Chapter 110: Oh No, I Might Have Bought the Wrong Guy

At the sideline, Escrivá remained silent.

Before pushing for Tang Ye’s transfer, he watched many videos of Tang Ye’s matches.

That was the kind of pass in the game—Escrivá had seen it with his own eyes on today’s training ground!

That exact pass!

But…

Escrivá sank into deep thought.

Tang Ye’s passing creativity is extraordinary; he possesses the ability to break open defenses.

But La Liga is not the Eredivisie; Huang Qian cannot build their entire system around Tang Ye like Utrecht did.

This opportunistic approach won’t work!

Escrivá made a decision—one he had already made before Tang Ye even arrived in Spain.

He would transform Tang Ye!

He would preserve Tang Ye’s creativity while also giving him exceptional ball control.

Consistent match performance, combined with the occasional ability to create chances—that was Escrivá’s vision of Tang Ye’s final form!

Montford’s lazy pig is about to be tamed by the Spanish matadors!

“Beep!”

Assistant coach Ma Di blew the whistle to resume the scrimmage.

The scheduled scrimmage was 30 minutes, but Tang Ye performed well, so Escrivá wanted to observe him further.

Because for the upcoming friendly against Porto, he wanted to bring Tang Ye and Ale!

“Switch! Switch!”

Escrivá shouted to the field: “Sebastian and Bakambu swap positions! Ale, just play like a striker!”

Huang Qian’s players had strong discipline; after the next dead ball, Ale ran straight over and put on Bakambu’s jersey.

“Please!”

Bakambu spread his hands toward Escrivá: “Ferran, I just started feeling it—can we not substitute me yet?”

“What!?”

Escrivá gave Bakambu a stern look: “Switch! It’s a training requirement!”

Unable to argue with Escrivá, Bakambu had no choice but to head over to Team B.

What a shame—he’d just begun to grasp what Ale had said, and now he was swapped out in the next round.

Training continued; Escrivá watched Tang Ye with full attention.

He decided to say nothing for now and see how this guy actually played.

But after just a few minutes of silence, Escrivá immediately ran into a problem.

Tang Ye started strolling!

“Hey, Tom, get off!”

Escrivá substituted Tang Ye off; the latter slowly jogged off the pitch.

“Mr. Escrivá!”

“Do you know why I called you?”

“Is this… a training requirement?”

Tang Ye mimicked Escrivá’s earlier words; the latter stared at him, speechless: “No! Tom, do you know you haven’t run a single step in five minutes? This is a training match—only 45 minutes long—you don’t need to conserve energy for a second half!”

Pointing at the players sprinting on the field, Escrivá explained to Tang Ye: “Tom, understand? You need to run, run constantly, then link up with your teammates—that’s what a proper training match looks like.”

“Yes, Mr. Escrivá.”

Tang Ye nodded seriously, but his blinking eyes always made Escrivá feel this guy wasn’t entirely reliable.

“Tom, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Mr. Escrivá!”

“Good, good…”

After the afternoon training ended, Tang Ye felt his body aching.

He checked his current skill progress.

【De Bruyne curved through pass Lv3: Simulation】

Proficiency: 320/400

【De Bruyne 45-degree cross Lv3: Simulation】

Proficiency: 8/100

【De Bruyne far-corner curler Lv3: Simulation】

Proficiency: 89/250

After finishing training at Utrecht, Tang Ye’s proficiency in these three skills had stopped increasing.

Until today, with his new club, Tang Ye finally saw these three template skills again!

Right now, the one closest to leveling up was the 【curved through pass】—Tang Ye’s most important skill as a playmaking midfielder.

He just didn’t know how much it would improve when it reached Lv4.

There was good news: since arriving at Huang Qian, his skill upgrades had become easier.

He discovered this during today’s training.

Last season at Utrecht, each successful through pass earned him 0.2 proficiency; a perfect one gave 0.4.

But at Villarreal, his proficiency gains changed slightly.

Each through pass, as long as the positioning was roughly accurate, now granted him 0.5 proficiency.

A perfect one gave him a full 1 point.

The curved through pass worked this way; the other two skills were the same.

According to Tang Ye’s guess, this was likely due to increased training rewards from the stronger team.

“Sebastian, I just realized something.”

In the physio room, Tang Ye lifted his head and looked at Ale, who was lying to his right.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“We should have more ambition—we must climb higher! The higher, the better!”

“…”

Ale buried his face in the pillow—he couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.

It was a very sensible statement.

