Chapter 2

Is Tang Ba really dead? Who cares!

With a new life right before her eyes, considering this question seemed quite foolish. Therefore, she should adopt a new attitude towards life to welcome the new beginning.

Tang Jue quickly organized the information in his mind: Tang Jue, born on August 25, 1987.

So, not only do the two have the same name, but they also share the same birthday. Could this be the will of heaven!

Born in a small town in northern Sichuan, he moved to Lyon, France with his parents at the age of three. His parents opened a small restaurant in Lyon. At the age of seven, he joined the Lyon club's training program. Due to his excellent skills, he was highly appreciated by the youth team coach, Pinto. He once scored thirteen goals in a single match!

Scoring thirteen goals in a single match? So, the founder of the family was also a football genius!

However, the family tree did not mention that he played football; it only said that he was extremely intelligent, earning his doctorate at the age of 25 and starting cancer research. At 28, he developed a cancer treatment drug and founded a pharmaceutical company, thus rising to create a family legacy that would last for generations!

This body created a miracle from scratch. Tang Jue felt a surge of ambition. He wiped the rain from his face and thought to himself: Since this body is now under my control, the course of life should change.

Money must be earned to establish a lasting legacy for this family, making those who mocked him kneel before him every day. Football must be played to make up for the regrets of his previous life!

In his previous life, Tang Jia's descendants could only do business and nothing else. Tang Jue was a football fan.

In his previous life, players were ranked based on their skill levels, from lowest to highest: professional, star, and super star. Each level was divided into three stages: beginner, intermediate, and advanced. Tang Jue wanted to know what level the current body was at.

So he began to call out to the supercomputer "Xiaofeifei" in his mind.

"Xiaofeifei! Xiaofeifei!"

However, no matter how much he called, he received no response from "Xiaofeifei."

Tang Jue thought to himself: Could the supercomputer have been damaged during the穿越 (穿越 means "穿越" in Chinese, which can be translated as "穿越" in English, but in this context, it means "time travel")? Or is it that the supercomputer cannot follow him through time travel?

"Ah!" Tang Jue sighed deeply. Then, he began to familiarize himself with the information of this life. The information of fourteen years was not much, and Tang Jue became completely familiar with it in an hour. The tired him soon fell into a deep sleep.

At this moment, the lightning in the sky outside had disappeared, but the heavy rain was still raging. The billboard outside the window did not fall, standing firm like a pine tree on a rock, unafraid of the storm!

...

The next morning, Tang Jue was woken up by his mother. Rubbing his eyes, a doting face appeared before him, this was his mother in this life. Chen Xiue looked at him and said, "Juewaizi, did the thunder scare you last night?"

Tang Jue lifted his clear and slightly immature face and said somewhat angrily, "Mom, I'm already... fourteen years old, how could it scare me." Tang Jue almost said he was already eighteen.

Mother smiled and said, "Good, good, good! You've grown up, get up quickly, you'll be late."

Tang Jue attended a public school in France. His parents had him study Chinese systematically at the Confucius Institute during the summer. After breakfast, Tang Jue put on his backpack and went to school. The road was still wet from last night's storm, the slippery surface like a layer of black paint. After taking a few steps, he felt a heavy pat on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw a sixteen-year-old boy.

The boy said discontentedly, "Why didn't you wait for me before leaving?"

Tang Jue smiled and said, "Bei Qiang, you're too slow."

Bei Qiang, sixteen years old, from Hangzhou. His parents worked at a company in Lyon, white-collar workers. Bei Qiang and Tang Jue attended the same public school and, being Chinese, quickly became friends in a foreign land.

The two boys walked side by side in the cold morning, the morning light illuminating their path. They were going to immerse themselves in Chinese culture and explore the five-thousand-year-old civilization. They were seeking their roots in the long history of China!

...

At four o'clock in the afternoon, at the Lyon youth team training base.

Tang Jue, wearing a white casual short-sleeved shirt and black shorts, with a sports bag over his shoulder and a pair of football boots in his hand, walked into the training field.

There were already seven or eight people on the training field, changing into their football uniforms. A guy who was 1.75 meters tall smiled at Tang Jue and said, "Tang, hurry up and change, today we'll see who can juggle the ball the most times."

Tang Jue, who was 1.65 meters tall, looked up at the boy and smiled, "Benzema, I've told you, you'll never beat me."

Benzema was somewhat angry and said resentfully, "I'm in good form today, maybe I'll win. Are you afraid to compete?"

Tang Jue waved to his teammates while saying, "Juggling, you'll never beat me. How about we have a shooting competition today? In a match, whoever scores the most goals wins, what do you think?"

Benzema touched his buzz cut, thought for a moment, and said somewhat angrily, "No, let's have a shooting practice competition."

Tang Jue quickly said, "Okay, let's do that, no backing out. If I win, you have to let me play your PS for a week." Benzema felt like he was being tricked, but his competitive nature wouldn't allow him to back down.

Benzema said, "Okay, if I win, you have to... lend me that Ronaldo picture book."

The two hit their palms together to seal the deal!

Ben Arfa was secretly laughing on the side, thinking to himself, a good show is about to begin!

Five minutes later, after a whistle, more than twenty boys gathered around Pinto. Looking at the group of boys, Pinto's eyes showed pride. This batch of young players was the best he had seen in eight years, with Tang Jue, Benzema, and Ben Arfa being the most outstanding.

Pinto looked at Tang Jue, and his eyes suddenly became dim, sighing inwardly.

Ah! Heaven envies talent!

Pinto quickly composed himself, suppressing his melancholy, and arranged the training content.

After last night's heavy rain, the air in Lyon became fresh. Tang Jue followed the group, jogging around the field. The field was surrounded by a ten-meter-high wire fence, which was convenient for not having to spend time retrieving the ball.

Under Pinto's lead, the Lyon youth team completed their warm-up and began ball control exercises. Tang Jue pulled the white football back with his right foot, and it flew up.

Once, twice, three times...

Tang Jue's ball control was excellent. He was like a magician, and the football was his prop. Tang Jue juggled the ball in various ways: with his shoulder, head, chest, thigh, and the inside of his foot...

If the football were a piece of iron, then Tang Jue's body would be a magnet. His body had a strong attraction to the football. Every time the football fell from the air, it landed on some part of his body and then happily bounced back up.

Benzema's football fell onto the grass after 775 juggles. His previous record was 704, so he was in a good mood, feeling like he was dominating in a PS game.

Feeling good, he turned to look at Tang Jue. In an instant, Benzema's mood turned sour. Because the football was still happily bouncing on Tang Jue's body.

He's a demon!

Benzema thought resentfully.

At this moment, Pinto looked at Tang Jue, and the sadness in his eyes deepened.

Next came the technical training. From a distance, more than twenty boys were dancing on the green field, their movements graceful and strong. Ages eleven to sixteen were the key years for a football player's technical development. These boys were growing rapidly in the sweat, laying a solid foundation for their future careers in professional football.

Pinto blew his whistle and shouted, "Cross and pass, then shoot."

...