When the final whistle blew, the system prompt "Mission Completed" suddenly echoed in Ling's mind.
He clenched his fists tightly to conceal his joy.
He had been so immersed in the game that he had forgotten about it.
'I wonder what I'll draw from the Golden Module Treasure Chest this time?'
'It probably won't be too bad, though.'
After all, based on the system's usual approach, it would first filter out relatively suitable modules according to his position on the field before conducting a secondary draw.
Last time, he had drawn Matthews' "Shoulder Drop Dribble" module, and Ling had specifically increased targeted training for it.
The results were quite impressive, effectively boosting his immediate combat effectiveness.
And that was precisely what he lacked most at the moment.
Opportunities wait for no one, and time waits for no one.
In the fiercely competitive environment of Manchester United, he didn't have much time to grow.
He had to seize every opportunity firmly and find ways to secure his starting position.
Ibrahimovic walked over from the substitutes' bench and seeing Ling's beaming face, felt a sense of frustration at his lack of ambition.
He placed his large hand on Ling's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.
"Don't celebrate too early. You're adding an extra training session tomorrow."
The smile instantly vanished from Ling's face.
Then, a sudden idea struck him.
"Zlatan, don't forget tomorrow is a day off. You need to spend time with your wife and kids."
"No problem. Come two hours early. I'll train with you before heading home. It won't affect my schedule."
Ibrahimovic saw through Ling's little trick and spoke sternly.
Early in his career, due to his carefree and undisciplined nature, he had relied solely on talent to skip many fundamentals that should have been mastered during youth training, leading him down many detours.
Later, after transferring from Ajax to Juventus, he met his first mentor in life—Capello.
It was the latter's tireless guidance that made him understand: in football, without solid foundational skills, you can never reach the highest peaks.
He had once regretted not having an excellent guide, so now he wanted to become one himself.
"Alright then, I'll be there on time tomorrow." Ling nodded earnestly.
He understood that Ibrahimović meant well for him.
Since that was the case, there was no need to ask too many questions—he would repay the kindness with actions in the future.
Not far away, Mourinho couldn't help but smile as he watched the two interacting harmoniously.
He recalled how he had brought Ibrahimovic from Paris Saint-Germain to Manchester United with just one phone call.
"Zlatan, I have a bunch of kids here who need a leader."
"Hah, that would be me."
Why was it so simple?
Perhaps because two self-proclaimed gods had sparked a peculiar chemistry between them.
And Ibrahimović did not disappoint him.
In a single season, he scored 28 goals and provided 9 assists for Manchester United.
Even on crutches, he helped the club secure three trophies and even took care of the young players.
As Mourinho reminisced, a warm smile touched his lips, but then he sighed silently.
Not long ago, he had hoped to extend Ibrahimović's contract for another year, but the latter refused, saying he didn't want to earn money while injured.
So stubborn!
Yet, because Mourinho was the same kind of person, he understood Ibrahimović's deeper intention.
Currently, Lukaku was performing exceptionally well across all competitions, gradually establishing himself as Manchester United's main striker.
Once Ibrahimović recovered from his injury, his stubborn nature would never allow him to accept a diminished role.
He would likely choose to leave.
But that was a matter for the next season.
Mourinho gazed at Ibrahimović's back and silently vowed.
'Zlatan, let's win two more trophies together.'
The Manchester United players, noticing their manager's melancholic expression, shuddered involuntarily.
Not daring to linger, they hurried toward the locker room, afraid of becoming collateral damage.
Soon, Ling set off on the return journey with his teammates.
The distance between Manchester and Swansea was less than 400 kilometers.
After a short 50-minute flight, Ling returned to his dormitory and glanced at his phone.
It was probably around 10 p.m. in China.
He decided to call home first.
...
Meanwhile.
In Bin City, China, in a dilapidated apartment building.
Ling Changzheng wiped the sweat from his forehead and kept adjusting the photo frame hanging on the wall, asking helplessly.
"Is it still crooked?"
"A little more to the left... too much, now a bit to the right... not enough..."
Yan Lanxia squinted, admiring the picture of the handsome young man wearing a Manchester United jersey, standing tall and straight.
She couldn't get enough of it.
"Hey, that's enough. You've been fussing for half an hour. I'm more exhausted than after a day at work."
Changzheng took a deep breath and gave up.
"You always say there's no hurry, but when I ask you to do something, you always find an excuse."
Just as Yan Lanxia was about to scold him, her phone rang.
Instantly, her expression softened.
"Hello, son! Your dad and I just watched the live broadcast. You were amazing!"
Changzheng curled his lip.
'Do you even understand the game?' he thought.
"By the way, the seaweed jelly I sent you should arrive in Manchester tomorrow. Don't forget to pick it up—it doesn't keep long."
"Oh, and are you short on money? I'll have your dad transfer some to you!"
Changzheng's expression changed, and he cut in.
"Our son earns £1,500 a week—more than both of us combined. Why would he need our money? Stop asking him that. He's probably tired of hearing it."
...
"Mom, my salary is really high now. Let's get a bigger house for our family by the end of the year."
On the other end of the phone, Ling nearly laughed out loud, thinking his father must be eyeing his private savings.
But he had indeed spent a lot of money on football over the years.
And according to the original trajectory, after that incident happened, he returned to China and lived in a daze.
Yet his parents weren't disappointed or resentful; instead, they took care of him with all their heart.
Thinking back now, if the football path didn't work out, he could have found other jobs—survival wouldn't have been a problem.
But he chose to give up on himself.
If he hadn't been a burden, even though his parents were working-class, they could have saved a considerable amount of money and lived a better life.
In his heart, he felt he owed his parents the most.
Now, reborn back in the past, he was determined to make it up to them as much as possible.
Yan Lanxia sigh softly.
"Alright, our family doesn't have much financial pressure now. I'll find time to go look."
Ling chatted with his parents for a while longer before hanging up.
Then, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, focused his mind, opened the system, and entered the lottery segment.
[Ding!]
[Congratulations on completing the main quest: Score your first professional goal in the top five leagues!]
[Quest reward: Golden Module Treasure Chest!]
With a flash of golden light, an ornate chest appeared in front of Ling.
[Module selection completed...]
[...]
Ling took a careful look at the prize pool and found it wasn't much different from last time.