At seventeen, Chen Feng was China's most promising young striker in the domestic Star Cup. But before the final, the team manager hinted that he should pay a “guaranteed roster spot fee.”
He refused to back down. He was immediately suspended, smeared, and kicked off the national youth team. Even his chance to try out overseas was blocked.
Everyone said a Chinese player blacklisted by the domestic system would be lucky to end up as a ball boy abroad.
But fate played a cruel joke on him. He wanted to become a powerful striker more than anything, yet the System maxed out his starting talent in “playmaking vision.”
He had no flashy dribbling skills, and his shooting was inconsistent, but on the pitch he could see every passing lane, every weakness in the defense, and every gap where a teammate was about to break into a sprint.
A powerhouse club's youth academy dismissed him as too frail and unsuited to any position. But their local rivals spotted the overlooked midfield mastermind on the training ground.
Starting with one pass that sliced through five defenders in an intra-squad match, Chen Feng silenced the teammates who had mocked him, made the big clubs regret letting him go, and left the European media exclaiming, “A Chinese player can control the tempo of a match too!”
As the people back home kept smearing him, superstar players at major clubs called out to say they wanted him on their team, and the national team opened its doors to him again, Chen Feng only smiled coldly. “You blacklisted me back then. Don't come looking to bask in my glory now.” A true king of football doesn't just score goals. He decides who gets to score.
