But if Su Hang went down this path, he himself would most likely perform poorly in the coming matches, posting dreadful numbers.
The media would tear him apart.
Fans would mock him as a joke.
That kind of damage to a player's reputation could be devastating.
Especially in a knockout battle like this.
He could even end up carrying the blame for the team's entire failed season.
That was a crushing weight to bear.
When the bus pulled up to the hotel, the players got off one by one.
As Figo stepped down, he clapped a hand on Su Hang's shoulder and said, "Kid, I won't let you down."
Su Hang gave a shy grin. "No worries—just give me more Moment Cards."
Figo frowned. "What card?"
Su Hang chuckled. "Just kidding. I mean—do you have any signature moves you can teach me?"
Figo smirked. "Plenty. You've heard of my nickname, the 'Right-Wing Master,' haven't you?"
Su Hang nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah. The 'Greasy Master.' The one who could hog an entire pond for himself."
The two bantered back and forth as they walked, talking casually until they reached their rooms.
"Ding! Figo is very pleased with your eagerness to learn and has decided to pass on his knowledge. He gifts you 'Figo's Flick-Over Dribble' as an initiation present!"
"Figo's Flick-Over Dribble: Superstar Skill. When people think of flick-over dribbles, they think of Brazilians. But Figo, the Right-Wing Master, had his own unique mastery of this technique."
"Your speed, explosiveness, dribbling, and ball control have improved."
"Your flick-over dribbles are harder for opponents to intercept."
"For two seconds after performing a flick-over dribble, your explosiveness increases."
Whoa!
Damn!
I treated you like a brother…
You made me your apprentice?
That's one way to pull rank!
But grumbling aside—it was still a sweet deal.
Figo's flick-over dribble wasn't a flashy move like an overhead flick or rainbow flick.
It was about suddenly lifting the ball over a defender during a run, then bursting past with acceleration.
Su Hang had already tried something similar.
But his method was just kicking the ball forward—easy to intercept, hard to control. Too often, he'd send it straight into the next defender's zone and waste the chance.
Figo's flick, though, solved that problem.
It both beat the defender in front and kept the ball within reach.
That was the difference between control and chaos—the line between a good player and a master.
Thanks to his Portuguese mentor's gift, Su Hang's attributes now read: Dribbling 78, Explosiveness 84, Ball Control 75.
And at last, his Speed attribute unlocked, reaching 70.
But the improvement only left him with a sense of urgency.
As the saying goes, "A dying man speaks kindly"… no, scratch that. In any case, Figo's eagerness to pass on his craft clearly signaled he was preparing to leave.
Last season, Inter Milan had already invited Figo to join them.
But Real Madrid had shown him enough respect to convince him to stay one more year.
This year, however, Real had yet to renew his contract.
Not because Figo wasn't worth it—but because change was coming to Real Madrid.
At the moment, only Su Hang knew it.
Perhaps Zidane had caught some whispers too.
If Inter Milan came calling again, the Portuguese superstar would have no reason to reject the Nerazzurri.
That night, Su Hang lay in bed, turned off the light, and drifted into sleep.
And for once, he dreamed.
Professional athletes, with their brutal training loads, usually slept in deep cycles. REM sleep—and dreams—were rare.
In the dream, Zidane, Figo, Ronaldo, Beckham, Roberto Carlos, Baptista, Cassano, and others were all saying farewell to Su Hang.
Their faces carried regret.
Because they had left with nothing.
Especially this season.
They hadn't given themselves a dignified ending.
Arrive in joy, depart in sorrow—nothing to show for their time at Real Madrid.
The night passed.
Su Hang awoke.
That wasn't a dream.
It was the destiny Real Madrid would have faced this season.
If… he hadn't been there.
...
Liverpool, Anfield.
Red banners fluttered.
The fans had turned the entire stadium into a sea of crimson.
Though Anfield only held 45,000, the atmosphere was no less intense than 80,000 at the Bernabéu.
Liverpool's lineup today was almost identical to the previous leg.
Only the striker and goalkeeper positions had changed.
Djibril Cissé started up front, while beanpole Peter Crouch sat on the bench.
Jerzy Dudek started in goal, with Pepe Reina sidelined by a fractured left hand.
The moment Su Hang emerged from the tunnel, the stadium erupted in boos.
His pre-match comments had already sparked outrage, and his reputation in England was in tatters.
Jamie Carragher and other Liverpool players had even promised in interviews to mark him with maximum intensity—to teach him respect.
Real Madrid's starting XI:
Su Hang, Raúl
Figo
Baptista, García, Beckham
Roberto Carlos, Helguera, Sergio Ramos, Cicinho
Casillas
=
On the bench: Guti, Robinho, Cassano, Gravesen, Pavón, Raúl Bravo—each in decent form.
The first leg had ended 3–3.
Liverpool led on away goals.
Which meant Real Madrid had to score to go through.
But Liverpool at Anfield were never easy opponents.
Just two minutes in, Xabi Alonso launched a long ball forward to Cissé, catching Real Madrid's high line off guard.
Liverpool's counters were razor-sharp. Cissé's blistering pace and sheer power made him look like a runaway tank.
With Alonso and Gerrard as passers, any overcommitment was asking for punishment.
Fourth minute.
Figo surged through the left channel, slipping past Alonso. Su Hang drifted wide, and Figo seized on Carragher's hesitation, unleashing a long-range shot.
But the strike lacked touch, and the ball flew wide.
Figo raised a thumbs-up toward Su Hang.
Meaning: good run.
Seventh minute.
Su Hang dropped deep, played a one-two, and sent Figo through with a pass.
Gerrard cut him down decisively, earning the match's first yellow card.
Anfield exploded in boos.
The referee, under heavy pressure, still awarded a dangerous free kick to Real.
Beckham unleashed a banana free kick.
But perhaps the pressure got to him.
The ball sailed over the crossbar without threatening.
Eleventh minute.
Real Madrid kept pressing.
Right-back Cicinho bombed down the wing, under pressure from Liverpool, and played the ball into Figo.
Figo collected it, feinted a turn, then burst forward with sharp acceleration, shaking off Harry Kewell. Before Alonso could close him down, he slipped through a precise pass.
...
(35 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser