[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-start-with-r9-template":3,"chapter-start-with-r9-template-start-with-r9-template-chapter-1":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Start with R9 Template",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":18,"prevChapterSlug":19,"totalChapters":20,"novelImage":21},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":12,"translator":16,"content_hash":17},1388668,1840,"Chapter 1: Rebirth","start-with-r9-template-chapter-1",1,"\u003Cp>August 6, 2017. England. Carrington Training Base.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ugh...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A groan escaped Jeremy Ling as he rubbed his gritty, sleep-filled eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flopped back against the thin pillow, the familiar smell of damp towels and Deep Heat rub filling his nose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Damn... leading 2-0 only to get thrashed by Sporting. And Sesko missed another sitter. Truly worthy of Amorim...\" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was still fuming about the Champions League match he'd watched last night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>United were still a mess, even in 2027.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It felt like nothing would ever...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Wait.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy's eyes snapped open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not drowsy anymore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wide open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked around, his heart suddenly hammering against his ribs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This wasn't his flat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the cramped, tiny dorm room from the academy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The peeling posters of Rooney and Ronaldo—the first Ronaldo—were still tacked to the wall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The air had that same stale, sweaty-teenager smell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He scrambled out of the single bed and stumbled to the small mirror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The face staring back wasn'g the bitter, 27-year-old man he was last night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was... him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At seventeen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Younger, thinner, no trace of the cynicism that had settled in his features.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Did I... Did I stay up too late? Am I still dreaming?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He grabbed his phone from the nightstand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The screen lit up: August 6, 2017. 7:03 AM.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ten years...\" he whispered, sinking onto the edge of the bed. \"I'm back ten years.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn't a dream.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was real.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He instinctively looked down at his legs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn't just back. He was whole.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He ran a trembling hand over his left knee, feeling the smooth skin, the solid joint beneath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no scar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No deep, constant ache.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No memory of the \"accident.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'Two days later, during training.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'He remembered the sound.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'A wet, tearing pop.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'He remembered his teammate's face—not apologetic, just... blank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'\"Accidentally\" stepped on. An 'accident' that snapped his collateral ligament.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A bitter laugh threatened to bubble up in his throat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All because of that semifinal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All because of him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Tie.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could still hear the head coach's oily voice in the hotel room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Just go easy, Ling. Let them have the win. It's for the 'greater good'.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His 'greater good'.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their payday.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy had been stubborn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd refused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He played his heart out, even as his own teammates seemed to be running in quicksand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then, in the 89th minute, he'd done it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sprinted down the wing, cut past three... no, five defenders, and unleashed a rocket from outside the box.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A world-class equalizer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They still lost the match.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he'd cost them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd cost the agents and the officials a fortune.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two days later, his knee was gone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The authorities covered it up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'Manchester United Youngster Suffers Ligament Tear Due to Overtraining!'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The media printed it without a single question.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They used threats and payoffs to silence him, to protect their own skins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His former roommates, Rashford and McTominay, were already breaking into the first team.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He... he hadn't even gotten a contract renewal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His career was over before it began.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd spent the last ten years in a haze of despair, watching his \"friends\" become superstars while he coached kids for pocket money, his potential bleeding out into nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They treat football like a tool.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A way to get rich.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Your futures are set... What about mine?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heh... No one cares.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now... Now he was back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A fierce, protective anger surged through him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would never make the same choice again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That cesspool? The national team? They could burn for all he cared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if it meant burning bridges, he would never go back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for changing nationality...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gut tightened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was impossible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The football association was a pit of vipers, but that had nothing to do with China.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He remembered the fans, the students studying in Manchester who would come to academy games just to see him, bringing him food from home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He couldn't betray them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Chinese football was a mess, you didn't just... leave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You didn't run away for \"greater glory\" and call it \"dedication.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That felt like treason.