During this period, Gao Bo had reviewed the profiles of every player under his command countless times. Now that training had officially begun, he needed to start shaping his team. With only one use of the [Scouting Vision] skill available each day, he had to be careful in choosing which players best suited his tactical philosophy. From there, he would gradually assemble the team's main framework.
In his previous life, Gao Bo had been a passionate football fan. The team that left the deepest impression on him was Leicester City — the side that defied all odds to win the Premier League title in the 2015–16 season. Under Claudio Ranieri's leadership, they transformed from relegation candidates into champions, staging one of the most remarkable underdog stories in football history.
A single match could be won through courage or luck, but a league title required consistency, organization, and intelligence. It was a victory earned through structure, not sentiment.
Now, as a professional coach in this life, Gao Bo often recalled that miraculous season. By combining his own tactical understanding with his memories of that Leicester City team, he summarized the key elements behind their success. It came down to rapid transitions, smart movement to create space, compact defensive organization, and collective pressing the moment possession was lost.
Leicester's shape had been a disciplined 4-4-2. Ranieri's players always maintained their spacing, moving as a single unit that opponents found difficult to penetrate. Jamie Vardy spearheaded the attack, with Okazaki Shinji just behind him — dropping into midfield when necessary to link play and help defensively. The essence of their game was compactness: keeping distances tight, forcing opponents to attack from the flanks where their threat was minimal. They crowded the penalty area, blocking shots and clearing crosses before danger could develop.
When they won the ball, Leicester transformed instantly. Their defensive block would shift into a lightning-quick counterattack, often beginning with a long pass toward Vardy. He and Okazaki would sprint between the centre-backs, pulling defenders apart and opening gaps for the midfielders who surged forward in support. If the counterattack broke down, they transitioned immediately into a structured positional attack, pushing the front line up while midfielders drove vertically into the box.
Even when possession was lost, the pressing began at once. Vardy was the first line of defense, pressing the opponent's ball carrier with relentless energy, while Kanté and Drinkwater backed him up from midfield. If the initial press failed, the team would quickly drop back, compressing the space between lines to defend again.
That system, built on intensity, discipline, and collective effort, had carried Leicester to glory. And now, Gao Bo found himself in possession of three of its key components — Kanté, Drinkwater, and Vardy. With them at Luton, he could rebuild the same model from the ground up.
According to his plan, the players first needed a week to restore their basic fitness. After a long holiday, too many of them had put on weight and lost their rhythm. Only once their condition returned to match level would he begin the next phase: a ten-day period of intense physical training.
To Gao Bo, this was non-negotiable. Tactics meant nothing without stamina. A team's physical strength was its foundation — and without that foundation, no system in the world could stand.
As training entered its routine, Gao Bo finally opened the Football Edge System.
A familiar light curtain appeared before his eyes, and for a brief moment he glanced around nervously. The players nearby continued their drills as if nothing had happened. This curtain — visible only to him — shimmered faintly in the air.
"Equip card," he said quietly.
Card successfully equipped.
With a soft metallic click, a glowing blue card locked into place within the system's interface. Lines of light ran across its surface, pulsing faintly.
[Training Effect +15%]
The notification flickered for a moment before fading. Gao Bo looked around again. The world carried on as normal. Nothing strange — at least, not outwardly.
It wasn't until a week later that he truly realized how powerful the card was.
One morning, the fitness coach Melvin Donald and team doctor Haruko Sakuragi came to his office with their weekly report.
"Gaffer," Melvin said excitedly, "the players have been working hard. In less than a week, almost everyone's already losing weight. Their conditioning's improving faster than expected!"
Gao Bo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It wasn't their "high enthusiasm" at all — it was the effect of the card. Still, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The system really was remarkable.
"In that case," he said calmly, "we'll move straight into the next phase of training. Pre-season is the foundation of the entire year — time won't wait for us."
Melvin hesitated, scratching the back of his head. "Well… there's one exception. One player's numbers still don't look good."
"Who is it?"
"Sam Parkin."
Melvin sighed. "I've tried to motivate him, but his attitude's poor. He's half-hearted in every session — a day of work followed by two of laziness. He doesn't seem to care."
Gao Bo nodded slowly. He remembered Parkin — the 27-year-old striker. But in his own plans, Parkin was not a key player at all. With forwards like Jamie Vardy and Charlie Austin, this veteran was, at best, a substitute.
And truthfully, Gao Bo had never even heard of Sam Parkin in his previous life — which told him enough about the man's ceiling.
"So be it," he said coolly. "When he brings his weight back to normal, he can rejoin the team. Until then, he trains alone."
Melvin blinked in surprise. "But… Sam Parkin's one of the better strikers in League Two."
