That Year, 18 Stood Like a Minion?

Players' representatives' seating area, Li Luo's left was occupied by a sturdy little black egg.

He carefully studied the other man's features and the Everton crest on his suit. He seemed to be the one from those shooting tutorial videos...

"Lukaku? Hello."

"Hm?"

Lukaku turned his dark, broad forehead toward him and flashed a grin full of white teeth. "Hello... Li from Wolfsburg?"

The two roughly knew each other's stories.

Everton was a Premier League club, and Li Luo had appeared in Manchester United's mouthpiece newspapers more or less often.

"Didn't expect us to end up in the same group..."

"How many spectators can Everton's home ground hold?"

Li Luo asked curiously.

This was important. The upper limit of Shock Points he could obtain in each match depended on the stadium's seating capacity.

The little black egg was somewhat baffled. "Why are you asking that? Everton's home ground can hold around thirty-nine thousand spectators when full, I think. I don't know the exact number."

"If we go to Italy to challenge Inter Milan, there could be seventy or eighty thousand spectators there."

Li Luo nodded. "That's great. Thank you."

That's great?

The young Lukaku could not help feeling puzzled. Then he suddenly thought of the protagonist in a cartoon—the more spectators there were, the stronger he became.

Li Luo silently made a note of what he needed to do when he got home that night: hold his textbooks, watch recent footage of Wolfsburg's next Bundesliga opponent, study recent footage of their three group-stage opponents, and train diligently while continuing to feel the improvement brought by his 60 Shooting attribute.

Study hard, grow stronger without cease.

The Europa League group-stage draw ceremony ended.

Everyone gradually filed out of the small hall.

"The Europa League ceremony is relatively simple. The UEFA Champions League draw is much larger and more formal. I was already playing in the UEFA Champions League at sixteen, you know?"

"Forget it, let's get going. If we run into representatives from those UEFA Champions League giants, I'll feel uncomfortable."

The little black egg's tone was somewhat awkward.

Li Luo asked curiously, "Why?"

Lukaku shook his head. "I don't know how to put it. I can't explain it."

Assistant Tom found them and led the two from the side hall into a corridor.

At the far end of the corridor, lights flashed continuously from the main venue.

Two rows of greeters stood at the entrance.

The opening notes of Beethoven's Fate drifted near and far.

They saw a beautiful girl holding a draw bowl surrounded by crystal chandelier decorations.

They remembered how the Europa League draw had used an ordinary metal box.

They heard wave-like cheers rolling out from the main venue.

They thought of the sparse applause at the Europa League ceremony just moments ago.

Tom could not help but smile. "The sound system for the UEFA Champions League ceremony is better too."

Tap tap tap.

Leather shoes struck the carpet in a rapid rhythm.

Li Luo and Lukaku turned around to see reporters crowding around a group of player representatives in suits bearing Barcelona's crest.

"Make way!"

"Make way!"

"You mopping the floor, don't block the way! Can't you see the Barcelona delegation coming through?"

Catalan accents.

Several staff members shouted and barked orders, Barcelona crests printed on their uniforms.

Camera flashes went off endlessly as every media reporter scrambled to point their cameras at the glittering red-and-blue stars.

Lukaku silently stepped back twice. His broad back nearly hit the wall.

His emotions were complicated.

At nineteen, as a fringe player at Chelsea, he had not even dared to touch the UEFA Champions League trophy.

Because he had not contributed anything to winning that trophy.

Now, standing beneath the dazzling lights, it seemed that even his shadow was unwilling to overlap with those of the representatives from the powerhouse clubs.

Tom was like a young wolf cub, not daring to meet the eyes of the adult pack.

A scene flashed through his mind: in one UEFA Champions League final, even the proud Sir Ferguson had been beaten by Barcelona until his fists trembled...

He secretly clenched his fists. "One day, I'll become part of a powerhouse club's management too."

Li Luo, however, looked directly at each face in Barcelona's delegation.

After watching match footage for some time, he had gained a rough understanding of the hierarchy of European football.

Especially from the many "funny" images he had seen in video comment sections—Martial Arts Team, Film Academy, and so on.

Powerhouse clubs like Barcelona and Real Madrid were basically boss-level monsters in a game, right?

Suddenly.

A tall, lean figure from Barcelona's delegation stopped in front of Li Luo and looked him up and down.

Busquets.

The "Busquets" of the Xavi-Iniesta-Busquets midfield trio.

His tone was full of praise.

"Li, I happened to see clips of your matches online."

"Your vision is excellent, and you think very quickly. Judging from your style... well, keep working hard. Maybe you'll have a chance to join Barcelona next year."

Everyone burst into laughter.

The reporters picked up their pens, ready to record it down: a Barcelona star encouraging a young player.

Under normal circumstances, any young player who received such encouragement would have been thrilled, flushed red with excitement.

"I won't join Barcelona."

Li Luo looked completely matter-of-fact. He had agreed with Manchester United that he would return after his loan spell ended. How could he join another club?

The atmosphere immediately froze.

Busquets's smile stiffened.

Everyone looked at one another. Was this kid's emotional intelligence really that low? Couldn't he hear Busquets encouraging him? Becoming a rotation substitute for the Xavi-Iniesta-Busquets trio... that was already the highest praise for a young player.

How many players dreamed of joining Barcelona?

Some would even pay out of their own pockets to come.

Busquets pressed on, "Do you like Real Madrid?"

Li Luo shook his head. "No."

"Then are you an Espanyol fan?"

"No."

The Barcelona midfielder shook his head helplessly, still unwilling to give up and wanting to continue asking.

Someone stepped out to stop him. "Alright, stop asking. Let's get to the main hall."

The crowd dispersed.

Little Black Egg exclaimed, "Li, as far as I know, many talented midfielders... want to become the successors of the Xavi-Iniesta-Busquets trio. Have you forgotten how many honors they've won?"

Tom covered his face with both hands, then parted his fingers to reveal one eye.

Lukaku: "..."

"Just kidding."

Li Luo said seriously, "When I return to Manchester United next year, if I get the chance to play in the UEFA Champions League, I hope I'll run into opponents like Barcelona."

How much would defeating those big bosses of Europe's powerhouse clubs raise his shock value by?

Maybe he could even exchange it for higher-tier football star mystery boxes.

Lukaku thought for a moment and said, "Li, I need to learn your confidence. Whenever you talk about facing a powerhouse club, your eyes light up with excitement."

They had not gone more than a few steps.

When they ran into Juventus's delegation in the corridor.

Italy's legendary goalkeeper, Buffon, enthusiastically extended his hand toward the three of them, smiling broadly.

"What a wonderful night!"

"Where are you guys headed?"

"Are you hungry? Turn right at the corner, go straight to the end, then turn left, and keep going... then turn again... until you reach a hall with an open-air balcony. There's a buffet there."

Clap, clap, clap.

A simple high-five, with no extra pleasantries.

A moment later.

Watching the Juventus delegation walk away.

Lukaku asked in confusion, "Li, did you know Buffon before?"

Li Luo shook his head. "That was the first time we met."

Tom spread his hands. "Even less likely for me."

"How does Buffon know this place so well? That route to the buffet... just listening to it made my head spin."

"Maybe he's attended a lot of UEFA Champions League draws?"