But…

Why did Tang Ye say it in such a hilarious way???

…

It was August. The Villarreal players traveled to Porto, Portugal, preparing for a friendly against the Primeira Liga powerhouse at the Estádio do Dragão.

Compared to the international friendlies between AC Milan and Chelsea during the same period, the Villarreal-Porto match had low global attention.

But that didn’t matter.

Global attention was low—but in China, it was hot!

【Guys, should we be able to watch this friendly?】

【I haven’t seen Tang the King play in months—I’m trembling all over】

【Same as the guy above—we’re both addicted! Damn, why does La Liga only start mid-August? Can’t they kick off earlier?】

【Come on guys, where can we find this match?】

【Broadcast isn’t the issue—the issue is whether Tang the King will play】

【He’ll definitely play in a friendly—why else would Villarreal have bought him? Tang the King’s rental fee alone is worth millions!】

On match day, Tang Ye arrived with the team at the famous Estádio do Dragão.

“Be cautious with attacking passes—our opponents are excellent at counterattacks; we must pay attention. Keep the ball on the ground, raise our possession rate—that’s the key!”

Escrivá emphasized tactics in the locker room; Tang Ye chewed gum, head down, eyes vacant.

Escrivá’s eyes were sharp—he immediately noticed Tang Ye’s distraction: “Tang, what are you doing?”

“Oh? Oh! Sorry, Mr. Escrivá, keep going—I’ve been listening.”

Tang Ye sat up straight, speaking earnestly.

Escrivá didn’t believe him. He walked over, crouched down: “Tom, it’s fine—tell me what you’re thinking, tell me your problem.”

“Alright.”

Tang Ye nodded: “Why is this place called Estádio do Dragão?”

“…”

“Hahaha!”

“Hahaha! Ferran, damn it, you better explain this to Tang!”

The Villarreal players laughed harder and harder.

“So you were thinking about this?”

Escrivá sized up Tang Ye: “Honestly, I don’t know either.”

“What a shame…”

“But! The focus now is the match—the match—we must win this game!”

Escribá gestured for Tang Ye to stand up from the chair, then pushed him toward the door: “You can head to the pitch now, Tang. You’re playing today—focus.”

“Can you promise me one thing?”

Escribá squinted; Tang Ye turned to look at his head coach. “Of course, Mr. Ferran. Stop thinking about why this place is called the Dragon Stadium—it’s not the point today!”

…

“Okay, guys, this is Wang Chao’s livestream.”

“The video quality isn’t great today, but there’s no choice—warm-up match broadcast equipment is always trash. Just deal with it.”

Wang Chao frantically adjusted the livestream’s video feed.

He had livestreamed every recent Villarreal match, even when Tang Ye wasn’t on the roster.

No choice—the La Liga season was about to start, and domestic fans would have official channels to watch then.

Even though it was free, Wang Chao couldn’t compete with the official channels.

Because the official channel’s name was “China Central Television”!

Wang Chao had a sharp instinct—he could feel this warm-up match was his last chance to absorb Tang Ye’s traffic!

“The match has started. Today, our King Tang is sitting on the bench—this is Tang Ye’s first time making the squad since joining Villarreal on loan.”

“Let me introduce the starting eleven for the home team first. I’ll introduce the away team’s starters once King Tang comes on as a sub.”

“Porto, 4-3-3 formation, goalkeeper Casillas!”

!

“…”

The director’s camera cut to Tang Ye on the bench—still chewing gum.

He looked sleepy; casual fans thought he hadn’t rested well.

Knowledgeable fans were already waiting for Tang Ye to enter the pitch.

Sitting on the bench, Tang Ye noticed the intensity of this warm-up match was low.

Porto and Villarreal had reached an unspoken agreement: this match was about regaining rhythm, not playing hard.

But in the 34th minute, Porto’s midfielder Ruben Neves suddenly unleashed a long-range shot, shattering the balance.

“Damn, that was accurate?”

Neves’s shot nearly made Tang Ye spit out his gum.

“Enough of that, Tang—get ready to go on!”

Ahead, Escribá waved Tang Ye over; Ale was called at the same time.

“Guys! Here he comes! Tang Ye’s on!”

“Any Porto fans in the livestream? The assist king and top scorer of the Eredivisie are warming up—scared yet?”

“Which team’s fan are you, streamer? Oh, you’re a Villarreal fan.”

Wang Chao turned on his camera; the red-and-white Utrecht jersey hanging on the wall had been replaced with Villarreal’s yellow jersey.

