Chapter Forty-Nine: Bern, Switzerland

Bern, the capital of Switzerland, served as the starting point for the 2018 ERC Global Rally Championship.

Though several months remained before the official opening of the ERC season, all participating teams had already gathered in Bern, preparing for the ERC's official media day event, soon to take place here.

Over thirty teams had arrived for the media day, yet only eight of them—those backed by major manufacturers—were widely recognized. The other twenty or so were either small private teams or competitors racing as individuals. These lesser-known teams had struggled for years, with few ever making it to the podium, and naturally, they drew little attention from the public.

Even before the event began, fans of the eight major teams crowded both inside and outside the venue, waving their team banners, dressed in team uniforms, their faces adorned with paint in their team's colors, each showing support for their idols in their own way.

Unlike previous years, another group stood out: a fan club composed mostly of East Asian faces, drawing particular notice today.

It was obvious—they were supporters of the “Divine Team,” the ninth most prominent team in this year’s ERC, just outside the eight giants. Their banner fluttered in the wind, boldly emblazoned with the words “Disciples of the Divine!”

“Ha, those folks from the East sure have money—imagine bringing their fans all the way here!”
“Just burning cash, aren't they? I hear financing is all the rage in their country recently. No doubt some patron footed the bill.”

A few foreign onlookers exchanged remarks, their lips curled in disdain. Whether their feelings were envy or simply intense jealousy was anyone's guess.

Yet, the Divine Team was truly wronged this time—they lacked the funds to bring this thousand-strong fan club from their homeland to Switzerland.

At this moment, they were at their most impoverished. Once the race began, perhaps a sponsor might notice their promising performance and offer support mid-season, which would be a timely rescue for the team.

The initial seventy million yuan that a few founders had pooled was already mostly spent. The remaining funds had to sustain the entire season’s operations and logistics. The Divine Team’s members had grown so frugal they wished ERC would cover their food, lodging, and travel in Switzerland—an impossible hope.

As first-time entrants, their meeting area was tucked away in the most inconspicuous corner, pitifully small compared to the spaces allotted to the eight major teams. Aside from two race cars, there was barely room for people to stand. Mo Shu, resigned, sat on the hood, reasoning that few journalists would bother to interview them anyway.

Mo Shu’s guess proved accurate. Once the event began, nearly all media crowded around the eight major teams, and a few even interviewed some wealthy private entrants with poor results. Not a single journalist came their way.

The lively commotion elsewhere contrasted sharply with their own desolation, leaving everyone inevitably dispirited.

Back in their homeland’s GTCC, they had been the center of attention, overwhelmed by fans and reporters to the point of needing to avoid them.

Mo Shu hung his head, sighing, when an unexpected English “Hey” caught his ear.

It was a driver, visiting from one of the eight major teams, clad in their uniform. Europeans tended to be tall; when Mo Shu hopped off the hood, he found himself more than a head shorter.

“Hey there, mate from the East. I’m Ron Thomas, driver for the ‘Munich Light Super Team.’” The newcomer introduced himself with a certain swagger.

Mo Shu quickly responded politely, “Hello, I’m Mo Shu. As you can see, I’m with the Divine Team.”

“Oh, yes! I hadn’t heard of you before, and frankly, I don’t rate your chances in the race.” Thomas’ tone abruptly shifted—he was here to provoke.

“Damn, looking down on us!” Wang Yu cursed under his breath from nearby, pulling out his phone to search.

Ron Thomas, driver for the Munich Light Super Team, had finished runner-up in the ERC for five consecutive years. Known for his fiery temper and unruly personality, his driving style was aggressive and raw. In his rookie year, he was penalized over ten times for maliciously insulting opponents, and more than thirty times for rule violations. Though he had mellowed somewhat in recent years, achieving much better results, he remained a headache for teams, drivers, and even the ERC organizers—a classic troublemaker.

On another webpage, fans advised against idolizing him, warning that his fits of rage spared no one, and that he could lash out at fans unpredictably. Spectators were cautioned to keep their distance from his car trackside, for at best, he might shower them with mud and stones, and at worst, their lives could be in danger.

“Heavens! We’ve only just arrived and already run into such a challenging opponent!” Wang Yu wished he could rush over and warn Mo Shu, but saw that Mo Shu’s face was already flushed, eyes locked in confrontation.

“What’s your problem?” Mo Shu demanded.

“Hah, I’m here to provoke you!” Thomas replied, his expression full of disdain.

“We haven’t bothered you. Go back to your own team.”

“You dare give me orders, you worthless, mud-like excuse for a driver!” Thomas started with personal insults.

“Mo Shu, ignore him—the journalists are here!” Wang Yu pulled Mo Shu back just as he was about to unleash a string of profanities.

Ron Thomas was notorious. Seeing him at the Divine Team’s area, the sharp-eyed journalists sensed drama and hurried over with their cameras.

At last, they had attention—but for all the wrong reasons. Mo Shu’s face darkened; he wished he could rush onto the track and silence Thomas with his driving.

“Wow! Hello there, friends in the media!” Thomas grinned at the cameras, playing to the crowd. “Let me make a promise right here: in the 2018 ERC season, I’ll crush all my rivals and take the championship. Please pay attention to the Eastern driver behind me—I’ll show him that racing isn’t a game for amateurs! Hahaha!”

A real scoop—this was the most explosive pre-season news yet. Journalists focused their lenses on Thomas and Mo Shu, snapping away.

“Mo Shu, hold back. He’s lost to Fernando Ken Russlein five years running. This year, he finally has a chance at the title, but you’ve arrived as Russlein’s successor, driving the legendary car he gifted you. No wonder Thomas is itching for a fight—save your energy for the race and shut him up there!” Wang Yu’s analysis was spot on.

Geng Hua came over to comfort Mo Shu, while Wang Yining snorted coldly nearby, saying, “Do we really have to wait for the ERC race to shut him up? There’s a golden opportunity coming up soon!”