"Looks like a walk in the park for him," Martina commented.
"Mmhmm," Liam nodded. It would be strange if it wasn't easy. Either these kids were superhuman, or he—a reincarnated F1 driver—was a fraud.
He had expected this. Domestic races at this level were low-pressure environments.
It was the same in his past life. A national champion from the States or Asia would land in Europe, only to find themselves fighting for 15th or 20th place in the heats. The gap was absurd.
Part of it was the disparity in resources and training infrastructure. The other part was the "lifers"—career karters in the senior classes who knew every inch of the European tracks and had spent years bullying future F1 stars.
Even with his current skill level, Liam couldn't guarantee immediate success if he dropped into a WSK or CIK-FIA event tomorrow.
But give me enough practice laps, and I won't fear anyone.
In this life or the last, he never considered himself weak.
"Just keep running your race. These event schedules are quite tedious," Martina noted.
"Yeah. It's a bit disorganized," Liam agreed, taking a sip of water. He moved to set the bottle down, but Louise snatched it from his hand before it touched the ground.
"I'll hold it!" Louise beamed.
"?" Liam tilted his head, a question mark practically floating above him.
Wait a minute, little girl. Didn't you hate my guts yesterday? Why are there stars in your eyes now?
"Oh my~ Liam, you should rest up," Martina laughed, patting him on the shoulder.
The second round of heats featured Group B vs Group C. Since Liam was in Group A, he had time to kill, so he stood by the fence to watch.
Warm-up lap, formation lap, then the green flag.
Vroom! Vroom!
The pack surged forward, rushing toward Turn 1.
Suddenly, kart #322 in P3 tried to divebomb around the outside, aggressively squeezing #331 in P2.
Bang!
As expected, #331 didn't yield an inch. The two karts banged wheels and spun.
Their sudden stop left the drivers in P4 and P5 with nowhere to go, and they piled in. The driver in P6, however, reacted instantly, swerving to avoid the chaos.
The corner was a mess.
"Oh god, crash!" A parent covered their mouth.
The marshals waved yellow flags immediately.
Liam glanced at it. The Turn 1 incident wasn't severe; no debris requiring a cleanup crew.
Sure enough, the green flag waved shortly after, and the race resumed speed.
After seven or eight laps, a parent compared the lap times of the leader, Zach, with Liam's earlier data. They couldn't help but comment:
"Liam's long-run pace seems about the same as Zach's, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. Looking at the lap charts, they're dead even."
"Looks like we'll have a real fight on our hands then."
The parents murmured amongst themselves. They had assumed Liam was in a league of his own, but his race pace seemed comparable to Zach and Tyler.
The coaches, however, shook their heads. That was an amateur take.
Liam wasn't slow on the long runs; he just wasn't pushing. Why drive at 100% when there was no threat behind him?
Driving at the limit burned more fuel, cooked the tires, and stressed the engine. There was a long weekend ahead. Why waste resources?
The second heat ended, and soon it was time for Round 3: Group A vs Group C.
Liam walked to his kart. He noticed a small shaved patch on his right rear tire—the scrutineers had taken a rubber sample to check for illegal chemical treatments. Standard procedure.
"Liam! I'm going to be right on your bumper!" Zach walked over, declaring his intent.
"Oh? You're welcome to try~" Liam appreciated the competitive spirit. At least it was better than Linus's sneaky politics.
This time, on the warm-up lap, Liam aggressively weaved the kart to build tire temp faster.
During the formation lap, he bunched the field up, checking over his shoulder twice to ensure the grid was formed. Satisfied, he gradually increased speed. The moment he saw the green flag, he flopped the pedal.
Zach, true to his word, stuck to Liam's rear bumper like glue.
Unfortunately, in the Cadet class, the karts were slow enough that slipstreaming offered minimal benefit other than saving a bit of fuel.
They arrived at Turn 1 together. Liam tapped the brake and rotated the kart, carving a smooth line.
Zach tried to mirror him exactly. He braked at the same marker and threw the kart into the corner.
Screech!!!
The kart instantly snapped sideways. To his credit, Zach had good hands—he counter-steered rapidly, spinning 360 degrees and catching the slide before he went off track.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
But by the time he recovered grip, the rest of the pack was streaming past him.
Impossible! It's completely impossible! That entry speed! How does he keep the rear planted?!
Zach rejoined the race, frustration boiling over. He couldn't understand it. How could Liam take Turn 1 at near full throttle?
At that speed, with that steering angle, the rear tires should have given up instantly!
"Whoa! Zach spun!" Linus watched from the pits, eyes gleaming.
The heats awarded points based on finishing position: 1st got 0 points, 2nd got 2 points, and so on. The lower the score, the better the starting position for the Pre-Final.
"Keep pushing, honey! If you hold onto P2, you might start on the second row!" Linus's mother cheered.
"Yeah! I'll do it! By the way, Mom, did you talk to that person?" Linus asked.
"Don't worry. Two other kids agreed to help," his mother smiled conspiratorially.
On track, having decided the race in the first corner, Liam settled into another boring, lonely lead.
The 12 laps flew by. While a few people discussed Zach's error, most were talking about the pile-up in the midfield.
"I don't get it," Zach said to Tyler back in the paddock.
"I saw it. You were too aggressive," Tyler said. He kept replaying Liam's Turn 1 entry in his head. He couldn't figure it out either.
"Hmph. He probably just practiced this track a million times. Wait until we go to a new circuit; then we'll see his real skill!" Zach grumbled.
"I heard he literally learned to drive here. Home court advantage is normal," Tyler reasoned.
"So? You're in his group next. What's your plan?"
"I'm going to follow him. I need to see how he drives. Just taking Turn 1 like that shouldn't make him a second a lap faster."
"Damn it! What a waste. I threw it away in the first corner!" Zach kicked the ground. He knew he should have just tucked in and learned from Liam instead of trying to match him instantly.
"Maybe use your brain next time."
"Hey!" Zach raised a fist.
"My name isn't 'Hey'." Tyler retorted, quoting a line from some TV show he'd seen.
Round 4: Group A vs Group D. Liam strapped in again.
"He's basically locked in pole for the Pre-Final," a coach observed.
With two wins (0 points), as long as he had a clean race here, he'd secure the lowest score overall.
And that's exactly what happened. Liam led flag-to-flag without a single mistake.
"Pole position for the Pre-Final!"
"Unbelievable. A genuine dark horse this year!"
As he pulled into the pits, the crowd buzzed about his consistency. Liam, however, wasn't overly excited. If he couldn't get pole in a regional junior race, he might as well quit and go sell fish. Maybe he'd start a Fish Empire instead.
"Congrats on pole! Looks like the win is in the bag!" Mr. Chen appeared, celebrating early.
"Race isn't over yet."
Liam wasn't being humble. In racing, anything could happen. In his past life, Max had a tire failure in Baku 2021 while leading comfortably with only a few laps to go, losing the win instantly.
If Max had scored those points in Baku, the championship fight with Lewis wouldn't have gone down to the wire like that.
Though, for the fans, 2021 was peak entertainment. The title decided on the last lap of the last race... just like his own death.
"Hey, what are you thinking about, our little genius?" Martina's voice broke his reverie.
Louise was already there, thrusting a water bottle at him. "Water. Water."
"Thanks~!" Liam accepted the bottle. He still didn't know what had gotten into the girl, but he wasn't going to turn down hydration.
"Rest up tonight. After the race tomorrow, I'm taking you all out for a feast!" Mr. Chen promised.
"Okay. I'll do my best." Liam nodded.
"That's right. You Americans have a saying... 'Leave it all on the track.' Let's go back," Martina said.