You thought Wang Chao was a Utrecht fan? He wasn’t.

Fans of non-Big Five league teams are usually few; Wang Chao was never a Utrecht supporter.

“Regular viewers should know—I’m a Villarreal fan. I’ve been watching La Liga for over twenty years.”

The second half began; both teams made substitutions. Villarreal’s head coach Escribá was ruthless—he substituted seven players at once, completely changing the scene.

New signings from this season and bench players from last season all took the field.

Among them: Tang Ye, his old teammate Ale, and his new friend Rodri!

Jogging onto the pitch, Tang Ye noticed many teammates touched the grass and kissed it.

He didn’t know why they did it, but he copied them.

【You purchased Valdi’s Red Bull】

“Control the ball! Control the ball!”

Same as always—Escribá demanded his players keep possession.

Rodri, Soriano, and Trigueros kept passing and moving, making Porto’s forwards frantic.

Of course, this problem wasn’t just affecting Porto’s defenders.

Tang Ye was facing it too!

He couldn’t get the ball!

“Move! Run!”

Escribá shouted at Tang Ye.

Oh?

Thinking harder, Tang Ye realized it.

His teammates weren’t passing to him because he wasn’t in the right position?

He quickly found a better spot and sprinted there.

The moment he arrived, Rodri passed to him!

Of course!

Tang Ye’s eyes lit up.

The training paid off—he now actively looked for teammates after receiving the ball.

Short pass delivered!

The ball reached Soriano’s feet!

Perfect!

Tang Ye found the feeling—the rhythm of playing possession football with his teammates!

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Escribá applauded Tang Ye on the pitch.

Tang Ye was lazy, unenthusiastic in training, easily distracted during coaching talks, asked weird questions, and always stayed in his room gaming…

But once you ignored all his flaws, his strengths were plenty.

A classic “sow-type” player—he wouldn’t listen, but once he touched the ball, he’d run!

“Come on! Come on!”

“Mine!”

Tang Ye trapped the ball, executed a flashy stationary bicycle maneuver, then passed to Ale ahead.

Ale passed to Bakambu, but Porto’s defender intercepted the moment Bakambu touched the ball and cleared it away.

From the 45th minute to the 75th minute of the second half, Villarreal controlled 74% of possession.

It looked impressive.

But check the score: 1-0, Villarreal trailing.

In chances created: Villarreal had five, fewer than Porto’s seven.

Clearly, Porto’s form this new season was terrifying.

As last season’s fourth-place finisher in La Liga, Villarreal’s bench squad couldn’t beat Porto’s bench squad!

“Huff… puff…”

Constant passing was wearing Tang Ye down—worse, he was playing central midfield.

In Villarreal’s classic passing system, midfielders bore an enormous passing burden.

That’s why Tang Ye now had a headache.

Watching the ball roll toward him, a wicked thought suddenly surged in Tang Ye’s mind.

Fuck it—I can’t take it anymore!

Let the ball roll past him, then turned and controlled it with his left foot.

Maybe because of Zhou Botong’s Left-Right Combat technique, Tang Ye now couldn’t tell his left foot from his right.

Whatever—it didn’t matter. Dribble straight ahead!

Assistant coach Ma Di, responsible for recording team issues, pulled out his pen and wrote one line.

【Tom, consistent with scout report: poor discipline】

“Go! Go!”

Tang Ye shouted ahead.

Bakambu hadn’t reacted yet, but Ale had already started his run.

Tang Ye trapped the ball, then curled it with his outside right foot, sending it rolling from right to left.

To Ale!

Ale scores!

That’s the goal-scoring instinct of the Eredivisie’s top striker!

【At 38, you joined Villarreal in La Liga and recorded your first assist in your debut—unthinkable for a 38-year-old in La Liga】

【Unfortunately, warm-up goals aren’t celebrated—you gained 1 Reverse Point】

“Huh…”

Ma Di raised an eyebrow and kept writing.

【Tom, consistent with scout report: poor discipline, but high creativity】

After Ale’s goal, players slowly returned to their positions.

The camera cut to Escribá in front of the away team’s bench—the Spaniard noticed something.

A very, very serious problem!

Fuck, why is Tang Ye passing with his left foot?

Some fans didn’t notice, but Escrivá, standing on the sideline as coach, saw it clearly.

Tang Ye is passing with his fucking left foot—and using the outside of his foot?

When I watched the Utrecht match footage, Tang Ye was passing with his right foot.

Did we... buy the wrong player?

(End of Chapter)