"Tell me honestly, how did you even survive long enough to grow this big?" The team manager's expression changed after hearing that.
Was that stuff he cooked really drinkable?
"What's wrong with it? Back when I lived alone and needed to throw together a meal, I'd toss everything edible in the fridge into one pot too. Nothing ever happened then."
"How the hell are those the same thing?!"
Players and coaches viewed a lost match differently. Everyone else thought it was no big deal, and chatting for a while was enough to move past it.
But after returning to the club, perhaps dissatisfied with the loss, or perhaps because he was gradually getting used to this intensity of training, nearly everyone could clearly feel that his intensity and training time in 1v1 practice had increased.
This time, nobody could hold back any longer, and they all started putting in extra practice.
It was like how parents would spend money to send their children to schools full of top students. A learning environment really could motivate people.
Late that night, 369 walked out of the lounge with a yawn, intending to get some fresh air on the balcony. There, he saw Coach Homme, who seemed to have been waiting for him all along.
This...
"Coach, were you standing here waiting for me?"
"In a sense, yes. Though only this once."
"Huh? Why?"
"Didn't you say you'd come out after your game? I've been standing here in the wind for almost half a damn hour. Where the hell were you?"
"Cough, cough, well... we made a mistake in one fight and failed to end it, then got pushed back. It dragged on a little longer. My bad, my bad." 369 apologized to his coach with an awkward grin. Judging by Homme's disheveled