"Your performance today was outstanding," Faria continued, "but it still falls slightly short of the first team's requirements. I've prepared a new training plan for you. I'll email it to you."
He gestured to his laptop.
"It focuses on improving hip flexibility, explosive speed, relative speed, and your ability in physical confrontations."
Faria leaned forward. "There's only half a month until the new season. You won't see massive results in that short a time, but I expect you to take this plan seriously. In two weeks, we're holding a final assessment of the youth team to determine the promotion list."
He offered a rare, thin smile.
"To be honest, Ling, I'm optimistic. That delicate ball control... you can't fake that, and it's not just 'good form.' And God knows we need a breakthrough winger right now."
'If the kid can meet our minimum physical requirements,' Faria thought, 'I'd be happy to bring him up. Training with the first team, playing in real matches... that's the fastest way to improve. Rashford's case last season is a living example.'
Ling carefully reviewed the plan Faria showed him.
It was incredibly detailed, targeted to his exact weaknesses.
This was special treatment.
"Mr. Faria," Ling said, his voice firm, "don't worry. I'll follow this plan to the letter."
"Good. Then I'll take my leave."
Ling stood up, his mind racing.
He knew the gap between the Premier League 2 and the actual Premier League was massive.
He had honestly prepared himself to stay in the reserves for another six months.
But this... this was a chance. Mourinho's staff was giving him a real shot.
He had to take it.
'And I have the system,' he thought, a surge of adrenaline cutting through his fatigue.
'I can increase my stats, and I have the mindset of a veteran. Half a month. I can do this. I'll impress them all.'
"Oh, one more thing I forgot to mention," Faria said, just as Ling reached the door. "The Chinese Football Association called you. They want you back for the National Games."
Ling's hand froze on the doorknob.
'The National Games. The semi-final. Li Tie. The 'accident' that ruined his knee...'
"Since it's not an international A-level match," Faria continued, "I suggest you decline."
Ling's posture, which had been eager, became rigid.
He paused for a beat, the memories flashing in his mind.
"Alright," he said, his voice quiet but decisive. "I'll turn them down."
Faria nodded, noticing the immediate shift in the young man's demeanor.
He'd seen countless talented players ruined by useless, injury-riddled exhibition matches.
'This kid isn't naive,' Faria thought. 'He's composed. Far more than his years. He's more likely to succeed.'
...
Ling returned to his dorm, took a quick shower, and then, despite the hour, opened his textbooks.
Today's match had run late, so he'd taken the night off from his classes at Barlow RC High School.
But he couldn't neglect his studies.
The world of professional football was filled with highly educated individuals, and Ling still planned to attend university.
Two hours later, he finally yawned, closed his book, and idly opened the system interface, curious to see how much his attributes had improved.
Suddenly, a cold, mechanical voice rang out in his mind.
[Main Quest Activated: Pass the assessment in 15 days and join Manchester United's first team!]]
[Quest Reward: Golden Module Treasure Chest!]
[As this is the host's first activated quest, the reward level has been automatically upgraded to Gold.]
[Reward Details: Treasure chests are divided into four tiers—Bronze, Gold, Platinum, and Legendary!]
Ling sat bolt upright in his bed, his fatigue gone.
'A quest? Golden? What's a module? Is it a skill? A permanent boost?'
He shook his head, forcing his excitement down.
'One thing at a time. The questions will be answered when I complete the quest. No need to get distracted.'
The system was a critical tool, but his own hard work was what mattered. He had to focus.
...
Late that night, the match footage of United's U21s vs. West Ham's U21s went viral, spreading like wildfire across China's football forums.
Tieba, Hupu... countless people were passionately discussing it. (tieba and hupu is chinese social media)
The landscape had been so barren for so long that a single thriving sapling drew immense attention.
Of course, most of the comments were cynical.
[Is this for real? Can our country actually produce talented footballers?]
[Yeah, we have talent. They're just all busy delivering food or writing webnovels, lol.]
[Sigh, we've seen a hundred "wonderkids." They all fade away. I'll remain skeptical.]
[It's just the Premier League 2. What's all the fuss about? He's been there five years and hasn't made the first team. He'll be back in the CSL for a payday soon.]
[No need for all the sarcasm, guys. The kid is actually good. His dribbling and awareness show real promise.]
...
The next day, all was silent.
In the thin, white morning mist, the silhouette of a young man flickered in and out of view on the training pitch, long before anyone else had arrived.
His routine: a 2-kilometer slow jog, a 5-kilometer run at 60% heart rate, followed by strength training, speed endurance drills, ball work, and tactical sessions.
Ling followed Faria's new plan rigorously.
Was it exhausting? Of course.
But it was infinitely better than the despair of being unable to play at all.
And watching his attributes tick up, fraction by fraction, gave him a profound sense of accomplishment.
Meanwhile, in the head coach's office, José Mourinho stood by the window with a tablet in his hand.
He was watching an edited clip of Ling's match.
The pendulum dribble.
The audacious chip over the keeper.
A slight smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
He felt the boy was like a blank canvas, full of potential.
The players Mourinho truly liked weren't always the most gifted.
They were the ones who worked, who knew their role—players like Essien at Chelsea, or Rashford and Lingard here.
His smile faded.
'Unlike others,' he thought, his mind instantly flashing to Pogba.
'All the individual ability in the world, but lazy in matches. Unwilling to defend. No team spirit.'
Mourinho put down the tablet, his gaze drifting to the young man already running drills on the pitch below.
He found himself, surprisingly, looking forward to the youth team assessment.
...
Time passed in the familiar monotony of hard training.
Ling lived a life revolving between the training ground, the dormitory, and school.
He was regularly pulled in for comprehensive physicals to prevent overtraining.
During this period, his technical level continuously improved, and his attributes climbed.
The targeted plan from Faria was working.
Ling could feel it—his movements were more fluid, his first step more explosive.
McTominay, on the other hand, was having a rough time.
Faria had assigned him and Ling to the same grueling training group.
As a result, McTomatiny's appetite had recently increased to terrifying new levels.