Lap 20.
The track was no longer a circuit. It was a swimming pool.
"Box! Box! Full Wets!"
The pit lane was chaos. Mechanics scrambled, slipping on the wet concrete.
But because Ye Tian had saved a pit stop by gambling on the rain, when he finally boxed and exited with fresh blue-walled Wet tires, the timing screen showed a reality that broke the internet.
P1: Ye Tian (Hawk)
P2: Louis Hamson (Fire) +22.5 seconds
P3: Max Vesper (Crimson) +25.8 seconds
"Unbelievable..."
Commentator Nico shook his head, looking at the data. "He's in a Hawk. He's fighting the two greatest drivers of this generation. And he has a twenty-second lead? Is he driving a speedboat?"
On the track.
Ye Tian, now on deep-tread wet tires, was untouchable.
In dry conditions, the Hawk VF-25 was a tractor.
In the rain, under Ye Tian's hands, it was a shark.
[System Skill: Rain Master (MAX) Active.]
[Hydroplane Calculation: 100% Accuracy.]
Lap 55 (3 Laps to go).
Louis Hamson, the Seven-Time King, wasn't ready to give up.
"Riccardo, give me full power mode. Engine mode Strat 1."
Hamson pushed. The scarlet Ferrari sliced through the spray, hunting the white car ahead.
But after two corners, Hamson lifted his foot.
He saw it.
Ahead of him, Ye Tian wasn't driving lines. He was surfing.
Ye Tian entered corners without braking, deliberately letting the car hydroplane to rotate the rear, then catching the grip at the exact millisecond the tire found asphalt.
It was a dance.
A dangerous, beautiful, impossible dance.
The gap didn't shrink. It grew.
+24.0 seconds.
"The kid is a monster..." Hamson sighed, shaking his head inside the helmet. "Even if The Legend S came back today, he couldn't catch him."
Lap 57. Final Lap.
The paddock was shaking.
In the Team Hawk garage, Koma was on his knees, praying to every god he knew. Since the team was founded, they had never won. They barely survived.
Trackside.
Snow Jiang was soaked to the bone. Her white shirt clung to her skin, but she didn't care. She gripped the microphone until her knuckles turned white.
"Go..." Her voice cracked, tears mixing with the rain. "Ye Tian, bring it home."
Final corner.
Ye Tian saw the checkered flag waving through the mist.
He didn't scream. He didn't shout.
He calmly downshifted.
Click. Click.
He crossed the line.
BOOM!
WINNER.
2025 Bahrain Grand Prix Winner: YE TIAN.
History made.
The first Chinese driver to win an FX Grand Prix.
The first win for Team Hawk.
"WE WON!!!"
The garage exploded. Mechanics hugged each other, crying ugly tears.
On the radio, Ye Tian's voice was terrifyingly calm.
"Checkered flag."
"Tell the World Champions..."
"I just rewrote the script for this season."
The Podium.
The rain stopped. The air was fresh.
It was the strangest, most shocking podium lineup in FX history.
On the left: Louis Hamson (The King).
On the right: Max Vesper (The Tyrant).
And in the middle, standing on the highest step, looking down at the gods...
A rookie.
"Please rise for the national anthem."
Arise! Ye who refuse to be slaves!
The melody of the "March of the Volunteers" blasted through the desert speakers for the first time in history.
Ye Tian looked at the five-star flag rising above the Ferrari and Red Bull flags.
His expression was solemn. He raised his hand.
A sharp, perfect salute.
Below the podium, thousands of Chinese fans sang along, their voices drowning out the engines. Tears flowed like the rain.
Then came the champagne.
Ye Tian didn't spray the others.
He grabbed the massive magnum bottle of Ferrari Trento (the sponsor champagne).
He didn't open it.
Instead, he jumped off the 3-meter high podium.
Security guards rushed to stop him. Ye Tian glared at them. They froze.
He walked straight to the media pen.
Straight to the woman who looked like a drowned rat.
"Ye... Ye Tian..." Snow Jiang's heart hammered against her ribs. "What... what are you doing?"
"I told you on the radio," Ye Tian smirked. A devilish, charming grin.
"I was afraid you'd get cold. This should warm you up."
He shoved the heavy, golden bottle into her arms.
"Take it."
"This is the first trophy wine for China. Only you are qualified to keep it for me."
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!
The cameras went blind.
"The Tyrant and His Reporter"—the headline was already being typed.
Snow Jiang hugged the bottle. It was heavy. It still carried his body heat.
Her face, usually so cold and professional, was burning red. She looked like a lost little girl.
Ye Tian turned around.
He faced the army of cameras. He faced Hamson and Vesper, who were watching him with complex expressions.
He adjusted his collar.
He leaned into the global broadcast mic and dropped the final bomb of the first arc.
"I know what you are thinking."
"You think I got lucky. You think the rain saved my trash car."
Ye Tian raised a finger.
He pointed at the sky. Then he pointed at the dry asphalt drying up in the distance.
"Next race. Jeddah."
"I will use dry tires to prove a point."
"The rain didn't help me win today."
"The rain was just there to save you guys from losing too badly."
He turned and walked away.
Leaving behind a stunned silence, a blushing reporter, and a world that had changed forever.