I'll steal Gao Qiu's life and lead the Song Dynasty to prosperity.

It was already late June, and the daylight was just right on the football field in the back garden of Prince Duan's Mansion.

The sun wasn't too strong today; the white and gray lines on the field were freshly drawn and clearly visible, and the goal nets at both ends swayed gently in the breeze.

The scene today was much more lively than usual.

Not only did Zhao Mingcheng happen to be on leave and accompany them, but Gao Qiu was also present. Even Zhao Ji's nephew, Zhao Xiaoyi, brought a group of professional football players with him.

Zhao Xiaoyi had always loved Cuju (ancient Chinese football), and when he heard that the Prince Duan's uncle's residence had set up a novel "football" game and was having a great time, he had already made plans to play it.

Today, he specially invited the best martial arts players from his household to come over for a "sparring match".

Emperor Huizong was very pleased.

He likes football, and he especially likes having outsiders "challenge" him, which makes his game more appealing.

Today, we have Zhao Mingcheng to stabilize the situation and offer advice; and Gao Qiu to connect the dots and create surprises.

Now that my nephew has brought his men to "challenge" us, it's a perfect opportunity for a big battle to show off the prowess of the Prince Duan's football team.

"Sanlang, you'd better watch out today!"

Emperor Huizong, dressed in ochre-red robes with matching headbands, looked radiant as he patted Zhao Xiaoyi on the shoulder.

"My football is different from ordinary cuju (ancient Chinese football). It emphasizes running, physical contact, and teamwork. Your horseback riding skills might not be effective on this grass!"

Zhao Xiaoyi had already learned the rules of football before he came, and he raised his eyebrows and smiled after hearing this.

"Uncle Wang, don't boast. Although I'm not an expert in this, how could running, jumping, and scrambling for the ball be difficult for me? I've brought a few brothers with me today, eager to learn your skills!"

The group of guests and servants behind him laughed and echoed, rubbing their hands together in anticipation.

Zhao Mingcheng and Gao Qiu stepped forward to greet Zhao Xiaoyi and the others.

Zhao Mingcheng was respectful but not servile, while Gao Qiu was all smiles and courteous.

Yang San huddled in the line of guests at the Prince Duan's residence, head down, glancing quickly at Zhao Xiaoyi out of the corner of his eye before lowering his gaze again, his palms slightly sweaty.

The target assigned by the gambling den manager was this prince.

He remembered the other person's striking royal blue outfit.

Soon, the two sides agreed to a separation.

Zhao Ji, Zhao Mingcheng, Gao Qiu, and most of the skilled fighters from the Prince Duan's mansion formed a team, dressed in ochre-red robes.

Zhao Xiaoyi led a team of his friends and a select group of players, all dressed in sky-blue robes.

Each side had several substitutes, and the sidelines were filled with the attendants and servants of both sides, who were discussing the matter animatedly.

Game start.

The opening was fast-paced.

As expected, Zhao Xiaoyi's side came prepared. Several young members of the imperial clan were full of energy and vigor. Although their kicking style was a bit rough, they relied on their physique and fierce strength to frequently attack the defenses of the Prince Duan's mansion.

The Prince Duan's side was more experienced, especially with Zhao Mingcheng directing from the center and Gao Qiu roaming the flanks, playing in an orderly manner.

Zhao Ji played with great focus, constantly running around the attacking third to receive the ball.

Zhao Mingcheng delivered a precise through ball down the middle, and Zhao Ji successfully beat the offside trap, creating a one-on-one opportunity. He calmly slotted the ball into the far corner and scored!

"good--!"

The crowd from the Prince Duan's residence on the sidelines erupted in cheers.

Zhao Ji excitedly ran towards Zhao Mingcheng, and the two high-fived.

Not to be outdone, Zhao Xiaoyi quickly retaliated.

With his outstanding explosiveness, he forcefully broke through and crossed from the byline. His teammate in the middle rushed in and volleyed the ball, which bounced off the crossbar, giving the Prince Duan's side a fright.

Gao Qiu was playing exceptionally hard today. His technique was exquisite, and he used several beautiful feints to get past opponents on the wing, drawing cheers from the sidelines.

He also deliberately set up matches for Zhao Ji and Zhao Mingcheng, playing the role of "playmate" perfectly.

Yang San was also on the field.

He plays as a central midfielder, responsible for tackling and linking up play.

He played with great effort, or rather, excessive effort.

The repeated, vicious tackles and reckless collisions caused several of Zhao Xiaoyi's younger players to suffer hidden losses, leaving them frowning in dismay.

However, within the rules of football, this "aggressive" style of play is sometimes also considered "active".

The match was intense, with both sides exchanging attacks and defenses, and the physical contact increased, gradually intensifying the tension.

