"What about the media?" Alessandro Dybala asked, slightly embarrassed.
He had gone out of his way to rent a large hotel conference room for this press conference.
And now? Only two people stood inside: himself and Su Huishan.
Su gave a helpless shrug. "No one dared show up. Word came down from the top—any reporter who attends loses their credentials to cover the national team or the Premier League here."
"Bloody cowards," Alessandro muttered darkly, his expression cold.
"Why don't we just stream it ourselves?" Su suggested. "You've got a massive following on social media. The Football Association might control traditional press, but they can't silence independent media."
Alessandro sighed. "There's really no other option now."
And so, Su set up the phone on a tripod, and Alessandro posted the live stream link directly to his social media account.
He wasn't worried about attention—over the past two days, his Weibo account had exploded with hundreds of thousands of hate comments.
They were here to crucify him.
Soon enough, viewers flooded into the live stream.
And with them came a wave of abuse.
> "Clown!"
"Where's the press? This is pathetic."
"First time I've seen someone hold a press conference just to get flamed... mad respect, actually."
In the middle of the insults, Alessandro calmly raised his voice:
"I know most of you came here to curse me out. But I won't say much—because I don't need to. I wouldn't dare hold a press conference without proof."
"I'll let the evidence speak for itself."
He tapped the projector, and the video began to play.
The conference room fell into silence.
The barrage of angry comments slowed… then stopped.
Everyone was stunned by what they were seeing.
---
Headquarters of "Football News"
Editor-in-Chief Ma Dexin was relaxing in his brand-new office, eager to see Alessandro embarrass himself. He couldn't believe the kid had the guts to take on the Football Association.
Ma Dexin had been around long enough to know how untouchable the FA was. He laughed to himself.
A seventeen-year-old trying to take down the system? What a joke.
He took a sip of coffee and clicked the livestream link.
PFFFFFT!!!
Brown coffee sprayed across his desk and screen.
His hands trembled.
Eyes wide.
Forehead already dripping sweat, Ma Dexin scrambled to pull out his phone.
"Guo… Guo Chao! We've got a serious problem!!"
---
> "Holy shit!"
"This is insane!"
"He's got receipts!"
"He recorded everything!"
"That's the face of our national team director??"
> "No wonder our football's in shambles."
"He nearly ruined the career of a teenager!"
"The FA better make a statement—now."
Suddenly, public opinion flipped.
Alessandro's evidence was clear. It showed Guo Chao's face, captured his voice, his words—undeniable. There was no dubbing, no editing trick.
Yesterday's haters?
Now they were raging at the Football Association.
Like a tsunami, the backlash crashed down on Guo Chao.
Social media exploded. The story went viral. It broke free from football circles and dominated trending topics.
---
Football Association HQ – Private Line
"THIS is what you meant by 'no problem'?!" The voice on the phone was seething with fury.
Guo Chao gripped his phone with sweaty hands, his legs trembling.
"I-I didn't know he recorded it… This kid's playing dirty—he doesn't fight fair!"
What Guo Chao didn't know?
Alessandro wasn't an ordinary teenager.
He was a man with two lives' worth of experience.
"I don't care how it happened!" roared the voice of Cheng, the newly appointed general manager. "Handle this NOW. Shut him up before this spirals any further!"
Cheng was livid.
He had just taken over this position. And now, a corruption scandal was about to burn the whole house down.
He knew the unspoken rules in the FA. Everyone did.
But airing it in front of the entire nation?
That was a disaster.
> "Bribery. Assault. Slander. Are you out of your mind? Do you even realize how deep this goes?"
"I already made calls to the press—"
"Do you seriously think this is just about the media? Wake up! This isn't the 90s anymore!"
"You think you can cover this up? You think you're some kingpin that controls everything?"
Cheng was practically screaming now. "Forget the media. Worry about yourself. You just committed a crime!"
"Mr. Cheng, please, listen—"
Click. The call cut.
Guo Chao dropped into his chair, eyes vacant.
He knew it was over.
The Football Association would cut ties.
He would be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb thrown to the public to protect the higher-ups.
He would be fired. Disgraced. Probably even prosecuted.
His hands shook as he reached for his phone again.
There was only one hope left.
"Alessandro... Maybe... Maybe we can talk this out..."
---