Under everyone's watchful eyes, the football rose off the ground again, swiftly heading towards the goal.
Hopkins originally intended to wash away the shame this time, but when Ma'el kicked the ball, he realized he still couldn't judge the ball's path or react in time.
"Swish!" The sound of the net being hit echoed behind his head, and he lost his balance, falling backwards onto the ground.
"Wotafa... did he just do it again?"
"What's with this kid today? Does he naturally have a cannon shot?"
"Shit... the quality is really high."
Another wave of exclamations echoed, this time without any skepticism.
Most people looked at Ma'el with surprised expressions, as if seeing him anew.
A cannon shot indeed has a very impressive display effect.
It is all about a direct shooting style, simple, crude, yet it intuitively reflects shooting skills.
Ian and his group stood there with their faces ashen, wanting to say something but failing to utter a word.
Faced with two consecutive powerful, high-quality shots, anything they say would be pointless, and they would only be seen as clowns.
"Good shot, good shot!"
Head coach Hans made a couple of perfunctory remarks on the surface, but inside, he was just as shaken. If this kind of shooting quality could be used in games...
His eyes lit up, suddenly feeling a bit hopeful about Ma'el.
In his impression, this player's basics weren't bad, just not outstanding.
Now if he could discover a skill for long shots, his competitiveness would greatly increase.
However, what was puzzling was that he had never shown such a level of long shot before.
When did he practice this skill?
Recently?
Hans was of course aware of Ma'el's dedication to extra training, but didn't have high expectations for its results.
Now it seemed, he had indeed made some incorrect judgments.
At the center of everyone's attention, Ma'el turned his head, smiling and waving at those who had expressed surprise.
He appeared calm and comfortable.
But in reality, a drop of cold sweat had already rolled down his temple... he wasn't really confident about the second shot; with everyone's expectations raised, missing would have been quite embarrassing.
Fortunately, probability was on his side this time.
He needed to quickly raise his skill level for long shots to lv3, otherwise how could he show off?
......
"Today is June 17th, life has been routine and fulfilling recently. Planning to write a diary, to later remove the skill level aspects, and include the hard work part in my autobiography titled 'How a Football King is Made'. "
"Forcing myself to get up at 6:30, practicing shooting for an hour and a half before the morning training.
"Since reaching lv2 in long shots, the progression seems to have slowed a lot. Before, a few hours of training could raise it by 30 points, but now only 20. But with the goal of upgrading to lv3 in 17 days, there's no rush.
"At night, extra training in the gym for power... totally exhausted, this life is truly not for the faint-hearted."
"June 18th, seems like I can't keep training like this. I've already got strains in several parts of my body. I need to warm up for a long time before performing any actions in daily training.
"But the progression in shooting has slowed down. If I don't rely on piling up time, how can I achieve my goals?
"At night, doing power training, my French buddy Carl suggested I abandon my existing diet and switch to high protein, high carbs, and high energy foods.
"Taking his advice."
"June 19th, weekend. No effort, no gain, no pain, no results. Work out after waking up, before meals, rest a bit after meals, and work out again. Anyway, working out is the way to go. A day without working out makes me uncomfortable, three days without seems like I'm shortening my life.
"Shooting skill level reached 159/300, power at 193/300, progressing slightly faster than expected.
"The change in diet doesn't seem to have much short-term effect on my body, but I just want to improve so badly. I want to get out of the youth team and play in the Premier League!"
"June 20th, a new week started, even the air seems fresher. There are 10 days left until the final match, I must double my efforts.
"The training today felt pleasant, not as tiring as before. My body feels much sturdier, maybe it's because of the diet change?
"At night, after taking a shower and cleaning my shoes, it's already past 11. I went next door to knock on Carl's dorm room; he was still up, had a chat to relax."
"June 21st, all morning training this week has been changed to tactical drills, possibly because the trial elimination match is approaching.
"Everything as usual, keep pushing forward!"
"June 22nd, London, oh London, this city not far from where I am is a true international metropolis, and a city for football.
"If only one day, I can play football in London, live in a mansion, drive a sports car, wear new sneakers, and at night, have the passionate London bunny girls to keep company.
"June 23rd, had a chat with the team captain, Gilbert, asked about the salary situation of the Arsenal Youth Team.
"No idea about the others, but they can earn a weekly pay of 350--800 pounds, about 1500--3500 pounds a month, makes me envious. It's already about the average salary in London.
"As for the first team? At this time, the British football scene is not comparable to what comes later, and Arsenal is also in a relatively tight financial position... but those weekly pays in the tens of thousands of pounds, they are still beyond what I dare to imagine, truly terrifying."
"June 24th, training, improving the diet truly helps the body; my body has gotten used to the training intensity."
"June 25th, every day's training feels like torture to my willpower. But, the progress feels as delightful as drinking sweet nectar...
"Finally understood why later some people said playing under Guardiola was even more exhilarating.
"Because of the progress! I want to improve so much!"
"June 26th, improvement!"
"June 27th, keep improving!"
......
June 28th, night fell, stars were twinkling.
Wenger walked pensively through the Korney Training Base, feelings mixed as he looked at the base he personally oversaw the construction of.
Was it 1999? Back then, Arsenal faced no financial crisis, contending for the championship every year, and he was engaged in an intense battle with Sir Alex Ferguson.
He vaguely recalled his ambition during those days.
He was determined to make Arsenal a team like Manchester United, and to become an immortal figure in the club.
But... fate always seemed to tease him, as if he was born to add some tragic stories to this world.
"Clap."
Wenger lit a cigarette, sometimes not even he understood why he was still holding on here when he had the opportunity to go elsewhere.
The answer might only be one.
A cheesy sentence no man wants to say out loud—because of love.
While he thought, a strange shout suddenly came from the side, presumably from the gym.
Wenger's eyebrows moved, he took a step towards the source, reaching a distance of twenty meters before hearing it clearly; it was laughter.
"Hahaha... Wuhu!" The person inside seemed to be celebrating something, occasionally emitting an indescribable strange sound.
Was it that kid?
He guessed, according to his observation, at this hour, only that person would likely appear here.
Counting the days, he's been persisting for nearly twenty days, hasn't he?
"Leon Maerl."
Wenger spoke a name, feeling the joy inside, his own sorrow seemed to lighten a bit too, "What are you so happy about?"
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