Chapter 5: I'll Just Buy the Cheapest One

Flying directly from London to Zagreb? Ha! That would be too easy. Due to various reasons—including war and, probably, a general disdain for convenience—Yang Cheng had to take a scenic detour via Frankfurt before finally landing in Zagreb, Croatia's capital.

Now, Zagreb's Presso Airport wasn't exactly the grand entrance he had imagined. The terminal was... cozy. The facilities? Let's just say they made a budget airline look luxurious. But hey, that's what happens when a country has just crawled out of a war. At least the exchange booth was operational, so Yang Cheng swapped some cash for Croatian kuna before hopping into a taxi bound for Ilica Street.

Ah, Ilica Street—the so-called busiest street in Zagreb. Yang Cheng had high hopes, but when he arrived, it felt like someone had played a cruel joke. Compared to London, this place was as lively as a library at 3 AM. Not that he came for sightseeing, anyway.

The next morning, he made his way to Dinamo Zagreb, where he was greeted by the club's chairman, Zdravko Mamić. Now, Mamić wasn't just any chairman—he was Croatia's top football agent, a man with a reputation for sniffing out talent and, more importantly, squeezing every last penny out of potential buyers.

Unfortunately for him, Yang Cheng wasn't a naïve tourist ready to be scammed. In his past life, he had dealt with sharks like Raiola and Mendes. Compared to them, Mamić was a mere goldfish. So, when Mamić initially treated him like an ATM with legs, Yang Cheng played along. Then, with a few sharp words, he flipped the script and had Mamić treating him like a long-lost cousin.

"My brother, Zoran Mamić, plays in the German second division," Mamić casually mentioned. "He told me there's a Chinese striker on his team who's very strong."

Yang Cheng nodded, already knowing who it was.

Dinamo Zagreb had recently started a second team, filled with the brightest young talents in Croatia. The youth training director, Ilija Lončarević, proudly introduced some players:

Glowachki Kale – a powerhouse left-back.

Marko Cindrić – a speed demon on the right wing.

Vedran Djordjević – a future Premier League player, tall, strong, and as dominant as a schoolyard bully.

Yang Cheng put on his best "impressed scout" face and even threw in an exaggerated compliment.

"This player will be a superstar!" he declared dramatically.

Mamić and Lončarević beamed with pride. Clearly, they were expecting a bidding war.

But Yang Cheng wasn't about to throw money around like a fool. He casually inquired about prices, knowing full well that the moment Mamić heard "England," the price tags would skyrocket.

Sure enough, for Joel Luka, the team's biggest star, the asking price was a cool 15 million kuna—or about 2 million euros.

Yang Cheng kept a straight face, but internally, he was screaming.

Even players who looked barely above average had ridiculous price tags. A hundred thousand here, a million there—was he shopping for footballers or luxury cars?

Feigning financial distress, Yang Cheng sighed dramatically.

"I need to check with my superiors in London," he said, looking like a man forced to return a fancy watch at the store.

Mamić, not wanting to lose a potential buyer, invited him for lunch at a fancy restaurant. Yang Cheng happily accepted—at least he was getting a free meal out of this.

---

The next morning, Yang Cheng returned to the training ground.

No Mamić this time. The man probably realized Yang Cheng wasn't the clueless fool he had hoped for. Instead, the club's CEO, Damir Vrbanović, greeted him.

Now, Vrbanović had a fancy UEFA Executive Committee title, which sounded impressive but was about as useful as a decorative diploma on the wall. Still, Yang Cheng played along, casually dropping insider football knowledge.

"Oh, you should keep an eye on Michel Platini," Yang Cheng said. "He's already making big moves at FIFA. Guess what's next?"

Vrbanović's eyes lit up. He had never met a young man with such deep football connections. Suddenly, Yang Cheng wasn't just a buyer—he was a fellow insider.

During training, Yang Cheng finally found his real target: Luka Modrić.

The first thing he noticed?

Modrić was tiny. He looked like someone's kid brother who had accidentally wandered onto the field. Thin, short, and outmatched in physical battles, he was easy to overlook.

Vrbanović wasn't shy about it either.

"Luka is technically good, but he's too weak," he said. "No speed, no physicality, no clear position. We've tried him everywhere, but he never stands out."

Yang Cheng listened, nodding along. Of course, he already knew Modrić's true potential from his past life.

What amused him was how Modrić's autobiography later spun this whole situation into a Cinderella story.

According to the book, Dinamo Zagreb nurtured him with care and believed in him from the start.

Reality?

They thought he was a lost cause and shipped him off on loans just to get rid of him.

Back then, even Modrić himself thought his career was doomed.

---

After getting all the information he needed, Yang Cheng put on his best "distressed businessman" act.

"My budget is really tight," he sighed. "I wanted to prove myself to my elders by signing a top player, but these prices… They're just too high."

Vrbanović frowned. Yang Cheng had spent hours buttering him up with football gossip—was it all for nothing?

"How about we find a compromise?" Vrbanović suggested.

Yang Cheng stroked his chin, pretending to deliberate.

Then, as if making a great sacrifice, he exhaled heavily and said,

"Alright, since we're such good friends… I'll take the cheapest one."

Vrbanović blinked. "The… cheapest?"

"Yes," Yang Cheng said with mock seriousness. "I can't go back empty-handed. So, let's go with that Modrić kid. Just give me a friendly price, and I'll take him off your hands."

Vrbanović, completely convinced that Modrić was useless, agreed without hesitation.

And just like that, Yang Cheng secured one of the greatest midfielders of all time—for pocket change.

If only Mamić knew, he'd be crying into his overpriced coffee.