Arrival in Tokyo, National Team Debut!

Leo Kang did not have any further story with Claudia.

The middle-aged woman had appeared at just the right time.

The two had no chance to exchange contact information.

It was only that Veltins would be shooting a new ad series soon.

Perhaps they would have another chance to meet.

Whenever he thought of this,

the shadow in his mind would frantically contract.

His mood would gradually become positive and upbeat.

That voluptuous female model, meanwhile, had somehow added his social media account.

The moment he accepted her request, several blood-pumping selfies popped up.

She kept stressing that she would find time to teach Leo Kang how to box.

At times like that, the shadow in his mind would frantically spread.

Unable to endure the pain of being suppressed by the shadow for too long, Leo Kang decisively removed the model from his friends list.

Madrid. Las Rozas Training Centre.

Leo Kang met his Spain National Football Team teammates.

There was no Iniesta, Ramos, David Silva, or any other big-name stars.

Most were young players from powerhouse clubs.

De Gea waved at him and called out, "Leo, don't bother putting down your luggage. We're flying to Japan in two hours!"

Leo Kang suddenly heard a thump!

The football spun violently.

It curved through the air in a rainbow-like arc.

Then dropped precisely in front of him.

He leaned back slightly, raised his leg to cushion the ball, and pinned it beneath his foot.

Clap, clap, clap!

Twenty meters away, Dennis applauded. "To be honest, your first touch is pretty average! I'm only clapping to welcome Bayer Leverkusen's midfielder."

At that moment,

the other teammates warming up all turned around.

Arsenal's Bellerín.

Everton's Deulofeu.

They had also come through La Masia Academy, but they were a generation ahead of Leo Kang and were not particularly close to him.

In the distance,

assistant coach Miñano saw the scene and flew into a rage. "Are these kids going to start fighting the moment they meet?"

Del Bosque stopped him with a smile. "It's just two young lions roughhousing. Let's not interrupt them yet."

As he spoke,

the football left Leo Kang's left foot.

It rolled rapidly along the grass.

Like a sharp blade.

It sliced through the gaps between the teammates.

Before slowing to a stop in front of Dennis.

At once,

the teammates laughed and applauded.

They each had their strengths!

Dennis scratched the back of his head. "Fine, your ground passes are just a tiny bit better than mine."

The staff handed out brand-new national team shirts to the youngsters.

Leo Kang's number was 98.

In official competitions such as the World Cup and UEFA European Championship, national team squad numbers ran from 1 to 23.

But in an international A-level friendly against a team like Japan, there were no restrictions on shirt numbers.

There was no practice match.

After changing into Spain National Football Team tracksuits, the young Spanish players hauled their luggage onto the plane and headed for Asia.

Of course, there was still one "veteran."

Morata.

He enthusiastically encouraged the younger players. "Don't be afraid. Attack boldly. If you can't break the deadlock, I'll come on!"

At the time, he was Juventus's leading striker. Although his scoring rate in the league was average and he was not great at taking chances, in the previous season's Champions League, he had repeatedly breached the defenses of Europe's powerhouse clubs. Neither Real Madrid nor Barcelona had escaped him.

The youngsters looked at him with admiration.

Like a group of rookie players encountering a max-level veteran.

Morata secretly reveled in it. Back in the national team, he had always been the little brother. He never expected to become the big brother so soon.

But he quickly sensed that something was off. Why was the little Chinese guy sitting beside him so quiet?

He must have been too nervous to meet a superstar like him.

Just as he was about to offer some comfort,

his attention was drawn away by the curvaceous flight attendant.

Twenty-three-year-old Morata still had a very clean private life and preferred innocent online romances.

Del Bosque dozed off.

Miñano had originally been a fitness coach and had only been promoted to the national team's top assistant coach a few months earlier. He scribbled on a blank sheet of paper and muttered under his breath:

"A bunch of little dwarves."

"Among the midfielders... Leo Kang is the tallest, while Deulofeu has the quickest footwork. Who should lead the line in a strikerless formation?"

"If Japan abandon the midfield, pack their penalty area, and squeeze the space... they should play more beautifully on home soil."

Twelve hours later,

the young Spanish players arrived at Tokyo International Airport.

A huge crowd of fans had gathered at the arrivals gate.

Morata waved excitedly. "Look at that, so many Spanish compatriots are here to welcome us! We have to put on a good performance!"

Leo Kang suddenly heard someone calling his name in Chinese.

He looked toward the sound.

He saw youthful Eastern faces one after another.

Miñano patted him on the shoulder. "Don't just stand there foolishly. Go greet your fans. The Japan Football Association sent plenty of security personnel, and you're not a huge star, so nothing will happen."

There were only around a dozen fans, made up of Japanese Chinese and Chinese international students.

Leo Kang was not afraid of anything happening; he had simply not reacted right away.

He slowly walked over.

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

"Leo Kang, can we take a photo with you?"

"Tokyo nights are a little cold. Why aren't you wearing another layer?"

"Everyone, quiet down! Hurry up with the photos. Leo Kang still needs to get back to the hotel and beat the jet lag!"

A security guard took the camera.

Separated by the barrier, Leo Kang was surrounded by his compatriots.

The flash went off.

On Tokyo's bleak night, they captured a warm photograph.

