Focus of Every Gaze! On the Pitch!

August 14, Aix, southern France.

At 7:10 in the evening, there were only twenty minutes left before Cardiff City's home match against Sheffield United.

In an old apartment building, a family of five had prepared chilled beer, a generous spread of snacks and finger food, and waited with anticipation.

"How much longer until it starts?"

A middle-aged woman bustled about serving dishes, a little fatigue on her face, but it did nothing to dim her excitement. "I heard people at the supermarket say that being able to play in the Championship at seventeen makes you a genius."

"A genius?"

The middle-aged man sitting on the sofa looked radiant and snorted proudly. "Making your professional league debut as a starter is far beyond something you can sum up with the word genius. Our nephew is a prodigy!"

"Clermont! Clermont!"

Ava, the third child in the family, ran out from the room inside, calling her father's name. Aggrieved and anxious, her eyes red, she said in a soft, childish voice, "The pizza my brother bought for me got eaten by my sister—two slices!"

"Call me Dad."

Clermont looked stern. After saying that, his expression changed, and he dotingly picked her up and placed her on his lap. "That pizza is huge. You can't finish it by yourself."

"Then why didn't she ask Brother to buy one for her? Why did she have to eat mine?" Ava wiped her tears with one hand and said innocently.

The eldest sister and second brother came out from inside together then. The former rolled her eyes slightly. "It was only two slices. I'll buy you another one another day."

The family bickered noisily, their voices chaotic, yet it added a bit of lively warmth to the small home. It was not bad at all. This was what a big family was like.

"Can Maël really get £2,500 a week now?"

The eldest sister sat on the sofa, and because of the pizza, she thought of the £3,000 Maël had sent back some time ago. "Isn't that way more than what you and Mom make combined?"

"We're just ordinary people."

Clermont smiled. At a time like this, how could he care about saving face? All he knew was to praise his nephew. "After Maël plays today, he'll count as a young football star. That £2,500 weekly wage will still go up."

He glanced at his wife. In his eyes was gratitude that they had insisted on letting Maël play football, as well as resentment and lingering fear.

They had almost strangled their nephew's talent.

His wife turned her head away and said nothing. With time having passed, she had long since thrown her past hesitation and struggle to the back of her mind.

"Brother! Brother!"

Suddenly, his youngest daughter Ava widened her eyes and pointed at the television, clapping and jumping. "Look, Brother's come out!"

The whole family looked toward the screen and immediately saw a close-up of Maël's face. He looked extremely serious, seemingly standing in the players' tunnel.

"Maël! A product of Arsenal's academy! Today is destined to be a day worth remembering for him! Kevin has given this young player ample trust in this match, making him one of the rare players to start on his debut!" The commentator's voice rang out, pulling them into the tense and thrilling atmosphere of the match.

It had to be said, this was an extremely mysterious feeling.

Someone who had once been ordinary, even somewhat quiet and withdrawn, was now being seen again on television, his identity having undergone a tremendous change.

"Ah!" Ava opened her mouth wide and shouted with a smile.

The others could not show their feelings so unrestrainedly, but from the way their bodies occasionally trembled with excitement, their emotions were the same as Ava's.

Colney Training Base, Arsenal U17 dormitory.

As several doors opened one after another, almost everyone who had received the news rushed out at once and hurried toward the youth team meeting room.

"Stop lying around in the dorm! He's out!"

"Second round of the Championship—our former tri... old teammate! Maël has gotten the chance to start!"

"Hurry to the meeting room! Coach Hans is waiting for us there!"

Some of the more considerate ones did not forget to share this joy with their teammates, knocking on doors one by one to call out those who had not noticed the messages on their phones. "Not lying. Check your phones and see if you got a message from Coach Hans."

Another burst of clattering sounds followed, as if quite a few people had jumped down from their beds and were hurriedly putting on shoes.

Before long, more than ten people ran out of the dormitory building together, charging toward the youth team meeting room as if they were sprinting a hundred meters.

Someone did not forget to express his shock to the group while on the way. "I really didn't expect them to actually get a chance."

"Yeah, and who could've thought Maël would be the first one to get a start?"

"Hurry up! We'll miss it—the match is at seven-thirty!"

"Did Gilbert make the Squad List?"

"He did, he did. Why worry about that? If we get there late, we won't even see Maël walk out!"

There were also some whose hearts were filled with mixed emotions, walking slowly with either envy or jealousy in their eyes, or disbelief, just like before.

The speed of Maël's rise had exceeded the limits of their understanding time and again, leaving them constantly feeling split from reality, always sensing that he was still the trial player from their memories.

If he had risen more slowly and given these people a chance to react and accept it, they would not have remained like this all along.

Before long, the first people to arrive at the meeting room saw Coach Hans pacing back and forth inside with his hands behind his back. His face was full of impatience and surprise; he already could not sit still.

"Sorry, I got the news late."

Hans waved to the players, then suddenly slapped the back of his right hand into the palm of his left. His words came out disjointed. "Mainly, I also... I also didn't expect Ma... Maël to start directly in this match."

It was not that he had a stutter. This was a kind of speechlessness brought on by excitement and exhilaration. "When neither of them appeared in the match before last against the National League side, I thought... they had already completely become fringe players at the club."

The players shook their heads and waved their hands to show it was fine, then walked to the seats in the meeting room one after another and sat down, raising their heads to watch the big screen.

There, a live broadcast was playing of a match featuring Maël, the "outstanding graduate" of their U17 team.

The logo in the top-left corner made it perfectly clear—this was the English Championship! Cardiff City Stadium, inside the players' tunnel.

Ragged panting sounded. Maël kept adjusting his breathing, trying to make himself more focused, calmer.

He held a young mascot's hand in his right hand, while beside him stood a group of tall, powerful Championship players. They were about to walk out onto the pitch and step onto the path of professional football.

"Tweet, tweet!"

The referee's whistle for the players to come out rang, and the three referees at the front led the players in the first row toward the pitch.

Maël followed the Sheffield player in front of him numbly. His heart kept pounding, and even his hearing seemed dulled; all he could feel was a blur of noise by his ears.

He passed through the dim corridor of the players' tunnel, walking step by step toward the pitch glowing with light, toward the place he had longed for so long.

"Oh!!!"

The instant he walked onto the pitch, the sounds by his ears finally became clear, and everything before his eyes turned dazzlingly bright. It was the roar of the fans and the glare of the spotlights.

Looking out, the stadium, capable of holding more than thirty thousand people, was packed to the last seat. A sea of people waved their arms, turning the stands into an ocean of joy. This was the ultimate feast that belonged to footballers.

He stepped onto the pitch on legs that had gone somewhat numb, muddled through the entrance ceremony, and took up his position.

"Come on! Come on!!" A shout came from the bench. It was Gilbert, wearing a training bib, waving at him.

Maël steadied a little. He knew that, at this moment, many people he cared about must be watching him. He could not embarrass himself on the pitch.

"Hah..."

After taking a deep breath, he heard the fans by the side of the pitch begin a countdown of a few seconds.

"Seventeen... three... two... one!!"

When the countdown ended, the referee standing on the extension of the center-circle arc raised his right hand high and blew the whistle to start the match. "Tweet!!"

This fierce battle in the second round of the Championship had officially begun! Please vote with recommendation tickets and monthly tickets! Thank you, everyone!!