My Formula 1 System-Chapter 657: Baku, The City Of Fire. 2

Victor didn’t hesitate.

He pounced into action so fast that it shocked Derfflinger and Yokouchi.

The gala floor was a mess of expensive silk and spilled champagne as the man hit the ground, his legs kicking weakly while he tried to suck in air that just wouldn’t come. Standing right there was Matteo Bianchi, but he was a deer in headlights.

Suddenly, someone rushed into the center of the chaos with total purpose. Matteo glanced to his left, his eyes wide, as he saw the Trampos driver scanning the area like he was looking for a racing line.

Victor’s eyes quickly landed on a small crystal bowl of salted nuts that had tumbled over during the struggle, with nuts spilled all over the tablecloth. The nuts had to be it.

"Move!" A panicked waiter was shoved.

Victor didn’t care about his most expensive suit or the fact that he was at a high-society event. He grabbed the plump elite from behind, hauled him up with strength, and locked his hands together just below the man’s ribcage. Stationing his feet firmly, the hero leaned the man forward, and started pumping his stomach with powerful, upward thrusts.

One. Two. Three.

The man made a horrible, wet gurgling sound while others watched. His face was a dark, bruised purple, his eyes bulging, but Victor didn’t stop.

Giving one final, desperate squeeze with everything his gym-trained muscles could give, Victor was determined to save the man’s life.

Eventually, the man gagged and let out a loud, hacking cough. A single, half-chewed macadamia nut flew out of his mouth like a bullet and bounced off a silver platter across the room.

"Gaarghh....alrggh....haa....haa."

The man collapsed back toward the floor on one knee while clutching his throat with both hands. He was still wheezing, his tuxedo was sweat-soaked, but at least his lungs had finally started working again.

For a moment, the entire Heydar Aliyev Center went dead silent.

The only sound was the man’s ragged panting and the distant hum of the air conditioning,

Slowly, murmurs and quiet whimpers came from every direction as the shock started to wear off and everyone realized that the situation had been swiftly remedied—not by a doctor or a security guard, but by a young man. An F1 driver.

All eyes were on Victor now.

Breathing hard, his hair a little messy as he bent down to further check on the man. He put a steady hand on the man’s shoulder, asking him if he could swallow and if he needed water.

Again, very slowly, a round of applause started to rise. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Within seconds, a rain of claps and cheers filled the massive hall as people whistled and cheered.

Matteo Bianchi was still standing there, looking smaller than ever as he watched the guy he had just ignored become the hero of the entire city of Baku. Victor didn’t even look at the cameras or the cheering crowd; he just kept his eyes on the man on the floor, making sure he was actually okay.

Finally, some security guards and a few capable-looking people in suits rushed in to help the man, but surprisingly, he just held up a hand in refusal, indicating he was fine now. Everyone watched him steadily get to his feet as the clapping died out. The man also turned to take a good look at his savior. In response, Victor bowed slightly when their eyes met, feeling a bit apprehensive all of a sudden.

Unlike Victor, who was tall and lean, the man was of average height and much more rotund, with puffier cheeks and bright blue eyes. The only similarity they shared was their hair, a mix of yellow and brown.

Victor didn’t know this man at all, but literally everyone else in the Heydar did—even Luca would have recognized him in a heartbeat if he were there. This was Chris. It was definitely best to just stick to his first name, because his last name was formidable, and people always spoke it in a measured, careful way.

Chris studied Victor for a long, quiet moment before nodding absently. He found his way back to a seat with a loud grunt, then looked up and invited Victor to sit right next to him.

"Come," he said, his voice still a bit raspy. "You saved my life. The least you can do is join me for a drink."

A very quick server swooped in to clean the mess before Victor could even accept the offer, making the table look perfect again.

While this was happening, Chris gave Matteo a very hard, cold glare. It was a look that could have melted ice. Matteo had been the closest person to him, standing there doing absolutely nothing while he was dying, but Victor had swooped in from across the room.

Not really knowing what to do, Victor figured he ought to respect his elders, so he sat right down next to Chris.

The night began to stabilize as everyone realized that the immediate threat was gone. Matteo walked off calmly, trying to act like Chris’s glare didn’t bother him, leaving Victor alone with the man and three other elites who were still super concerned about their friend’s health after such a scary incident.

"I’m fine, I’m fine," Chris said, waving them off. He leaned back and smirked. "I’ve survived countless lawsuits from three continents, but I almost let a single, salty cashew become my bane. Tsk. It’s the toughest opponent I’ve faced all year!"

The other elites chuckled at the joke, the tension finally breaking. Then, Chris diverted all the attention back to Victor. "Do you know who this young man is?" he asked his friends.

One of the men sipped his drink, his eyes narrowing as he studied Victor’s face. "Red means danger," he said quietly, referring to Trampos’s scarlet red.

Chris patted Vic right by the clavicle, his hand feeling heavy and strong. He looked at Victor in a very certain way—a look that wasn’t just about being thankful. It was a look that said he knew something that Victor didn’t.

That was the exact moment Victor realized he was in enemy territory.

These weren’t Trampos fans or neutral observers; these were the people who backed the teams that wanted to see his own team lose. He was sitting at a table with the Big Guns of the rival world, and even though he had saved one of them, he could feel the coldness of the competition staring him right in the face!