Chapter 4: Rising to the Pinnacle from the Very Beginning

Bang! The cannonball was fired, and 0.1 seconds later, the gasps and cheers of the Shijiazhuang Yongchang fans erupted simultaneously. The reason was simple: Gao Lin’s shot was so direct that the Yongchang goalkeeper, Wang Guoming, didn’t even have to move—he easily deflected the ball over the end line. Guangzhou Evergrande Taobao earned a corner kick.

Gao Lin shook his head in disappointment, but still raised his thumb in appreciation toward Dai Zhiwei, whose pass had been absolutely astonishing. Dai’s speed and vision had left the home fans wide-eyed and applauding in surprise.

At that moment, the television began replaying the previous scene—not Gao Lin’s lackluster shot, but Dai Zhiwei’s dazzling reverse pass. Less than two minutes after coming on, Dai had used his pace to break past Yongchang’s defenders, then delivered a clever pass that set up Gao Lin for a powerful shot just outside the box. Unfortunately, the goalkeeper denied them.

He hadn’t scored or assisted, but Dai Zhiwei’s performance was already impressive.

As the match between Guangzhou Evergrande Taobao and Shijiazhuang Yongchang progressed, Yongchang’s center-back Xu Bo shifted left and, together with fullback Hu Wei, began to double-mark Dai Zhiwei, severely limiting his impact. Guangzhou Evergrande Taobao relied on long balls, hoping for individual brilliance from Goulart and Elkeson, leaving Dai with few opportunities to try anything.

Commentator Su Dong had initially taken great interest in Dai Zhiwei. At only twenty, Dai’s physical attributes were exceptional—speed and close control gave him a clear edge in the Chinese Super League, making him stand out. But as time passed, the attention on him faded, eventually disappearing altogether.

Why was that?

Because despite his impressive first touch, Dai Zhiwei was still a peripheral figure within Evergrande. The first passing options for his teammates were always Elkeson and Goulart; if not them, then Gao Lin. Dai rarely received the ball at all.

On the pitch, fans only notice those with the ball. The ones without it simply vanish from sight.

Dai Zhiwei understood his situation well. He had to make an impact, and quickly—otherwise, would manager Cannavaro give him another chance? He certainly didn’t want to let his first opportunity since being reborn slip away so quietly.

“What am I here for, if not to seize this moment? Was I reborn just to pass through and make a fool of myself?” he wondered as he ran. He was not charging blindly into defenders, but considering how to beat them. Though he’d once been only a football journalist and had little tactical insight into breaking down Yongchang’s defense, he still racked his brain for solutions. It’s a far cry, after all, from being an observer to becoming a player.

Still, he kept thinking.

Shijiazhuang Yongchang were no pushovers. Though newly promoted, they played with spirit and a fearless attitude, even taking the game to Evergrande as if they were the hosts.

Time ticked away. The ninety minutes of regulation had expired, and the fourth official lifted the electronic board: four minutes of stoppage time.

Dai Zhiwei exhaled deeply. He hadn’t been on long, but he felt fatigue setting in—mostly mental exhaustion.

Just then, Liao Lisheng executed a brilliant close-range tackle, dispossessing Yongchang’s midfield core Mao Jianqing, and immediately played a through ball to Goulart ahead.

Goulart received the ball, spun around, and faced Bai He, who was closing in. With a deft poke, Goulart slipped the ball between Bai He’s legs and accelerated past him.

Bai He read the play well but was a step slower in turning, and not as quick as Goulart. After a few strides, Goulart was drawing away. As Bai He considered fouling to break up the attack, Goulart sent a beautiful diagonal pass forward.

“Great ball!” Dai Zhiwei shouted inwardly—the pass was meant for him.

He turned, flicked the ball with his right foot to the left, and sprang forward like a coiled spring.

Hu Wei, anticipating, shifted his weight, blocking Dai’s path toward the sideline, trying to force him out wide.

Accelerating, Dai saw Hu Wei in his path. With a deft touch from his left instep, he sent Hu off balance, then feinted with his body and nudged the ball with his right foot, bursting past on the other side and cutting straight in toward the middle.

Hu Wei was powerless to stop him. One misstep, and Dai was past. Hu recovered quickly and gave chase toward the inside path with all his might.

Now Dai faced Xu Bo, who had been tracking his movements. As Dai cut inside, Xu advanced, ready to intercept.

But Dai didn’t hesitate. As he neared Xu Bo, his feet danced—shifting, feinting, his upper body steady while his legs worked like pistons, cycling the ball in front of the Yongchang box, showing off exquisite technique.

Xu Bo, wary of Dai’s dribbling, grew tense, feeling gaps opening all around him.

In a fleeting second, Dai saw Xu’s movements stiffen. Without stopping, Dai clipped the ball with his right foot, nudged it with his left, and his body, like a drawn bow, exploded past Xu’s right side before the defender could react, darting into the box just ahead of Hu Wei’s covering challenge.

Now Dai faced the rest of Yongchang’s scrambling defense. Maintaining his momentum, he brushed past the recovering Mao Jianqing, who could do nothing to stop him.

The Yongchang backline was left threadbare, chaos in their ranks. Dai Zhiwei, surging through alone, tore their defense apart like a dragon weaving through clouds—a single man throwing them into disarray.

“Damn it, stop him! Stop him!”

“Somebody! Get up there, quickly!”

The stadium was in uproar as Dai Zhiwei charged forward—cheers, curses, and shouts echoing all around.

After beating Mao Jianqing, Dai was immediately surrounded by Yongchang defenders. He dragged the ball with his right foot, shifted his body right, nudged it again, and cut through from the right.

Zhao Rongheng, closing in, was left behind as Dai accelerated, leaving his marking zone. Desperate, he and three teammates lunged at Dai together.

Dai changed direction once more, his body showing no sign of inertia—no loss of speed. With a twist of his instep and a powerful flex of his waist, he cut sharply outward again.

There was only one focus in the entire stadium now: all eyes were on Dai Zhiwei, watching him toy with Yongchang’s defenders, carving through their box as if it were his own domain.

The dribbling skill Dai now displayed was the very one he’d chosen as his first special ability: Michael’s “Mental Bike Dribble” from “Captain Tsubasa.”

Michael was a Spanish midfielder in the manga, introduced as a mysterious, angelic figure. He outclassed both “Football King” Nadoni and the “Son of God” Santana, and in the latest “Rising Sun” arc, he represented Spain at the Madrid Olympics—the strongest player in the series.

Unlike the almost supernatural depiction in the manga, the version Dai had acquired was more of an enhanced ability, boosting his ball control and close-quarters dribbling—making him even more adept at stepovers and tight maneuvers.

Zhao Rongheng, seeing his teammates losing out to Dai in their duels, threw caution to the wind and lunged in for a sliding tackle—one last desperate gamble. Either he’d reach the ball first and clear it, or he’d bring Dai down and concede a penalty.

Sensing the rush of air as Zhao slid in, Dai flicked the ball away at the last instant, darted past, and left Zhao grasping at nothing—not even a chance to commit a foul. Dai collected the ball just inside the six-yard box.

In that instant, Dai Zhiwei had dribbled past four Yongchang defenders—one-on-one with the keeper.

“My God! Dai Zhiwei at this moment reminds me of someone,” Su Dong murmured into his microphone.

Of course, no one dared say the name—whether for luck or considering the current state of Chinese football.

Wang Guoming, the goalkeeper, was already rushing out, but Dai Zhiwei stood alone before him. The other defenders were too late.

It was Dai Zhiwei versus Wang Guoming.

One-on-one!