The Munich morning air was crisp and clean, carrying the faint scent of dew.The sun peeked over the edge of the clouds as the Bayern II players began to gather on the field, chatting, stretching, lacing up their boots.
When Qin Ming showed up, whispers spread instantly.
"Wait, isn't he banned?""I thought Ten Hag kicked him out yesterday.""Yeah, what's he doing here with his training gear on?"
Qin Ming ignored them all. His heart was calm — calmer than it had ever been.After last night, he could still feel the rhythm of the ball in his blood, that electric, magical sensation of complete control.
He walked to the center of the pitch.A few players gave him curious glances. Højbjerg jogged over, eyebrows raised.
"You actually showed up! What happened? Didn't Ten Hag—"
"Change of plans," Qin Ming said simply, with a tiny smile.
As if on cue, the bald man himself walked onto the field, clipboard in hand, his usual unreadable expression in place.
Ten Hag's sharp gaze swept over the team, then briefly stopped on Qin Ming.He didn't say a word — just nodded slightly.
The other players exchanged looks. What the hell?That nod alone was enough to tell them something had changed.
"Alright, warm-up!"
The team began their laps. Qin Ming followed, light on his feet, his body moving with effortless rhythm. Every stride felt smooth, controlled — the system's synchronization had made his movements more fluid than ever.
Even Højbjerg noticed. "You move differently today," he muttered as they ran side by side. "Like… I don't know, smoother. Did you secretly train all night or something?"
Qin Ming smirked. "Something like that."
When they switched to ball drills, it became impossible not to notice.
Every touch Qin Ming made was perfect — no heavy bounces, no missteps.He dribbled like the ball was attached to his boot by a string, weaving through cones as if he were gliding on water.
Even the assistant coach, who had been half-asleep, raised his head. "Huh? Is that… Qin Ming?"
Ten Hag didn't comment. He just stood with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the boy he had planned to ship back to China.
Then came the scrimmage — a short, intense training match.
Qin Ming's team was up against the starters. Normally, it would have been a slaughter.But today… it was different.
The ball came to Qin Ming near the halfway line.Three defenders instantly closed in, pressing hard.
A few days ago, that would've been the end — turnover, easy counter.
But not today.
With a soft flick of his right foot, he shifted the ball left — the defender bit.Then, in the blink of an eye, his foot snapped outward, Elastico!The ball curved around the defender like a whip, and Qin Ming slipped right through the gap.
"What the—?!"
Before anyone could react, he cut inside, feinted a pass, and rolled the ball across the top of the box. Another defender lunged — too slow.Qin Ming spun, flicked the ball up with the outside of his boot, and volleyed without looking.
The shot curved gracefully into the bottom corner.
The net rippled.The field went silent for two seconds — then erupted.
"Did you see that!?""No way—he nutmegged him before the shot!""Was that… an Elastico? Like Ronaldinho?"
Even the goalkeeper, still kneeling from his dive, turned to stare at him in disbelief.
Ten Hag's clipboard slipped slightly in his hand.He adjusted his glasses, expression still cool — but his eyes gleamed with something close to surprise.
He had expected the boy to improve, maybe to show a little fight.He hadn't expected that.
Not just raw skill — but confidence, flair, joy.
That kind of football you couldn't teach in a classroom.
Højbjerg ran up, clapping him on the back."Brother, what did you eat last night?! You're playing like… like Ronaldinho!"
Qin Ming laughed. "Maybe I just remembered how to have fun."
The next few minutes were chaos.Every time Qin Ming got the ball, the defenders panicked.He was unpredictable — backheels, feints, nutmegs, you name it.It wasn't arrogance; it was pure rhythm. The game was his dance floor.
And for the first time, even Ten Hag cracked a faint, reluctant smile.
When the whistle blew, ending the scrimmage, he called Qin Ming over.
The players went quiet again — everyone wanted to know what would happen.
Ten Hag stared at him for a moment, then asked flatly,"Where did you learn to play like that?"
Qin Ming shrugged with an easy grin. "Guess I just… woke up inspired."
Ten Hag narrowed his eyes — clearly not buying it — but he didn't push.Finally, he said, "You'll be in the squad for next week's friendly. Show me this wasn't a fluke."
Qin Ming's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, sir!"
Ten Hag turned away, muttering under his breath,"Let's see how far this inspiration takes you."
As the team broke up, Højbjerg jogged beside him, half-laughing, half-awestruck."You know you just destroyed three starting defenders, right? They're going to hate you."
Qin Ming grinned, eyes full of confidence."Let them. This is just the beginning."
As he looked up at the clear Bavarian sky, the system interface flickered faintly before his eyes:
[System Update Unlocked — Mission Chain: The Road to the Allianz Arena Begins!]