Gao Bo waved it off with a confident smile. "Melvin, Vardy and Charlie Austin are much more than League Two forwards."
Melvin clearly didn't believe that, but Gao Bo didn't bother explaining. Instead, he leaned forward, intrigued.
"Tell me," he said, "if we put Parkin on the transfer list, would there be interest?"
"Oh, certainly," Melvin replied after a moment. "He's got experience in the First Division. Plenty of League Two clubs would take him."
Gao Bo nodded. "Good. If we can move him, I want to bring in a central defender — tall, strong, good in the air, and reliable in direct duels."
The idea took shape quickly in his mind. Over the past few days, he had been observing every player closely. In attack and midfield, the core was already clear: Vardy, Austin, Drinkwater, and Kanté — the heart of his team. Captain Kevin Nicholls would occupy one of the wide midfield positions, while George Pilkington, the experienced centre-back who had once played in the Championship, would anchor the defence.
That left a few key gaps to fill: two full-backs, another centre-back, and a dependable goalkeeper.
Luton had several serviceable defenders on the flanks — at least a few were up to League Two standard — and the midfield depth wasn't bad either. As for the goalkeepers, there were two options: sixteen-year-old Aaron Fletcher and twenty-two-year-old Dean Brill.
Technically, they were evenly matched, but Gao Bo preferred Brill. The older keeper showed far greater professionalism and consistency in training.
What worried him most was the lack of a commanding presence at centre-back. Apart from Pilkington, all of Luton's central defenders were under twenty, thin and inexperienced. Against the tall, physical strikers common in League Two, they would struggle badly in aerial duels.
The team needed steel — someone who could win headers, clear danger, and stand firm under pressure.
"Have the scouting department start looking immediately," Gao Bo said finally. "We'll keep training as planned. I still have a hundred thousand pounds in the budget — and if we can sell Parkin, that should be enough to bring in the defender we need."
He leaned back in his chair, the faint blue glow of the system still flickering in his mind.
This was just the beginning — piece by piece, he was building the foundation of his new Luton Town.
...
When group training officially began, Sam Parkin quickly realized that he had been left out.
During the earlier phase, every player had followed an individualized recovery plan created by the coaching staff. But now, as the sessions shifted toward collective drills, Sam found himself excluded. Only then did it dawn on him that his place within the team — and in the eyes of this Chinese head coach — was far less secure than he had imagined.
Damn it, he thought bitterly. Do they really plan to use those two kids from the amateur leagues to lead the line this season?
Sam Parkin wasn't the confrontational type, but anxiety gnawed at him. The head coach held absolute authority. If Gao Bo truly decided to discard him, there was little he could do about it.
Yet being frozen out was the last thing he wanted. After all, he needed playing time to attract attention from other clubs. Coming off a serious injury, he knew it wouldn't be easy to find a new team without recent performances to show.
He looked down at the training schedule handed to him by the staff and felt his stomach drop.
Sixty minutes of aerobic endurance work. Strength sessions in the gym. A diet plan restricted to egg whites and coarse brown bread.
"This is how you treat a key striker?" he muttered under his breath. "What am I, a prisoner?"
Originally, Sam had considered apologizing to the Chinese coach and easing the tension between them. But after reading his new schedule, that thought evaporated instantly. His head throbbed just looking at the program.
Because the coaching staff was stretched thin, no one was assigned to supervise him closely. Glancing toward the main pitch, Sam saw the rest of the squad gathered in a circle around Gao Bo. Driven by curiosity and a hint of defiance, he quietly walked over.
Gao Bo was in the middle of his morning briefing, outlining the day's sessions.
"The morning will focus on physical conditioning," he said, gesturing to the tactical board. "This afternoon, we move to defensive work — one-on-one, two-on-two, three-on-three, four-on-four — all the way up to full-team drills."
He turned to the players and spoke firmly.
"The first thing I want to emphasize is pressure. In every physical confrontation, you must be aggressive. Press the opponent, force them to make mistakes. Our defense is not about a few players — it's about the entire team. From the striker to the goalkeeper, everyone defends. No exceptions.
"Keep the distance between the three lines compact. Protect the central channel. Never let the opposition play through the middle — force them wide whenever possible!"
As he spoke, Gao Bo drew diagrams on the board, explaining positioning and coordination. His tone was calm yet commanding.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement at the back of the group.
Sam Parkin stood there, pretending to listen.
Gao Bo's expression darkened. He lowered the marker slowly and turned to face him.
The sudden silence drew everyone's attention. Following their coach's gaze, the players spotted Sam standing awkwardly behind them.
