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Carter's blunt "Screw off" instantly made the staff at St. Paul's lose face.

Logically speaking, he was absolutely right.

How could the opposing team's head coach be the one to take the kickoff? That was outright disrespectful.

St. Paul's arrangement was nothing short of blatant condescension.

Lampard, standing to the side, could only force an awkward smile.

It was already 3 PM—kickoff time—but they were now stuck in a pointless dispute.

To be honest, Lampard didn't really care about taking the first kick; he just wanted to enjoy a taste of coaching.

But for the St. Paul's staff, after going through all the trouble of inviting such a big-name football star, not letting him take the ceremonial kick was a huge loss of face.

The St. Paul's staff, the main referee, and the fourth official all tried to persuade Carter:

"Coach Carter, don't take it so seriously."

"Yeah, this isn't a professional league. What's the big deal?"

"Besides, what's the worst that could happen? You guys aren't scoring from kickoff, right?"

"Haha…"

Their words might have sounded like persuasion, but in reality, they were mocking him.

Carter lifted his chin and sneered.

He knew full well that his protest wouldn't change anything.

After all, Lampard was a world-class football star—someone even the referees and FA officials had to respect. And this was St. Paul's home field; there was no way the referee would indefinitely delay the game over his objection.

In the end, Lampard would still take the kickoff.

But Carter refused to let them get away with it so easily.

His goal was simple: make Triangle River and Lampard uncomfortable!

Football is war!

Make the enemy suffer, even if he's a football legend!

After letting the staff finish their mockery, Carter coldly responded, "This was St. Paul's mistake, not ours! We weren't informed that your guest kicker would also be your temporary head coach. We also didn't know we'd have first kickoff rights! So I have only two conditions:

First, St. Paul's must publicly apologize to Bucks Steelhorn for their poor arrangement.

Second, if Lampard takes the kickoff, he must pass to one of our players, immediately leave the field, and not step foot back onto it."

The staff all frowned.

The second condition was manageable, but the first? Asking them to publicly apologize was way too much.

Who were they? St. Paul's, one of the most prestigious schools.

And who were the Bucks?

However, after some discussion, the staff agreed.

At this point, the situation had already become too embarrassing.

The game had already been delayed too long.

Dragging it out further would only embarrass Lampard himself.

And if this turned into a national scandal, St. Paul's would become a laughingstock.

Thus, the head of St. Paul's football program personally stepped onto the field, took the DJ's microphone, and apologized to the entire stadium, admitting their poor arrangement.

Triangle River's players felt like they had just taken a punch to the gut.

The game hadn't even started yet, and their school had already apologized?

Their morale took a heavy hit.

St. Paul's students in the stands booed their own administrator furiously.

Meanwhile, the Bucks players were absolutely thrilled.

Carter's combativeness was incredible!

He didn't back down an inch!

This was the kind of coach the Bucks needed!

Now, the most awkward person in the stadium was Chelsea's legendary superstar—Frank Lampard.

He was supposed to be basking in admiration.

Instead, this mess had left him utterly embarrassed.

These amateurs really don't know how to respect a football star…

Lampard narrowed his eyes.

Fine. If they don't give me face, I won't give them any either.

After the apology, Carter returned to the bench, completely satisfied, and casually turned on the camcorder set up in front of him.

The referee quickly returned to the field—kickoff had already been delayed by eight minutes. Finally, the game was back on track.

The referee gestured for Lampard to take position.

Lampard stepped into the center circle, standing over the ball with a sharp expression.

Tweet!

The referee blew the whistle.

The National High School Championship Round of 16—St. Paul's Triangle River vs. Southampton Private School Bucks Steelhorn—was officially underway!

Lampard lifted his hand and pointed toward the left-side backfield, right at Gu Ran.

"Hey, Chinese kid! This ball's for you. Catch it!"

Boom!

Lampard fired a missile.

The ball rocketed through the air with a wicked curve, shot like a cannonball straight at Gu Ran!

Every Bucks player tensed up.

On the away stands, Anne's mouth dropped open. She wanted to shout, but she was too shocked to speak!

She didn't know much about football, but even she could tell—that kick wasn't friendly.

On the bench, Carter sprang up, livid.

Kickoff ceremonies were supposed to be symbolic. Normally, the guest would just lightly tap the ball to a nearby player.

But this?

This was a targeted, malicious pass.

Lampard was making a statement.

That pass was a world-class strike, carrying both power and spin, placed high and far.

Forget controlling it—just predicting its landing was tough enough.

Technically, this was a perfect showcase of a superstar's passing ability.

And to top it off, Lampard hadn't even warmed up. He was doing this in dress pants and leather shoes.

The St. Paul's students erupted in cheers!

That's how you take revenge!

Lampard waved smugly and jogged off the field.

Gu Ran took a deep breath.

Damn, Lampard. You're serious about this?

You're really putting effort into challenging a high school kid?

Fine. Bring it on.

Gu Ran's competitive spirit exploded.

Let's see who backs down first.

Stopping this ball cleanly should have been nearly impossible.

But for Gu Ran, it wasn't as hard as it seemed.

Back when he played street football, he frequently had to deal with teammates launching exaggerated high balls.

The key to controlling a high pass like this?

First, ankle tension.

Stopping a ball isn't about passively absorbing it. It's about exerting controlled force. If your ankle isn't tense, the ball will bounce wildly off your foot.

Second, constant tracking.

You don't stop watching the ball. You predict where it will land and only step in when it drops to waist level.

When making contact, the supporting leg bends slightly, and the body stays loose.

The hips open outward, keeping the foot parallel to the ground.

And the final, most important step?

Absorbing the impact.

If you just use your foot's inside curve, the ball will bounce off wildly.

Instead, you have to flick the foot slightly upward, as if trapping a hacky sack.

Most people wouldn't bother with these fine details.

But Gu Ran did.

He locked onto the ball's trajectory.

And just before it landed, he spent one Talent Point to boost his Strength attribute.

His muscles tensed. His physique sharpened.

Strength: 60 → 61.

This will keep me from getting injured taking Lampard's cannonball.

As the ball descended, Gu Ran took tiny adjusting steps, shifted his weight, and—

Boom!

A perfect first touch.

The stadium gasped.

The ball didn't bounce away.

It hung in the air for a half-second, spinning gently in front of Gu Ran.

A flawless stop.

The entire stadium fell silent.

Lampard, barely past the touchline, frowned.

What the hell?

That kid actually controlled my pass?

Anne, behind her sunglasses, clutched her chest.

Oh my god. That was… hot.

Carter?

His hands trembled.

I… I used to be that cool.

Gu Ran didn't hesitate.

He took off down the wing.

And the Bucks surged forward.

Game on.

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