Chapter 7: Poaching

Yang Cheng never, in his wildest dreams, imagined that his first encounter with Franck Ribery would be like this.

There he was—the future World Cup star, the dazzling Scarface of football—except right now, he was covered in dust, swinging an industrial impact drill like he was trying to excavate buried treasure. The way he pounded the ruins in front of him, Yang Cheng half-expected him to unearth an ancient civilization.

When Ribery finally turned to look at him, Yang Cheng felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like witnessing Stallone in First Blood, only instead of a machine gun, he had a power tool.

After a twenty-minute wait, Ribery emerged, somewhat cleaner but still carrying the aura of a man who had lost a fight with life—and the fight wasn't over yet. The familiar confident smirk that Yang Cheng remembered from his past life was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a tired, dejected man in front of him, one who had been thoroughly beaten down by both football and fate.

Many believe hard work is the key to success, but as Yang Cheng knew all too well, sometimes, the right choice mattered more.

That much was true for Ribery, and for Koscielny too.

The conversation itself was ridiculously smooth—so much so that Yang Cheng wondered if this was some sort of scam. Ribery listened to his pitch with the enthusiasm of a man offered a free meal after weeks of starvation.

"I'll join," Ribery said simply.

No bargaining, no hesitation. Yang Cheng was almost disappointed.

And then came the salary discussion.

"I just need something to get by. 250 euros," Ribery said.

"Per week?" Yang Cheng asked, ready to negotiate.

"Per month."

Yang Cheng nearly choked. Was this a joke? That was less than what his neighbor's teenage son made selling ice cream part-time!

Naturally, he agreed without another word. If Ribery trained and played hard, he'd get his due rewards. But there was no need to tell him that yet. Motivational trick 101: let the player earn it.

While Yang Cheng was running around Croatia and France, Lin Zhongqiu was working his magic in London, dealing with the club's finances and making sure the team had enough money to not collapse before it even got started. Once the funds were secured, the real fun began—hunting for players.

With money tighter than a miser's grip on a gold coin, their first priority was signing free agents and relegated players—basically, football's equivalent of shopping in the clearance section.

Yang Cheng had his sights on four recently relegated teams: Cheltenham, Huddersfield, Mansfield, and Northampton. Why? Because relegation clauses in contracts meant bargain prices. If he could poach talent for dirt cheap, he was all in.

First up was Martin DeVanne, a 23-year-old Irish winger with the pace of a rabbit on caffeine. The best part? He was free. Yang Cheng almost felt guilty. Almost.

Then came a young midfielder from Mansfield, who, thanks to a relegation clause, was available for just £25,000. That's less than the price of a fancy sports car. Another steal.

Jonathan Steed, a 20-year-old striker from Huddersfield, was a bigger investment at £250,000, but the kid had potential. Big, strong, and built like a traditional English centre-forward. And the best part? In a few years, he'd fetch millions—if Yang Cheng played his cards right.

Beswater Chinese (as the club was affectionately known) also secured young right-back Andy Holdsworth, centre-back Luke Chambers, and left-wing-back Toni Capaldi, all on deals that felt borderline criminal.

Then came the real mastermind move—signing Joe Hart, a 16-year-old goalkeeper, for just £50,000. At that price, even if Hart only turned out to be decent, it was still highway robbery.

As Yang Cheng continued to strike deals left and right, he realized something amusing: The club might have been poor, but that didn't mean it had to act poor. If he played it smart, they'd build a team strong enough to dominate League Two without breaking the bank.

But one challenge remained—convincing Tom Huddlestone to join.

Huddlestone, fresh from England's Under-17 team, wasn't keen on playing in League Two. Understandable. He was in Derby County's system, a respectable League One club. Why would he trade that for a third-tier team?

Yang Cheng, of course, came prepared.

Over a private meeting, he laid it all out:

Derby County was barely surviving in League One. They were flirting with relegation. Beswater Chinese, on the other hand, had ambitious plans for promotion. And most importantly—Yang Cheng promised Huddlestone a guaranteed starting spot.

Huddlestone and his camp were surprised. Most assumed Yang Cheng was just a rich owner who dabbled in football. They hadn't expected him to have an actual tactical plan.

Even so, they played it safe.

"We'll think about it," they said, which was code for "Let's see if Derby suddenly decides they love me."

Yang Cheng wasn't worried. He had backup plans. If Huddlestone didn't bite, he had his eye on Leon Andreasen from Denmark. The kid was tough, versatile, and had Klopp's future endorsement (not that Klopp knew it yet).

At the end of the day, it all came down to patience. Football was a game of strategy—on and off the field. And Yang Cheng? He had plenty of tricks left to play.