The Greatest Manager of All time

Swansea was not like certain parts of London or New York, the kind of city that never slept. When the night drew close to ten o'clock, the entire city seemed to wrap itself in a soft, quiet veil.

Mo Yuan had recently moved into a new home.

He had bought a new residence southwest of Dock Street, near the eastern end of Oystermouth Road. The area had a strong artistic atmosphere. Museums, leisure centers, the Dylan Thomas Theatre, art studios, and old castle ruins were scattered around in every direction, while St David's Square Shopping Centre and the Quadrant Shopping Centre lay not far to the northwest. Daily life was convenient, and the transport links were excellent. Heading east along the dockside road led toward the wealthy district around the River Tawe, making it easy to go out to sea, while heading west took him straight onto the main coastal road, Oystermouth Road, which connected smoothly in every direction.

His new home was a three-story townhouse. At this moment, in the southwest corner of the first-floor living room, Mo Yuan sat in front of a brand-new piano wearing a shirt. Sitting beside him was a slim British girl.

Her name was Serena Helen, a student at Swansea University, and she was a rare classical sort of girl. She was well-read, had elegant hobbies, and carried an artistic, old-world charm from head to toe.

Most importantly, she was 174 centimeters tall, with a slender but beautifully curved figure.

After Swansea's title celebration today, Mo Yuan had left the club. He had only symbolically taken part in the party at the Liberty Stadium before spending the rest of the evening on a date with Serena. The two had just returned from watching ballet at the Grand Theatre, and when Serena came to Mo Yuan's new home, she was surprised to find a brand-new piano in his living room.

Mo Yuan had smiled and said, "I knew you played the piano very well, so I bought one. If you're willing, I hope you can teach me, even though I'm pretty hopeless."

Serena happily agreed, and the two of them sat side by side in front of the piano.

Although Mo Yuan was a complete beginner, his serious attitude alone was enough to make Serena happy. She started teaching him from scratch, beginning naturally with scales and getting familiar with pitch. She had Mo Yuan play them again and again while she corrected his mistakes.

Mo Yuan put his heart into everything he did, and chasing girls was no exception.

But he truly was not simply trying to have a one-night stand with Serena Helen.

Sleeping with a girl for the sake of sleeping with her was something else entirely. Mo Yuan did those things too, but he separated the two very clearly.

If it was only a one-night stand, then there was no need for him to understand her, and she should not try to understand him either. One night of pleasure, then when the passion faded with the morning light, they would go their separate ways. If they met again, it would only be to repeat that same night of physical intimacy.

But when Mo Yuan was pursuing a girl, he was genuinely invested.

He believed in one principle: the process of chasing a girl was the most beautiful part.

Because trying to understand a person, slowly adjusting to one another, and stepping into each other's worlds was like pushing open a brand-new door. Everything seen and heard beyond that door was fresh and surprising.

Just like his pursuit of Serena. He would make himself take part in activities like admiring artwork in galleries. He would try his best to discover the visual beauty of ballet. He would also calm himself down and enjoy the pleasure of beautiful notes flowing from a piano.

All of it was interesting.

Seeing her smile, learning about her world, trying to step into it, and creating happiness together—this kind of enjoyment was completely different from pure physical desire.

Of course, once the sparks between them had built to a certain point, the destination would still be the raw passion of two bodies laid bare before each other. But Mo Yuan never treated the process of pursuing a girl as nothing more than a means to that end.

As for whether they could get married, that was another matter entirely. If they got along well, if they crossed the stage of passion and still did not tire of each other after a long time together, he would seriously consider marriage. But he would never carry that thought before even starting the relationship. If he did, dating itself would become stressful.

Mo Yuan and Serena practiced piano together in the living room. She corrected his mistakes without minding his clumsiness or slow progress at all. Both of them kept smiling, and at some point, Serena's heart had already begun to stir in this scene. Her thoughts drifted as she started imagining staying over at Mo Yuan's place tonight...

...

Five hours earlier, two SUVs had left London and driven west.

Sitting in the passenger seat of the first SUV was a young Black man.

Mo Yuan had met him before.

Martin Nally.

His face was terrifyingly dark.

