Enlightenment

"God, did you see that?"

"Am I seeing things?"

"That Chinese kid actually took the ball off Henk Dimer? How is that possible?"

"Our team's most promising talent, the one with the best shot at Ajax's youth camp, got robbed?"

"I must be dreaming—that kid actually got the ball."

"Unbelievable. I can't believe it."

The onlookers by the sidelines erupted in commotion.

Over the past while, they'd been watching Almere's training with cold detachment. Many had even treated Yang Yang's ordeal as a joke. Never in their wildest dreams did they think he'd actually win the ball—and from Henk Dimer, no less.

It had to be a fluke.

Right, pure luck.

On the training pitch, Henk Dimer was furious, stomping and glaring at Yang Yang.

He never imagined that this useless loser he'd always dismissed would humiliate him in front of everyone today—especially with Mr. John Rep watching from the sidelines.

Damn bastard!

Henk Dimer swept a sharp, menacing look across his teammates. They all nodded in silent understanding. Reluctant as he was, he had no choice but to step back into the circle and play the fool being toyed with.

Yang Yang, however, wasn't dwelling on that. After making a tackle that should have felt triumphant, he felt no excitement—only contemplation. He was mulling over why he'd managed to win the ball just now.

Before, he had no sense of positioning or space. Standing in the circle, he'd just chase the ball endlessly, but a person could never outrun it, so he'd waste his energy on futile efforts time and again.

But with the God's Perspective aiding him, he could clearly see who had the ball and what passing lanes were open. By feinting and cutting off some of those options, he forced the opponent to pass toward Dimer's side—right into Yang Yang's trap.

"Old Bing, was I right?" Yang Yang asked humbly in his mind.

"Close enough. You're finally starting to understand how to play," Old Bing said flatly.

It wasn't a direct compliment, but it was a rare indirect nod. Yang Yang's mood lifted, and he felt more certain that he was on the right track. He decided to keep doing this.

The keep-away game resumed.

It was a novelty to see Henk Dimer—the team's most skilled and strongest player—stuck in the middle.

Prompted by Dimer's signal, his teammates began deliberately passing the ball to Yang Yang. Out of revenge, Dimer chased Yang Yang to steal it, with one goal: to send that monkey back into the circle.

Sure enough, after just two or three passes, Yang Yang fumbled again, and the ball was taken.

Both John Rep on the sidelines and the watching fans covered their faces in dismay, ashamed for having overestimated Yang Yang earlier. His fundamentals were still as terrible as ever.

But unlike his usual sour expression, Yang Yang was in good spirits this time, as if he'd been waiting for this. Without waiting for the coach's instructions, he cheerfully stepped back into the circle.

They had no idea he was eager to test his newfound insights.

Back in his familiar role, Yang Yang quickly found his rhythm. This time, he came prepared. Within a minute, he spotted another opportunity and pulled the same feint, baiting a teammate into passing.

Whether out of habit or some other reason, the pass went straight to Henk Dimer again. Before the youth team captain could even settle the ball, Yang Yang was already on him.

Still rattled from before, Dimer grew impatient. Seeing Yang Yang close in, he instinctively tried to shield the ball and shake him off—but the coach, acting as referee, immediately blew the whistle.

By the rules, only one touch was allowed. Dimer had fouled.

He's targeting me on purpose!

That bastard is deliberately getting back at me!

Henk Dimer gritted his teeth and glared at Yang Yang, fuming as he trudged back into the circle.

The surrounding fans were stunned. Who would've thought Dimer would be back in the middle so soon? What was going on with him?

And that Chinese kid—how had he suddenly gotten so good?

Had Yang Yang gotten good?

John Rep saw it clearest from the sidelines.

As the keep-away game went on, Yang Yang kept switching between being the chaser and the passer, making it easy for Rep to spot the pattern.

The kid's fundamentals were still awful, but when it came to chasing the ball, he seemed to have gotten smarter.

If before he was a headless fly crashing around blindly, now he was full of intent, every run carrying deeper meaning.

The keep-away game looked simple, but it was a vital training tool, incorporating one-touch passing, off-the-ball movement, and spatial awareness. Yang Yang had performed so poorly in the past not just because of his weak fundamentals, but because he lacked a sense of space on the field.

