ctnovel Chapter 36 The Tyrant's Extra Training
Chapter 36 The Tyrant's Extra Training
"Coach, we've collected all the balls."
"Should we talk here or go back to the locker room?"
Griezmann pointed to the training balls, which he had retrieved, and asked Coach Philippe about them.
Griezmann came through Real Sociedad's youth academy, and the coach who was temporarily promoted at this time, Philipp, was also Real Sociedad's former U21 coach.
Therefore, Griezmann could be considered a locker room regular in a certain sense at this time.
Philip waved his hand:
"Let's stay here."
"Let me check the score. How did Atletico Madrid play?"
"Based on my experience, a draw is the most likely outcome, considering how awful they were playing in the first half of the season..."
"Holy crap!!!"
"7UP?"
……
The scene cuts back to Calderon Stadium.
The chants of tens of thousands of Atlético Madrid fans still echoed in the night sky.
Li Jing had just stepped off the grass and stopped at the entrance to the players' tunnel.
He was mentally preparing to tally up the 50000 task rewards that the system had just distributed.
I hadn't even had a chance to bring up the system panel in my mind.
Suddenly, a large hand grabbed him roughly from behind by the back of his collar.
Li Jing turned around reflexively.
He discovered that the person grabbing him was none other than head coach Simeone.
In the old man's other hand, he was still tightly gripping Falcao, who was holding the match ball.
"Come on! You two, come with me to the press conference hall right now!"
Simone didn't care whether the two agreed or not, and dragged them into the passage.
Simone glared at Falcao and yelled at him angrily.
"You two lads scored three goals today, a hat-trick! If I don't drag you two along to deal with the reporters, who else would I take?"
Immediately afterwards, Simone turned and stared intently at Li Jing, raising his voice even higher.
"And you bastard! Your heat map is practically black with red! Your defensive coverage is ridiculously wide. Get out here and sit in the lobby too!"
Li Jing was pulled forward and stumbled a step.
He was still holding the gourd-shaped cup filled with mate tea that he had casually picked up from the tactical table when he passed by the locker room door.
This was the hot tea he had just asked the therapist to refill; the temperature was just right.
Li Jing tugged at the collar of his jersey, which the old man had been holding tightly, with utter helplessness.
"Coach, look at me, I haven't even showered or changed yet! I was battling with people on the court for almost ninety minutes, and I'm going to meet those reporters in suits covered in sweat?"
Simone let out a cold laugh.
"This is exactly the flavor I wanted!"
Simone pushed open the corridor door leading to the hall with tremendous force.
"I'm going to let those damn reporters who hide behind their keyboards all day writing smear articles smell the blood off you just from winning by seven goals!"
Inside the Calderon press conference hall.
The audience was packed with reporters from seventy or eighty mainstream media outlets across Spain.
But at this moment, the entire hall was filled with an extremely eerie silence.
The usual frenzy of camera flashes that go off whenever the coach appears was completely absent today.
There was none of the usual noisy shoving and pushing as people jostled to raise their hands to ask questions.
All that could be heard was the rapid tapping of laptop keyboards by a few people in the front row; they seemed to be frantically making changes to something.
The deputy editor of Marca sat sternly in the center of the first row.
He lowered his head, staring intently at the pre-printed paper document in his hand.
The bold, size 3 headline was extremely eye-catching: "A dull bus! Atletico Madrid's zero attacks ignite Calderon's fury" and "Chinese defensive midfielder sleepwalks throughout the game, tactical cancer completely destroys the match."
This press release had its tone decided by their editorial department before the competition even started.
But now.
The deputy editor's face turned ashen; he could even feel the barely suppressed laughter of his competitors' gazes.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he quickly crumpled the two carefully prepared black pages into a ball and quietly stuffed them deep into the pocket of his suit trousers.
Reporters from several tabloids in the back row exchanged extremely embarrassed expressions.
One of them couldn't hold back any longer and whispered to his companion, turning his head to whisper in his ear.
"Who in your newspaper prepared questions about Atletico Madrid's 7-0 victory?"
The person next to him rolled their eyes dramatically and responded in an extremely low voice.
