Awakening the Messi template, Florentino Pérez begs me to join Real Madrid

When the whistle blew to start the second half, Kim Min-jae looked at Moo-seok as if he were looking at his father's killer.

In the 51st minute, Wu Shi was fouled while breaking through on the wing.

The referee blew the whistle, and Park Won walked over and reached out to pull him up.

Wu Shi got up by himself, brushed off the grass clippings, and said loudly in English:

"No need, I'm afraid you haven't washed your hands and there might be something dirty on them. I can get up by myself."

Park Won-jae's hand froze in mid-air, and the referee glanced at him a couple more times.

[System: Your past life traits of being a gambling addict and keyboard warrior have all returned.]

The game continued. Jeonbuk intensified their attack, but Moo-seok kept dropping back, drifting wide, and making forward runs in the attacking third. Although he didn't get many chances to receive the ball, Kim Min-jae was outmaneuvered by him and his breathing became labored.

The crucial goal in the 58th minute.

Wu Shi received the ball with his back to goal at the edge of the penalty area, and Kim Min-jae immediately pressed forward.

This time, Wu Shi didn't intend to confront him head-on—he had already set his sights on Muriqui's position.

The moment he received the ball, he lightly tapped it with his heel.

The ball passed between Kim Min-jae's legs and rolled towards the left side of the penalty area.

The second time, the crotch was pierced.

Muriqui arrived in time and fired a shot into the net!

2: 1!

Gao Lin rushed over and hugged Wu Shi, pointing his finger at him and laughing as he scolded, "You little brat! You're addicted to groin-slapping, aren't you?!"

Wu Shi looked at Kim Min-jae. The other man stood there, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

"Agassi," Wu Shi whispered in Korean as he ran past him.

Then it was supplemented in Chinese.

"Are your legs just for show? If you really want to make money by spreading your legs, go to Thailand next door for lower body surgery first, and then come back to your country for facial plastic surgery."

These are all things Gao Lin taught him: "After nutmegging, you must comment on the opponent's defensive posture; it's like killing them psychologically."

Even Gao Lin didn't expect that this kid, who was only 17 years old, could spew out such trash.

He's simply a genius.

the student surpasses the master.

Fortunately, the other party couldn't fully understand Chinese, otherwise they probably wouldn't have been able to hold back.

Kim Min-jae clenched his fists, but the referee was staring at him.

[System: Trash talk level: Advanced. Kim Min-jae's rage level is 65%. Warning: Beware of retaliatory actions.]

Sure enough, over the next twenty minutes, Kim Min-jae's defensive actions became increasingly aggressive. In the 71st minute, a flying tackle grazed Wu Suk's ankle with his studs.

Wu Shi fell to the ground, the referee blew his whistle, and issued a yellow card.

"I didn't mean to." Kim Min-jae reached out and pulled him.

Wu stood up and checked his ankle—his sock was torn, but the skin wasn't broken. He looked at Kim Min-jae and suddenly smiled.

"I know you didn't do it on purpose," he said in English, just loud enough for the referee to hear. "If you had done it on purpose, I'd be in an ambulance by now."

On the surface, it's forgiveness, but in reality, it's mockery: You can't even commit a foul professionally.

Kim Min-jae looked like he had swallowed a fly.

[System: Advanced trash talk—killing without bloodshed. Did you learn that in your past life while arguing? Or did you learn it from Gao Lin?]

"Yes. I have both," Wu Shi answered in his mind.

[System: As expected, a great teacher produces outstanding students.]

In the 78th minute, Wu Shi suffered a cramp. He collapsed onto the grass, his calf muscles stiff.

When he was substituted off the field, he limped. Kim Min-jae passed by, glanced at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions—anger and a hint of relief?

Before Gao Lin went on the field, he gave him a big hug: "Well played. Leave the rest to us."

The final score was 2-1. Evergrande won the crucial match and moved up to second place in the group standings.