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No World Cup? Fine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would prove, right here at the club, that a Chinese player could conquer the world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd make his stand here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as he was clenching his fists, a cold, mechanical voice echoed inside his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Green Field System officially activated!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Scanning host information...]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Screening for compatible templates...]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy jolted, nearly falling off the bed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What the hell...?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked around the empty room, his heart pounding again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A system?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn't the same impulsive kid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During his long, depressing recovery, he'd done nothing but read.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd devoured countless football novels, escaping into fantasies where he was the hero.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had he... become one?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As if responding to his thought, a translucent blue panel materialized in the air in front of him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Name: Jeremy Ling]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Age: 17]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Attributes: ???]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Template: None]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Modules: None]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Template screening completed...]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Giggs \"Welsh Wizard\" Template!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[CR7 \"Golden Edge\" Template!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Henry \"Highbury Express\" Template!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Rivaldo \"Blade\" Template!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Ronaldinho \"The Samba Dancer\" Template!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Ronaldo \"The Phenomenon\" Template!] [...]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Familiar, legendary faces flashed across the screen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy's mind raced, the earlier shock giving way to a cold, sharp analysis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was his second chance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He couldn't mess it up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Which template was strongest?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'No, that's the wrong question.' Which was the most suitable?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked in the mirror again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>185cm, about 78kg.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was well-built for a 17-year-old.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Henry... The King. Ronaldinho... The Dancer. CR7...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Drawing in progress...]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Wait, I don't get to choose?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Congratulations! Obtained: Ronaldo \"The Phenomenon\" Template!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy stared, breathless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His unlucky streak... was it finally over?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Ronaldo template? R9?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man who was FIFA World Player at 19. Ballon d'Or at 20.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two World Cups.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Three FIFA World Player awards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man who was a force of nature, an avalanche of speed, power, and impossible skill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"But... I'm a left winger,\" Jeremy said out loud, his voice cracking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he remembered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his early days, before the injuries, before he became a pure, unstoppable number 9, R9 had played wider.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had the speed, the agility, the terrifying technical skill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could dribble, score, and pass. He was... perfect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A thought clarified in his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A template is just a tool. It's a foundation, not a prison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he let it rule him, he'd just be a copy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A puppet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could use this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could take R9's gifts and forge them into something new, something perfect for the modern game.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had to be smart. Every step had to be perfect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as Jeremy stood, ready to bolt downstairs for training, an ocean of new information flooded his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Countless fragmented memories—not his own.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'The feel of a perfect step-over. The explosive first step that left defenders for dead. The instinct of where the goal was, always.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was too much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His vision blurred, and the world tilted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy Ling collapsed back onto the bed, falling into a deep, heavy sleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy leaped out of bed, a frantic gasp escaping him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He scanned the room—still 2017, still Carrington.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He focused his mind, \"System.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The panel appeared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Ronaldo \"The Phenomenon\" Template!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He took a shaky breath and clicked on his attributes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Dribbling: 79 (97)]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Passing: 68 (86)]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Shooting: 69 (95)]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Speed: 74 (94)]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Physicality: 67 (92)]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Defending: 35 (51)]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Explanation: The values in parentheses represent the upper limit the host can achieve through training...]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jeremy ignored the rest of the text.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyes were fixed on the numbers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>79 dribbling. 74 speed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At seventeen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Li Tie,\" he whispered to the empty room. \"You just made the biggest mistake of your life.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>----\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Note : Li tie is former everton player who coach chinese national football team who's jailed for 20 years because fixing matches, accepting bribes, and offering bribes to get the top coaching job.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another note : starting this fic cause i enjoy watching manunited again and want to revive the glory of the old days 😂\u003C\u002Fp>",1352,"2026-06-05T22:48:22.783Z","novelbin.me","47d41c77323fb8b0e67ce9204ccffefb8b489bb4fb43768218bbc786c946d3ce","start-with-r9-template-chapter-103","start-with-r9-template-chapter-102",371,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fstart-with-r9-template-cover.jpg"]