Chapter 134: A Dispute Over Racing Tactics

How could someone be so foul-mouthed right out of the gate? This was the one thing Mo Shu despised the most. He was just about to step forward to confront the man, but Mo Shanhe grabbed his son, stopping him in his tracks.

"Dad! Don't hold me back, someone like that needs to be taught a lesson!" Mo Shu said angrily.

"Sigh, don't be impulsive..." Mo Shanhe waved his hand.

"This isn't about being impulsive, it's about being insulted with filthy language!"

"Yes, yes, yes. Leave it to Dad to handle, alright?"

Seeing his father insist on holding him back, Mo Shu thought to himself: *Fine! I won't let this piece of trash ruin everyone's mood.* Mo Shu sat in the car, fuming, trying to calm the anger in his heart, when he heard Mo Shanhe call out from behind him:

"You foul-mouthed lad, do you dare to race against an old man like me?"

What?

And he told his son not to be impulsive? It was clear that Mo Shanhe was even more eager to teach the guy a lesson than his son was. Although Tang Xiuxian and Wang Yu felt a bit exasperated, they understood. After all, in this world, what father could stand by and watch his child be insulted?

Mo Shanhe’s sudden declaration of a challenge left the young man feeling a bit flustered. However, he quickly regained his composure. *What is it? Just an old man with graying hair? What could he possibly do at his age?*

"Mister, are you sure you won't have a heart attack and try to scam us during the race?" A young woman sitting next to the young man chimed in, her own tongue just as sharp.

Mo Shanhe ignored them, simply raising a finger to his lips, signaling for them to "shut their filthy mouths."

"Damn! Old man! We'll see about that!" The young man slammed his hand against the steering wheel, punched the gas, and tore onto the "quasi-racetrack" of Cloud Peak.

"This kid has no manners, he even jumped the start," Mo Shanhe said. While ushering Tang Xiuxian into the car, he quickly started the engine and gave chase.

Mo Shanhe had been away from the track for decades; it was worrying to see him jump straight into a race like this. Mo Shu and Wang Yu had no choice but to jump into the RT500 and follow closely behind.

On the road, Mo Shu was incredibly anxious for his father. He knew the young man was so arrogant because the black sedan he was driving was no ordinary vehicle. It was a purebred German-made Sihuan RS7 coupe: a twin-turbo V8 engine, 4.0 displacement, 610 horsepower, and all-wheel drive—a mechanical beast born for speed. And those were just the factory specs.

It was obvious that the young man’s RS7 had been heavily modified. The moment the sound of the engine reached them before the car even appeared, Mo Shu had already made his assessment. He just wasn't sure how much of a speed machine it had been turned into; he would have to test it against real steel to know for sure.

Before long, Mo Shu caught up to his father’s S15, but there was no sign of the RS7 that had jumped the start. What now? The disparity in power was likely too great; Mo Shu began to feel pangs of distress for his father’s dignity. *Should I step in and save some face?* Mo Shu hesitated, wondering whether to overtake the S15 and take up the chase against the RS7 on his father’s behalf.

Knowing his father, he probably wouldn't agree to his son stepping in. But unexpectedly, the S15 ahead rolled down its window and waved, signaling for Mo Shu to overtake. At the same time, Wang Yu’s phone rang.

"Hello, Uncle Tang? What’s the situation?" Wang Yu answered.

"Put it on speaker. Old Mo’s lesson time has arrived," Tang Xiuxian said from the other end, conveying Mo Shanhe’s intentions.

*What is going on?* Mo Shu frowned, stepped on the gas, and overtook his father.

"Mo Shu, from now on, run as fast as you can, but watch your safety!" Mo Shanhe’s voice came through the speaker.

"Dad, does that even need saying? Watch me catch that RS7 in minutes."

The road ahead of Mo Shu was wide open. He wasn't worried about failing to catch his opponent; he was more worried about whether the S15 could keep up with their pace. The RT500’s engine roared, quickly widening the gap from the S15.

However, on a mountain road like Cloud Peak, there were very few straightaways. The situation was identical to the climb up. Every time they hit a curve, Mo Shu would be amazed to find the S15 miraculously catching up again and again.

"Dad, I didn't realize you still had it in you; you’re sticking right on my tail," Mo Shu praised him over the speaker.

"No small talk, keep pushing. The road conditions ahead will get more complicated," Mo Shanhe’s tone was serious.

"Don't worry, Dad, I see the car ahead. He won't get away."

Indeed, the road conditions soon became extremely difficult, just as Mo Shu had anticipated during the ascent. He noticed that the Cloud Peak road had a distinct character: at higher altitudes, there were more straightaways and the curves weren't too sharp. But as the altitude dropped, the number of curves far exceeded the straightaways, and the difficulty changed drastically. The nightmarish triple hairpin turn and four folding curves were located in this low-altitude area.

Fortunately, the closer they got to this section, the more the skills of a professional driver stood out. In less than a minute, both the RT500 and the S15 were closing in on the RS7.

Though the young man had some skill, he was becoming flustered under the pressure of the cars behind him. Several times, to block them from passing, he abandoned the "outside-inside-outside" racing line, hogging the inner lane and slamming on the brakes to force his way into the corners.

"Heh, he’s already panicked," Mo Shu said with satisfaction.

"Don't rush to overtake. His brakes won't last much longer," Mo Shanhe said, his plan clearly centered on waiting for the opponent to make a mistake.

And he was right; with that driving style, a mistake was inevitable. Both the RT500 and the RS7 were high-horsepower all-wheel-drive vehicles. Cloud Peak had many curves, and high-horsepower cars were notoriously difficult to control in corners. Combined with the long descent and the persistent pressure from behind, the RS7—which wasn't suited for drifting or heavy threshold braking—was bound to suffer brake fade, putting a massive load on the tires' grip. The same was true for the RT500.

But Mo Shu’s performance was much smarter and more rational than the young man’s. He fully utilized the limitations of the all-wheel-drive platform to keep applying more pressure. Finally, in an awkwardly angled corner, Mo Shu feigned an overtaking maneuver.

The young man panicked and slammed on his brakes, hugging the inside line to make the turn. The immense centrifugal force of cutting the inside line, combined with the excessive wear on his brakes and tires, caused the RS7 to suffer severe understeer.

After a few screeching sounds of friction, the RS7 came to a halt right against the guardrail at the edge of the cliff. Fortunately, the occupants were unhurt, but the beautiful, expensive car was a different story—its front-left face was mangled from the impact, a sight that made one’s heart ache.

"Alright, son, it’s just us now. Let’s have a real race," Mo Shanhe’s voice came over the speaker once more, issuing his challenge.

"You bet. I won't be holding back," Mo Shu retorted, not backing down in the slightest.

Sitting in his car, utterly devastated, the young man had no idea that he had been nothing more than a stumbling block—or a warm-up exercise—for the true battle between father and son.

The duel between the grip-racing style and the drift-racing style had only just begun.