"Who the hell could have imagined that this half-dead Atletico Madrid team, with their relegation mentality, could score seven goals tonight? Did you see that? They were running like crazy, pressing high up the pitch the whole time!"
A third reporter chimed in, his tone utterly exasperated.
"All the smear articles about that Chinese guy are completely scrapped! Our editor-in-chief even arranged a front-page story this afternoon to bash him to death, but his performance today was like an unreasonable, all-around midfielder!"
"Tell me, how are we supposed to type out his criticisms when we get back? Are we supposed to criticize him for being too physically fit and never getting tired?!"
A loud "bang" was heard.
The wooden door to the press conference hall was pushed open from the outside with extreme force.
Simone, dressed in a sharp black suit, strode to the long table with Falcao and Li Jing and took their seats.
Li Jing pulled out a chair with great relaxation.
He casually placed the gourd-shaped wooden cup filled with tea heavily next to the row of microphones on the table.
"Thump!"
The wooden base struck the solid wood tabletop directly, producing an extremely dull sound.
The sound was amplified several times through the microphone and the sound system in the hall.
Several reporters in the front row who were typing and revising their articles were startled and their hands trembled.
As the three people took their seats, a few scattered flashes of light finally lit up the stage.
But not a single reporter raised their hand to grab the microphone and ask a question.
Normally, as long as these people seize on even the slightest bit of a hot topic, they'll be incredibly aggressive in grabbing the microphone and making trouble.
Now, they're all pretending to be dead, heads down, flipping through blank interview notebooks.
The hall fell into an absolute silence that lasted for ten seconds.
Simone rested his hands on the table, crossed.
His intensely imposing gaze slowly swept across the faces of the reporters in the first row.
Simone suddenly leaned forward, bringing his face close to the microphone in front of him, and curled his lips into an extremely sarcastic smile.
"What's wrong? It seems a bit too quiet here today."
Simone leaned back in his chair and opened fire directly at the audience.
"Don't you all usually love to bombard me with all sorts of sharp questions in the newspapers, teaching me how to strategize? What's wrong with you all today? Why are you all so mute?"
"Could it be that the smear articles you prepared two or three days in advance are now completely useless?"
Simone suddenly reached out and pointed directly in the direction of the deputy editor of Marca who had just been crumpling up the scrap paper.
"Or is it that the professional competence of you, the most authoritative journalists in all of Spain, is so terrible that you can't even come up with a reasonably insightful question on the spot?"
A curly-haired reporter from Mundo Deportivo blushed after being publicly humiliated by the head coach.
Unable to bear the averted and yielding gazes of his colleagues, he steeled himself, stood up, and raised his right hand.
"Mr. Simeone, congratulations on your resounding victory at home."
The reporter's opening remarks were immediately laced with hostility.
"But this is only against Villarreal, who are deep in the relegation zone, and Villarreal's recent form is already extremely poor. And..."
The reporter immediately turned his attention to Li Jing, who was sitting next to him.
"Recent public opinion regarding Li Jing."
"The general consensus is that this is a egregious act that severely lacks basic sportsmanship. How do you explain this?"
These words had just been broadcast through the lobby's speakers.
Before the reporter could even hand the microphone back to the staff member next to him, the reporter was completely taken aback.
Simone slammed his right hand heavily onto the table.
"Lack of sportsmanship?"
Simone pointed directly at the reporter and started yelling at him, showing absolutely no mercy.
"Get this straight! This is a real football match! Not one of those charity dinners where people chat and flatter each other over wine glasses!"
"If you want to see refined ballet, you should go to the Teatro Real in Madrid and buy front-row tickets right now! Instead of sitting here questioning my players who are fighting so hard for victory!"
Simone stood up and patted Li Jing's shoulder forcefully, showing extreme protectiveness.
"As long as the referee doesn't issue a red card and the goal stands, it's an absolutely fair way to win! Next time, we'll do it without hesitation!"
After saying this, Simeone didn't give the other reporters in the audience a chance to ask any more questions.
"This concludes today's press conference!"
Simone turned around, pushed open the wooden door behind him, and walked out.
Li Jing picked up the gourd cup on the table, calmly took a sip of warm mate tea, and followed the old man out.
The hall was left with only a room full of media reporters looking at each other in bewilderment, their faces extremely grim.