During a scramble for the ball on the flank, one of Zhao Xiaoyi's players was knocked down by Yang San. The movement was a bit rough, and the player got up and pushed Yang San. Yang San staggered back, but raised his hand to indicate that he was okay, shouting that he was alright.

"Sorry, sorry! I was in a rush!"

Yang San adopted a humble attitude, which made it difficult for the other party to retaliate.

Zhao Mingcheng frowned slightly and glanced at Yang San.

Gao Qiu also noticed this, and he felt that Yang San seemed unusually "excited" today.

The first half ended with the score tied at 1-1.

Both Zhao Ji and Zhao Xiaoyi were covered in sweat, but their enthusiasm was even higher, and they pulled Zhao Mingcheng and others aside to discuss tactics.

Yang San silently walked to the sidelines to drink water, vigorously wiping his face with a towel, his eyes somewhat unfocused.

The second half began, and the competition intensified. The score remained close, and both sides wanted to win.

Zhao Xiaoyi intercepted the ball in the backfield and dribbled down the right flank.

He was very fast, and in a few big strides he shook off a defender. Yang San rushed over from the side to cover for him.

The two quickly approached each other.

Yang San adopted a frontal interception stance, but Zhao Xiaoyi, confident in his footwork, flicked his right foot with the outside of his foot, attempting to change direction and cut inside.

Just as he flicked the ball and shifted his weight slightly, Yang San seemed to tackle him with a swift and powerful motion.

"Watch out!" someone shouted from the sidelines.

Zhao Xiaoyi instinctively tried to jump up and dodge, but Yang San's foot was not completely on the ground. Instead, it was slightly raised, with grass clippings and mud on the sole of his shoe. It seemed that he couldn't stop his momentum and "just happened" to kick the shinbone of Zhao Xiaoyi's supporting leg!

At the same time, he made an extremely subtle shoulder-sinking movement with his upper body, using the momentum of his forward thrust, and slammed hard into Zhao Xiaoyi's waist and hips!

"Ugh—!"

Zhao Xiaoyi let out a short cry of pain, as if he had been hit. His body lost its balance in mid-air and fell heavily to the ground at an angle!

With a muffled thud, dust billowed up.

After landing, he curled up, clutching his calves and the area where his waist and ribs met with his hands. His face turned deathly pale, veins bulged on his forehead, his jaw clenched, and he gasped in pain.

The ball rolled out of bounds, and the people running on the field suddenly stopped.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment.

"Your Highness!"

The closest of Zhao Xiaoyi's fans were the first to react, their expressions changed drastically, and they rushed into the arena in alarm.

Yang San himself seemed to be pulled down by inertia, rolled over and got up, his face instantly filled with "panic" and "regret". He took two steps toward Zhao Xiaoyi who had fallen to the ground, his voice trembling with tears.

"Your Highness! Your Highness, are you alright? I deserve to die! I couldn't stop myself! I snatched it too fiercely! Are you alright? I didn't mean to!"

Yang San called out as he seemed to want to step forward and help him up.

"Get out of my way!" A tall, burly man with an angry expression shoved Yang San away with such force that Yang San staggered back several steps and landed hard on his backside.

"Your Highness! Your Highness, how are you?" The courtesan and another attendant were already squatting beside Zhao Xiaoyi, not daring to move him easily.

Zhao Xiaoyi trembled all over in pain, barely managing to shake his head. Cold sweat poured down his forehead as he pointed to his calves and ribs, hissing.

"My leg...and under my ribs... hurt..."

Another attendant carefully rolled up Zhao Xiaoyi's trouser leg, revealing a clear, muddy, and bloody abrasion on his shinbone, and some bruises under his ribs.

……

"You son of a bitch!" The man suddenly stood up, his eyes blazing with fury, and roared at Yang San, who had just gotten up from the ground.

"You clearly did this on purpose! How dare you lay a hand on our Prince!"

"I didn't! I really didn't mean to! Collisions on the field are inevitable!"

Yang San clutched his arm, which had been shoved, and retreated repeatedly, crying out in a shrill voice, while glancing in the direction of Zhao Ji.

"Your Highness, please understand! I simply couldn't control myself for a moment! I beg Your Highness to grant me justice!"

Yang San's "cry for justice" was nothing short of adding fuel to the fire for Zhao Xiaoyi's side.

The line "Collisions on the court are inevitable," coupled with Zhao Xiaoyi's pained expression, made it all the more shameless.

"Make the decision? I'll give this filthy, worthless bird a piece of my mind first!"

The other two of Zhao Xiaoyi's followers couldn't contain themselves and rushed forward, punching Yang San in the face!

Yang San seemed unable to dodge in time, or perhaps he never intended to dodge at all.

