The God of Football Starts With Passive Skills-Chapter 248 - 66: Magician Wang Shuo! When Wang Shuo Starts to Show Off! Wang Shuo: Marco, Do You Want to Score Tonight?
As evening fell, the Dortmund players finished a day of grueling training.
Everyone dragged their exhausted bodies home to pack their bags.
’Klopp is a fucking devil!’
Everyone had experienced firsthand the agony of playing under Klopp.
They had an important match tomorrow, yet he still put them through high-intensity training today.
’Isn’t he worried about the team’s condition for the match tomorrow?’
But some never tired of it.
Because they harbored restless hearts.
Wang Shuo, for example.
Even though Klopp’s hellish summer training was enough to drain every last bit of their energy, Wang Shuo still insisted on staying behind for extra practice after every session.
His left foot, free kicks, Shooting...
He never asked anyone to join him.
But before long, a group of people would always quietly gather around him, taking turns to train with him.
They were all a group of young men in their early twenties, free of family burdens and life’s worries, with endless energy to burn every day!
On the pitch, Wang Shuo was in a one-on-two, facing off against Kuba and Grosskreutz.
The three of them were drenched in sweat, yet their spirits remained high.
To Foyelner, Subotic, and the others watching from the sidelines, they didn’t look like three players at all.
They looked more like three red-eyed fighting cocks pecking at each other.
Of course, weaklings like them had long been knocked out of the game.
"I heard from De De that Brazilians have a kind of incredible Magic."
After resting for a bit, Subotic had his energy back.
The advantage of youth.
"What Magic?" Foyelner chimed in from the side, a natural straight man.
"They can turn any place into a street football pitch, anytime, anywhere."
"A piece of rope, a block of wood—literally anything can be a goal."
Everyone burst out laughing at that.
They had to admit, it was true.
"I heard that back when Barça had a lot of Brazilians, they would literally just string up a rope and play street football," said Reus, who had read an article about it.
"Neven, are you thinking of playing some street football, too? I’ll join you," Mario Götze said, eager to play.
Subotic shot the kid an exasperated glance.
The 17-year-old was a prodigy everyone at Dortmund knew about, and his skills on the ball were truly exceptional.
’Play street football with him?’
’Other than Wang Shuo, it seemed no one else on the team was in the mood for that.’
’At least, Subotic wasn’t crazy.’
"What I was trying to say is, if Brazilians really have that kind of Magic, then the Magic of the Chinese is that no matter where they go, they can inspire everyone around them to improve and work hard."
"Even when it’s hell, you can’t help but follow his lead."
Subotic’s words voiced what everyone around was thinking.
Klopp’s training was grueling enough, wasn’t it?
But to endure Klopp’s brutal regimen and then stay for extra practice with Wang Shuo—wasn’t that just piling on the pain?
The thing was, they still couldn’t get enough of it.
"Because we’re so desperate to improve!" Foyelner sighed. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂
This was met with another round of laughter.
But he wasn’t wrong, was he?
They were all around twenty years old; who among them would be content to let their careers stagnate?
A few days ago, word had gotten out from Bartlett’s gym.
Wang Shuo was determined to become the best player in the world!
No one doubted his ambition, nor did they doubt his potential.
Forget everything else—just look at the speed of his improvement...
"Marcus, when did he get that good with his left foot?" Subotic asked, baffled.
Foyelner shook his head. "How should I know?"
"I remember when I left Mainz, his left foot was basically useless. But look at it now. I’m not saying it’s as good as his right, but it’s got to be at least eighty percent there."
The others sighed in admiration upon hearing this.
Even Klopp had said that Wang Shuo had practically beaten his left foot into shape through sheer force of will, and he urged everyone to learn from his example.
"He probably trained it in secret back in China during the break," Foyelner guessed.
Subotic thought that made sense.
"He was already fast and deadly enough with just his right foot. Now he’s added a left foot to the mix... My god, how is anyone supposed to deal with that?"
Just then, a howl of anguish erupted from the pitch.
"What the fuck?! You call that a foul? That’s a red card!"
"Stop pulling down my shorts, you shameless bastard!"
All eyes turned to the pitch.
Even with both Kuba and Grosskreutz teaming up on him, they couldn’t manage to get the ball off Wang Shuo.
Finally, in a fit of frustration, Grosskreutz wrapped his arms tightly around Wang Shuo from behind while Kuba rushed in to steal the ball, secretly tugging on Wang Shuo’s shorts...
The onlookers on the sidelines erupted into catcalls.
"Whoooa, how exciting!"
"Wang, want me to take you out to the clubs in Dusseldorf?"
"I know lots of young models."
The end result was Kuba being chased around and playfully "beaten up" by Wang Shuo.
It was just as Subotic had said.
For some reason, Wang Shuo seemed to have a special, almost magical magnetic field around him.
It drew in other young men his age, men who wanted to work hard and improve together.
And before you knew it, they’d all become one tight-knit group.
For this group of twenty-somethings, professional football wasn’t filled with so much scheming and intrigue.
Even when there was competition for positions, it was more of a healthy rivalry than anything else.
Of course, not everyone joined in.
The "old-timers" like Kael and De De wouldn’t.
Shahin didn’t participate either.
