Waste

"Who is that?"

When Baken Academy made a substitution, everyone at Omnibus paid close attention. The head coach, in particular, found the black-haired, yellow-skinned Oriental standing on the sideline completely unfamiliar—there was no mention of him in any of their materials.

"No idea, never seen him before," his assistant replied, equally clueless.

After all, they were just a school team; their intelligence gathering couldn't match a professional club's. At best, they could track Baken Academy's past match lineups and general player profiles. As for Yang Yang, who had never even made Baken's roster, they naturally knew nothing.

"Probably just a last-minute call-up to fill the squad," the assistant said dismissively.

Having both the starting and backup right-backs injured was a heavy blow to Baken Academy, and Omnibus's left-wing attack was their strongest asset. This was the perfect moment to press their advantage and secure a decisive victory.

The head coach nodded in agreement. Dick Van Pool using this kid now was like grasping at straws in desperation.

With that thought, he walked to the sideline and signaled his players to keep hammering the left flank.

Today, he would crush their city rivals on their home turf and give his team a massive morale boost.

"How can he put him in?" Henk Dimer couldn't believe his eyes.

At a time like this, Dick Van Pool was subbing in a rookie?

Had he already given up on this match?

"What's going on?"

"Why would Van Pool make that change?"

"How can they let this guy on?"

"It's over, it's over. With him out there, we're definitely losing."

The teammates around him were groaning in despair.

Sure, Yang Yang had shown clear improvement in training lately, but his earlier performances had been so abysmal that everyone had already written him off. Combined with his conflicts with Henk Dimer and others, the distrust was deeply ingrained.

With his terrible fundamentals and poor training displays, who could possibly trust him?

"Forget it. We need to steady ourselves, stop them from scoring, and then fight for an equalizer," Henk Dimer gritted his teeth and said fiercely.

After a pause, he added, "That guy's unreliable, so don't pass him the ball."

With that, Henk Dimer turned and walked away.

His own performance in this match had been awful. Omnibus's midfield had put too much defensive pressure on him, and his wing teammates hadn't provided enough support, leaving him no room to operate. He was thoroughly frustrated.

Were they really going to lose to those bastards from Omnibus?

Amid the shocked and doubtful murmurs echoing around the pitch, Yang Yang stepped onto the field and took up his position at right-back.

He could clearly feel the waves of distrust coming from all directions—not just from his teammates on the pitch and the fans in the stands, but even from head coach Dick Van Pool on the bench and John Rep sitting behind him.

If there had been any other option, they definitely wouldn't have chosen me.

Yang Yang understood that, but since he was on the field, he had to seize this rare opportunity.

His primary task was defense.

Even though he saw himself as an attacking player, since the head coach had arranged it this way, he would obey and give his all to hold the right flank. That was the only way he'd earn another chance to play.

No head coach would use a player who didn't follow orders, even if it was just a school team.

Yang Yang stared straight ahead at Omnibus's left-winger, number seven—the most active and outstanding player in this match. The opponent was sizing him up with a cold smirk.

"I've heard of you," the number seven said with a light chuckle.

"Oh, really?"

"They say you're the waste from Almere Youth Team."

Yang Yang frowned, about to get angry, when Old Bing's voice echoed in his mind.

"He's trying to provoke you."

That single sentence snapped Yang Yang back to his senses.

The opponent had been watching Yang Yang's expression closely, noticing the flicker of anger. But then it suddenly subsided, which caught him off guard.

This one's steadier than the last guy—not so easy to rile up.

"Haven't seen you before. This your first game?"

Yang Yang didn't look at him or respond, his eyes fixed on the action further up the pitch.

"Tough luck, running into me on your debut. Probably your last game too," the number seven said smugly.

Yang Yang glanced at him, catching the "get mad, get mad" look plastered on the guy's face. The small spark of irritation died down, and he let out an impatient snort.

"Are you done? You're so noisy. Can't you shut up?"

The number seven caught the disdain in Yang Yang's tone and immediately bristled, letting out a cold laugh. "Fine. Just you wait."

The match restarted with Baken Academy trailing by two goals, yet their performance showed no signs of improvement.

Core player Henk Dimer was neutralized by the opposition, throwing the midfield organization into chaos and making it difficult to mount any effective attacks. Omnibus quickly intercepted the ball in midfield again.

As soon as the opposing number seven saw his team regain possession, he immediately raised his hand on the left flank, signaling for the ball.

He was determined to teach this newly substituted rookie a harsh lesson.

"Yang, be careful," Head Coach Dick Van Pool warned from the sidelines, unable to hide his concern.

This was Yang Yang's first test since coming off the bench, and even though Van Pool was a seasoned veteran, he couldn't help but feel his heart tighten.

