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

When Qin Feng boarded the flight to China, the hustle and bustle of the German Super Cup was left behind.

Outside the porthole, the sea of ​​clouds churned.

He looked at the text message from Perrin in his hand, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

The final round of 12.

This is the final hurdle on the road to the Russian World Cup, and also the closest Chinese football has ever come to that dream.

This time, he is no longer a fledgling challenger, but a returning leader with the aura of a Champions League champion and Bundesliga MVP.

……

Changsha Huanghua International Airport.

Although the flight arrived at 2 a.m., the international arrivals exit of the airport was still packed with thousands of fans wearing red jerseys.

"Qin Feng! Qin Feng! Qin Feng!"

When that familiar figure appeared pushing the luggage cart, the entire hall instantly erupted in cheers!

Flashes of light illuminated the scene as if it were daytime, and countless five-star red flags waved in the crowd.

Qin Feng stopped, took off his headphones, and waved to the fans with a smile. Instead of using the VIP channel, he patiently signed autographs and took photos with the fans in the front row.

This scene was captured in its entirety by a CCTV reporter accompanying the team. In the footage, the once slightly green boy now exudes composure and calmness in his every move.

That's the unique aura that comes from experiencing the baptism of the top of Europe.

……

The following day, at the national football team's training base.

Although he hadn't fully adjusted to the time difference, Qin Feng still arrived at the training ground on time.

"Brother Feng!"

"Hello, Brother Qin!"

As he walked onto the field, the national team players who were warming up stopped and came forward to greet him. Wu Lei, Zhang Linpeng, Wu Xi... these teammates who had once fought side by side looked at Qin Feng with not only familiarity but also a deep sense of awe.

Champions League winner, core player of the treble-winning team, valued at 100 million euros.

This is not just an honor, but also an invisible pressure.

"What are you all standing there for? Aren't we going to train?"

Perrin walked over with his tactical board, his face bearing his signature seriousness, but his gaze softened considerably when he looked at Qin Feng.

"Qin, how are you feeling?"

"No problem, coach. I'm ready to play anytime." Qin Feng stretched his ankle, his tone relaxed.

"Very good." Perrin nodded. "Today's training session will focus on practicing attacking patterns. Qin, you'll be in a group with Wu Lei and Gao Lin, wearing red vests."

The competition begins.

Assistant coach Li Tie, standing on the sidelines, held a notebook, looking focused.

He wanted to see just how strong this "third best in the world" really was.

But to everyone's surprise, Qin Feng did not dominate the field.

He didn't demand the ball, dribble, or shoot as frequently as he did at Dortmund. Instead, he focused more on one thing: observing and passing.

He acted like a patient mentor, constantly using gestures and words to direct his teammates' positioning on the field.

"Lei Zi! Stop running in a straight line! When I get the ball, cut diagonally backward!"

"Gao! Don't turn around too quickly when you have the ball with your back to the goal! Hold onto the guy! Wait for Lei Zi and me to come up!"

"Xi-ge! Pass the ball faster! Don't hesitate!"

Under his command, the initially somewhat awkward offensive coordination gradually became smoother.

Fifteenth minute.

Qin Feng received the ball in midfield, facing Zheng Zhi's defense.

Instead of forcing his way through, he used a subtle feint to create space, and then delivered a powerful long pass over the top with his left foot!

The ball landed precisely behind the defense!

Wu Lei understood immediately. Following Qin Feng's instructions, he made a diagonal run in the opposite direction, easily controlled the ball, and scored a one-on-one goal!

"nice shot!"

Wu Lei excitedly gave Qin Feng a thumbs up.

On the sidelines, Li Tie closed his notebook, turned to look at Perrin, his eyes filled with shock.

"Coach, he's changed."

"Yes." Perrin looked at the figure on the field giving Wu Lei a high-five and said with emotion, "He used to be a sharp knife, but now... he is the hand that holds the knife."

"He's teaching this team how to win."

……

After dinner, Qin Feng went to the physiotherapy room alone.

The continuous flying and training had made his muscles a little tight.

"Fengzi, did I disturb you?"

Zheng Zhi pushed open the door and walked in, carrying two bottles of water.

"Brother Zhi, sit down." Qin Feng sat up from the massage bed and smiled as he took the water.

Zheng Zhi sat down on the chair next to him, remained silent for a while, and then slowly spoke.

"This round of the final round of World Cup qualifiers will be tough."

The old captain's voice carried a hint of barely perceptible weariness.

"South Korea, Iran, Uzbekistan... they're all tough opponents. Even though we won the Asian Cup, they've definitely figured us out."

"Especially the first game, the away game against South Korea." Zheng Zhi looked into Qin Feng's eyes, "That kid Son Heung-min is in incredibly hot form at Tottenham lately. I heard he's been dominating in the Premier League."

Upon hearing this, Qin Feng's eyes narrowed slightly.

Son Heung-min.

The South Korean superstar who exchanged jerseys with him after the Asian Cup final.

"I know," Qin Feng nodded, his voice calm.

"Zhi-ge, why do you think we were able to win the Asian Cup?"

Zheng Zhi paused for a moment, then asked, "Because...you're here?"

"Not entirely," Qin Feng shook his head. "It's because back then, we all believed we could win."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the pitch-black night outside.

"The current South Korean team is indeed very strong. Son Heung-min is also very strong. But what are we afraid of?"

"We are the Asian champions."

Qin Feng turned around and looked at Zheng Zhi, his eyes burning with a flame that was impossible to ignore.

"Brother Zhi, as long as I don't fall, this red flag will never fall."

"and……"

He paused, a confident smile curving his lips.

"Son Heung-min is on fire in the Premier League, and I'm not idle in the Bundesliga either."

Zheng Zhi looked at the young man before him and, for a moment, seemed to see a reflection of his younger self. But quickly, he shook his head. No, this young man was stronger, more confident, and more... convincing than he had been back then.

He stood up, reached out, and patted Qin Feng's shoulder heavily.

"Good! I'm relieved to hear that."

"In this game, we'll fight them to the bitter end!"

……

three days later.

The entire Chinese team departed for Seoul, South Korea.

Inside the airport terminal, the fans who came to see him off remained enthusiastic.

Qin Feng walked at the front of the group, his face obscured by sunglasses.

But his upright figure was like a mountain, providing the most solid support for all his teammates behind him.

The sky over Seoul was overcast.

A storm is coming.

For Chinese football, this is also a war that it must win.

(P.S.: My new book, "Max-Level Midfielder: Starting as the Red Devils' Savior," is available for you to check out. Thanks!)