July 2014, Munich, Germany, inside a training base.
“Qin, you’re not in my plans for next season.
The club wants you transferred.
Several teams from the Chinese Super League have already made offers, and the club is very satisfied.”
“I think they’ll give you a good deal too, so this benefits both of us.”
The bald man sitting on the couch spoke with a dismissive tone, as if deciding someone else’s future meant nothing.
His name was Erik ten Hag, currently the head coach of Bayern’s second team.
Last season, he led them to win the regional league championship.
Ten Hag put down his water glass and raised his eyes slightly to look at the young man across from him.
Around 16 or 17 years old, with clean-cut black hair and an unusually calm expression for his age.
His name was Qin Ming.
Just days ago, he was still in 2025, watching the U20 Asian Cup.
After seeing China lose to Saudi Arabia in stoppage time, he downed a bottle of cold beer and lost consciousness.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself as a member of the time-traveling army, inhabiting the body of a 17-year-old with the same name—Qin Ming.
Then—
Good news: I’m part of Bayern’s second team.
Bad news: Ten Hag wants to sell me.
Qin Ming didn’t agree easily.
Instead, he spoke calmly and seriously: “Sir, can you give me a little more time?
I’d like to think this through carefully.”
It’s not that he didn’t want to go back to China to earn big money—but he had gained a standard time-travel bonus: a system.
However, the system was still loading and needed 26 more hours to activate.
If he got some heaven-defying cheat, only a fool would return to China.
Wouldn’t it be better to dominate European leagues?
Not only would it bring financial freedom, but it could also fulfill the football dream he once failed to achieve.
“Qin, I’ve already given you a lot of time, but you still haven’t responded.”
Ten Hag’s face turned cold.
“From now on, you’re forbidden to use the club’s facilities until you give me a satisfactory answer.”
Qin Ming’s admission into Bayern’s youth training program had relied on the China-Bayern exchange program.
If it weren’t for Chinese corporate sponsorship and the massive fan base in China, Qin Ming wouldn’t have had the qualifications to join the second team.
A few days ago, Bayern management subtly hinted that they could repackage Qin Ming and sell him back to the Chinese Super League.
He suspected there were backdoor dealings involved.
But as the second team coach, Ten Hag had little power and could only follow orders.
As for the lack of Chinese players at Bayern, they could always create another exchange program.
“Alright.”
Qin Ming didn’t explode or argue.
He calmly left the office.
He didn’t want to burn bridges yet.
But his intention was firm—since he had traveled to this world and had a system, he was going to stay in Europe no matter what.
Clearly, he underestimated Ten Hag.
When he went to the cafeteria for lunch, he was told he was banned from eating there.
Typical Ten Hag.
Qin Ming was mentally prepared.
He called his teammate Højbjerg and asked him to bring food to the dorm.
If Ten Hag banned him from the cafeteria, surely he couldn’t stop someone else from bringing him food, right?
Fifteen minutes later, Højbjerg looked at Qin Ming eating and sighed silently.
“Qin, maybe you should just give in.
I’ve heard the Chinese Super League is doing well now.
The salaries are even higher than in second-tier European leagues.
If you keep clashing with the coach, you’ll be the one who suffers.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it.”
Qin Ming chewed on the bland chicken breast, wondering if the chef was in a bad mood today—it tasted way too salty.
“Think it over.
I’ll bring you dinner tonight too.”
Højbjerg nodded.
He had noticed that Qin Ming, whom he spent every day with, seemed a bit different lately.
But he just assumed it was because Ten Hag was putting too much pressure on him.
“Wait and see, wait and see.”
After finishing the meal, Qin Ming looked at the bright blue sky and murmured.
He wasn’t going to mentally exhaust himself.
If worst came to worst, he’d go back to China and cash in.
Maybe after a few games his weaknesses would be exposed—but that was a problem for future him.
It’s not like a time traveler would starve to death, right?
Qin Ming clearly remembered that in 2014, the government launched a series of economic stimulus policies, and monetary easing reached historic levels.
The Shanghai Composite Index surged, and everyone said a bull market was coming.
Even though it only lasted a few months…
Still, the short-lived surge was enough for him to gather seed money, start a business, buy property—not enough to become the richest man, but financial freedom would be no issue.
Twenty-six hours wasn’t long, but it was torture.
With no access to training facilities, he was stuck in the dorm.
At least Ten Hag hadn’t gone as far as kicking him out.
Otherwise, he really would have had nowhere to go.
When the countdown on his screen hit zero, a cold mechanical voice sounded.
[Green Field System Activated!]
[Scanning host’s body…]
[Filtering compatible templates…]
Brilliant light burst in front of his eyes, transforming into star player cards.
[Inzaghi “Fox in the Box” Template!]
[Balotelli “Super Mario” Template!]
[Vieri “Apennine Tank” Template!]
[Ronaldo “The Phenomenon” Template!]
[…]
Qin Ming browsed briefly and noticed one thing all the filtered templates had in common:
They were flashy.
He remembered a dream he had before waking up in this world.
It was an Adidas commercial—two kids playing street football, each picking their favorite players.
Subconsciously, he picked all the infamous playboys of football—Inzaghi, Vieri, Ronaldo… the kind of men who’d dated so many women you’d need more than two hands to count them.
But then he thought again—even if they were playboys, their football skills were undeniable.
World-class talent.
Otherwise, how would he remember them?
[Template selection complete!]
[Ronaldinho “Green Field Elf” Template!]
[Initiating host body modification!]
[3… 2… 1…]
Before Qin Ming could celebrate, the Ronaldinho card shattered into particles of light and entered his body.
Boom!
His consciousness was instantly swallowed, and he collapsed onto the bed, falling into a deep sleep.
When he woke up again, sunlight was already on his face.
He shielded his eyes and stretched lazily, then immediately ran to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror.
It was terrifying.
Ronaldinho’s skills were top-notch, but his looks…
Qin Ming wouldn’t comment—but it wasn’t his type, and he didn’t want to look like that.
Thankfully, the template’s physical transformation didn’t affect his appearance.
Instead, Qin Ming rubbed his arms and stomped on the floor, feeling the clear increase in strength.
When he closed his eyes, a glowing screen appeared:
[Host: Qin Ming]
[Height: 183 cm]
[Weight: 75 kg]
[Template: Ronaldinho “Green Field Elf” Template (65%)]
A clean, simple screen with just four lines.
No other info.
Qin Ming’s eyes immediately locked onto “65%.” He guessed it represented the template’s fusion percentage.
(END CHAPTER)