He didn't have much faith in Yang Yang.

Even without Van Pool's warning, Yang Yang had already tracked the ball's trajectory through [God's Perspective] and kept a close eye on every move of the opposing number seven. As Van Pool shouted, he quickly locked onto his defensive target.

Last night, in the Super Training Ground, Old Bing had specifically drilled him on defense, especially a few basic defensive moves, aiming to help him handle the challenges of this match. Now, it was coming in handy.

"On the football field, things change in an instant. Everything depends on your on-the-spot performance. No one can help you but yourself."

"In one-on-one defense, the most important thing is to first put yourself in an unbeatable position, patiently stick with your opponent, and don't recklessly lunge for the ball."

Old Bing's instructions from last night's training echoed in Yang Yang's mind. He didn't rush in recklessly but deliberately maintained a certain distance, his eyes fixed on the opponent, taking in every move, while using God's Perspective to survey the entire field.

The opposing number seven had been outstanding in this match, shredding Baken Academy's right flank like a sieve. Now brimming with confidence, he saw Yang Yang not charging in rashly, so he stopped the ball and immediately dribbled forward.

Wasn't he just a green rookie?

"Interference is a very important defensive tactic, meant to disrupt the opponent's dribbling rhythm, but you have to leave yourself some leeway."

"How to execute purposeful interference requires thorough preparation before the match."

The opposing number seven was left-footed and specialized in crossing from the baseline.

This was what Yang Yang had observed from the sidelines over the past hour. The number seven seemed to look down on this rookie, either out of sheer audacity or arrogance, as he made no effort to hide his intention: a one-on-one, beat-the-man move.

A faint, dismissive smirk played on the number seven's face, as if to say, "I've got you figured out. What can you do about it?"

Just as he entered Yang Yang's defensive zone, Yang Yang suddenly took a small step back. Before the opponent could react, he lunged forward with a big stride, shifting to his right, targeting the opponent's left foot.

Yang Yang wasn't physically strong, but he was agile and explosive, moving as swiftly as a startled rabbit. The number seven instinctively halted, planted the ball, faked a move, and then nudged it toward his right foot.

But Yang Yang's step was also a feint. He pulled back as soon as he moved, but now the distance between them had closed significantly. Anticipating the opponent's reaction, Yang Yang stepped forward again, still targeting the left foot.

The number seven was startled once more. Without time to think, he paused again and nudged the ball back to his right foot.

Damn it, this time it's for real, right?

Let's see how you stop me!

Just as the number seven adjusted the ball to his favored left foot and prepared to burst past Yang Yang on the inside left, Yang Yang unexpectedly stepped back again, turned sideways to the left, and as he saw the opponent charging through the inside, he made a snap decision. Planting his left foot, he swiftly poked the ball away with his right.

"Either don't commit, or when you do, you must take the ball away." Old Bing's training advice was still fresh in his ears.

In the blink of an eye, the man got past, but the ball was poked away.

The Baken Academy center-back, covering behind Yang Yang, quickly chased out of the penalty area and booted the ball clear.

It was only then that gasps of surprise rippled through the stands around the field.

Omnibus's number seven stood dumbfounded, turning to stare at Yang Yang, unable to believe he had lost the ball while dribbling.

Coincidence. It had to be coincidence.

All of Baken Academy's players were equally stunned. They never imagined that Yang Yang's first defensive effort after coming on would succeed. Henk Dimer, in particular, wore an expression of utter disbelief.

Luck. It was pure blind luck. How could this guy have that kind of skill?

But a burst of enthusiastic applause rang out from the sidelines.

Though most ordinary fans hadn't clearly seen the exchange between the two, the result—Baken Academy's successful defense—was enough to earn a round of applause.

It was the most successful defensive play on the right flank all match.

"What a beauty! That was some fine defending!"

"No kidding? Clean and sharp, no foul."

"Who is this guy? How come I've never seen him before?"

"Oh, him? He's that famous waste from the Almere Youth Team, but who knew he could defend like that?"

"Tell me about it. If they knew he could hold the line, they should have put him on earlier."

As the saying goes, amateurs watch the excitement, professionals watch the technique.

Sitting on the bench, John Rep and Dick Van Pool, along with the middle-aged Dutchman on the sidelines, were far more astonished than the rest. Though everything had happened in a flash, their experience allowed them to see the whole process clearly.

It was a battle of wits and strength in attack and defense.

What shocked them most was Yang Yang's composure in defense. His two feints disrupted the opponent's rhythm, and he decisively poked the ball away to break up the dribble. The entire sequence was clean and concise, without any hesitation.

Was this really the Yang Yang they knew?

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