It was like a direction-blind person dropped alone in a bustling metropolis, with no clue where to go or how to find their way.

But judging from today's training, the kid really has wised up.

If that were truly the case, maybe he still had a chance to become a decent defensive player—after all, the fundamental requirements for offensive and defensive players in the midfield and forward positions are somewhat different, especially in lower-tier amateur leagues.

Yet John Rep hadn't changed his conclusion about Yang Yang; he still couldn't keep him.

Although Almere was in the third division, they had long set their sights on the second-tier Dutch Second Division, or even higher, the Dutch First Division.

Once the circle game ended, everyone tallied up the results. Yang Yang was still the player who got fooled the most, but to everyone's astonishment, right behind him was the team's top prospect, Henk Dimer.

But this wasn't because Yang Yang was deliberately targeting Dimer; rather, he noticed his teammates always tended to pass the ball to Dimer, which made it easier and more certain for him to steal it, so he naturally took advantage without hesitation.

The always proud Henk Dimer, still stuck in the middle playing the fool when the training whistle blew, stormed over to Yang Yang, utterly humiliated, and spat out a harsh threat before turning away.

"You just wait and see."

Yang Yang helplessly pursed his lips. He'd been toyed with by Dimer and the others for nearly a year without losing his temper, and Dimer had only been the fool a few times—what was he so mad about? Talk about petty.

Ignoring everyone else, Yang Yang picked up a ball from beside him and ran off to the sidelines to practice juggling on his own.

Old Bing from the Super Training Ground also appeared in his mind at that moment, analyzing and coaching him on his performance from that training session. Especially regarding his mistakes, Old Bing not only reviewed the footage but also guided Yang Yang on how to make better choices.

While juggling the ball and listening to Old Bing's analysis, with the training still fresh in his memory, Yang Yang felt he had gained a lot.

"I didn't expect the Super Training Ground to have this kind of feature," Yang Yang said with a smile of praise.

He hadn't had a clue before, but after Old Bing's breakdown, he felt like a complete idiot who couldn't play football at all—his mistakes were countless. Sometimes there were clearly many better options, yet he blindly chose the worst one. It was truly regrettable.

But precisely because of that, Old Bing's analysis and guidance left an incredibly deep impression on Yang Yang. He believed that if he ever encountered similar situations again, even if he couldn't always do his best, he would at least avoid making the worst choice.

"Change slowly, improve step by step," Old Bing said, unusually lenient.

What Yang Yang didn't notice was that his focused juggling practice caught the attention of Head Coach John Rep in the distance, as well as some fans lingering by the sidelines.

But no one knew how long he could keep up with such tedious, basic training.

The annual assessment was approaching, and time was running out for Yang Yang.

Having tasted the benefits of the Super Training Ground, Yang Yang threw himself into basic training with a frenzy. His uncle, Shen Ming, understood his situation and let him focus on practicing without helping at the restaurant anymore. So every day, aside from classes and meals, Yang Yang devoted all his time to training, even sacrificing sleep.

With his previous foundation and persistent practice, Yang Yang's two-foot juggling progressed quickly. After a week, he could already juggle over five hundred times continuously with his instep, inside foot, outside foot, and front thigh—maybe even more. But his shoulders and head juggling lagged behind, especially his head.

Old Bing wasn't surprised. While continuing to push Yang Yang to train his shoulders and head, he also moved to the next step, demanding faster juggling speed and adding some fancy trick drills. He said this would further improve ball control and body balance, while training flexibility in various body parts and mastering changes in rhythm.

After a week of special training, Yang Yang could clearly feel his improvement. In team training, his performance had advanced significantly. In the circle game, his teammates could no longer easily fool him, and during one scrimmage, he even pulled off a brilliant tackle on Henk Dimer, earning applause from the fans on the sidelines.

That was the first time Yang Yang had received applause since arriving in the Netherlands, and it made him happy for a long time.

Because of that, he carried out Old Bing's demands without any compromise.

He believed that with Old Bing's help, he would definitely pass the team's assessment and stay with the club.

As long as he could stay, he still had hope.

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