Chapter 115: Drawing an Arc in Place

“Showing off! It’s definitely showing off!” a television crew member began echoing the assistant director’s earlier remarks.

“Director Xiao, you really shouldn’t have agreed to let this kid drive during the mission. Look at this—our car is about to get stuck in the passage. We might actually have to tear down a wall to rescue it!” Emboldened by his colleagues’ support, the assistant director began to push back against Chief Director Xiao Yao.

“Yeah, Director Xiao, where did you even find this guest? Judging by his skills, he doesn’t look like a professional racer. Could he be a fraud?”

“Lin, being teamed up with him, is such a waste of her prestigious Best Actress status. I wonder what kind of apology she just gave him?”

“Exactly, Director Xiao. Look, Mo Shu’s been stuck in that corner for ages without moving. Could it be that he’s genuinely at a loss?”

The familiar scene of the crowd piling blame on one person was about to replay. The voices doubting Mo Shu gradually grew louder, silencing even those fans and crew members who had previously supported him.

Of course, Xiao Yao heard every sneer and biting remark directed at Mo Shu, but he chose silence for the moment.

As the chief director, Xiao Yao was not afraid to speak up; rather, he quietly believed in Mo Shu. From how Mo Shu had gone to great lengths to save face for Lin earlier, Xiao Yao was certain that Mo Shu was not a reckless young man without judgment.

Instead of the director stepping in to forcibly defend Mo Shu, it was better to let Mo Shu prove himself through his actions.

For ordinary people, a car trapped in such a tight spot—caught at a narrow double right-angle bend—would indeed be a “dead end.”

But for Mo Shu, ever since he became a racing driver and locked horns with the Vermin family, the word “dead end” had become a familiar trial of his life.

Being underestimated, ostracized, attacked by public opinion, and wrongfully accused—any one of these things happening to Mo Shu could fill a tavern with those who looked down on him.

Perhaps working in the Chinese media was too easy, or maybe the good-hearted public had bestowed too much confidence on media workers.

Where the assistant director and other doubters drew their certainty from, none knew—yet they boldly declared that Mo Shu would trap himself in the very first game segment, especially one involving a car. Such naivety!

Indeed, Mo Shu lingered a bit longer at that narrow corner, but this hesitation was not born from helplessness or fear.

For a professional racer, control over time is an almost instinctive reflex.

Mo Shu roughly estimated that their strongest rivals, the “Heavenly Kings Team,” had just started their final transport. Given the stamina of the two men, they had probably only traversed about a third of the passage.

Mo Shu, however, was driving a car. The difference between flooring the gas pedal and taking a step is obvious to all.

The slight delay was intentional; Mo Shu wanted to ensure the highest chance of success in passing through. The tight double right-angle demanded flawless precision—zero errors and a clean run.

“Senior, please sit tight. The car’s about to make a lot of noise and may sway from side to side in place. Don’t panic; just make sure you don’t distract me too much,” Mo Shu said, having observed the surroundings, offering Lin a few words of caution before setting off.

“All right,” Lin nodded. Though unaware of what was to come, she sensed Mo Shu was about to employ some of his racing expertise.

Mo Shu placed his resting left hand on the steering wheel, ready to steer with heightened precision.

His free left foot moved to the pedals—braking fully with one foot while gently pressing the accelerator with the right.

He swiftly disabled the ESC (Electronic Stability Control) on the dashboard, pressing the gas pedal a bit deeper.

Lin felt the car jerk forward as if it wanted to burst ahead, clutching the handle beside her tightly.

Mo Shu began turning the wheel—a left turn—slowly and patiently adjusting the steering. Because civilian vehicles have different steering mechanisms from race cars, Mo Shu, used to a one-to-one steering ratio, had to be especially precise now.

The engine’s roar grew louder and more intense, yet the car remained perfectly still.

Lin’s nerves began to fray. The car was obviously “revving” in place, the deafening noise unsettling her deeply. Anxiously, she glanced at the car’s instrument panel.

Zero miles per hour—no problem, the car hadn’t moved.

First gear — Mo Shu had switched to manual mode, intending to stay in first gear for the entire maneuver.

Then a number: 9,000?!

Lin thought she must be mistaken and took a closer look. No, the tachometer was hitting 9,000 revolutions per minute.

Good heavens! Nine thousand RPM in first gear!

Mo Shu was flooring the gas while holding the brake hard.

Though she knew little about racing, Lin understood what this meant.

If his left foot slipped even slightly off the brake, the car would shoot forward like an arrow, crashing headlong into the wall ahead.

At that moment, the “Shadow Team” wouldn’t just forfeit the competition—they’d be destroyed.

Fear crept into Lin’s heart. She wanted to say something, to plead with Mo Shu, but nerves constricted her throat, leaving only a few feeble “uh uh” sounds escaping.

“Senior, don’t be nervous!” Mo Shu was fully focused on the car’s behavior, not daring to glance at Lin.

“Sit tight. Our car’s about to start moving.”

He eased his left foot off the brake pedal slightly.

“Vroom!!!”

The tachometer dropped one notch; the car jolted suddenly.

“Ah!” Lin’s scream burst out. She felt like she might wet herself, but as a major star, she refused to admit defeat aloud.

At such a tense moment, Mo Shu couldn’t muster any comforting words nor signal reassurance. He simply focused on his task.

He eased the brake off a little more, both hands gripping the wheel tightly, needing to fine-tune his steering angle.

Reassuringly, this time the car moved with barely a jolt. Mo Shu had evidently found the perfect balance between brake and gas.

Meanwhile, Lin watched in amazement as Mo Shu’s subtle, skillful adjustments caused the car to begin moving—not forward or backward, but pivoting gracefully on its center, tracing a slow arc in place.