Passive Ability

Watching the ultra-long pass fly toward him, Han Dang silently steeled himself. No matter what, he could not miss the ball.

Keeping his eyes on the ball, he ran toward the penalty area.

Yet this time, the defender beside him kept blocking him, competing with him for the Landing Point.

The defender even jumped first, meeting the incoming ball.

Unable to force his way into a good position, Han Dang could only brace himself and wait to press when the opponent brought the ball down.

Unexpectedly, the ball traced a slight arc through the air and struck Han Dang squarely in the chest!

"Huh? I'm standing at the Landing Point?"

Han Dang froze, then was overjoyed.

The defender had failed to receive the ball and naturally was not as steady on his feet. Han Dang nudged the football, spun around, and charged into the penalty area.

By the time the opponent turned to chase him again, Han Dang had already left him three or four body lengths behind.

Bang! Han Dang did not know whether he was too excited after getting through one-on-one or simply had never expected to get such a chance.

Facing the goalkeeper, he blasted a shot straight into the stands.

"Fuck..."

The opposing goalkeeper broke out in a cold sweat, while Han Dang dropped to his knees before the goal and repeatedly raked his hands through his hair.

"What a shame. That was such a good chance."

"He could shoot it into the stands from there?"

The stands filled with regretful sighs.

By now, Mo Qiong had completely confirmed that he possessed a superpower.

That ball just now had been kicked directly at Han Dang's chest!

After the earlier missed ball, he understood that if he chose the grass as the Landing Point, then unless Han Dang waited for the ball to hit the ground before receiving it, no matter how Han Dang stopped it in midair, the direction it bounced would be unexpected. Even if Han Dang forcibly headed it away, the ball would probably roll back to the point Mo Qiong had designated.

So, to let Han Dang receive the ball, he had simply set Han Dang's chest as the Landing Point.

As long as the ball reached the Landing Point, how it bounced, rolled, or moved afterward was Newton's problem.

Seeing Han Dang give him another thumbs-up from afar, Mo Qiong smiled.

Though he could not make out Han Dang's expression, he could guess that Han Dang was utterly frustrated right now.

After wasting two excellent passes, Mo Qiong would have found it deeply regrettable in the past. After all, chances like that were incredibly rare given his own skill level; he might not get one even in ten matches.

But now he felt nothing at all, because he could create as many such opportunities as he wanted.

The sports academy team had created two threats against Yan Da, but Yan Da had likewise created two threats against them.

This surprised the sports academy team, especially Zhang Xin, who desperately wanted to score.

"Their left side is the breakthrough point..."

"Pull them apart more!"

"Watch my position..."

The sports academy team began taking things seriously. For a while, Mo Qiong felt as though danger lurked everywhere in the backfield, as their defenders were repeatedly thrown into disorder by passing combinations.

"We're being completely suppressed..." Mo Qiong had an extremely broad field of vision and was very good at reading the game.

From in front of the goal line, he repeatedly shouted out defensive gaps, directed the coordinated defense, and saved the back line from several crises.

In fact, if not for his inability to dribble, he would have been quite good as either a defender or a midfielder.

The coach had repeatedly hoped he would practice dribbling and quick passing, wanting him to play defensive midfield, but Mo Qiong had no interest.

He had joined the Football Club only for academic credits. Since childhood, he had trained in hand-to-hand skills and did not want to spend more time practicing football techniques.

Bang!

The penalty area was a mess when a shot suddenly emerged from the crowd.

In the past, Mo Qiong had hated situations like this, where more than a dozen people in the box obstructed his view.

But now, he only needed to think of one thing while keeping goal: touch the ball.

Touching the ball and stopping a shot were originally two different things, but now they were the same to him.

No matter what kind of shot it was, as long as Mo Qiong reacted quickly and desperately stretched out to touch the ball using his exceptional ability to judge trajectories, the shot was effectively collected.

Over thirty minutes, he leaped high and blocked low, diving left and right, somehow making nine saves on target.

For him, there had been several times when he had barely managed to touch the ball, and they had been extremely dangerous.

But to everyone else, he seemed to be in phenomenal form, like a guardian of the goal line. Every shot was steadily blocked away by him, or simply slapped down and gathered into his arms.

Unless there was a close-up slow-motion replay, no one knew that Mo Qiong had merely touched the ball. Observers subconsciously infer someone's actions from the result; that was the human brain's own logical judgment.

No one knew that for Mo Qiong, touching the ball, punching it away, and slapping it down were all dependent on his mood once he had completed the first step.

Of those nine saves, he chose to claim the shot five times.

That was because on those five occasions, Han Dang was alone in the opposing half with a chance to break forward.

Mo Qiong slapped the ball down, then launched a long kick directly toward Han Dang.

Those terrifying passes spanning half the field were so precise they were like scalpels cutting open a heart.

They forcibly created another four one-on-one chances for Han Dang.

Unfortunately, even when he did not shoot into the stands, all four shots were too straight and failed to score.

The stands erupted in excitement several times, only to let out sighs several times afterward.

Still, that alone made the match thrilling to watch, even though they were being badly suppressed on the field.

Zhang Xin's claim that they would score within ten minutes had long since collapsed on its own.

Drenched in sweat, he had worked desperately hard and taken seven shots. Even two passes into the box that could have become assists had failed to break through Mo Qiong's guarded goal.

He was getting worked up and still wanted the midfielders to create chances for him.

