With seven laps remaining, the race order had settled. Alex Sun was running P7, with Armstrong in P6 ahead of him. Armstrong's lines were conservative and his exits slow, and the gap between them stood at 1.8 seconds.
Alex Sun switched into full attack mode. With superb car control and healthier tires in hand, he began closing in at an almost unbelievable rate.
Through the first sector, he managed his pace with precision, shaving down the gap corner by corner, gaining 0.4 seconds.
In the second sector, threading through the tight old-town section, he pushed again and clawed back another 0.6 seconds in one decisive charge.
At the start of the third sector, Alex Sun was firmly within one second of Armstrong, perfectly positioned to strike.
There was only one thought in his mind: Armstrong's weak corner exits were a fatal flaw. He had to maximize every turn, squeeze the gap, pile on the pressure, and leave no room for a proper defense.
Up ahead, Armstrong gripped the steering wheel tightly, anxiety flooding his chest. He knew exactly where his weakness lay, but there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was hold the racing line and watch the red-and-white car in his mirrors grow larger. Every time the gap shrank, his confidence in defending slipped a little further.
Just a lap ago, his race engineer had told him over the TR that the car behind was still 1.8 seconds back. In less than a lap, Alex Sun was already inside the DRS window.
The pressure bore down on him like a mountain, leaving him feeling utterly powerless.
Exiting the final corner, they crossed the DRS detection point and charged onto the main straight.
Alex Sun calmly activated DRS, tucked into the slipstream, darted to the inside, braked late into Turn 1, and powered cleanly out of the corner. The move was completed with ease. He was up to P7.
Alex Jacques' voice burst out first, thick with excitement.
"Oh my god! Another late-braking move into Turn 1! Alex Sun is so comfortable with this kind of overtake. That was picture-perfect—absolutely mesmerizing!"
In the pit room, Rebecca Lin couldn't help nodding. She was already completely captivated. The composure in his driving, paired with that sharp aggression in overtaking, sent her pulse racing.
Back in the broadcast booth, Jolyon Palmer broke down the move in a calm, professional tone.
"And his brake modulation there was exceptional. That single moment of precise control immediately opened up the gap to Armstrong."
The live chat exploded:
"Bro, that racing line is carved into his DNA!"
"Next one! Boschung's getting harvested!"
Armstrong's fingertips had gone pale against the steering wheel. Frustration churned inside him. He had defended with everything he had, but in the end, he lost to his own weakness—and Alex Sun's supreme car control.
Alex Sun, meanwhile, felt almost no resistance. He couldn't help thinking, Armstrong just let me through like that? What a nice guy. Hopefully Boschung will be just as kind.
After clearing Armstrong, Alex Sun didn't ease off in the slightest. Within a single lap, during Lap 16's second sector, he was already tucked up behind P5 Boschung.
Mark's voice came urgently over the TR.
"Boschung defends harder than Armstrong. Watch the heavy braking zone at Turn 15. Use the out—"
Before he could finish, Alex Sun had already reached Turn 15. Boschung moved decisively to the inside to defend.
Alex Sun didn't hesitate. He committed to a cross-line tactic—braked early, opened up the steering to the outside, and carved through the exit in one smooth motion. Then, approaching Turn 16, he repeated the cross-line setup, braking early again, clipping the inside curb and launching out of the corner ahead.
The entire sequence was seamless. The overtake was done in an instant. He secured P5.
His voice came over the TR, lightly teasing.
"Mark, what were you saying I should use? For what?"
Two seconds of silence.
Then Mark replied, half exasperated, half impressed.
"Incredible."
The whole exchange was broadcast live.
The chat went wild.
"I'm dying—Alex Sun's operating on pure prediction mode! Mark's reminder wasn't even needed!"
"Alex Sun: You talk. I pass."
"Mark: I hadn't even finished!"
On the main straight, Boschung tried to fight back with DRS. But with 30% tire wear compared to Alex Sun's 25%, the difference was obvious. Alex Sun covered the line, flowed through several more corners, and quickly dropped Boschung out of DRS range.
By Lap 18, Alex Sun had caught P4 Pourchaire and was just inside DRS activation range.
No hesitation. DRS open. He stayed glued to Pourchaire's rear wing, soaking up the slipstream and waiting patiently.
Midway down the straight, he made his move. Pulling out decisively, he surged alongside. The two cars ran wheel to wheel, engines roaring as they blasted toward Turn 1.
They remained side by side down the remainder of the straight. Just before Turn 1, Alex Sun nailed his braking point, committing to a crisp late-braking maneuver. He hit the brakes a fraction later than Pourchaire, slipped to the inside, and claimed the optimal line.
On corner exit, he carried the speed cleanly through and completed the pass in one fluid motion.
P4.
The podium was right there.
He let out a quiet breath but didn't relax.
One more step. Daruvala. I'm coming.
His tire wear had reached 30%. His lap times were beginning to drop, but there was still pace left to chase something bigger.
Pourchaire, now behind, burned with frustration but had no answer. He could only watch as Alex Sun pulled away.
Alex Jacques' voice cracked with emotion.
"The podium is within reach! From the back of the field to P4—eight overtakes! And that Turn 1 late-braking move again—so clean, so decisive!"
Jolyon Palmer followed, admiration evident.
"The key is his tire management. After all those overtakes, he's still only at 30% wear—ten percentage points better than the average on this lap. It's like his tires have double durability."
The live chat was flooded with "Pirelli's chosen son" and "Alex Sun is unreal," gifts streaming nonstop as the atmosphere hit fever pitch.
The situation was clear. Lap 18. Alex Sun in P4. Ahead of him: P1 Guanyu Zhou, P2 Ticktum, P3 Daruvala.
Mark came on the TR again, steady and precise.
"Alex Sun, current gaps: 5.3 seconds to Ticktum, 4.3 to Guanyu Zhou, and 2.3 to Daruvala ahead."
He paused, then added:
"Your lap times are dropping, and the closing rate is slowing. At this pace, you'll reach Daruvala's DRS zone by the end of Lap 19. Keep it steady. Getting DRS is the key to attacking the podium. It's just this last step."
On the other end of the TR, Alex Sun's fingers tightened slightly around the wheel.
He could feel the lap times slipping. He could sense the momentum easing.
But his eyes stayed locked forward.
5.3 seconds.
4.3 seconds.
2.3 seconds.
Each number was carved into his mind.
The podium was ahead. There was no option to give up.
He had started P10. An incident on the opening lap had sent him to the back, and his teammate Piastri had retired because of it. Now he was the team's only car left in the fight.
This comeback wasn't just for himself.
It was for everyone waiting in the garage.
...
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