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

The revelry in Moscow continues into the night.

The champagne rain in the locker room finally stopped. Qin Feng, wrapped in a large towel, sat on a bench in the corner, looking at the business card in his hand that was soaked with champagne.

New challenges.

This is Zidane's invitation to Juventus.

"Buzz—"

My phone, which was on the bench, vibrated.

The screen lit up, displaying a familiar name: Jorge Mendes.

This "crocodile agent" in European football usually only makes calls at times like this when something big happens.

"Hello, Jorge." Qin Feng answered the phone, his voice still slightly hoarse from a hangover.

"My God! First of all, congratulations on lifting the World Cup trophy!" Mendes' voice was trembling with excitement. "But now I have even crazier news for you. Your market value has exploded!"

"Just five minutes ago, Real Madrid officially sent an offer to Borussia Dortmund."

Mendes took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself down.

"2 million euros."

"A signing bonus of 5000 million, an annual salary of 4000 million, and 100% of your image rights. Florentino has gone mad; he's trying to overwhelm you with money."

2 million euros.

In this day and age, this is an absolutely record-breaking price. Even Neymar's move to Paris wasn't worth that much.

If it were Qin Feng five years ago, he would probably have fainted from excitement upon hearing this number.

But now?

Qin Feng looked at his teammates, who were drunk and lying on the floor in the locker room, still tightly clutching the World Cup trophy, his eyes as calm as a still lake.

Jorge.

Qin Feng interrupted his agent's excitement, "Connect me to Florentino's phone."

"What? You want to talk straight away?" Mendes was somewhat surprised. "Qin, at this point, we should be playing a drawn-out game..."

"No." Qin Feng stood up and threw the Zidane business card into the trash can. "I'm going to refuse him."

……

Ten minutes later.

The call was connected.

"Hello, Qin."

The receiver carried Florentino's aged, steady voice, yet tinged with an undisguised urgency.

"Congratulations. That goal... it was a work of art. It reminded me of Zinedine."

The old fox didn't get straight to the point; instead, he first played the emotional card.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 20 ...

"Thank you." Qin Feng leaned against the locker in the dressing room, his fingers lightly tapping on the door. "Mr. Chairman, is this late call about the 2 million euro offer?"

Florentino seemed surprised by Qin Feng's directness.

"Yes. Qin, five years ago, Real Madrid made a mistake. A priceless mistake. Our entire medical team was fired because of that damn misdiagnosis."

"Now, I want to correct this mistake."

"Ronaldo has gone to Juventus, and the throne at the Bernabéu is empty. Only you deserve to wear that white number 7 jersey. If you agree, I'll send a private jet to Moscow to pick you up tomorrow."

What tempting conditions!

The world's most prestigious family, the world's highest net worth, and the world's highest annual salary.

This is the finish line that countless players dream of.

But Qin Feng just smiled.

"Mr. Chairman."

His voice was soft, yet it sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet locker room.

"Do you remember what was written on that medical report?"

Florentino was taken aback: "What?"

"It says: Not suitable for high-intensity professional competition."

Qin Feng's voice was like a slap across the face of the Real Madrid president, delivered through the telephone line.

"How come that fragile person you sentenced to death, that boy you kicked out like trash, is now worth 2 million?"

There was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone.

All that could be heard was Florentino's slightly heavy breathing.

awkward.

A suffocatingly awkward situation.

"Qin, that's in the past. We can start over..."

"restart?"

Qin Feng glanced at Zheng Zhi, who was snoring beside him, and Wu Lei, who was grinning foolishly while holding the trophy.

"Mr. Chairman, some things cannot be bought."

"For example, when my knee was shattered, who trusted me? When I had nothing, which fans were chanting my name?"

"Borussia Dortmund gave me a second life."

Qin Feng paused, his tone becoming incredibly firm, carrying a moving air of arrogance.

"So, take your check back."

"I am not for sale now."

After saying that, he hung up the phone without waiting for Florentino's response.

Qin Feng tossed his phone onto the bench and let out a long sigh of relief.

Cool.

That's fucking awesome.

This slap, five years overdue, has finally been returned today, with interest.

……

Three days later. Dortmund, Germany.

When Qin Feng's chartered plane landed at the airport, he was stunned by the sight before him.

It's as if the entire Ruhr region has moved to the airport.

Two hundred thousand Borussia Dortmund fans, all dressed in yellow and black jerseys, completely blocked the road leading to the city center!

Clearly, news of Real Madrid's offer had leaked. These adorable Ruhr miners were terrified their king would be lured away by that old Spanish man waving his checkbook.

"Qin! Qin! Qin!"

"Two hundred million? I wouldn't trade that for the whole world!!"

