Exactly Like Messi!

By the training ground, Rosell and Enrique were chatting.

"Guardiola's gone. Vilanova will take over the team next season, but his health isn't great—he probably won't last long."

Rosell's gaze swept over the young players training on the youth pitch as he casually remarked to Enrique, the youth team coach.

Promoting talent and coaches from the youth ranks was already a tradition at Barca. As the head coach of Barca's youth team, Enrique had a real shot at becoming the first-team coach.

Hearing those words, Enrique's eyes lit up, and he couldn't suppress a surge of excitement.

Barca was one of the best-performing and strongest clubs in football right now.

Coaching a top-tier team like that was a dream come true for a young coach like him.

Especially for a coach with such a strong Barca imprint—going to another club didn't guarantee good results.

Enrique had left Barca before, but his coaching stint in Serie A hadn't gone smoothly.

After a failed season at Roma, he got sacked and had to return to Barca.

He'd just come back when Guardiola resigned and left, which gave Enrique hope.

He'd heard that the club was choosing between him and Martino for the head coach position.

Vilanova was destined to be just an interim head coach—he wouldn't stay in the role long.

So, as long as he could beat Martino, the Barca head coach position was his for the taking.

And to beat Martino in the competition, getting the club president's support was crucial.

"President, rest assured, I'll fully cooperate with your work!"

Enrique was quick on the uptake. Hearing Rosell's hint, he immediately pledged his loyalty.

For him, if he could hold the Barca head coach position for a few years and rack up some respectable results, he'd have a shiny resume for coaching a Giant Club, which would be a huge help in finding future jobs.

If he could even lead Barca to a Champions League title, he might surpass Guardiola and become a legendary young coach of a new generation!

At that thought, Enrique's gaze toward Rosell grew fervent.

"Mm, good. Luiz, I knew I wasn't wrong about you!"

Rosell nodded with satisfaction, then said casually:

"I heard there's a young player in the youth ranks who's close with Guardiola. Is that true?"

Enrique quickly nodded, pointing at Lin Quan training on the pitch, and replied:

"Yes, that young player in the number four jersey—he's Guardiola's adopted son!"

"Oh, I see!"

Rosell nodded lightly and ordered offhandedly:

"Since Guardiola's no longer with the club, clean out the players who got in through his connections. We don't need that kind of nepotism at Barca!"

Enrique opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he kept quiet.

He wanted to speak up for Lin Quan—the kid had real skill and wasn't just a connection hire.

With his ability, he could definitely hold his own on Barca's youth team.

But the club president didn't like him—or rather, the president didn't like Guardiola.

And since Lin Quan was Guardiola's adopted son, getting caught in the crossfire was no one's fault but circumstance.

"Yes, President. I know what to do."

Rosell nodded, accepting the task.

"Handle it cleanly. I don't want people gossiping."

Rosell patted his shoulder, dropped that line, and left.

Enrique watched his retreating figure, cursing inwardly.

Guardiola had barely left, and the club was already kicking out his adopted son.

If this got out, the fallout would be ugly.

And as the one carrying out the order, if he didn't handle it well, he'd end up taking the blame.

So, how could he complete the president's task without catching flak?

He quickly figured out a way!

Find a weaker team to loan Lin Quan out to, let him play first-team matches.

If he couldn't cut it in the first team, Barca could terminate the contract on that basis.

Then no one could say much—if he couldn't even make it at a small club, how could he possibly hold his own at a top-tier Giant Club like Barca?

That way, even if they got rid of him, Enrique wouldn't take the heat.

At that thought, Enrique couldn't help but feel smug about his cleverness.

Just as expected of me!

He then waved over assistant coach Jordi Branca and said to him:

"Branca, where are the loan requests from the other teams?"

"In your office!"

"Alright, good. Keep an eye on things here—I'll be back soon."

Enrique finished speaking and left directly.

Just as he turned and walked away, Lin Quan pulled off a brilliant breakthrough on the flank.

Since he'd been assigned to the reserve side, Lin Quan was up against the youth team's starting defense.

They'd all played together before, so the youth players knew Lin Quan's traits well.

His body wasn't strong enough; his physicality in duels was weak.

So when defending him, they could press aggressively, using body contact to disrupt his advance or even steal the ball.

In the past, when opponents did this, Lin Quan would immediately pass the ball, reducing his possession time to avoid physical battles.

He was a deep-lying playmaker—as long as he had excellent passing and ball control, sharp awareness, and good vision.

Plus a certain ability to intercept, that was enough.

Expecting him to dribble like a winger wasn't realistic.

But today, when he received a pass from a teammate, he almost instinctively flicked the ball outward with the outside of his foot, dropping his right shoulder as if to break through down the right flank.

Raphinha, defending him, froze for a moment—that was a common move for wingers cutting in from the outside.

Was he actually trying to get past him?

He stopped immediately, shifting laterally to block the path and push Lin Quan out of bounds.

But the moment he made his move, Lin Quan hooked the ball, sending it gliding past his right side.

Since the ball was right by his right foot, Raphinha almost instinctively stuck out a leg to stop it.

But he forgot—his body was still moving sideways. As his right foot lifted, his torso twisted like a pretzel, and he slammed to the ground with a thud.

Lin Quan and the ball had smoothly completed the flank breakthrough.

Whoa!

The moment Lin Quan faked out Raphinha, every player on the field—including the coaches on the sidelines—was stunned.

A single thought crossed their minds:

Why does Lin Quan's way of playing look exactly like Messi's?