Luton Town had appointed a Chinese head coach — and soon after, that coach brought in four new players. At first glance, it seemed Luton's transfer business was efficient, but once the media exposed the backgrounds of these four signings, the fans could only feel disappointed.
Among the four, the only one who drew any optimism was Danny Drinkwater from Manchester United's U18s. He was also the only player Luton actually paid for. To bring him in, the club had to pay United an annual loan fee of £100,000, on top of covering his wages.
Still, this was a player from a big club like Manchester United. Though only eighteen, the fans could at least look forward to seeing him play — after all, this was a Manchester United youth product. United's academy had a strong reputation across England.
The remaining three recruits, however, left Luton supporters utterly dejected.
Charlie Austin, a player from the amateur leagues.
Jamie Vardy, another non-league striker.
And N'Golo Kanté, a small Frenchman standing at just 169 cm.
God, where on earth had Luton dug up these players…
By this point, the fans' hearts were already filled with frustration. Being hit with a 30-point deduction before the season even started was demoralizing enough, and now the club's transfer business looked neither ambitious nor hopeful. It seemed as if Luton were preparing to tumble out of the professional league system altogether.
In the eyes of the supporters, the club's decisions made no sense. Instead of fighting to return to the Championship, they had hired a Chinese coach and filled the squad with unknown amateurs — and at best, a semi-finished product on loan from United.
To them, this wasn't rebuilding — it was surrender.
"Luton fans might as well prepare for several years of life in the amateur divisions…"
— The Hat Seller, Luton's best-selling local newspaper, wrote pessimistically.
While fans fretted and the media either mocked or pitied them, the team finally began regrouping for the new season.
Captain Kevin Nicholls was the first to return. In the manager's office, he met the club's new head coach, Gao Bo.
Nicholls frowned slightly as he looked at the young man before him — a coach younger than himself. It wasn't Gao Bo's nationality that troubled him, but his youth. Could someone this young lead a struggling team like Luton?
Gao Bo studied the muscular midfielder standing before him and quietly activated his system's analysis. Nicholls was a strong, well-balanced player who could operate on either flank or through the middle. While none of his attributes stood out as exceptional, his overall stability was invaluable — especially at League Two level.
"Kevin, I'm the new head coach — Gao Bo," he said with a calm smile, extending his hand.
If Gao Bo could handle tactics and training himself, then he still needed someone who could control the dressing room — a true leader on the pitch, and someone loyal to the manager's side.
Kevin Nicholls had served the club for many years and was not the sort to cause trouble. Though he had doubts about Gao Bo's inexperience, he responded to the friendly gesture and shook hands firmly.
"To a good partnership," Gao Bo said with a grin.
Nicholls was still skeptical — but he wasn't about to challenge the man outright.
Meanwhile, out on the training pitch, players were trickling in one after another. Small groups gathered, whispering about the new coach.
Since the former manager's resignation at the end of last season, the appointment of a replacement had been the team's biggest talking point. Most of them already had some idea of who was coming in — the local papers had provided plenty of gossip.
A Chinese coach.
Won the FA Youth Cup with Chelsea's U18s.
Now taking over Luton Town — a club in chaos.
The players who remained understood how dire the situation was. Yet for some of them, this instability offered opportunity. With most of last season's starters gone, academy graduates now had a real chance to step up.
That didn't include Sam Parkin, the 27-year-old forward who had just recovered from a long-term injury — and had returned visibly heavier. Still, he looked in high spirits.
"Hey! Guess what — Bristol Rovers got in touch with me today!" Parkin shouted, draping an arm over a teammate's shoulder. "You know that club, right? League One! Not bad, huh?"
His voice was loud enough for everyone on the pitch to hear.
A few players glanced over, impressed — or at least pretending to be. After all, Parkin was one of the few in the squad with Championship experience.
Then he added with a grin, "And have you heard? Our new boss is Chinese! What a joke — do the Chinese even know football?"
His tone dripped with mockery. The comment drew awkward looks from several teammates. None dared laugh. The idea of a Chinese manager in English football was still unheard of — and the situation did little to lift morale.