Everyone knew Parkin had been training alone — it was no secret that the isolation was a punishment. Still, most assumed it would end soon. After all, Parkin was supposedly the team's only "proven" striker. No one had yet seen what Vardy or Austin could really do.
Captain Kevin Nicholls frowned in concern. If the new coach clashed openly with the team's most senior forward, the consequences could be serious.
Assistant coach John Aston rubbed his temples. He had known Sam for years; the man had always been temperamental but never outright rebellious. Yet Gao Bo was young, and young coaches tended to be uncompromising.
"Did I give you permission to join the group?" Gao Bo asked coldly.
Every head turned toward Parkin.
Caught under the collective stare, his face flushed red.
This Chinese coach is humiliating me in front of everyone…
Rage burst through his embarrassment. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" he shouted. "Bloody Chinese!"
A gasp rippled across the pitch. No one dared move.
Gao Bo didn't flinch. A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
"I said," he replied evenly, "that anyone whose weight hasn't returned to normal isn't allowed to train with the team."
He turned away from Parkin and addressed the squad.
"My roster is still blank," he said, his tone rising with authority. "My starting lineup is still blank. I don't care who you were last season — whether you were a starter, a substitute, or in the youth team. From now on, your place depends only on your training and your attitude.
"I will be watching. If anyone slacks off, they'll sit on the bench. If that's not enough, they'll go to the reserves. I am the head coach now, and your future here depends on what you show me from this day forward.
"This is your chance. If you want to be a starter — then impress me."
His voice carried across the training ground, firm and unwavering.
Among the players, the speech struck different chords.
Charlie Austin's eyes lit up with excitement. For some reason, he believed every word Gao Bo said. If hard work was the key, he would give everything — anything to secure a spot and never have to go back to a construction site again.
Jamie Vardy's blood burned with the same fire. He knew the odds were against him — an amateur trying to make it in the professional game — but this was the chance he had always dreamed of. Whether Gao Bo's words were sincere or not didn't matter; he would treat every training session like his last.
His dream of standing on a professional pitch was all that mattered now. Even if it cost him everything, it would be worth it.
Gao Bo's declaration stirred the younger players with passion and resolve.
For Sam Parkin, though, it meant something else entirely — he had just become the example the coach would use to establish his authority.
"As for you," Gao Bo said coldly, turning his gaze back to Sam Parkin, "I'm giving you two choices. Either you follow the training plan honestly, or you find yourself a new club. My team has no place for lazy players."
He then looked toward John Aston. "How much did we pay for him? And how long is his contract?"
"One hundred thousand pounds," John replied quickly. "He's still got a year and a half left on his deal."
"Fine. Then fifty thousand," Gao Bo said without hesitation. "If any team offers at least that, he can go. Until then, he either trains properly, or he doesn't set foot on the training ground again."
With that, Gao Bo turned away, leaving Parkin standing there, completely stunned. Without another glance, he clapped his hands sharply.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" he barked. "Get ready — training starts now!"
The players froze for a moment, startled by the sheer decisiveness of their new manager. None of them had expected Gao Bo to deal with the team's most senior striker so ruthlessly.
In their eyes, Sam Parkin had been the only reliable forward on the team. Until Vardy and Charlie Austin proved themselves, most of the squad viewed the two newcomers from the amateur leagues with polite curiosity at best, and quiet skepticism at worst.
Even John Aston, who had been with the club for years, couldn't hide his worry. In his opinion, Parkin might have been problematic, but he was still the only proven scorer in the squad. Losing him could make an already fragile attack even weaker.
Later that evening, after training ended, John came to find Gao Bo in his office.
"Don't you have a wife waiting for you at home, John?" Gao Bo asked with a faint smile, tidying up the papers on his desk.
He himself had been practically living in the office these days. Having just taken over the team, he had no time to rest — only work.
The defensive sessions had started earlier in the week, and now, he was preparing to add offensive training into the schedule.
For the attacking phase, Gao Bo's design was simple and efficient: fast counterattacks after turnovers, and during set play, direct wing crosses and long-range shots from the edge of the box.
He knew his players. This wasn't a squad ready for complicated tactical systems — not yet. In League Two, the priority was simple: collect points, any way possible.
The 30-point deduction loomed over them like a shadow. Although Gao Bo always maintained a calm, confident expression in front of the team, he understood better than anyone how hard this season would be.
Still, deep down, he harbored a much bigger ambition — one he had never shared with anyone.
Promotion.
If he said it aloud now, people would laugh. Deducted thirty points and still dreaming of promotion? To most, even surviving the season sounded like a miracle.
But Gao Bo didn't think the same way.
He had seen the future.
