Owen Brooks looked at him with some confusion and asked, “Russia? Is that one of the top five European leagues?”

Ethan Brooks shook his head. “No. I just think there’s no need for us to waste time and money going to Spain or Portugal or whatever.” After this journey, Ethan Brooks had seen the highest level of European football. He weighed his own abilities and figured that going to Spain or Portugal probably wouldn’t work out either. But Russian football, compared to the mainstream European leagues, was relatively weaker—maybe if he tried his luck there, he might actually get something out of it?

He didn’t care that the Russian league was lower in standard than the main European leagues. As long as he could play professional football, he’d even run naked in the snow if that’s what it took!

Chapter One: The Hero’s Dead End

Ethan Brooks crashed heavily onto the turf, sending up a spray of grass clippings. With his massive frame hitting the ground like that, it felt as if the earth itself was shaking.

A burst of mocking laughter came from the sidelines.

“He’s just big, nothing more! All show and no substance!”

Above him, his opponent snorted impatiently. He’d been training just fine, only to be suddenly called over for some inexplicable contest, fighting for headers against a guy he’d never even heard of… The coaches must be crazy! He was a defender for the CSKA Moscow youth team, for crying out loud—why was he here wasting time with some dumb giant in this pointless game?

Sensing his opponent’s disdain and irritation, Ethan Brooks didn’t lie on the ground wallowing in self-pity. He grabbed a handful of grass and climbed back to his feet.

“Again!” he shouted toward the wing.

The winger looked helplessly at the coaches on the sideline. Someone in the crowd waved for him to continue.

He had no choice but to step back and send the ball into the box again.

Ethan Brooks jumped once more, but this time he misjudged the ball’s trajectory, and his opponent headed it away before he could get to it.

※※※

The CSKA Moscow coaches watched this unusual “contest” from the sidelines, huddled together and whispering among themselves. Some kept shaking their heads.

This scene was all too familiar. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d seen it many times. Ever since he and his father had set out on their “self-promotion” tour of Europe, situations like this had gone from strange to routine. He’d endured countless sneers and ridicule along the way.

But no matter what, he’d never thought of giving up.

He just thought, if this club doesn’t work out, we’ll try the next one.

But today, that wasn’t an option.

This was their last chance. They had barely any money left, and still needed to save enough for tickets home. They couldn’t exactly walk all the way back to China, could they?

They’d already tried almost every club in Moscow. CSKA Moscow was the last one.

If he still wanted to play professional football, he had to succeed.

But nothing had changed from before…

He could still clearly remember how the CSKA Moscow coaches had rejected them.

No matter what his father said, the bearded coach just kept shaking his head, his face full of disdain.

“No, no… Your son has nothing going for him except his physique… Maybe he could play in a second division somewhere, but CSKA Moscow isn’t a club you can just walk into…”

“Has he played professional football in China? Has he ever been selected for any national teams? No? Then that’s that. Can you tell me what makes you so confident that CSKA Moscow would open its doors to you? Do you even know what kind of club CSKA Moscow is?”

The arrogant coach said all this in a mocking tone.

Faced with these questions, his father had no way to respond. He could only mumble the same thing over and over: “He’s tall… He’s strong… He’s good at headers…”

The coach laughed. “Yes, yes, in a father’s eyes, his son is always the best… I have three kids myself, I understand how you feel. Even if he’s a total good-for-nothing… uh, sorry, I mean even if he’s mediocre, he’s still the best… ha!”

Ethan Brooks watched from the side, itching to rush over and punch that old bastard in the face. He hated it when people talked down to him like that, acting like some kind of savior while treating him like an ant under their feet. Damn it, what’s so great about being a CSKA Moscow coach? It’s not like you’re with Real Madrid or Barcelona! And the worst part was, the coach’s scorn wasn’t just directed at him, but at his father too!

He’d once doubted his father’s feelings for him—just like any kid, after getting scolded and licking his wounds alone, he’d wonder if he was really his dad’s son. Otherwise, why was his father so harsh with him? After he was released from his club, his dad didn’t speak to him for a whole week out of anger. He’d felt misunderstood, because it was the other guy who fouled first—a tackle that could have ended his career! He only fought back out of anger and self-defense… maybe he went a bit too far, but it was the other guy’s fault to begin with. So why did his dad have to give him the cold shoulder?