They had never seen a Chinese man standing on the touchline giving orders. To them, it sounded absurd.
"Enough, Sam! If you don't want to stay, you can leave anytime!" came a sharp voice.
It was George Pilkington, the team's main centre-back and acting captain whenever Nicholls was unavailable.
Parkin smirked. "Hoho, looks like our big star's already protecting the new boss."
He wasn't afraid of George Pilkington — the 26-year-old defender might be respected, but Parkin's arrogance made him reckless.
However, the banter stopped the moment Kevin Nicholls walked onto the training ground, accompanied by a few young players.
Parkin fell silent immediately. He wasn't afraid of George — but facing Nicholls was another matter. The captain's sheer presence and authority could make even the cocky striker shrink.
As for his supposed "interest" from Bristol Rovers — that was a lie.
After last season's serious injury, no club was chasing him. He had fabricated the story to pressure the club into giving him a raise. Luton's wage budget was lighter now after so many departures, and Parkin figured he could exploit that.
As for Gao Bo? In his mind, the new Chinese coach was nothing but a cheap stopgap — a manager brought in to save money.
At least, that's what Sam Parkin believed.
"Let me introduce everyone," Kevin said, turning to the group. "This is Kanté, a Frenchman who plays as a defensive midfielder. He's seventeen years old this year."
Kanté flashed a shy smile, his white teeth gleaming under the summer sun.
A seventeen-year-old French kid — the players really couldn't understand what the new coach was thinking. Looking at his small, thin frame, they wondered: could someone like him really survive the physical battles of League Two football?
Most of the players studied the boy who stood barely one-point-seven metres tall with open skepticism.
Compared to Kanté, Jamie Vardy — with his sharp eyes and wiry, powerful build — commanded far more natural respect. Even if no one knew yet how good he actually was, one glance at his fierce expression and stocky frame told you this wasn't a man to provoke.
Still, most of the attention centred on Danny Drinkwater, the player on loan from Manchester United. Whatever else happened, the squad knew one thing: in two or three years, Drinkwater would probably be playing in the Championship or even the Premier League. After all, this was a mainstay from United's U18 side — a pedigree few could match here.
The most unremarkable of the four, Charlie Austin, didn't attract much notice at all. His quiet demeanour and ordinary appearance made it easy for the others to overlook him entirely.
A few minutes later, Gao Bo walked onto the training pitch with his coaching staff.
There were now two new faces among them. One was Danny King, the new goalkeeping coach.
The other was Haruko Sakuragi, a Japanese team doctor who had worked with Gao Bo during his time at Chelsea's U18s.
Even Gao Bo himself had been surprised when he called Haruko to invite her to Luton — she accepted immediately, without hesitation, leaving all the persuasion he'd prepared completely unnecessary.
In any case, the current coaching staff now numbered five. Gao Bo planned to expand further later — ideally adding a technical analyst, a tactical intelligence specialist, and a head scout. Only then would his backroom setup feel complete.
Seeing the coaches arrive, the players quickly stopped chatting and hurried over to form a circle. The coaches stood in the middle, their presence immediately commanding attention.
Gao Bo scanned the faces around him, his pulse quickening slightly.
This was his first senior squad — the first team he would lead as a head coach.
The first step on his long journey. If he wanted to carve out a place for himself in this football world, the coming season would be decisive.
Excitement stirred in his chest. If not for the [Wisdom Eye] ability from the system being limited to once per day, he would have already used it to analyse every player on the pitch. He was eager to see their true attributes, their strengths and weaknesses.
For now, he could only rely on observation — watching how they moved, trained, and played to gauge their quality.
As Gao Bo studied his players, they too were studying him.
They had to admit: the new coach was a good-looking man, calm and composed. But as they saw him for the first time, many sighed quietly.
He was just too young.
Only twenty-seven — younger even than captain Kevin Nicholls. To stand among a group of twenty-something professionals and command authority at that age… it wouldn't be easy to win their full respect.
"Many people say we're going to be relegated this season."
Gao Bo's calm voice instantly silenced the training ground. Even Captain Kevin Nicholls hesitated, unsure how to respond.