"Your Majesty, please don't leave Westvallon!!"

The deafening shouts made Qin Feng's eyes well up with tears the moment he stepped out of the terminal.

Klopp stood at the very front of the crowd.

This passionate and unruly man, wearing a baseball cap and with red-rimmed eyes, stepped forward, said nothing, and simply gave Qin Feng a hug that felt like it could break his bones.

"You brat."

Klopp's voice was a little hoarse, "You really... refused?"

That's Real Madrid. That's every player's ultimate dream.

Qin Feng smiled and patted Klopp on the back, feeling the German man's trembling body.

"Jürgen, I haven't led you guys to enough championships yet."

Klopp released his grip, looked Qin Feng up and down, and suddenly grinned, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face.

"Good! Good! Good!"

"Fuck Real Madrid! Fuck the 2 million!"

……

Qin Feng turned around, jumped into the back of a pickup truck, and grabbed a megaphone.

Facing 200,000 fans who were holding their breath in anticipation.

Facing countless cameras and lenses.

Qin Feng took a deep breath, and his voice, transmitted through the electricity, resounded throughout the entire Dortmund.

"I heard someone is willing to pay 2 million euros to buy me."

The audience was deathly silent. All eyes were fixed on him, filled with fear and anticipation.

"That price is indeed very tempting," Qin Feng shrugged.

A commotion began to break out in the crowd, and some young fans even started crying.

"but!"

Qin Feng suddenly raised his voice, his tone becoming incredibly firm, as if he were making a vow.

"I told him."

"The South Stand in Westphalia is priceless!"

"The yellow of Dortmund is priceless!"

"I, Qin Feng, am not going anywhere!!!"

boom--!!!

At this moment, Dortmund exploded!

Countless glasses of beer were tossed into the sky, turning into golden rain! Two hundred thousand people roared in unison, the sound so powerful it seemed to shatter the clouds!

That was a joy even greater than winning the World Cup! Because they had saved their God!

……

That night.

Borussia Dortmund officially announced:

[Contract renewal complete! Qin Feng has renewed his contract with the club until 2023! Release clause: None!]

This announcement was like a bucket of cold water, completely extinguishing the hopes of Real Madrid, Barcelona, ​​Manchester United, and other top clubs.

There is no termination fee.

This means that Qin Feng has completely tied his golden years to this Bumblebee team.

……

late at night.

Qin Feng lay in his villa, staring at the ceiling.

After the hustle and bustle, there is a rare tranquility.

Although he rejected Real Madrid and lost an astronomical signing fee, he did not regret it.

Borussia Dortmund is now a formidable force. This is a team capable of creating a dynasty.

"system."

Qin Feng activated the interface in his mind.

The World Cup mission is over. What's the next goal?

[Host's wish detected.]

A new chapter begins: The Yellow Dynasty!

Main mission: Lead Borussia Dortmund to defend their Champions League title and achieve the ultimate "six-trophy haul"!

Six-time champion.

That was a miracle once created by the Barcelona Dream Team III.

To win all the championships within a year is even more difficult than winning the World Cup, because it tests not only explosive power, but also absolute dominance for a whole year.

"A six-time champion...?"

Qin Feng licked his lips, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes.

That's what makes it interesting.

If it's just about making money, going to Real Madrid is indeed the best option.

But if you want to be a god.

Then we have to do something that even God would find difficult.

"Ding-dong."

The doorbell rang suddenly.

Qin Feng got up in confusion, walked to the entrance hall, and turned on the video doorbell.

On the screen appeared a familiar face with a mischievous grin.

It's Reus.

Behind him were Aubameyang, Hummels, Gundogan... the whole team was there.

"Hey! Your Majesty!"

Reus winked at the camera and held up the beer crate in his hand.

"To celebrate not having to travel to that sweltering place in Spain to find you, tonight... let's drink until we drop!"

"Open the door! Open the door now! The sausages are getting cold!" Aubameyang shouted from behind.

Qin Feng looked at his group of silly teammates, shook his head helplessly, but a warm smile appeared on his lips.

That's why he stayed.

It's not just because of the championship.

More importantly, here he has a group of brothers who are willing to go crazy with him, make trouble with him, and go with him to conquer the world.

He pressed the open button.

"Come in, you bastards."

"Tonight, whoever collapses first is a coward!"

The door opened.

Laughter and cheerful voices instantly filled the quiet villa.

Meanwhile, in faraway Madrid.

Florentino looked at the headline of Marca in his hand—[Qin Feng: Westfall is Priceless!]—and silently threw a prepared blank check into the shredder.

That era ultimately belonged to that young man.

He could only be a spectator.