Chapter 1: This is Too Much for Me!
At half past five in the morning, Su Dong wandered aimlessly through the streets of Lisbon, his heart a jumbled mess—like an overturned spice rack.
He didn't know how to describe what he was feeling, nor who he could even talk to about what had happened.
For the past half-hour, he had been walking down this brightly lit, wide boulevard without encountering a single pedestrian—only the occasional passing car, their unfamiliar license plates a constant reminder.
He had regressed.
Just thirty minutes ago, he had been at home in a small second- or third-tier city in southern China, grinding away at a pirated copy of Championship Manager 00/01, leading his idol Ronaldo's Inter Milan to dominate Serie A and Europe, winning ten straight Champions League titles.
Veteran Ronaldo had just announced his retirement, bowing out under Su Dong's legendary management. And Su Dong himself had been about to accept the ultimate challenge in the game —taking charge of the Chinese national team for a World Cup push.
But the moment he clicked "Accept" on the game's offer, a pop-up suddenly appeared in the game:
"Do you want to become the King of Football?"
What the hell?
Confused, Su Dong tried to close it, but the pop-up offered only two choices: "Yes" or "No." No exit button, no way out. He cursed the shady pirates who'd sold him the game.
Five bucks a disc, and they still cram in malware? Unbelievable!
Next time, I'm buying the three-yuan version.
With no other option, he had to choose.
Of course, Su Dong picked "Yes."
Thanks to his football-loving father, he'd trained in youth academies as a kid. The dream of becoming a football legend like Ronaldo—dominating the pitch, unstoppable—had once burned bright in his heart.
But as he grew older, that dream faded, surviving only in the pixels of video games.
Yet, the moment he made his choice, he felt nostalgic.
What he didn't expect was that clicking "Yes" would send his world spinning. Darkness swallowed him, and he blacked out.
When he woke up, he was in Lisbon, Portugal.
He was still Su Dong, still sixteen, still from a modest working-class family in a small southern Chinese city.
His father was still a die-hard football fan who, despite their tight finances, had scraped together money for his training.
Their lives, appearances, even their personalities—everything was identical.
The divergence had happened a month ago.
In his original life, Su Dong had just bought a computer and was obsessed with gaming, so he refused his father's offer to send him to a summer football camp.
But in this life, he had said yes.
And then things got messy.
At the camp, a Portuguese-Chinese scout appeared, watched him train for three days, and declared that Su Dong had "rare potential." He promised to arrange a spot for him at a Primeira Liga youth academy, offering "world-class professional training."
Naturally, Su Dong's father was skeptical. But after some convincing from the scout, he felt the offer was legitimate, even backed by official football association documents.
So, despite their financial struggles, his father pulled together the money and sent him off to Portugal.
Su Dong arrived on the Iberian Peninsula full of hope—only to get scammed.
The "academy" turned out to be a third-division team, Portugal Sporting Club, not the Primeira Liga side he'd been promised.
When he confronted them, the scammers shrugged.
"We never said it was a top-tier club. But this team is a satellite of Belenenses—a real Primeira Liga side! Their youth systems are deeply connected."
"Plus, think about it—this club's name is 'Portugal Sporting Club.' A national-level name! That's even bigger than 'Sporting Lisbon.' This is a historic, tradition-rich team!"
"Train hard here. If you impress them in two months, you might get promoted to the big leagues."
Trapped—money spent, already in Portugal—Su Dong had no choice but to stay.
Until tonight.
Exhausted, he wandered into a park.
The only sounds were faint insect chirps, the only light coming from a distant glow.
Following it, he found an indoor football pitch—or more accurately, a fenced-in complex with three fields: 3v3, 5v5, and 7v7.
The smallest one was lit, empty except for a single black-and-white football at its center.
Under the lights, the ball looked like the forbidden fruit in Eden, or the apple that once taunted Newton with destiny.
Su Dong watched through the fence for a moment before stepping inside.
He nudged the ball with his right foot, lifting it gently—
And in that instant, his mind exploded with notifications.
[System: Path to King of Football Activated.]
[Binding in progress…]
Su Dong froze. Path to King of Football Kingship? What the—
Is this the offer I was given before regression?
[Binding complete.]
[Congratulations! You have successfully bound to the King of Football path.]
[Please confirm identity.]
[Name: Su Dong?]
His eyes flicked to the "Yes" option.
[Nationality: Chinese?]
[Age: 16?]
[Gender: Male?]
Obviously!
[Height: 183 cm. Weight: 61 kg?]
[Identity verified.]
[Please select your position.]
[Striker, Winger, Attacking Midfielder, Central Midfielder, Full-back, Center-back, Goalkeeper…]
Slowly, the fog in Su Dong's mind cleared.
As a teenager, the realization hit him fast: I've got a system now. A cheat code.
Does this mean… I can actually become a legend? Like Ronaldo—dominating the world stage, scoring at will?
The thought sent a surge of adrenaline through him. Without hesitation, he selected Striker.
A football fan who doesn't pick striker is no true football fan.
The system shifted to his stats screen.
[Welcome to the Path to Football Kingship.]
[Current Level: Ball I (Rookie)]
[Next Level: Ball II | Required King Points: 10,000.]
Ten thousand?!
How am I supposed to get that many, wait I don't even know how I can get points?
The system offered no explanation.
Frustrated, Su Dong kept scrolling.
[Due to your current low level (Ball I), attributes are consolidated for simplicity.]
In other words: You're too trash for detailed stats.
Wow. Harsh.
But fine. Watch me grind my way up.
Then came the real gut punch.
[Attack: 33 | Defense: 28 | Physical: 29.]
That's it?!
If the max is 99, shouldn't I at least get a passing 60?
But as memories of his time in Lisbon resurfaced, he had to admit—the system wasn't wrong.
Back home, he'd been the star of his local academy, the ace of his school team. Praise had inflated his ego.
But on a city level? He was average.
And compared to Portuguese players—even third-division academy kids—he was outclassed.
Against the likes of Real Madrid, Manchester United, or Ajax's youth systems? The gap was cosmic.
But instead of despairing, Su Dong felt something else: determination.
This was his strength, in this life—he would never gave up.
In his past life, he'd saved and reloaded his way to ten straight Champions League titles in the game. Against Juventus, he'd replayed a single match twenty times just to win.
And in this life? Even though he was scammed and outmatched, he'd fought tooth and nail for a spot in Portugal Sporting Club.
Now, with a system on his side?
Bring it on.
Grinding? I was born for this.
He flicked the ball up again, starting with the most basic drill: juggling.
With every successful touch, a notification flashed:
[+1 King Point.]
[+1 King Point.]
[+1…]
Ten thousand juggles?
Let's fucking go.
By the time dawn's first light touched the grass of Eduardo VII Park, Su Dong was still training, lost in the rhythm.
He didn't even notice the Portuguese boy around his age watching him from beyond the fence—eyes sharp with interest.