During the post-match handshake, Kim Min-jae held Moo-seok's hand and paused for a moment:

"You talk a lot, even though I can't understand you, but you play well."

"You make a lot of moves," Wu Shi said, shaking his hand, "but your defense is only so-so."

The two looked at each other, and Kim Min-jae suddenly laughed—the kind of laugh that says, "Damn, this kid's got something."

"Fortunately, he doesn't know exactly what you said during the match. Sometimes not understanding what people are saying is a form of self-protection." The system even felt a little sorry for the other party.

"Be careful next time you come to Korea." Kim turned away, leaving his back to her.

"Next time you come to Guangzhou," Wu Shi said, "remember to wear tighter pants, or you might accidentally expose yourself."

Kim Min-jae cursed in Korean, shook his head, and left.

[System: Post-match friendly (?) communication complete. Your opponent has added you to their list of 'Hateful but Serious Opponents'. A unique form of recognition in competitive sports.]

In the locker room, Wu Shi was slumped in a chair, and the team doctor was massaging his cramped calf.

The teaching assistant said while organizing the equipment:

"Trash talk is fine, but be smart about it. The referee had a good impression of you today; if it were someone else, he might have given you a card."

"The captain taught me," Wu Shi grinned, "that you have to choose the right time to trash talk, and you have to make it sound like a joke."

"You've learned quite a lot," Gao Lin said after taking a shower. "But those few lines were really harsh. You're only 17, where did you learn that?"

"I only know a few lines of the mobile phone software, after a two-week intensive study session." Wu Shi confessed honestly.

Wu Shi wouldn't dare say that in his past life he often engaged in heated online debates and online arguments.

"That's enough." Gao Lin gave a thumbs up. "Teach me a thing or two when we play Jeonbuk away next time."

11 p.m., at the gym.

After Wu Shi finished his last set of squats, the system popped up a summary:

[Match stats: 78 minutes played, 1 goal, 1 assist, fouled 6 times, nutmegged twice, trash-talked 7 times.]

[Integration degree: 6.00% → 6.25% (+0.25%)]

Global Ranking: 97 → 94 (Up 3 places)

[Special Comment:]

[1. Physical contact: Improved from "flying away with a single collision" to "able to withstand some impact." Confirmed by reinforced plastic.]

[2. Mental fortitude: Evolved from "being stunned when insulted" to "being able to insult back." Although it's just a few phrases going back and forth, and vocabulary needs improvement, it works.]

[3. Tactical execution: The "false nine" role was fulfilled. Although that shot from the byline was completely unplanned—it still went in, which is awesome.]

Looking at the data, Wu Shi suddenly asked, "System, how far am I from Europe?"

The system remained silent for a few seconds.

At the current pace, you will likely need to: gain weight to 80 kg (1.5 kg short), achieve a fusion rate of 10% (3.75 kg short), and learn at least one fluent foreign language (your current Korean level is roughly equivalent to that of a three-year-old).

[And most importantly—learn to land gracefully instead of crying and screaming when you get knocked over by those 190cm, 90kg defenders in the Premier League.]

Wu Shi laughed: "Then it's still early."

[It's still early. But at least today, you made a South Korean national team center-back remember your name, and incidentally, your trash talk.]

In some ways, this can be considered a success.

My phone vibrated; it was a message from my mother: "Son, I saw you score! But it looked like you and the other guy were talking on TV? Don't get into a fight with them."

Wu Shi replied: "We didn't argue, we were just exchanging tactics normally."

He turned off his phone and looked at himself in the mirror, drenched in sweat.

At seventeen, he made his AFC Champions League debut, scoring a goal and providing an assist, leading to a victory, and even engaging in a verbal battle with the opposing defender throughout the entire match.

Two months ago, he was a "plastic man" who was knocked around by players from the China League Two.

Now?

He touched the newly developed muscle lines on his arm.

At least, it's a "reinforced plastic" that can fight back and talk back.