Chapter 8 I’ve Made My Decision

Although he had scored a truly beautiful goal, Brian Clark wasn’t nearly as excited as everyone else. It was as if the goal had nothing to do with him.

Everyone was cheering for him, but he just stood with his hands on his hips, head down, slowly walking back.

He was observing his left ankle.

This was his biggest worry.

It was here, after all, that he’d been tackled during a match, his ankle twisted out of shape, resulting in a serious injury that kept him off the field for thirteen months.

Even after returning to the pitch, most of the injuries he suffered later were also related to this spot.

For this very reason, the Milan Lab concluded that his foot was no longer suited for the intense, high-contact demands of professional football.

He’d come back to rest with the old man for almost a year. During that year, whether in daily training or playing in amateur matches like this, his left ankle had never acted up again. He’d thought it was because those amateur games weren’t intense enough to push his ankle to its limit.

So this time, hearing that the opponents were strong, Brian Clark had taken extra care to warm up, and even deliberately provoked the other side—he wanted to challenge his limits.

That last play had indeed been a high-intensity test for his left ankle.

And the result was… his left ankle seemed to have withstood the test, not giving out at the most critical moment, and now he didn’t feel anything wrong at all.

This put his mind at ease a little.

……

Brian Clark kept his head down, focused on any changes in his ankle. To those who didn’t know the inside story, Brian Clark just seemed calm. Those who liked him thought he was cool and unruffled, while those who disliked him thought he was arrogant and showing off.

Yvonne Foster glared at Brian Clark with clear hostility.

Just listen to those cheers from the sidelines—Brian Clark had become the star of the match. Winning or losing didn’t even matter anymore; everyone just wanted to watch Brian Clark perform.

And what about himself?

He’d become nothing more than a background prop…

That bastard, even after being released by AC Milan, why was he still hogging the spotlight?

Why was he still the most popular one, even in this dump?

Amid the cheers, Yvonne Foster buried his head deep, fists clenched tight.

……

When the match resumed, George Allen continued to defend Brian Clark, but he was completely unable to stop him now. Brian Clark was like a wild horse running free, galloping across the field, playing however he pleased.

Despite his impressive height, the ball seemed glued to Brian Clark’s feet, making it hard for others to take it from him. He weaved through defenders with the ball, giving the impression of a giant roc dancing among flowers, yet never touching a single petal or leaf… This bizarre scene played out before everyone’s eyes.

The stands were packed with university students who had rushed over after hearing the news. They showered Brian Clark with cheers and applause, holding nothing back.

Although they’d all heard of Brian Clark’s reputation, when Mr. Cooper saw Brian Clark’s performance with his own eyes from the sidelines, he was still shocked: “This… even AC Milan didn’t want a player of this level? I think those professional stars are nothing special compared to him!”

Director Harris, standing nearby, heard Mr. Cooper’s remark but said nothing. In truth, he wanted to tell the boss that it wasn’t Brian’s skills that AC Milan didn’t want—it was his foot…

If not for that serious injury, how could Brian possibly be playing here now? And how could you have gotten him to play a match for you for just ten thousand yuan?

The waves of cheers from the students kept reaching Director Harris’s ears, but he only felt sorrow for Brian Clark—to have to display his football talent in front of just a few hundred people, to face such a disorganized opponent… What was the point of all those skills he’d learned at the AC Milan youth academy?

A shrill whistle snapped Director Harris out of his thoughts. When he looked up, he saw Brian Clark clutching his foot and falling to the ground, with the blond-haired Yvonne Foster lying beside him.

Director Harris’s heart skipped a beat, then he leapt up and roared, “You bastard, Yvonne, are you looking to die?!”

The Red Light team players all rushed over to confront Yvonne Foster.

The Xinglong team hurried to protect their own player.

A conflict was about to erupt.

It was the Xinglong team captain, George Allen, who rushed between the two sides, raising his arms and shouting, “Don’t be rash! Check for injuries first!”

Director Harris had already rushed to Brian Clark’s side, kneeling in front of him and asking, “Where did you get hit?”

“My left foot…”

“Damn it…” Director Harris immediately tried to get up and go after Yvonne Foster.

“It’s fine, Mr. Harris.” But Brian Clark grabbed him.

“Don’t move, Brian, let me go deal with that bastard!” Director Harris tried to break free from Brian Clark’s grip.

“Really, it’s nothing, Mr. Harris.” As he spoke, Brian Clark rolled over and got up from the ground.

“Huh?” Director Harris looked up at the now-standing Brian Clark, “You’re really okay?”

“Would I cover for that idiot?” Brian Clark rotated his left ankle. “It hurt a bit when I got hit, but now it’s fine. Mr. Harris, looks like my left ankle passed the test.” A smile appeared on his face.