act like a lunatic? But when required, he could be bolder and crazier than anyone else, and even Christian Horner might have to step aside.

The reason Wolff asked Vowles was that Vowles was exceptionally calm and objective. He could accurately grasp the critical variables even in the midst of a raging storm.

The deafening engine noise, the roaring air, the urgency of the moment, all kinds of pressure came crashing down like a mountain. Yet Vowles maintained his usual composure. His mind raced like a high-speed computer, outputting a precise assessment in no time at all.

“It’s viable.”

“We can execute this in two steps. Step one: Lewis makes a move on Leclerc first. Then, based on actual tire degradation, we assess step two.”

Wolff did not hesitate for a single second. Without even replying to Vowles, he switched channels instantly. “Bono, activate Plan B. Target Leclerc first.”

On one side, the Mercedes garage was draped in a suffocating atmosphere, looking utterly defeated and lifeless, unable to recover from the heavy blow in the short term. This was precisely why Wolff had not bothered to boost morale, as he needed to lull his rivals into a false sense of security while Mercedes quietly brewed their counteroffensive.

On the other side, the Ferrari pit box was a scene of jubilation. Everyone was celebrating wildly, immersed in the high of fending off Mercedes’ desperate gamble, temporarily letting their guard down after being blinded by joy.

However, Kai had not.

“Mattia, Plan C.”

The so-called Plan C meant that while continuing to lead in the second stint, Kai and Leclerc would fight their own individual races without needing to cover for each other. The two drivers’ strategies would diverge, with the ultimate goal being a 1-2 finish.

For Kai, who had clean air ahead, he only needed to worry about backmarkers and traffic. He could push at his own pace and stretch his lead, running his second stint straight to the end under normal circumstances.

The main focus was Leclerc. Originally, Plan C existed to guard against unforeseen variables, such as a scenario where one driver lost position, dropping to P2, P3, or lower, and needed a framework to fight their way back. Right now, Leclerc was sitting in second and did not need to hunt anyone down. Yet Kai still brought up Plan C, directing it straight at Binotto. His subtext could not be clearer: watch out for Hamilton.

They both knew the immense significance of the Belgian Grand Prix. After all the turmoil of the summer break, every team was eager to claim the high ground for the second half of the season. Especially with Red Bull unexpectedly dropping out of contention, this battle had turned into a direct duel between Ferrari and Mercedes, a battle where failure was not an option.

The race was not over. Mercedes would never wave the white flag so easily.

On the surface, Ferrari held every advantage, keeping the race firmly within their grasp. But Kai understood all too well that a race situation could flip in the blink of an eye. Ferrari had once played the role of the relentless underdog flipping the chessboard; now, it remained to be seen whether the defending champions possessed that same grit and audacity.

Binotto had to admit that his mind had not fully processed the adrenaline of that thrilling defensive sequence, and his grasp of the dynamic picture was a step slow. But that did not mean his brain was mush. Kai’s reminder acted like a spark, clearing the fog as his mind snapped back to sharp focus.

Mercedes was indeed playing for keeps today, displaying incredible resolve. A strategy involving an overcut followed immediately by an undercut attempt was nothing short of wild. One could see flashes of Red Bull’s aggressiveness in Mercedes today. If a bloodthirsty Mercedes continued to go mad, it would not be surprising in the slightest.

Steadying his nerves, Binotto relayed the command to Adami immediately.

When Leclerc received the pit wall’s instruction over the radio, his focus remained absolute. He had not lost concentration just because Kai had successfully defended his lead.

“Copy that!” Responding to Adami, Leclerc glanced into his side mirrors. His heart tightened.

“Bring it on!”

Sure enough, Hamilton had already flipped the switch into full pursuit mode!

Nervous? How could he be?!

Leclerc had been waiting for a moment like this, a chance for a fair fight, an opportunity to go toe-to-toe right in front of Hamilton and Kai.

Plan C was a green light for Leclerc, because Kai would push at his own pace, and Leclerc would push at his. The gap between them was well within striking distance. If an opportunity to fight for the victory presented itself, he would not hesitate for a second!

Right now, before hunting down Kai, he had to handle Hamilton first!

The broadcast room picked up the change immediately, as the gap between Hamilton and Leclerc was visibly closing down.

Just like the closing stages of the first stint, car No. 44 opened up its pursuit mode again, pouncing toward the Ferrari ahead with aggressive intent.

Unlike Kai earlier, Leclerc did not passively maintain a fixed lap pace. The moment he sensed Hamilton closing in, Leclerc upped his tempo as well, attempting to break away at his own measured rhythm.

A fierce, tug-of-war battle ensued. The air grew tense in an instant. Though the gap was barely over a second, Hamilton could not force his way into DRS range right away.

However, the key was that Hamilton was driving with complete abandon. His tire usage was noticeably more aggressive than Leclerc’s. Even as Leclerc managed to open up a slight cushion, Hamilton spent two hard laps relentlessly reeling him back in, finally carving his way into the DRS zone.

At last!

The broadcast cameras zoomed in once more, focusing tightly on the Mercedes and the Ferrari.

