"Ren is, without question, the most gifted technician I have ever seen at his age."
In the sterile, modern office of Liverpool's Sporting Director, Steven Gerrard wasn't just talking; he was testifying. "His precision is a joke, Michael. If we sign him, we aren't just buying a prospect—we're buying the future of our midfield. He is the spark this slump needs."
Renzo Uzumaki stood quietly behind the captain, his expression neutral. He watched Michael Edwards, the man who would eventually build a Premier League-winning squad, lean back in his chair. Edwards' eyes shifted from Gerrard's impassioned face to Ren's calm, dark eyes. He was looking for the "astonishing talent" Gerrard described, but all he saw was a teenager who looked entirely too comfortable in the presence of legends.
Back in Chinatown, Ren's parents were likely still floating. Gerrard had been a whirlwind of charm, posing for photos that Jianjun had already promised to hang in the shop window. "In a few years," Gerrard had joked, "it'll be Ren's face bringing in the customers, not mine."
But here, in the cold reality of the Liverpool executive wing, the "best arrangement from heaven" was hitting a very terrestrial wall.
"Steven, take a breath," Edwards said, his voice level. "I trust your eye. Giving the boy a contract is easy. I can have the paperwork for a professional deal ready by lunch. But giving him first-team minutes? That's not my department."
Gerrard's face darkened, his jaw setting in that famous, stubborn line. "You've spoken to Rodgers."
"I have," Edwards admitted. "And Brendan's attitude... let's just say he's not optimistic. He thinks a sixteen-year-old, especially one personally scouted by the Captain, isn't what the squad needs right now."
Gerrard let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "He wants to draw a line, doesn't he? He's so obsessed with 'moving past the Gerrard era' that he'd blind himself to a generational talent just because I'm the one who found him."
The tension in the room spiked. Ren knew the history. In this timeline, the relationship between Brendan Rodgers and Steven Gerrard was fraying at the edges. Rodgers wanted a system where no single player was bigger than the club—specifically, he wanted to phase out Gerrard's influence. To Rodgers, Renzo Uzumaki wasn't a "passing genius"; he was a "Gerrard loyalist" before he'd even kicked a ball.
Liverpool was sitting tenth in the league. The pressure was suffocating. In Rodgers' mind, blooding a teenager was a luxury he couldn't afford—and an ideological victory for Gerrard he wouldn't allow.
"I'm sorry, Ren," Gerrard said, turning to him with genuine apology in his eyes. "I promised you the first team. I will fight for that. I'm going to go find Brendan right now and we're going to settle this."
Gerrard stood up, his posture radiating the same energy he used to charge down the tunnel at Anfield.
"Wait! Steven!" Edwards shot up, rounding his desk to grab Gerrard's arm. "You know how Brendan is. You go in there now, hot-headed, and it turns into a shouting match. The press gets wind of a rift between the Manager and the Captain, and the whole club goes into a tailspin. We can't afford that."
Gerrard hesitated, his chest heaving. He knew Edwards was right. A public war with Rodgers would only hurt the team he loved.
Edwards turned his gaze to Ren, his curiosity finally piqued. He had never seen Gerrard this protective, this certain of a kid. If the "Moneyball" stats of the academy matched Gerrard's eye test, Liverpool would be insane to let Ren sit on the bench.
"Steven, look," Edwards said softly. "Rodgers might be stubborn, but signing Ren doesn't mean we've hit a dead end. If the front door is locked, we use the side door."
Gerrard's eyebrows shot up. "The side door?"
"I have a way to get him on the pitch without Rodgers being able to say a word," Edwards said, a small, calculating smile appearing on his face.
[Ding! System Update: Influence of a Legend (Passive) has modified the mission!]
[New Path Available: The "Side Door" Trial.]