In professional rally racing, the cars are usually modified to the extreme—stripped down, tuned up, and made to deliver raw bursts of power. By comparison, testing production models felt like a step backward.
Until now.
"Roland! Mark Dagan! They're starting the draw!"
The two veteran drivers headed over as the lot assignments were handed out.
Roland got plate number 15.
Mark Dagan got 24.
Both men headed to the lot to find their assigned test vehicles. Each car was shrouded, brand logos hidden, but inside the cabin was a sealed folder—performance specs and tuning data for the test.
Roland skimmed his sheet and raised his eyebrows.
"2.4L engine… wait, this thing's been tuned to 298 horsepower and 400 Nm of torque?"
Across the lot, Mark's voice buzzed through the comms line.
"You think that's wild? I just pulled a 3.0T turbo from China. No joke. They crammed a six-cylinder into a car this size—and it's pushing 450 horsepower and 580 Newton-meters!"
Roland choked. "That's insane!"
"I know exactly who built this car," Mark said, grinning. "There's only one company tuning like this right now."
"And you don't need to tell me the name."
Mark looked over the rest of the data and turned to his assistant, shaking his head in disbelief.
"They tuned a mass-market 3.0T engine to this level? That's flirting with major wear, failures—hell, even liability. Are they not worried?"
But his eyes lit up. He was fired up.
A lightweight sports coupe. A monster engine. Rear-drive. No assist systems.
This wasn't going to be a test.
It was going to be fun.
"Goodbye, gentlemen," Mark called as he climbed in. "I've got a date with adrenaline."
He flicked the ignition. The six-cylinder roared to life with a low, guttural growl.
Music to his ears.
"Turn off ESP," he said to his co-driver. "I want raw feedback. We will test turbo lag, torque curve, and throttle response at peak RPM."
The co-driver nodded and climbed in.
Mark hit the gas, and the RPM needle shot past 7,000 instantly.
The tires squealed. The car launched like a bullet.
Outside the paddock, the crowd erupted.
"It's starting—it's finally starting!"
"I've been here since 6 a.m. just for this!"
"God, I've missed the rally boys lighting up the track."
"You call this a rally? This is a car torture showcase!"
"I'm praying for the Flying Mantis drift to make a comeback!"
Fans leaned over the guardrails across the 50-kilometer track, cameras rolling, hearts racing.
Above, a helicopter camera locked onto Car #24—Mark's ride—and broadcast the run in real time to massive screens and livestreams worldwide.
On Shark Live, the Chinese chat exploded.
"THAT'S a six-cylinder. You hear that low-end rumble?"
"No way a body this small should house a 3.0T."
"Bro, it's the TT. It's gotta be the TT!"
"I'm calling it—China Star built this car."
"I swear, if that's our domestic car blowing past everyone…"
"That engine note… It's almost elegant."
"And violent."
"Elegant violence. Like a controlled explosion."
"Yeah. That's a good way to put it."
Back on the track, Mark pushed the car harder.
"Zero to a hundred in 3.9 seconds," he muttered, watching the digital dash. "Jesus. This thing kicks like a race-tuned RWD coupe."
Rumble. Roar.
The number 24 car tore through the first checkpoint like a predator unleashed.
Mark barely held back a laugh. "This is a mass-produced engine? Who are they trying to fool?"
He gripped the wheel tightly. "This deserves a perfect score for launch phase performance."
But he wasn't done.
"Next up—hard throttle, then emergency braking. We'll test for thermal stress, stability, and mid-run wear."
This wasn't just joyriding anymore. Every test was benchmarked. Every engine had to hit metrics across torque curve, throttle delay, fuel efficiency, noise, emissions, and mechanical endurance.
Behind him, dozens of drivers were rolling out with their co-drivers, heading into the brutal first stage of the rally evaluation loop.
But Mark?
He was grinning like a madman.
Because number 24 wasn't just holding together under pressure.
It was thriving.