Chapter Fifty-Five: The Arrival of Ruslein

In the blink of an eye, their journey in Bern, Switzerland, was coming to an end, and the members of the Divinity Racing Team embarked on their journey home. Owing to their dazzling performance at the ERC Media Open Day event, Mo Shu and the others found, to their astonishment, a large throng of fans gathered at the airport entrance, forming a corridor to bid them farewell even before they reached security.

Looking around, they saw that every face was Western—a truly exhilarating sight. Mo Shu vaguely recalled reading an article online, written by a netizen who had lived in Switzerland for many years. The piece described in detail various traits, aiming to prove that the Swiss were a lovable yet old-fashioned people, punctual to the point of severity, meticulous to a fault, and, in some respects, even more rigorous than the Germans—a peculiar group indeed.

To many in this society, right and wrong were always clear-cut, likes and dislikes were stated plainly. Thus, for the Divinity Racing Team to have gained a following in Switzerland was undoubtedly a good omen.

The banners held by their Swiss fans were also distinctly Swiss in style.

“Divinity Racing Team, I’m traveling to your country on September 17th, two years from now—hope to see you then!”

“Mo Shu, I’m in awe of your astonishing time of 1:49.94203160655. Love you!”

“Swiss airlines can sometimes be delayed by a minute and a half—please stay calm!”

“To the greats of the Divinity Racing Team, my mother is already your fan, but she’s been planning to do laundry at home today for the past five days, so she can’t come to see you off. So very, very sorry! —Suzanne’s son.”

Reading these banners, everyone couldn’t help but sigh in amusement—no wonder Swiss watches were so renowned.

Mo Shu’s heart brimmed with anticipation. If there were already so many fans in Switzerland, what would it be like back in Nanshan…

Frenzied, passionate fans, thunderous shouts, security forming human walls—the kind of superstar treatment seen only online—would such scenes one day play out for the Divinity Racing Team?

Yet, when they landed and reached the arrival hall of Nanshan International Airport, aside from the usual crowd of people meeting flights, there was no sign of any welcoming ceremony. This left Mo Shu deeply disappointed.

It seemed that motorsport was still quite niche in their homeland, he lamented.

Wang Yu and his sister Wang Qing wheeled their luggage carts at the front, with Geng Hua following close behind Wang Qing. Mo Shu, holding Wang Yining’s hand, dawdled at the rear, looking utterly dejected.

As the group strolled slowly toward the T3 terminal exit, three of the team’s mechanics who had stayed behind in the country came running toward them, foreheads beaded with sweat, expressions tense.

“Boss Wang, please hold up a moment—let’s get everyone in formation,” one mechanic called out breathlessly.

“Mo Shu! Mo Shu! Hurry up, come to the front!” another mechanic kept urging.

“What’s going on? Is there a welcoming party? Are there reporters?” Mo Shu perked up at once. Wang Yining frowned, displeased—since when had he become such a show-off?

“Yes, that’s why we need to pay attention to our image as a team,” the mechanic replied with a broad grin.

“Are there a lot of people? Many journalists?” Mo Shu couldn’t help but ask.

“Uh…” The mechanic was about to answer when Wang Yining cut him off, “Mo Shu, when did you become so obsessed with fame?”

“…Well, I just haven’t felt very confident lately,” Mo Shu admitted sheepishly.

“Confidence comes from within, not from the approval of fans or the media!” Wang Yining lectured him sternly.

“Understood, I get it—nobody’s perfect, after all,” Mo Shu replied meekly, never one to argue with Wang Yining, especially since she had a point.

“Miss Wang, perhaps let Mo Shu off the hook. Our new team has just been established—a bit of encouragement from the outside world isn’t necessarily a bad thing, don’t you agree?” The mechanic took Wang Yining’s luggage cart, smoothing things over as they walked.

Mo Shu shot the mechanic a grateful wink—what a good brother!

“Divinity… Divinity…”

It seemed someone was calling their name. Mo Shu’s eyes lit up, ears straining to listen.

“Divinity, Divinity.”

As they neared the terminal exit, the voices grew clearer.

It sounded like quite a crowd. Mo Shu nudged Wang Yining with his elbow, signaling her to mind her expression.

Wang Yining snorted coldly, her demeanor shouting, “This young lady is the epitome of cool indifference.”

As they drew ever closer to the exit, Mo Shu noticed that many airport staff members had put down their work to nod and greet them. Even fellow passengers—who had previously ignored them—now glanced over in curiosity, wondering if this group might be celebrities.

Wang Yu and Wang Qing still led the way, but with night falling, they couldn’t be sure if the shifting shapes beyond the glass doors were crowds of people or just trees swaying in the wind.

When the automatic doors of the terminal slid open—

Good heavens!

Was this the welcoming crowd waiting for them?

No, it was an ocean—an endless sea of people!

The roar was deafening!

Thousands upon thousands of fans were chanting their name!

“Divinity!”

“Divinity!”

“Divinity!”

“Divinity!”

Other than these two syllables, nothing else could be heard.

Mo Shu and the others were stunned. What was happening? Was this a dream?

The moment they appeared, dazzling flashes turned the dusk into broad daylight.

All the major media outlets of Nanshan had gathered, cameras of every shape and size bristling in the crowd—there were two full rows of reporters alone.

Wasn’t this exactly the superstar treatment Mo Shu had fantasized about before takeoff? To be honest, he had only dared to dream of it—who doesn’t harbor such little fantasies?

But now that the moment had truly arrived, Mo Shu found he couldn’t smile. What did he feel? He couldn’t quite say—there was joy tinged with solemnity, solemnity mixed with reflection, reflection underscored by a thread of anxiety, anxiety giving way to a deep sense of longing.

A tumult of emotions, impossible to put into words.

But what puzzled him most was what seismic shift had occurred back home—how, in such a short time, had the Divinity Racing Team stirred up such a whirlwind?

“Mo Shu, look!” Wang Yu exclaimed, pointing excitedly toward the center of the crowd.

Following Wang Yu’s finger, Mo Shu spotted a face both familiar and strange—the true source of this tidal wave.

“Russeline!” Mo Shu couldn’t help but cry out, darting toward the crowd. Not even the frenzied embrace of fans could stop him.

He wanted to give Russeline a big hug but suddenly remembered the injuries she might still have from the last accident.

He stood frozen in front of her for three full seconds, eyes wide as he anxiously took stock.

Russeline broke into a long-missed smile, lifting her arms and flexing her wrists for him to see.

A mysterious smile surfaced once more, and then, suddenly, a powerful arm enveloped Mo Shu’s shoulders—a greeting from the Celestial Lord of the Six Realms.