Chapter 5: Mongke Has Arrived!

"But Tang's passing is truly exceptional!" Ten Hag remarked.

Although Tang Ye was young, liked to stroll around the pitch, and possessed virtually no defensive ability... despite all these shortcomings, they could not mask the fact that his passing ability was heaven-sent.

What did the Utrecht first team need? They needed to win! And in high-level matchups within the Eredivisie, what do you rely on to secure a victory? Top-tier discipline and that tiny spark of creativity. Tang Ye lacked discipline, but he certainly had the creativity. Ten Hag could already envision Tang Ye delivering through-balls on the Eredivisie stage. Goodness gracious, if one had a midfielder like that, how easy would it be for the strikers to score!

However, immediately after delivering that pass, Tang Ye began to walk slowly toward the sidelines.

"What's wrong?" Merent and Ten Hag grew tense almost simultaneously. Surely, a training match of this intensity shouldn't result in an injury?

"What's the situation?" Merent shouted. He expected Tang Ye to point out a physical ailment, but instead, the lad made a gesture with his hands circling in front of his chest. "Mr. Merent, I... I can't keep going anymore..."

Merent and Ten Hag: "..."

Five minutes after Tang Ye left the pitch, Ten Hag departed the second team's training ground, and Merent ended the scrimmage early.

"Even though this training match wasn't high-intensity, there are still some things you all need to pay attention to..." Merent spoke of tactics while the players gathered in a circle, listening intently. Tang Ye, taking advantage of the crowd, snuck to the outer edge and sat directly on the grass.

"Hey, Tang, the coach is talking!" Xhaka kicked Tang Ye's backside as a reminder.

Tang Ye pressed his index finger to his lips and whispered, "Shh, the match was too exhausting. I'm going to sit for a moment."

"Get up!" Xhaka insisted, which struck Tang Ye as odd. He soon realized why, though—looking up, he saw a fierce-looking Merent glaring down at him.

"S-sir..." Tang Ye felt awkward, and along with that awkwardness, a sense of grievance. This was the first time he had felt the drawbacks of his system. Normally, Merent wouldn't have bothered with him sneaking to the back of the pack, but now, because of those two "fluked" outside-of-the-boot passes, Merent’s eyes were locked firmly onto him.

"Tang, do you know?" Merent looked down at the boy sitting at his feet. "You don't feel like a 16-year-old to me; you feel like a 36-year-old! You are lazier than Mrs. Jones's sow!"

***

Time moved to July 23rd, and the Utrecht second team continued their warm-up matches at home. Unlike the previous game, today's opponent was Sparta Rotterdam II, from the lower-tier Dutch reserve league.

In the "Joy Bean" live stream, Wang Chao began his broadcast as usual.

"Whew, good evening, brothers. This is the warm-up match between Utrecht and Sparta Rotterdam. The last Utrecht game cost the brothers in the stream quite a few beans, but don't panic! If you follow Brother Chao's logic today, there’s no way we can lose!"

[Earn some beans before calling yourself Brother Chao. Right now, you're just Little Wang, am I right, Little Wang?]
[Host, I followed your advice and bet on Go Ahead Eagles to win last time. I haven't been to a foot massage parlor in four days; you need to compensate me.]
[Is Tang Ye playing today? I watched the replay of that outside-of-the-boot pass over 50 times. It was damn cool, seriously.]
[That kind of ball was definitely a fluke, but since he pulled it off, Little Tang will surely get more opportunities now.]
[Home team 3-0. If I win, I'm buying a Utrecht jersey.]

Before the match even began, the "Bean Gods" in the stream were already setting their stakes. The host, Wang Chao, didn't lag behind. "Today, if Utrecht wins 3-0 or 3-1, I'm buying an official jersey!"

Setting stakes to buy jerseys was common for fans, but unlike regular fans, the Bean Gods never lied. If they guessed the score correctly, they really would buy the jersey for several hundred yuan.

The match began. The host didn't introduce the starting lineups because, at this level, nobody recognized anyone other than Tang Ye. Was the match the main thing? No, the score was!

On-site, the director cut to Tang Ye on the bench, and the fans in the stands immediately erupted in cheers. No one had forgotten that stunning outside-of-the-boot pass from a few days ago.

"Are you under pressure?" Xhaka nudged Tang Ye's arm.

The latter looked indifferent. "It's fine. My own positioning is that of a slacker; the fans' expectations are their own problem."

"They want to see you pass with the outside of your boot."

"That was a fluke. They won't see it a second time." Tang Ye chuckled. If he gave the fans what they wanted just because they asked, wouldn't that make him lose face?

"Move forward, move forward!"
"Right, just like that! Beautiful!"

Merent clapped repeatedly. Less than 15 minutes into the game, Utrecht, playing at home, opened the scoring. The score was 1-0. After celebrating with the fans, Merent turned his gaze toward Tang Ye on the bench.

Initially, Merent had wanted to ship Tang Ye away from the second team, but his thoughts had shifted slightly. Everyone thought Tang Ye's previous pass was a fluke, but Merent knew otherwise, as Tang Ye had pulled off the same move in practice the very next day.

One time could be explained, but twice? A keen sense of smell helped Merent catch a subtle realization—he didn't want to let Tang Ye go anymore! But what if Ten Hag demanded the player?

Aha! Merent's eyes lit up, and he shouted to the bench, "Tang, go warm up!"

Tang Ye had only attracted Ten Hag's attention with his passing; apart from that, he had nothing. Ten Hag was certainly watching this match. Merent just needed to put Tang Ye on the pitch and let Ten Hag see this guy's flaws in their entirety!

Merent moved quickly. He had Tang Ye warm up at the 14-minute mark and subbed him on at the 35th minute.

[Here it comes, here comes the 'Fluke Master'!]
[Tang Ye is back on! I knew the coach would give him more chances, but I bet 2,000 on a 3-0 score... damn it, Tang Ye, why now?]
[The home team scored in 12 minutes; I thought my 3-0 was safe, and then you put the 'Fluke Master' in!]
[Merent out!]