At twelve noon the next day,

  Su and his FC Schalke 04 teammates sat on the plane back to Gelsenkirchen.

  Despite the draw against the mighty Bar?a, there was little for Magath to celebrate.

  After all, the league was what mattered most to him right now.

  Raul’s injury had mostly healed, but he wasn’t necessarily ready for the second UCL match.

  Even if he could play, Raul’s form might not help the team much.

  Given his age and two months without playing, the bigger concern was Baumann’s injury—he would miss at least three league games. Baumann’s role was simply too crucial.

  Still, deep down, Magath held a faint hope that they could hold Bar?a to a 0-0 draw at home and knock them out of the UCL.

  Sigh! But that seemed even harder than winning the league.

  His back pain had finally eased a little, but when he turned to see his entire team fast asleep, Magath’s anger flared up again.

  He had repeatedly warned them—no late-night outings after that last UCL scandal. Yet, last night at midnight, not a single player was in their room.

  Even the injured Baumann had disappeared. According to Hughes, Baumann had been carried out by that Annan guy.

  Damn Annan! Every time Magath went out, Annan would just grin and nod instead of reporting anything.

  Bloody hell! The squad’s discipline had been ruined by this guy—he had to be sold at the end of the season.

  But then again, Magath wasn’t even sure if he’d still have the authority to make that decision.

  Ugh.

  At nearly 60 years old, Magath was truly fed up.

  Meanwhile, Su also looked exhausted.

  He had been up all night—but not for the reasons one might think.

  Yang had called him out in the middle of the night, claiming it was just for drinks.

  And Yang wasn’t alone—she had brought along a new acquaintance.

  The newcomer, an 18-year-old fresh graduate from the Shanghai Theatre Academy, was named Di.

  A Xinjiang native, Di’s ethnic heritage was unmistakable.

  She proceeded to show Su what real drinking looked like.

  They drank until nearly dawn, when Yang suddenly realized she’d miss her flight and rushed off with Di in a panic.

  Nothing like what Su had imagined happened.

  Yang remained her usual cheerful self, at least in their interactions. But the 18-year-old Di? Before the drinks, she seemed starry-eyed and shy.

  Three rounds in, she was already pledging loyalty to Yang, vowing to follow "Sister Yang" from then on.

  Yang seemed drunk too, shouting outright that she was going to quit her job and start her own studio, whether her fat assistant stayed or not.

  Seeing these two about to veer back into their usual antics, Su quickly offered to invest and collaborate with Yang to open the studio.

  Yang was intrigued, and Su shared some of his personal insights on the future of the film and television industry—how crossover dramas would blow up, how they could buy the rights to remake Empresses in the Palace, and even get Mr. Hu to star in Nirvana in Fire or The Disguiser.

  Anyway, Su had money now. A small investment could easily multiply dozens of times over.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Yang and Di were amazed.

  And just like that, an accidental drinking session planted the seed for the future entertainment giant that would dominate all of Asia!

  Su would hold 60% of the shares, while Yang owned 39%.

  With that settled, Yang immediately went to her company to terminate her contract, while Di ditched her fat assistant.

  Su didn’t have time to deal with the details, so he called Carvajal and instructed him to send a professional to China to help Yang set everything up.

  Carvajal was given full authority to establish the studio, and the name was already decided: SUMI!

  Carvajal was a little surprised that Su suddenly wanted to break into China’s entertainment industry.

  In his opinion, showbiz was just a side hustle—decent money, but nothing major.

  Of course, Su wouldn’t tell him that the decade from 2010 to 2020 would be the most lucrative era in Chinese entertainment, with shady contracts and skyrocketing actor salaries. The waters were deep, but the profits were insane.

  As for Carvajal’s grumbling—Why mess with showbiz when you should focus on football?—Su ignored him. Who would complain about making more money?

  Besides, deep down, Su had a stronger appreciation for classical Eastern beauty than Western girls.

  Korean girl groups, especially Girls’ Generation? He’d have killed for them in his past life.

  If he remembered right, in a few years, even Wang Sicong would go all-in for T-ara—a whole girl group!

  That kind of lifestyle was what Su despised the most.

  Ugh!!!

  We’re football players—our minds should be on the ball, nothing else! Anything else is just unprofessional!

  ……

  Back in Gelsenkirchen, Su rushed home. The team doctor, Lisa, would come to check on him after the match, so he needed to rest before she arrived.

  But before sleeping, he pulled up his SYSTEM attributes:

  Attacking: 85

  Controlling: 85

  Passing: 100

  Shots: 85

  Headers: 68

  Positioning: 66

  Curve: 66

  Speed: 85

  Foot Strength: 80

  Jumping: 74

  Body Contact: 80

  Physical Strength: 88

  Defence: 80

  Steals: 65

  Comprehensive Evaluation: 85

  Age: 18

  He was worried. The whole world knew he was the next Messi now, but with his stats stuck at 85, anyone could tell something was fishy—like he was fucking doping.

  Helpless, Su could only turn to the simulation training room!

  The thing was counterintuitive—and expensive!

  Ten match points per hour, worth a full match’s training!

  He only had fifty match points saved up, plus three attribute points he’d scraped together these past few days.

  After a moment of hesitation, Su dumped all three attribute points into Speed.

  Now at 88, he was at least a speedy horse by current standards.

  But this was the critical moment.

  Only two paths lay before Su:

  Spend all fifty match points for five hours of 10x accelerated training—quickly pushing his Speed to 90!

  But here’s the catch: Once he hit 90, that stingy SYSTEM would definitely slap him with another threshold. Probably something like "900 hours to gain a single point".

  Gamble it all—throw the dice!

  "One gambler ruins a whole family!"

  "Small bets hurt feelings, big bets destroy homes—stay away from gambling for prosperity!"

  ......

  Su stared at his hard-earned fifty match points, torn.

  On one side: A safe boost to 90.

  On the other: A gamble—either jackpot or disaster!

  Su was a cautious man. He hated unnecessary risks...

  Aw, screw it!

  Who could resist poking at two tempting lumps right in front of them?

  "Ding Dong!!!"

  "Point Dice activated!"

  "Fifty points can’t buy a loss!"

  "Fifty points can’t buy a scam!"

  "Bet big, win big—go home riding a motorcycle!"

  "Bet small, win small—go home with a bottle of Guinness!"

  "Ding Dong!"

  "Congratulations, HOST! You’ve obtained: No-Grade Equipment—Broken Boots!"

  No attribute bonus!

  PS: A foul-smelling, tattered boot. When equipped, its stench can send people fleeing in disgust!"

  Ah!!!

  Su collapsed in despair.

  Finished!

  Damn it! My precious 50 match points! Screw this shit!!!!

  Could he really wear this thing on the field? Smoke out opponents with its stench and then beat an anticipator?

  Pathetic!!!

  ..............