"My, my~ So you're saying if your mother and Uncle Arthur are together, you won't object?" Martina flashed a gentle, affectionate smile.
"Eh..." Louise's face stiffened. She looked around, then asked hesitantly, "Then will Uncle Arthur and Liam move in with us?"
"Uncle Arthur might have to work in the States, but Liam... he might come to Italy."
"Eh! Really?"
"Of course. Provided he's impressive enough."
Martina's visit wasn't just personal. Because of her deepening relationship with Arthur, she needed to see for herself if Liam actually had talent. If he was karting just for fun without aiming for F1, what was the point of uprooting him?
At least, that was how Martina's mind worked.
A profession was a profession. You pursued the highest achievement possible. If you weren't chasing the summit, you were better off keeping it as a hobby.
"Then... then I don't object." Louise shook her head, turning her gaze back to the track.
Vroom! Vroom!
Liam saw more and more drivers posting times, but he didn't panic. As they voluntarily pitted, the track was clearing up. A clean track meant a fast lap!
He cruised slowly to the final corner once more. As he hit the apex—throttle pinned!
Vroom!
The engine screamed. The kart surged forward.
The main straight stretched out before him. There were two or three slower karts ahead. Liam calculated his line instantly. Instead of hugging the apex, he took a wider entry to carry more momentum on the exit.
Whoosh!
After blowing past them in succession, the road ahead was finally clear.
In that moment, his senses sharpened. After nearly two months of tuning and testing, this machine had become an extension of his body.
He felt the adhesion of every rubber particle against the asphalt. The vibration of the chassis scraping the curbing. The precise mixture of fuel and air atomizing in the carburetor. He knew it all.
Vroom!
Throttle input: perfect. Braking pressure: just enough to scrub speed for turn-in without losing momentum.
Screech!
Through the chicane, the kart flicked left, then right. Under the G-forces, his heart raced, but the car flowed like water.
"So fast!" someone in the stands exclaimed.
"Eye-catching!"
A coach murmured in appreciation. On the gray asphalt, that kart was a flash of vivid color, instantly commanding attention.
Smooth cornering. Zero corrections. It was like watching a track specialist who'd driven this circuit a thousand times.
But the breathtaking performance ended quickly.
The track was short. He crossed the line!
Whoosh!
43.426
P1! Overall!
"What kind of speed is that?!"
"Another second faster and he'd be matching the Junior class times."
"Hiss... that is terrifying!"
In the pit lane, Linus stared blankly, muttering to himself, "How can he be that fast?"
"Give it up this year. You can't target three people at once," Linus's mother said, her voice resigned.
"No! I have to try!" Linus's face twisted with jealousy and anger.
On the other side, Tyler—who had just taken off his helmet—stared at the timing screen in disbelief.
Zach walked over, shaking his head. "That's ridiculous. How did he find that much time?"
"I didn't see it," Tyler admitted.
"I really want to see how he drives." Zach looked out at the empty track. He and Tyler were so evenly matched that they rarely learned anything new from each other anymore.
"Let's ask him when he comes in," Tyler suggested.
"Yeah."
Having set his banker lap, Liam knew roughly where he stood. He pulled into the pits naturally. With that time, he'd be starting on the front row for the upcoming heat race.
"Liam! You fast! Number one (＾－＾)!" Louise was waiting for him. The moment the kart stopped, she ran over.
"Truly impressive speed." Martina also came over to congratulate him.
"Thanks." Liam shook his head, a habit from his past life of shaking off the sweat after removing an F1 helmet.
"Hehe, Liam, I got you a baseball cap!" Louise produced a red cap, standing on her tiptoes to place it on his head.
Liam looked at Martina.
Martina smiled but didn't translate Louise's chatter. She wondered when the silly girl would realize Liam understood English perfectly well.
"THANKS."
Liam adjusted the cap and looked around. Quite a few people were whispering about him.
Mr. Chen was nowhere to be seen; he must have run off to handle some administrative issue.
After a short break, the heat races began.
Since the class had fewer than 34 entries, the heats weren't elimination rounds. They were just to determine grid positions for the Pre-Final.
The 21 drivers were split into four groups (A, B, C, D). The groups would race each other in a round-robin format, meaning every driver would race three times.
Liam was in Group A. The first heat was Group A vs Group B.
The race started from the pit lane. One warm-up lap, one formation lap, then a 12-lap race.
The race director arranged the grid based on qualifying times, gave a brief briefing on rules, and waved them out for the warm-up lap.
Liam fired up the kart. He could feel the tire temperatures were quite low. But after two slow laps, a few aggressive zig-zags on the final corner would be enough to bring them into the working window.
This was a rolling start. After the formation lap, when the pole sitter crossed the start line and the green flag waved, the race was on.
"Is the pole sitter that kid, Liam?" a coach checked his clipboard.
"Yeah."
"Why is he driving so slowly? He's not even weaving to warm his tires."
"Dunno. Heard he was recommended by Mr. Chen. No idea who his coach is."
Liam maintained a steady pace. Weaving aggressively would bring tire temps up faster, sure, but his sensory feedback told him it wasn't necessary. Why scrub the tires and waste rubber? They'd hit the window naturally by Turn 1.
He cruised through the first lap. The rest of the field formed up behind him in grid order.
Once the queue was formed, Liam bunched up the pack and then stretched them out with a few brake checks and accelerations—a classic leader tactic to control the pace. He could practically hear the cursing from the drivers behind him.
But he didn't care. The pack approached the start line. The official on the gantry raised the green flag.
Vroom!
On the main straight, Liam mashed the throttle. The kart launched. The drivers behind him, caught off guard by his erratic pacing, stumbled over each other.
While chaos erupted in the midfield, Liam dove into Turn 1.
Just like in practice, he found his line, tapped the brake, and rotated the nose toward the apex with delicate precision.
"Clean and crisp!"
"He's the dark horse this year. I don't think Tyler or Zach can touch him."
"Looking at his pace, he's in a different league entirely."
In just one corner, Liam had pulled a significant gap. The crowd's eyes were glued to him.
But soon, the attention drifted. With Liam checking out in front, the real action was the battle for 3rd and 4th between karts #309 and #312.
Out in front, Liam wasn't exactly relaxing. He was using the clean air to test his limits. As his understanding of the kart and track deepened, more and more data flooded his brain.
He had to filter it. If he tried to process every single vibration, his head would explode!
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Lap after lap. The midfield shuffled positions. Second and third places swapped hands multiple times.
When the 12-lap heat ended, Liam crossed the line six or seven seconds ahead of P2.
"He's sandbagging," a sharp-eyed coach noted.
"Yeah. You can tell. Tyler and Zach are in the other groups, so nobody here can push him."
Pulling into the pits, Liam overheard the whispers as he climbed out. He sat down on his cooler. Louise immediately glued herself to his side, but due to the "language barrier," she just watched him drink water in adoring silence.