……
The morning after the match.
The cold wind was still howling around the edge of the training ground at Mahadahongda.
In the locker room.
Gabi dragged his extremely heavy legs in, threw his training backpack on the ground, and slumped down on the long wooden bench.
"This is pure tyranny!"
Gabby rubbed her aching thigh muscles vigorously while loudly complaining to Kirk, who had just walked in.
"What kind of league match where you just played a high-intensity, full-press game to a 7-0 victory the night before, and then, without even giving us a half-day off, you drag us all straight to the training base the next morning?"
Gabby patted his kneecap hard.
"My legs are still sore, swollen, and numb! I even had trouble climbing the stairs at the base!"
A dull, loud bang.
The locker room door was pushed open from the outside with tremendous force.
Simone strode in, dressed in a gray tracksuit and trousers, a black stopwatch in his hand.
His extremely cold gaze swept across the entire room.
The complaints in the locker room instantly disappeared, and no one dared to even breathe loudly.
Simone raised the stopwatch in his hand and shook it vigorously.
"You've spent enough time lounging on the beaches of Dubai during the winter break! If you don't train soon, your bones will all rust!"
"Everyone! Change into your training spikes and yellow vests immediately! Assemble on the grass in two minutes! One second late and you'll be running ten laps!"
After saying that, Simone turned around and walked out of the locker room.
Li Jing didn't complain at all.
He swiftly pulled open his metal locker, grabbed a breathable, sweat-wicking yellow training vest, and put it on.
The sweat I put in yesterday was completely washed away after I took a shower last night.
Li Jing casually grabbed the gourd-shaped kettle on his desk that had just been filled with hot mate tea, and swiftly became the first to step past everyone else and walk out of the locker room.
The movements were fluid and seamless, without the slightest hesitation or sluggishness.
The training ground in the early morning.
Assistant coach Burgos, wrapped in a thick windproof coat, stood side by side with Simone.
They watched as Li Jing was the first to run onto the grass and start moving his ankles.
Simone kept pressing the stopwatch button in his hand to test it, then suddenly turned his head and spoke.
"Hermann, did you carefully review the full-game heat map from last night that the data analytics department sent over this morning?"
Burgos nodded: "I saw it. Lee's coverage area is extremely impressive, especially his ability to reinforce the flanks of the defensive line."
Simone immediately reached out and interrupted him.
"I spent the whole night going over this in my head."
"I have an extremely radical and crazy tactical idea. I want to make a significant adjustment to Li's position."
Simone drew a huge circle in the air with his finger.
"I want to turn him into an absolute free agent who can move freely in and out of the penalty area, completely covering both penalty areas. I want him to do all the work of an attacking midfielder and a defensive midfielder who can clear the way!"
Upon hearing this, Burgos's eyes widened, and he shook his head in immediate and decisive rejection.
"Diego, you're completely insane! This won't work!"
Burgos pointed to Li Jing, who was jogging on the field, his tone extremely professional and confident.
"Simply covering Atletico Madrid's high-pressing defensive tactics is enough to completely exhaust a top professional player's cardiovascular endurance within sixty minutes!"
"If you also expect him to dribble from the backfield to the edge of the penalty area to participate in the final passing and shooting during transitions from defense to attack, the combination of these two running styles would be extremely taxing on his anaerobic energy!"
Burgos slammed his tactical recorder on his hand.
"This is a tactical arrangement that completely defies the limits of human physiology! Even those superhuman athletes with iron will definitely not last past the 70-minute mark of the second half!"
Simone let out a short, cold laugh.
He confidently stretched out his hand, pointing at the Chinese player on the field who showed no signs of fatigue.
"For other ordinary players, this would indeed be a life-or-death question."
Simone grinned. "But look at that guy, I'm going to try out this idea myself!"
Simone blew the metal whistle hanging around his neck.
"Beep—!"
The sharp whistle made the players, who had just run out of the locker room, quickly line up and assemble on the sidelines.
Simone stood at the very front of the line and loudly announced.
"There was no recovery jogging today! The training session was only forty minutes long; once we finished, we went straight back to the dorm to rest!"
The players' eyes lit up. They only needed to practice for forty minutes?
"Everyone, listen carefully to the following rules!"
