Chapter Ninety-Two: The Rules Have Changed

"Chairman Zhu, you’ve traveled all this way—surely you’re not here to tell me once again that my championship trophy isn’t worth much, are you?" Mo Shu remarked coldly.

"No, no, Mo Shu, you’re mistaken. I came here on the direct instructions of Master Tang Leisure, bringing utmost sincerity and apologies to discuss the matters of the competition with you," Zhu Tao explained, his words tumbling out faster than he’d spoken all morning.

Indeed, Uncle Tang had lent a hand, but Mo Shu hadn’t expected Zhu Tao to respond so swiftly. It must have been that his father and Uncle Tang discussed the matter inside the house earlier, prompting Uncle Tang to immediately summon Zhu Tao. Judging by the time it took to subdue the young man, it had been no more than an hour. Clearly, the founder of the Motor Association still wielded formidable influence.

"Hahaha, little Mo Shu, how could you win the championship and not tell your Uncle Ang? If only I’d known the potential you have, I would have recruited you long ago!" Tang Leisure walked over, waving a hand at Zhu Tao.

Zhu Tao bowed and retreated as if he were a servant in a feudal court before the emperor.

Champion? The car modification enthusiasts gathered around started flipping through memories, recalling the champions they’d seen before.

"My goodness, it’s Mo Shu! Didn’t recognize him with his hair turned white!" someone exclaimed.

"What? GTCC champion? The top driver of the Star Team—oh wait, the former Star Team’s Mo Shu?"

"Wow, really dyed his hair silver and I didn’t recognize him!"

The crowd erupted in excitement.

"Wow~~~"

The young man squatting nearby, whose car was ruined and whose spirits were crushed, began to cry even louder.

Why did he have to challenge anyone but a racing champion?

"Not just GTCC—he recently won the ERC World Rally Championship’s Swiss round. He’s absolutely the pride of Chinese racers!"

"Exactly! He bested Carbon Black Gold and Munich Light, two international powerhouses, and he’s one of the four main gods of the Divine Team that brings glory to our nation!"

"Mo God, I love you!" a young woman shouted.

"Mo Shu! We all love you!" a group of men joined in, jeering playfully.

"Mo God! Please give me your autograph!"

"Mo God! Let’s take a photo! I want to post it on social media!"

"This is unbelievably lucky—to meet Mo God in such a remote place. Thank you, heavens!"

Now people were thanking the heavens; the situation was about to spiral out of control, and Mo Shu was already planning his escape.

Even Mo Shanhe was secretly amazed—when had his son gained so many admirers? Even he, as the father, felt a twinge of jealousy. Back in his day, he too was a formidable force in the racing world, but times had changed, and the treatment was worlds apart.

Since Mo Shu was here, there was no hope of leaving easily!

The car enthusiasts, determined, launched wave after wave of requests for photos and autographs.

Mo Shu endured the fervor for two hours before he finally managed to calm the crowd.

It was overwhelming—how could he ever travel alone again? The time had come to hire a personal assistant and bodyguard; he was drenched in sweat.

Where was Dad? Uncle Zhang and Uncle Tang? Had they already escaped the chaos?

Of course—they were seasoned veterans. They’d slipped away to the third-floor rooftop of the villa, sipping tea and discussing Mo Shu’s future, the Cloud Summit Downhill Race.

"Mo Shu, come upstairs and have some tea!" The three old hands called down, perched high above as Mo Shu finally broke free.

...

"Ring, ring, ring~~~"

Just as Mo Shu stepped onto the rooftop, his phone rang.

"Hello, Old Wang, things are pretty much settled here. I’ll report to the team tomorrow!"

"Ancestor, please hurry back—something’s happened!"

"Old Wang, don’t panic. Speak slowly," Mo Shu’s brow furrowed; his greatest worry was trouble arising when he wasn’t with the team.

"Hey, the International Motor Association issued a notice—all future races will be subject to speed limits. I’m sure this is targeted at you!" Wang Yu blurted.

"Old Wang, is that all? I thought someone got hurt."

"This isn’t a small matter! The association claims it’s for driver safety, but it’s really because you’re too fast. Most importantly, our two current race cars can’t be used—they’re not eligible even if we install throttle limiters. The engine displacement is too large, completely violating the new regulations."

"Oh...?" Mo Shu had indeed underestimated the problem. The Monte Carlo round was approaching fast, and if the Divine Team’s technicians had to modify two race cars at the last minute, time would be far too tight, not to mention tuning and testing.

"So please hurry back. I was about to reschedule your return flight for tomorrow," Wang Yu, far away in Europe, was beside himself.

"Don’t change the ticket yet..." Suddenly an idea flashed in Mo Shu’s mind.

"Why not? You’re killing me here!" Wang Yu was getting frantic.

"Old Wang, listen—I’ll stick to the original schedule. Don’t worry, I’ve already figured out a solution!"

"What solution? Tell me!"

"Oh, you’ll know once I sort things out here. Not now, I’m about to have a discussion."

"Don’t hang up, hey! Hey, hey? Damn!" Wang Yu was one step away from hurling his phone.

To prevent Wang Yu from calling back, Mo Shu switched off his phone. He needed to carefully organize his thoughts and have a proper talk with Tang Leisure.

"Come sit, little Mo Shu. You’ve been busy all day," Tang Leisure smiled, inviting him to his side.

"Uncles, Dad, thank you for helping me realize my dream of hosting the downhill race!" Mo Shu lifted his tea, offering it to the three elders in place of wine.

"Heh heh, your uncles and father go way back—this is nothing!" Tang Leisure said, pouring more water into the teapot.

"Uncle Tang, I have one more favor to ask. I wonder if you’d be willing to help me again?" Mo Shu picked up the freshly filled teapot as he spoke.

"Hey? Isn’t your uncle busy enough? Look at the crowd below," Mo Shanhe frowned, being old-fashioned and valuing decorum and timing—asking for favors shouldn’t be so relentless.

"Old Mo, don’t rush—let’s hear what the boy has to say," Tang Leisure patted Mo Shanhe’s arm, urging him not to scold his son.

Mo Shu, hearing this, filled the elders’ cups and raised his own again. He then recounted Wang Yu’s phone call in detail.

As soon as Mo Shu finished, Mo Shanhe slammed the tea table. "Outrageous! Deliberately targeting Chinese drivers. They never changed rules when others won!"

Zhang Aimin quickly interjected, "Brother, some things aren’t up to the association. Have you heard of the Weilmin family?"

"Weilmin family? I haven’t!"

Clearly, Mo Shanhe had been away from the racing world too long and was unfamiliar with its current state. Zhang Aimin sighed and didn’t elaborate.

"Little Mo Shu, what do you want me to help with? The International Motor Association? Your uncle isn’t that influential," Tang Leisure said, somewhat helpless.

Mo Shu was less pessimistic than the elders. He refilled the teapot and finally spoke his plan.

"Uncle Tang, I don’t care about the Weilmin family or the association. What I want your help with is... modifying the cars!"