He was punched squarely in the cheekbone, letting out a muffled groan as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Yang San remembered what Manager Wang had said: his goal was to make things bigger. As long as he didn't fight back or talk back, and kept complaining, things would escalate.

Yang San fell to the ground, covered his face, and howled.

"Ouch! I can't see! Don't hit me... don't hit me! I know I was wrong!"

This howl was like pouring a bucket of cold water into boiling oil.

The spectators at Prince Duan's residence were not having it.

No matter what, Yang San is still a member of the Prince Duan's mansion, one of their own.

How could one tolerate being beaten by outsiders in front of a prince on one's own turf?

"What are you doing! What right do you have to hit me!"

"Yang San said it wasn't intentional! Don't you guys have any sense of reason?!"

"They've dared to bully our Prince Duan's residence!"

Several players who were already familiar with Yang San or who were naturally short-tempered shouted and rushed into the arena.

Some of the players from Prince Duan's residence tried to pull away the player who had hit someone, while others tried to protect Yang San. The pushing and shoving quickly escalated into a verbal altercation.

"You still want to reason with us? Your men used underhanded tactics to injure our Prince, and you still think you're in the right?"

"Who knows if it was intentional? You guys are clearly sore losers!"

Seeing that the other side had more people, Zhao Xiaoyi's entourage did not back down and rushed forward.

The scene instantly escalated from a conflict between a few people into a chaotic brawl involving a dozen or twenty people, with punches, kicks, and shouting matches.

Some people were knocked to the ground, and some had their clothes torn.

"Stop! All of you, stop!" Gao Qiu's expression changed drastically, and he rushed into the chaotic crowd, trying to pull apart the people who were fighting.

He spotted the tall, imposing man who seemed to be the leader of the group, squeezed next to him, and shouted.

"Young master! Calm down! Calm down! The most important thing right now is to take care of the Prince's injuries! Fighting won't solve anything! The Prince is here and will make a fair judgment!"

"Get out of my way! Who do you think you are!"

The court jester was in a fit of anger. He shoved Gao Qiu, causing him to stumble and nearly fall.

Liang Shicheng was already furious, his face turning ashen, and his shrill voice pierced through the noise.

"Outrageous! Fighting in public in front of the Prince, on the very grounds of the Prince's residence! Do you have no respect for the law?! Guards! Guards, come here immediately!! Separate them!"

Several eunuchs from the Prince Duan's residence and guards who rushed over after hearing the news gritted their teeth and squeezed into the crowd, trying to separate the two sides.

But the crowd that was fighting so fiercely consisted mostly of young and strong players and their followers, so how could they be separated so easily?

Their intervention only made the pushing and shoving more chaotic, and the shouting and cursing even louder.

Emperor Huizong was stunned by the sudden chaos before him.

He looked at his nephew lying on the ground groaning in pain, and at the crowd fighting and kicking up dust. He was both anxious and angry, and his head was buzzing.

In all his years of playing football, this was the first time he had ever seen such a large-scale brawl.

Emperor Huizong tried to rush in to stop him, but was held back by two loyal eunuchs.

"Your Highness! You mustn't go! Fists and kicks have no eyes; what if you get hurt!"

"Let me go! Tell them to stop! Stop!" Zhao Ji struggled, stomping his feet and shouting, but his voice sounded so weak amidst the huge commotion.

Zhao Xiaoyi was also helped to a safe spot on the sidelines by his attendants. Clutching his ribs, he looked at the absurd and chaotic scene before him, feeling shocked, angry, and ashamed. His face was pale.

The sounds of shouting, screams, attempts to break up fights, and the crashing of things being knocked over were all mixed together, creating a chaotic and unpleasant atmosphere.

Emperor Huizong of Zhao had never seen such a chaotic and violent scene in his own residence, and it was all because of football. He was in a state of confusion and felt that he had lost face.

The situation spiraled out of control, and more and more people got involved.

Just then, one of Zhao Xiaoyi's followers was attacked in the scuffle, his nose bleeding. The pain and humiliation caused him to lose his mind.

He caught sight of a short wooden stick lying on the sidelines, its purpose unknown, and rushed over to pick it up with red eyes.

He turned around and swung his sword at the back of the head of a guest from the Prince Duan's residence who had his back to him!

The stick was already making a whistling sound.

Many people witnessed this dangerous scene, but their screams were drowned out by the noise.

Gao Qiu caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye, but it was too late to pounce.

Liang Shicheng stopped him in a voice.

Zhao Ji stared in shock, his eyes widening.

Just as the wooden stick was about to strike the man's head—

Zhao Mingcheng leaped forward and landed on a nearby viewing platform, focusing his energy in his lower abdomen.

Then he suddenly shouted.