Hamilton was decisive and fierce, yet he had not lost his sanity. He remained patient, tucking himself tight behind Leclerc’s rear wing to feast on the slipstream. Through Eau Rouge and Raidillon, he rocketed onto the Kemmel Straight, trailing a long silver blur behind him.

All the way to the end of the straight, the highest speed point of the entire Spa circuit, Hamilton pulled out decisively, darting onto the inside line like a tidal wave as he charged toward the Les Combes chicane, claiming the apex of Turn 5 first!

During qualifying, this was the exact spot where Hamilton had tried to latch onto Leclerc’s slipstream to boost his lap time, only for Leclerc to shake him off.

This time, Hamilton came fully prepared, leaving Leclerc zero breathing room.

And yet, Leclerc grinned internally. “Just right!”

Hamilton had not forgotten qualifying, and neither had Leclerc. He knew the W10 was not built for raw qualifying pace, but its race stability and window of operation were still class of the field. Once Hamilton started attacking without regard for tire wear, Ferrari would inevitably be put on the back foot, or even lose position altogether.

He could not just sit there like a sitting duck.

Leclerc locked into the zone completely, maintaining his rhythm while luring his opponent deep into the trap. He recalled the tactic Kai had deployed earlier when Hamilton was chasing him before his sudden pit stop.

Normally, Hamilton was mature and composed enough not to fall for simple traps. But Hamilton was human; when he decided to go all-in, it meant breaking away from routine and structure. That was when young Lewis would emerge, introducing wild, unpredictable variables.

Feigning weakness while letting the storm build until it broke free of all control.

Even though Leclerc and Kai were teammates, and he firmly believed he could beat Kai, he was more than willing to learn from him. There were indeed countless brilliant qualities in Kai worth adopting to help him evolve into a superior driver.

Just like this very moment.

Leclerc had been anticipating the exact window Hamilton would launch his strike. The end of the Kemmel Straight was obviously the prime spot, and he had actively wanted Hamilton to make his move right here.

Sure enough!

Relying on the slipstream to close the distance, Hamilton stepped out, pulled alongside, hit the brakes at the absolute limit, and snatched the apex, executing a move that left almost no room.

On the surface, Leclerc maintained a tough, wheel-to-wheel defensive posture, refusing to yield an inch as he ran alongside car No. 44 into Turn 5, with the opponent on the inside and himself on the outside.

In reality, Leclerc hit his braking point with absolute perfection. Watching Hamilton brake at the ragged edge and take Turn 5 at a wide angle, car No. 16 began peeking out from right behind the Mercedes’ rear wing. A tiny, split-second window flashed before his eyes.

Making a decisive call, Leclerc snapped his steering wheel to the right, cutting across the back of Hamilton’s car to slice straight into the inside line!

“THE SWITCHBACK!”

Croft could not control himself and gasped aloud, watching car No. 16 thread the needle right into the gap between car No. 44 and the right edge of the track!

Nimble, light racing line control combined with steady cornering speed in a wheel-to-wheel duel instantly exposed the flaw in Hamilton’s aggressive, late-braking maneuver.

Sailing through Turn 6, the two cars were locked side-by-side once again. Facing an immediate crisis, Hamilton was forced to push the limits again just to desperately hold his line, sending his corner rhythm into chaos. By the time they reached Turn 7, Leclerc had already subtly reclaimed the advantage.

Then, superior exit speed delivered the fatal blow.

“CHARLES LECLERC!”

“UNBELIEVABLE DEFENSE! Masterful control of rhythm and lines through the Les Combes sequence, standing firm against Hamilton’s wild assault!”

“FRONT-WHEEL LOCKUP! HAMILTON!”

“OH, MY WORD!”

Everything happened far too quickly.

Leclerc reclaimed the lead, Hamilton locked his front tires, Leclerc exited the corner first, and Hamilton nearly slid off the track!

With extraordinary car control, Hamilton pulled off a miracle to save the car from running deep into the gravel, avoiding a complete loss of position that might have allowed Bottas to blow past him as well.

Meanwhile, Leclerc was already sprinting ahead into clear air, seizing the opportunity to re-establish his lead.

Over in the Mercedes pit box, engineers stared at their screens in utter disbelief, clutching their heads in agony. Hamilton had squandered a golden opportunity.

However, before anyone could even exhale, the breath in their throats was cut short again.

Bottas, who had been lurking quietly behind with almost zero presence, saw his chance coming out of Les Combes and launched an attack down the straight!

“Jesus Christ!” Toto Wolff’s heart jumped straight into his throat.

In this moment, people selectively forgot that Mercedes had intentionally delayed pit wall tactical calls earlier to help Hamilton overcut Bottas, leaving Bottas completely in the dark regarding team strategy.

If Vowles had issued a direct team order asking Bottas to let Hamilton through, that would be one thing. But totally ignoring Bottas’ input while pulling off a stealth swap behind his back was an entirely different story.

Now, Bottas finally saw his opening to reclaim his stolen position. But in the eyes of the garage, had he just become the villain?