"How can he be in such good form? He'll definitely make a mistake!" Zhang Xin said.

But a midfielder hurriedly said, "The first half is about to end. Steady now, that goalkeeper has some skill..."

"His long passes are too dangerous for us. The coach told us to hold steady until halftime."

Zhang Xin sighed and looked at Mo Qiong standing on the goal line, unwilling to accept it.

His lessons from experience seemed useless against Mo Qiong, whose astonishing form was enough to make people despair.

Simply guarding the goal would not have been much, but those ultra-long passes during counterattacks always sliced through their defense like precision-guided missiles. That was terrifying.

With the first half about to end, the sports academy team slowed their attack.

Yan Da was also happy to end the half like this, so they began keeping possession in their own half.

After passing the ball around for several minutes, Han Dang knew the first half would end like this. He was tired as well, so instead of seeking open space, he slowly wandered around the midfield and attacking areas, waiting for time to run out.

The situation instantly changed from fierce confrontation into boring time-wasting, with both sides waiting for the first half to end.

Mo Qiong was happy with that too. Most of his thoughts were no longer on the match, but on constantly pondering his ability.

Amid this boredom, most of the spectators in the stands stopped paying attention to the match again.

Only the fat man was desperately trying to make conversation with the girls while still doing his best to commentate.

"Number twenty-one passes to number sixty-six."

"The sports academy forward presses a little, and the ball gets passed away."

"Our team is passing around in the back, uh... still passing back..."

"They've passed it over the halfway line! Uh... passing back again..."

"The ball is at captain Wang Xiong's feet. He's passing with the center-back, still passing, back and forth... uh... this..."

The more the fat man spoke, the weaker he sounded, his voice growing lower and lower.

"Number twelve presses a little. Wang Xiong passes back to the goalkeeper, and the goalkeeper keeps passing... passing... pass—huh? No, that's a long pass! The ball is slow, and Han Dang reacted slowly too. He's chasing it... he can't catch up. This ball... this ball went in?"

The fat man abruptly sprang to his feet, and his voice jumped several octaves at the end.

"It's in, it's in, it's in! It was number one! Number one scored!"

The people in the stands were jolted by his cry and looked toward the goal. Sure enough, in front of the sports academy's goal, their goalkeeper had fallen facing the goal, staring blankly at the ball inside the net.

The referee was stunned for a moment and looked to the assistant referee. The assistant signaled that it was a good goal. The head referee blew the whistle and pointed to midfield. The goal stood: Yan Da 1:0 sports academy team.

"Our team scored?"

"Who scored?"

"Number one! It was number one!"

"Who's number one?"

"Idiot, number one is the goalkeeper!"

"Fuck! The goalkeeper scored?"

Everyone came to their senses. This was no ordinary goal; the goalkeeper had kicked the ball from his own penalty area straight into the opponent's goal.

That was the kind of goal they only saw in videos. They had never expected it to happen right beside them this time.

Everyone had thought the first half would end like that, never realizing the passing around in their own half had only been a feint to make the opponents lower their guard.

In the end, the goalkeeper stepped up and suddenly chipped the ball from an extreme distance straight into the net.

"Yan Da is awesome!"

"Goalkeeper, 666!"

"Ooohhh!"

The football field instantly erupted with thunderous cheers. In the stands, the men who loved their school team wildly pounded anything that could make noise.

They had come prepared to watch their school team get utterly crushed, never expecting them to be in the lead instead.

Unexpected joy was even more exhilarating. Cheers echoed throughout the stadium, loud enough for people outside the gymnasium to hear.

Mo Qiong stared blankly as his teammates crazily rushed toward him, utterly bewildered himself.

"Amazing, Magic Ball! That kick was incredible!"

"That was so clever! Our passing around made them lower their guard!"

His teammates all chimed in, while Wang Xiong was especially delighted. Somehow, he had gotten himself an assist.

It was because he had been pressed and panicked, passing the ball back to Mo Qiong. It had originally been a time-wasting back pass, yet Mo Qiong had scored directly, instantly turning that back pass into an assist.

"Uh..." Mo Qiong stiffly looked at his ecstatic teammates, not quite daring to speak.

Could he tell them that he had only been trying to control the ball just now?

Yes, he had only been trying to control it, but he had controlled it straight into the opposing goal.

He had never intended to score. His mind had been occupied with thinking about his ability while waiting for time to run out.

Because he had not been focused, Wang Xiong's sudden back pass caught him off guard. On top of that, Wang Xiong's pass had been terrible—too high and too fast, practically like a shot.

Caught unprepared, he had only wanted to bring the ball down, but his mind had inadvertently thought of the opposing goal.

Sometimes people found it difficult to control their thoughts, especially when they were distracted. He had not consciously designated a target with any strong intent, yet this ability had directly locked onto the target his subconscious was thinking of.

As a result, what should have been a simple first touch became a shocking shot.

This ability of mine... is passive!

Mo Qiong realized that every time he kicked something, he would inevitably designate a Landing Point. No matter where that Landing Point was, there could never be no Landing Point.

Every object he personally "shot" had to have a target designated by his thoughts every single time, every time!

He could not just let things take their natural course. He could not let the laws of nature decide what happened.

He could only decide for himself. If he did not consciously decide, then his subconscious would decide!

This was actually a passive ability he could not turn off... unless he completely lost consciousness.

P.S. The name has been changed back to Blue White Society. You can only see it today because it was just approved by the review process... Please support it and add it to your collection.