John Aston, the assistant coach, watched quietly. He had grown to admire Gao Bo deeply. After receiving the detailed training plan the young coach had written, John had practically raised both hands in admiration.
This was a head coach with his own clear tactical philosophy. From that plan alone, John could see Gao Bo's understanding of football — thoughtful, structured, and developed on the foundation of modern tactical minds. Given time, the young man might truly leave his mark on European football.
But there was something else John couldn't ignore: Gao Bo had never played professionally. He was what English football would call an academic coach.
And that came with its risks. On paper, theory and tactical ideas always sounded good — but implementing them on the pitch required something more: the players' belief.
A great coach must be a leader — persuasive, inspiring, someone players are willing to follow.
No matter how perfect a tactical blueprint may look on paper, it remains meaningless if the players refuse to execute it. History has proven time and again that a regiment of lions led by a sheep can never defeat a flock of sheep led by a lion.
As Gao Bo looked around, he saw most of the players' faces clouded with gloom.
"Yes," he said suddenly, "I think so too."
Every player lifted his head in shock. Their expressions hardened — anger flashing in their eyes.
This Chinese coach actually agrees we'll be relegated?
"Before seeing those angry faces, that's exactly what I thought!" Gao Bo continued, spreading his hands casually. "But from your reactions, it's clear none of you want to go down."
Of course not. No one wanted to be playing in the non-league system.
"Since our goal is the same," Gao Bo went on, his voice firm, "we start working from today. We've been docked thirty points. Normally, a team needs around forty-eight points to stay up — that's the safety line. But because of the deduction, our real target is seventy-eight points just to survive.
"Forty-six matches, seventy-eight points. That's the total usually achieved by clubs fighting for promotion. So, this season, we don't just need to avoid relegation — we need to play like a promotion-chasing team. Only at that level can we survive!"
The players exchanged glances. For the first time, Gao Bo's tone carried genuine authority.
"Now, one more thing," he said. "From today onward, it's a new beginning for everyone. I don't care who was a starter last season, who sat on the bench, or who came up from the youth side — none of that matters anymore. Under my management, there's only one standard for getting into the first team: attitude.
"Attitude in training. Attitude in matches. Attitude determines everything. Whoever works the hardest will play. That's my only criterion.
"If anyone slacks off — in training or in games — there's always room on the bench. And if that's not enough, I won't hesitate to send you down to the reserves."
Most of the remaining Luton players had been promoted from the youth ranks. For them, Gao Bo's words hit home — this truly was a fresh start. If they trained hard, they might actually earn a permanent place in the first team.
Sam Parkin, however, curled his lips in a sneer, clearly unimpressed.
Talk all you want, he thought. You've got no other senior forwards. You'll have to use me anyway, Gao Bo.
While the others reflected on the coach's speech, even the more experienced players couldn't deny his logic. Thirty points down — that meant aiming for eighty to survive. It sounded near impossible, but somehow, it also made sense.
Gao Bo waited until the murmurs subsided. Then he continued briskly.
"The pre-season training schedule is already set. We'll start with medical and physical testing. I'll say this up front: if your fitness levels are worse than last season's, you won't join team training until they're up to standard."
A few players who had spent their holidays eating and drinking winced guiltily. But from the coach's expression, they could tell there was no room for negotiation.
When they entered the club's small Sports Rehabilitation Centre, now supervised by team doctor Haruko Sakuragi, their mood suddenly changed.
Haruko's youthful, baby-faced appearance and gentle smile caught every eye. The testosterone-fuelled squad instantly found themselves far more "enthusiastic" about the medical check-ups than before.
The early phase of pre-season focused mainly on fitness conditioning. For Gao Bo, this was essential — his tactical system demanded exceptional stamina and work rate.
His plan was ambitious: he intended to replicate the playing style of Leicester City's 2015–16 title-winning team — high intensity, rapid transitions, and relentless pressing.
After all, he already had the three future cornerstones of that system right here in Luton: Kanté, Drinkwater, and Vardy.
The thought alone filled Gao Bo with excitement. He couldn't wait to see this squad take shape, to forge them into a side capable of defying all expectations — and then, to lead them on a charge through England's lower leagues.