Simone raised a hand and gestured to the famous training track.
"Get to the track immediately and complete the 5000-meter interval sprint! Remember, it's interval sprinting!"
"The instant you cross the finish line after running the last 100 meters, without any time to catch your breath, immediately rush into the edge of the penalty area to test your ability to catch a high-flying ball!"
Simone pointed to Burgos, who was standing next to him.
"The moment he controlled the ball, he volleyed it directly to a moving target forty meters away!"
This cruel rule was introduced.
Gabby gasped in shock and couldn't help but raise his hand in protest.
"Coach! This kind of lactic acid buildup test that directly boosts heart rate, especially during this intense league schedule, will cause our muscle condition to plummet tomorrow!"
Simone completely ignored Gabi's complaints.
He turned around and slammed the schedule calendar card next to him.
"Are you out of your mind?! We still have a full five days to recover before our rescheduled away game against Real Sociedad!"
"Ortega's team doctor's liquid nitrogen ice bath and the specially made mate tea that was rushed into supply will definitely be enough to fully restore your damaged muscles by the morning after tomorrow!"
Simone roared as he pressed the stopwatch in his hand.
"Stop haggling! Everyone, one person sets off every thirty seconds! Get running now!"
The extreme physical fitness test has officially begun.
Because of the staggered start, the runway ahead immediately turned into an extremely brutal and torturous scene.
Ten minutes later.
Gabi gritted his teeth and finished the extremely physically demanding 5,000-meter interval run.
He was soaked through, with sweat dripping down his chin.
Gabi's leg muscles protested with extreme soreness and numbness as he stumbled and rushed directly into the receiving area at the top of the penalty area.
Assistant coach Burgos seized the opportunity and threw the ball upwards with tremendous force.
After reaching its highest point, the ball crashes down at high speed due to gravity.
Gabi gasped for breath, his mouth agape, his legs completely weak and unresponsive.
He barely managed to lift his right leg to unload the ball.
However, due to the extreme stiffness caused by muscle fatigue, the ball slammed heavily onto his raised kneecap and bounced more than three meters away.
"Damn it! This damn leg has absolutely no control over its strength!"
Gabby, exasperated, cursed on the spot, clutched his knee, and walked to the grass beside him, bending over to catch his breath.
Falcao was the next to set off.
The South American striker, his face flushed, struggled to adjust his running pace in the receiving area.
With his usual excellent ball control, Falcao managed to unload the high ball that was falling onto the grass in front of him.
But just as he forcefully swung his right foot, preparing to pass the ball over the top to the moving target forty meters away.
Falcao's supporting leg's thigh muscles suddenly and uncontrollably twitched and trembled violently.
The entire passing technique was completely and severely distorted.
"Bang!"
The ball traced an extremely absurd and off-center parabola, flying directly over the sideline and towards the GG sign outside the corner flag area.
Falcao bent over in extreme pain, his hands gripping his knees tightly as he gasped for breath.
Finally, it was Li Jing's turn to appear last.
He accelerated at the start.
The maxed-out tactical thinking ability in his mind completely took over the entire body's muscle feedback system.
Through powerful and rapid calculations, Li Jing precisely controlled his stride length, arm swing frequency, and peak heart rate within an absolutely perfect range, almost like a mathematical model.
The 5,000-meter speed change and turnaround required him to use extremely low oxygen consumption to complete each stride during the acceleration sprint.
The body's physical fitness has been completely enhanced by the system, combined with this extremely abnormal and intelligent running method.
This extreme test, which would be absolutely deadly to others, appeared extremely easy and effortless to Li Jing.
Kirk and Miranda were planning to take a break and slow down their pace during the final sprint of the last few laps.
Looking up, Li Jing, who was leading the race, not only didn't slow down at all, but her stride frequency became more and more stable.
The Atlético Madrid players' indomitable spirit was immediately ignited.
"How come this kid isn't slowing down at all, he's pacing so fast? Keep up with him!"
Miranda gritted her teeth and forced herself to accelerate and sprint forward.
However, it lacks the calculated physical conditioning support that Li Jing possesses.
After forcibly keeping up for half a lap, Miranda felt as if her feet were filled with lead weights that she couldn't move.