"Leo Kang! Come on! Destroy those little devils!"

"Crush Japan!"

Leo Kang boarded the national team bus and waved goodbye to his compatriots.

He had not expected that he would have fans too.

The Spanish teammates all looked over.

Dennis asked in confusion, "Leo! Have you played football in Japan before?"

De Gea quickly corrected him. "Don't talk nonsense. Those fans are Chinese or Chinese descendants. I've been to China several times and understand a little Chinese. They were encouraging Leo Kang to beat Japan."

Dennis continued, "Then what does 'little devils' mean?"

De Gea stroked his chin, thought for a moment, and said, "'Little devils' is a term for Japanese people."

The youngsters suddenly understood.

Morata, who had talked boastfully on the plane, was now clutching his stomach with a livid face.

Two days later.

Tokyo. Ajinomoto Stadium.

Tens of thousands of Japanese fans had arrived in the stands early.

They wore dark blue shirts and waved flags bearing the feathers of the Three-legged Crow.

Before the 1990s, Japan's international standing in football had been merely second-rate in Asia.

In 1993, Japan Football Association president Saburo Kawabuchi proposed Japan's hundred-year football plan.

At the time, it became a huge joke across Asia: You can't even qualify for the World Cup finals.

Who could have imagined that, from 1998 onward, Japan National Football Team would never miss another World Cup?

"CCTV-5! CCTV-5! Good evening, viewers!"

"Welcome to an East-versus-West showdown on this week's international matchday!"

"Japan National Football Team versus Spain National Football Team!"

"I'm the commentator for this match, Duan Xuan!"

"I'm He Wei!"

"The starting lineups are out. Japan have fielded a half-strength squad, while many of Spain's youngsters are entering the national team squad for the first time."

Inside the players' tunnel.

Takumi Minamino warmly greeted the Spanish players.

When he saw Leo Kang,

he forced out a smile.

Dennis also enthusiastically shook his hand. "Little devils!"

His pronunciation was not very accurate.

Takumi Minamino did not understand Chinese either. Thinking it was Catalan, he hurriedly nodded.

Right after that,

Deulofeu and Bellerín politely greeted him as well. "Little devils!"

The other Japanese players all bowed and nodded.

Leo Kang watched the scene with dark lines across his face.

The line began to move.

The referees led both teams out of the tunnel!

Ajinomoto Stadium instantly erupted in thunderous cheers.

The drums boomed like thunder.

The moment Leo Kang stepped onto the pitch,

the system notification quietly sounded:

[Ding! National team mission triggered: Shatter the Blue Samurai's pride!]

[Mission description: You cannot fight for your motherland, but you must win this match. Defeat them!]

[Mission reward: ???]

The stadium broadcast began playing Japan's national anthem, Kimigayo.

The Japanese players looked excited and solemn.

Tens of thousands of Japanese fans sang in unison.

"Japan's national anthem is probably the shortest in the world."

"It has only twenty-eight characters repeated over and over."

"After repeated research by historian Fujita Tomoharu, it was determined to be a dirge sung at an emperor's funeral."

[No wonder. It sounds like something played at a crematorium.]

[All it needs is a suona and the sound of gongs!]

[This feels strange. Is Leo Kang going to sing Spain's national anthem later? I'm having a hard time accepting that.]

[We finally got a promising talent, only for him to join Spain National Football Team. Sigh.]

[Messi often doesn't sing the anthem either.]

[What a joke! Leo Kang is mute. How is he supposed to sing the anthem?]

Japan's national anthem was very short.

One minute later.

Spain's national anthem, Royal March, began to play.

The young players kept their faces blank and their lips tightly sealed.

"After Franco's dictatorship over Spain ended, the anthem's lyrics were abolished!"

"So Spanish athletes don't need to sing the anthem when competing internationally!"

China's livestream chat.

The viewers were a little bewildered.

[Can't hold it in anymore! Hahaha!]

[The previous generation of Spanish players would at least hum along a little. These young players are way too casual!]

[Count them—how many Basques and how many Catalans are there? There's no way they'd hum along.]

The coin toss ended.

The players from both sides took up their positions.

With a blast of the referee's whistle.

The match officially began!

"Let's introduce the starting lineups for both sides!"

"Japan National Football Team, wearing dark blue and attacking from left to right, has lined up in a 4-3-3 formation!"

"Goalkeeper: Shusaku Nishikawa!"

"Left back: Yuto Nagatomo!"

"Center backs: Maya Yoshida partnered by Tomoaki Makino!"

"Right back: Masato Morishige!"

"Midfield: Wataru Endo, Junya Ito, Yosuke Kashiwagi!"

"Forwards: Takumi Minamino, Takuma Asano, Musashi Suzuki!"

[Japan's back line is made up entirely of starters from last year's World Cup!]

[Several of their midfield and attacking players are strong homegrown J League players too. This should be an all-out attacking battle!]

"Spain National Team's formation, judging from the setup, is a 4-6-0—no strikers!"

"Goalkeeper: De Gea!"

"Left back: Meré!"

"Center backs: Gayà partnered by Jonny!"

"Right back: Bellerín!"

"Midfield: Leo Kang, Deulofeu, Dennis, Ceballos, Castillejo, Oliver!"

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