Football: Start with the Kaka template, dominate the football field!

"The club cannot gamble on a player who could be out for the season at any time."

Zinedine Zidane, the Real Madrid legend and now a highly influential youth academy advisor, pushed a thick folder to the front of the table, speaking as calmly as if he were reading a trivial weather forecast.

"Therefore, contract renewal negotiations are terminated. You are free."

In the office, the air conditioning was on full blast, but Qin Feng felt a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.

He sat opposite Zidane, his back still very straight, and his face showed little expression.

A week ago, the 28-year-old was still staying up all night reviewing a terrible U19 match. When he opened his eyes again, he was back ten years ago, possessing the body of an 18-year-old boy with top talent but also a broken body.

He knew this day would come sooner or later.

He reached out and took the folder, which resembled a judgment, and opened it.

As a professional youth coach and data analyst who has been given a second chance at life, he understands better than anyone what these charts and terms mean.

Old injury to the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) of the right knee, accompanied by grade II meniscus wear.

The left biceps femoris muscle has been repeatedly strained, resulting in severe scarring of the muscle fibers.

Overall risk level assessment: extremely high.

Every line of text is an invisible knife, silently cutting away at a professional player's future.

Qin Feng closed the folder and tapped the cover lightly twice with his fingers.

"Glassy man," he uttered the word himself, his voice hoarse.

Zidane did not refute, thus acquiescing.

For any young man who has staked his youth on "La Fabrica" ​​(Real Madrid's youth academy), this is tantamount to a death sentence.

In his past life, he forced a comeback because he didn't believe the report, which ultimately ruined his career three months later.

But this life is different.

His gaze swept almost imperceptibly across the lower right corner of his field of vision.

The pale blue progress bar, visible only to him, was slowly but steadily creeping forward.

[The White Knight's Growth Manual, loading... 99.1%]

"I understand." Qin Feng stood up and put the folder back in its place. "Thank you for the club's support over the years."

His calmness surprised Zidane.

This legendary star, who had seen it all, had witnessed far too many young people crying, pleading, and even becoming hysterical here. But Qin Feng was the first to be so calm, almost cold-blooded.

"The club will help you find a new club," Zidane said, unusually, with a hint of regret in his voice. "Getafe B, or you could go back to China. The intensity of the matches there is lower, which might suit you better."

This is done in goodwill, but in the world of professional football, such goodwill often carries a condescending sting.

"No need, sir."

Qin Feng turned and walked towards the door. When he grasped the doorknob, he paused and looked back at Zidane.

"I will stay in Europe."

After saying that, he opened the door, walked out, and left behind the report that determined his "death" and that legendary, complex gaze.

……

The corridor was quiet, with only the sound of his own footsteps.

With each step, a sore, frictional sensation would come from deep within my right knee, like a rusty gear being forced to turn.

This is his current body.

A precision instrument that could fall apart at any moment.

"Hey, Qin!"

As I stepped out of the office building, a middle-aged man in training clothes walked towards me; he was Castilla's assistant coach, Sanchez.

Sanchez was holding a tactical board. When he saw Qin Feng, he frowned slightly.

"What are you doing here? It's training time."

Before Qin Feng could answer, Sanchez seemed to remember something, his expression became somewhat impatient, and his tone was full of disdain.

"Oh, I forgot, you've been removed from the list."

He crossed out a name on the tactics board, the movement casual, as if he were wiping away a stain.

"Just happened to run into you, let me tell you. The first team needs to call up a few players, the B team's locker room is too full."

"Just empty your locker today and move it to Team C's locker room... or you can just take it home, since you don't use it much anyway."

After Sanchez finished speaking, he didn't even glance at Qin Feng again and hurriedly walked towards the training field.

There, the Castilla players are engaged in a scrimmage.

The shouts, the sound of the ball hitting the ground, the sharp screech of shoes against the grass... all this noise was irrelevant to him.

Qin Feng stood outside the barbed wire fence and watched for a while.

On the court, Jesé Rodriguez, wearing a number 10 jersey, was using dazzling stepovers to get past his opponents, drawing cheers from the sidelines.

That's Real Madrid's current star player, the one considered the next Raul.

Qin Feng, on the other hand, was just a loser who was about to be kicked out.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

Caller ID: Mendes.

His agent, a minor figure affiliated with Mendes' agency, primarily handled peripheral business in the Iberian Peninsula.

"Qin! How is it?!" The anxious voice came from the other end of the line as soon as the call connected.

"I terminated the contract," Qin Feng said as he walked toward the gym, his tone as calm as if he were talking about someone else.

"I knew it! Those damn medical reports!" the agent cursed. "Listen, this is bad. Your medical reports are already circulating in the industry, and nobody wants someone with fragile hands."