He had just crossed the finish line when he collapsed onto a trash can by the side of the track, clutching his stomach and vomiting violently.
The final 100 meters of the straightaway sprint.
Li Jing immediately unleashed a full-speed sprint.
He crossed the finish line with incredible speed.
Completely different from all his teammates who were bent over, panting heavily, and whose legs were trembling.
Instead of bending his straight back, Li Jing strode directly to the receiving area at the top of the penalty area.
He shouted loudly at the assistant coach who was holding the ball.
"Hermann! Throw that ball higher! I need to make it a bit more difficult!"
This remark immediately made Gabby, who was rubbing his leg next to him, roll his eyes.
Burgos gritted his teeth.
This kid is far too arrogant.
Burgos gripped the ball tightly with both hands, gathered all his strength in his arms, and smashed the ball directly upwards to its highest point with extreme force.
The ball flew to a height of more than ten meters.
Then, carrying immense gravitational potential energy, it plummeted rapidly towards Li Jing's head.
All the players on the sidelines who were vomiting and bending over gasping for breath held their breath for a second, staring intently at Li Jing's receiving motion.
Li Jing stood firmly directly below where the ball was about to land.
The skill "World-Class First Touch" instantly activated in my mind.
Under extreme anaerobic loads where the maximum heart rate reaches 180 beats per minute.
Li Jing doesn't need to make any extra step adjustments.
Just 0.1 seconds before the ball made contact with the shoe.
Li Jing gently lifted the instep of his right foot upwards.
This is an extremely subtle and precise ankle lift.
The terrifying force of the ball's descent was completely neutralized.
The ball obediently rolled down the instep of his foot and landed firmly half a meter away from his feet!
There was absolutely no unnecessary backlash!
The ball landed one-tenth of a second later.
The legendary tactical radar has been deployed in full force.
Li Jing didn't even look up to search for the moving target in the distance.
Even in extremely anaerobic conditions, his mind remained absolutely calm.
Li Jing exerted force with the instep of his right foot, pushing out heavily along the trajectory that overlapped with the target in his memory.
"Bang!"
The crisp sound of the ball hitting the shuttlecock echoed across the empty training field in the early morning.
The ball skimmed along the dew-covered grass, drawing an extremely straight white line, and crashed precisely into the moving target.
Courtois, who had been standing at the far goal, was extremely impatient.
He saw his teammates passing the ball terribly one by one, and he was full of complaints and wanted to curse.
But when he saw the white line from Li Jing's pass, which was incredibly fast and flew close to the ground...
Courtois instantly became extremely enthusiastic about making saves.
He yelled and lunged sideways, sliding more than two meters across the grass before clutching the ball tightly in his arms.
As he got up, Courtois noticed that his gloves were covered in vomit from the friction of the ball.
"Li! You definitely did that on purpose! That shot was disgusting! You have to pay for my new gloves!"
Courtois shouted curses from across half the training field.
The entire training area in front of the penalty area fell into complete silence.
Gabby's eyes widened in surprise.
He turned his head very mechanically and nudged Falcao, who was wiping his sweat with a towel next to him.
"Holy crap...did you even see that clearly?"
Gabi swallowed hard.
"This kid just forced himself to finish a 5,000-meter interval sprint, but when he unloaded that ball from over ten meters high..."
Gabi pointed to Li Jing in the distance.
"His supporting leg didn't even tremble slightly!"
The tactical board that assistant coach Burgos was using to record test scores slipped from his hand with a "thud" and crashed heavily onto the grass.
Burgos stood frozen in place.
He turned to look at Simone beside him in utter shock.
"Diego...you are absolutely right."
Burgos's voice was dry.
"His handling of the ball and his vision for the ball's release under such immense stress, reaching the limits of human heart rate."
"His passing error rate is even lower than others' when they're just strolling around!"
Burgos took a deep breath.
"You win, Diego. This kid is a complete inhuman monster, born for those inhuman tactics!"
Simone stopped the stopwatch with great satisfaction, his face filled with unbridled fervor.
"I told you so."
Simone stared directly in Li Jing's direction.
"Five days from now, I'm going to show Real Sociedad's new manager what a truly terrifying, overwhelming attack looks like on their home turf!"
……