The players at his disposal weren't just ordinary names — they were future Premier League stars. Vardy, who would one day win the Golden Boot. Kanté, destined to become one of the best defensive midfielders in the world. Drinkwater and Austin, both future top-flight professionals.
They might not have reached their peak yet, but even now, in 2008, their potential was immense. At this level — England's fourth tier — they could already dominate.
This was Gao Bo's advantage, his secret weapon: the knowledge of what these players could become.
And with the [Scouting Vision] skill, he had already seen their current attributes clearly. Even at this stage, their raw ability was more than enough to shine in League Two.
Gao Bo leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. The road ahead would be difficult, but he knew exactly what kind of team he was building.
Luton Town's revival had already begun.
...
Luton's pre-season training progressed steadily, each session becoming more refined as Gao Bo continued to fine-tune the smallest details of his system.
The squad's structure was nearly complete, but two gaps still remained: a tall, physical striker who could serve as a backup forward, and a commanding centre-back capable of providing strength and aerial dominance in defense. These were the two key targets Gao Bo had assigned to the scouting department.
As training intensified, both John Aston and the players began to change their minds about the new recruits Gao Bo had brought in. The early skepticism surrounding his amateur signings had started to fade.
In scrimmages, several of Luton's defenders had already experienced firsthand the finishing power of Jamie Vardy and Charlie Austin. Both men were ruthless in front of goal — far superior to the club's former "main striker," Sam Parkin, who was now a fading memory among the squad.
Parkin's situation had been resolved swiftly: he was traded away.
Gao Bo had been determined to find a proper target man to complement his attacking setup. He remembered watching a particular match years ago — the 2012–13 FA Cup fourth-round tie where Oldham Athletic stunned Liverpool 3–2. That day, Oldham's towering striker Matt Smith scored twice and left a lasting impression.
At 1.98 meters tall, Smith was a classic English centre-forward — all height and presence, reminiscent of Peter Crouch, a true aerial threat in the lower divisions.
Gao Bo still remembered the headlines after that game: Liverpool's manager Brendan Rodgers had even nicknamed Smith the "White Drogba."
Yet, despite that brief moment in the spotlight, Smith's name soon disappeared from mainstream attention. Gao Bo hadn't followed his career after that match — but the system of English football had a way of preserving such players in the lower leagues.
Sure enough, after the scouts conducted their search, they found Matt Smith still active — currently playing for Port Vale in League Two.
Negotiations were quick. Port Vale agreed to a straight exchange: Sam Parkin for Matt Smith.
The deal was sealed.
For Gao Bo, it was the perfect solution. The forward line was still thin — just three players deep — but having Smith alongside Vardy and Austin finally gave him balance.
Now, his focus shifted to the defence.
Finding the right centre-back, however, proved far more difficult. In League Two, players with the kind of aerial strength and composure Gao Bo wanted were rare. Most defenders at this level were either too raw or too short to meet his standards.
He knew a few names from his memories of the future — defenders who would one day rise to prominence — but none of them were available to a club like Luton in 2008. The Premier League and Championship clubs would have snapped them up long ago.
Given those realities, Gao Bo faced a choice. If he couldn't sign a new defender, he would have to make do with what he had.
Aside from George Pilkington, the only experienced man at the back, Luton's remaining centre-backs were all under twenty and still developing. They were eager, but physically underpowered and lacking match experience — a dangerous combination in the rough, direct football of League Two.
After several sleepless nights of analysis and countless hours reviewing training footage, Gao Bo finally made his decision. He finalized his starting lineup and his substitutes list.
He put his pen down, rubbing his tired, bloodshot eyes.
The defence still worried him — but overall, the team looked solid. In his estimation, this lineup was easily strong enough to compete in League Two, especially with the quality he had in midfield and attack.
He would rather save the remaining transfer funds — one hundred thousand pounds — than waste them on a mediocre defender. Luton's money was too precious.
"If I spend it," he muttered to himself, "it'll be on someone who can make a real difference."
Looking over the neatly written names on his tactical sheet, Gao Bo allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
He glanced at his watch — 9:15 a.m. Training would begin in fifteen minutes. He had arrived at the club at four in the morning, and had been working ever since.
Determined to stay sharp, he splashed cold water on his face in the small washroom beside his office, straightened his collar, and prepared to face another day on the training pitch.
Just as he was about to leave, there was a knock at the door.
"Mr. Gao Bo," said the club secretary, poking her head in, "there's a young man outside asking for you. His name is Jeffrey Bruma."
"Jeffrey?" Gao Bo blinked — then smiled, surprised and delighted.
So, the final piece of his puzzle had appeared at last.
Luton Town's defense was about to find its missing cornerstone.