"Besides Getafe B being willing to offer you a short-term trial contract, only two Chinese clubs are interested. But they don't want players, they want mascots, you know what I mean? They want to sell your jerseys using your status as a 'former Real Madrid player'."

Qin Feng pushed open the glass door of the gym.

"Keep an eye on Germany for me," he said.

"Germany? The Bundesliga?" The agent paused, stunned. "Are you crazy? The physical intensity there will tear you to pieces!"

"Especially Borussia Dortmund," Qin Feng added, his tone certain.

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"Dortmund?! Klopp's team?! Qin, are you out of your mind? They just reached the Champions League final, and although they lost, they're one of the top teams in Europe! And their style of play... that mad dog-like high pressing, your knees wouldn't last a day!"

"They just sold Götze." Qin Feng stepped onto the treadmill and pressed the start button. "They need an attacking midfielder who can dribble forward."

"The whole world knows they're short-handed! But they have a budget of 5000 million euros, and they're eyeing Isco and Mkhitaryan! Not you, a Real Madrid reject!"

"Just hand over the documents for me."

Qin Feng didn't want to explain further.

As a time traveler, he knew the transfer market in the summer of 13 better than anyone else.

Isco will come to Real Madrid and become their new favorite. Meanwhile, Borussia Dortmund will spend a fortune to buy Mkhitaryan.

But Mkhitaryan is not the best fit for Klopp's system. He is too "soft," possessing ample technique but lacking impact.

What Klopp really needs is a sharp knife that can pierce the heart of his opponent.

Just like... Kaka at his peak.

"You're insane... Fine, I'll try sending a fax, but don't get your hopes up. If you don't hear from us in three days, you'll have to report to Getafe."

With a "beep," the phone call ended.

The gym was completely empty.

Everyone else has gone to training; only the "injured" will stay here.

Qin Feng looked at himself in the mirror. Young and handsome, but his eyes revealed a lingering weariness, a mark left by long-term injuries and illnesses.

He took a deep breath and started jogging.

6km/h.

My knee started to ache slightly.

8km/h.

The stinging sensation intensified, like someone was pricking my meniscus with a needle.

But he didn't stop.

He needs to warm up his body to prepare for the changes to come.

Sweat streamed down his temples and dripped onto the control panel.

The progress bar at the edge of my field of vision finally crawled to its last bit.

[99.8%...99.9%...]

Qin Feng's gaze was fixed on the progress bar, and his pace unconsciously quickened.

Sudden.

A soft "buzz" sounded in my mind.

It's like an old television set suddenly receiving a clear signal.

A line of pale gold text popped up in front of me, without any fancy effects, simple and direct:

[The White Knight's Growth Manual, loading complete.]

[Host: Qin Feng]

[Current Template: Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Wright (Kaka)]

Fusion Rate: 5% (Initial Gift)

next second.

A surge of heat appeared out of nowhere in his heart.

It wasn't like the "violent energy" described in novels; rather, it was more like a gentle, warm current. It flowed quickly through the veins to every part of the body.

Qin Feng clearly sensed the change.

His right knee was the first to react.

The persistent ache and stinging sensation was soothed away as if by an invisible hand. He could feel the scarred muscle fibers becoming supple again, and the loose joints becoming firmer.

It's not just about repairs.

It's more like an... upgrade.

Qin Feng subconsciously increased the treadmill speed to 15km/h.

This is already at the level of high-speed sprint.

If he had done this two minutes earlier, his knees would have protested with a tearing pain.

But now.

His legs were incredibly light. With each step, he felt a continuous flow of power returning from the soles of his feet. There was no heaviness, no sluggishness.

There was only one pure, irresistible urge to run.

He ran on the treadmill for a full five minutes.

He only slowed down and eventually stopped when his breathing became heavy.

He stepped off the equipment and went to the full-length mirror.

The boy in the mirror still looked the same. But the weariness had completely disappeared.

Instead, it possesses a sharp and powerful quality, like a cheetah poised to pounce.

Qin Feng bent down and pressed his right knee down with both hands.

The touch under the fingers is firm and stable.

This is a perfect body.

A body designed for long-distance runs.

"Kaka..."

Qin Feng murmured the name.

In his past life, this was also his favorite player. That white-clad boy who once chased the wind at the San Siro stadium, that figure that Messi and Ronaldo could only look up to.

Since God has given him this template, he will never waste it.

He turned to look out the window. In the distance, Real Madrid's first team training ground was faintly visible.

That place is the sanctuary of every player's dreams.

But now, that place no longer belongs to him.

"It's okay."

Qin Feng murmured to himself.

He picked up the towel draped over the chair and wiped the sweat from his face, his movements so composed that he didn't seem like someone who had just been laid off.

He will leave here.

Then, they changed to a different colored jersey and came back as opponents.

By then, he wants the entire Bernabéu to remember his name.