NOVEL WEB Chapter 91: 91
The twenty-minute warm-up session ended in an atmosphere thick with tension. Both teams returned to the tunnel, waiting to officially enter the field. Fighting was no longer an option—neither side could afford the consequences of receiving cards—but that didn't stop them from throwing insults at each other. With no broadcast cameras around, everyone let loose.
Sitting on the visiting team's bench, Coach Carter furrowed his brows. He wasn't particularly concerned about his players roughing up the opposing team—after all, he had done plenty of that in his younger days. What really caught his attention was the empty VIP seat in the main stand. The one he had been watching all this time. The one where Old Rice was supposed to be.
Maybe Old Rice wasn't coming after all...
Trying to think optimistically, maybe it wasn't that Old Rice didn't want to come—perhaps he had gotten into a car accident, fallen into the ocean, or been eaten by a shark. Carter let out a quiet sigh.
At 2:55 PM, the starting players walked onto the field under the referee's lead. Following tradition, both teams lined up for handshakes. The tension in the air was almost explosive. By the time the ceremony was over, every player's hand was sore, but none of them showed it—this was a matter of pride.
The captains stepped forward for the coin toss. The Wild Boar Knights' captain was their number 7, one of their core players, a midfielder named Belward Erwin. He had a face full of arrogance and spiky hair that made him look like a porcupine. Though not very tall at 1.81 meters, his physique was incredibly muscular.
The referee tossed the coin. Belward called it right, giving the Wild Boar Knights the choice of field sides. That meant the Bucks would automatically take the opening kick.
Both teams took their positions.
The Tonbridge students in the stands waved their flags, cheering madly for their home team. Some made exaggerated gestures, pinching their noses and pulling at their eyes in mocking imitation of the Southampton players.
Standing in his left-back position, Gu Ran ignored them.
This was his first time starting since his rebirth. The game hadn't even begun, but he could already feel the adrenaline rushing through him. Football was calling.
A draw was enough to fulfill Coach Carter's qualification plan, but he didn't want a draw—he wanted to win.
He wanted to crush these aristocratic wild boars.
Today, he was an assassin.
Today, he was a killer.
He was going to eat them alive.
He clenched his fists tightly, his gaze turning sharper and colder.
At that moment, the stadium DJ suddenly announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, today, our esteemed chairman, Lord Bentley, has arrived with his distinguished guest to watch the match and support our Wild Boar Knights! Let's give them a warm welcome!"
A loud trumpet fanfare played as a bald chairman and an elderly man in a fishing hat and casual wear appeared in the VIP seats, waving at the players and spectators.
Carter's eyes lit up instantly.
That guy in the fishing hat—wasn't that Old Rice?
Hahaha!
So he couldn't resist after all!
Thank God he hadn't been hit by a car or eaten by a fish!
Overcome with excitement, Carter jumped up from the bench and yelled toward the field, "Number 3, Gu Ran—give me a damn good game!"
"…Yes, Coach." Gu Ran's cold expression shattered instantly.
What was with this old loudmouth?
Why was he calling him out in front of the whole crowd?
Was he trying to make it seem like Gu Ran wouldn't perform well unless specifically told to?
Was this some kind of new psychological tactic?
Damn it…
"Gu~ do your best!"
From the stands, Maria cupped her hands around her mouth and cheered.
She was also the only supporter from the visiting team present.
Gu Ran took a deep breath, focusing himself.
The referee blew the whistle.
At exactly 3:00 PM, the second round of the National High School Championship, Group E, between the Tonbridge Wild Boar Knights and the Southampton Bucks, officially began.
The Bucks had the kickoff.
As soon as the game started, the entire stadium erupted in boos. The air was filled with insults—"fishmongers," "smash them by double digits"—every kind of degrading taunt imaginable.
The Bucks players, already burning with frustration, charged into the Wild Boar Knights' half.
Today, they were sticking to their usual 4-4-2 diamond formation.
Watergate played as a deep-lying forward in the number 9 role.
The Wild Boar Knights, on the other hand, lined up in a 4-2-3-1, playing with a lone striker, three attacking midfielders, and two defensive midfielders. Their formation had a very professional feel to it.
After all, Tonbridge was located in the Greater London area, home to clubs like Chelsea, Arsenal, Tottenham Hotspur, West Ham United, Fulham, Crystal Palace, and Queens Park Rangers.
A region with a population of 8 million and 13 fully structured professional clubs.
That kind of football density was unimaginable in China.
According to team reports, the Wild Boar Knights' head coach had previously worked in West Ham United's youth academy, and their captain, Belward, had transferred from the same academy.
With strong foundations and a well-developed system, they were a force to be reckoned with.
This year's Wild Boar Knights were built around Belward as their core.
From the very start, both teams clashed fiercely in midfield.
The Wild Boar Knights played rough, their tackles drawing cheers from their fans.
Meanwhile, the Bucks were relentlessly booed every time they touched the ball.
They were used to the pressure.
They played rough as well.
The game turned into a brutal contest of sheer determination, rapidly draining both teams' stamina.
In the sixth minute, the Bucks found an opportunity. Hua Luo sent a diagonal long pass from the right.
The pass had the right idea, but the execution was poor.
Watergate quickly turned to contest the ball.
Belward, however, read the play perfectly, charging in from the side and knocking Watergate down before claiming the ball.
Watergate scrambled back up, waving for a foul while immediately pressing to win the ball back.
Midfielder Mianbao also stepped in to assist with a double-team.
But Belward's ball control was superb. As he sprinted forward, he lifted his head, spotted an opening, and launched a long pass behind Mianbao.
A textbook ball over the top.
West Ham's academy pedigree wasn't for show.
His pass was precise, fast, and dropped perfectly into the space between the 30-meter mark and the flank.
This was the Wild Boar Knights' signature tactic—midfield control and rapid transitions.
Their three midfielders pressed aggressively, winning the ball back in midfield before transitioning quickly into attack. Belward would then send a ball over the top, bypassing the opposition's midfield and sending their striker, Kunlan, through on goal.
A simple but deadly system.
Stopping it was incredibly difficult.
The Bucks had been caught pressing too high.
Their defensive line was out of position.
Kunlan, their number 10 striker, had already started sprinting toward the ball.
Mianbao was too slow to turn.
Too slow to chase.
The stadium erupted in excitement as Kunlan raced toward the ball.
Just then, Gu Ran came sprinting from the side at full speed.
His defensive positioning had been perfect. He was neck-and-neck with Kunlan.
Kunlan wasn't worried—he even mocked Gu Ran by exaggerating his stride.
In his eyes, a skinny Chinese player wasn't worth his attention.
Gu Ran's adrenaline spiked.
He exploded forward.
His expression turned ice-cold.
Bastard. Showboating in front of me?
Get the hell down.
Gu Ran reached the ball first, used his shoulder to drive Kunlan off balance, and sent him tumbling onto the grass.
Kunlan rolled multiple times, completely stunned.
The stadium fell silent.
The Tonbridge students were in shock.
Their star striker—eaten alive by some unknown Chinese kid?
One of their best counterattacking chances, gone just like that?
Their coach, a former West Ham academy trainer, grabbed his hair in frustration.
Meanwhile, Carter stole a glance at the VIP seats.
Old Rice sat motionless, looking like a fisherman casually waiting for his catch, his face betraying nothing.
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