Compared with the shirt he had worn last time, today he had on a black vest. Large patches of tattoos were clearly visible across his arms and the small portion of his chest that was exposed.

There were five young men in the vehicle with him. Some were Black, some were white, but they were all dressed in similar fashion: black vests, jeans, expressionless faces, and a fierce, menacing air. Perhaps it was because they always kept their faces cold, but these men gave off something that genuinely looked like killing intent.

The SUV behind them held the same kind of people.

Seven people in each vehicle.

Martin Nally looked at the paper in his hand. Written on it was an address.

Mo Yuan's new home address.

Martin Nally gritted his teeth, his eyes vicious as he muttered to himself, "You'd better have already packed your bags and left Britain. Otherwise, even if I have to dig three feet into the ground to find you, no one will be left to collect your body."

After watching Swansea's match against Blackpool on television that afternoon, Martin Nally had smashed his own home into a wreck.

That very morning, he had received a call from Mo Yuan telling him everything was settled.

Swansea would lose to Blackpool that afternoon.

And what happened?

The result had been the exact opposite.

Martin Nally was only a pawn, someone who handled errands for his boss. This mistake had cost his boss more than 1.5 million pounds.

If he could not provide an explanation, he was certain he would be tied to stones and dumped into the River Thames.

So he had gathered his men and driven straight to Swansea.

When the two SUVs stopped on the street outside Mo Yuan's home, faint music drifted from inside the house. Only the third-floor window showed a dim glow.

At that moment, Serena was showering in the bathroom on the third floor, while Mo Yuan stood on the balcony, depressed and smoking.

Looking at the moon tonight, he muttered, "She was clearly hinting again and again that she wanted to stay here tonight. I only suggested we shower together, and she called me a pervert. That's really unfair. Sigh... for a girl like her to take the initiative this much is already pretty good. I shouldn't ask for too much."

The balcony was at the back of the house.

At the front, Martin Nally and his eleven companions got out of the SUVs. Only the two drivers stayed inside.

Martin Nally pointed at five men, signaling for them to enter the house with him. But just as they pushed open the gate leading onto the front lawn, police cars suddenly came roaring in from all directions.

At the same time, several officers rushed out of alleys they could not see clearly, guns drawn and aimed straight at them.

"Hands behind your heads! Stay right where you are! None of you are running!"

Martin Nally's expression changed dramatically.

One of his companions immediately tried to flee, but he could not break through the police encirclement. He was taken down on the spot, pinned face-first against the ground, and cuffed.

Mo Yuan heard the commotion from the balcony. As he walked from the balcony toward the bedroom, Serena poked her head out of the bathroom and asked, "What happened?"

Mo Yuan smiled at her. "Probably nothing. I'll go take a look. You keep showering. Don't worry, I won't peep."

Serena shyly shut the bathroom door, and Mo Yuan seemed to hear her mutter, "Actually, I wouldn't mind if you did."

Mo Yuan walked into the bedroom and switched on the light. Then he went to the window, pulled open the curtains, opened the window, and leaned forward with both arms resting on the windowsill as he looked down.

By coincidence, he saw Martin Nally and his group being subdued by the police.

Martin Nally was being pressed to the ground by an officer, his hands twisted behind his back as cuffs were locked around his wrists. He lifted his head and looked toward the third floor of Mo Yuan's house.

There, he saw Mo Yuan lighting a cigarette, calmly looking down at him.

Martin Nally roared at him, "You wait! This isn't over! You're dead!"

Bang!

A police officer slapped him hard across the back of the head.

"What are you shouting for? Still acting tough even now?"

The police pushed the group into their cars, and before long, they disappeared.

Mo Yuan smoked his cigarette down to the end. Then he saw a woman in black sportswear standing outside his front door.

At that moment, his phone rang.

It was Erin.

He answered the call while continuing to look down at the woman outside. She was also holding a phone to her ear.

She was the one calling.

"Are you going to the police station now?"

"Can it wait until tomorrow? I have a guest at home."

"You have the nerve to say that? We watched you spend the entire afternoon shopping, eating, watching ballet with that girl, then coming home together and playing piano."

"Heh, I can't just spend every day watching you and Lynn being all lovey-dovey, can I?"

"Don't mention him. He went home tonight."

"Oh. You sound disappointed."

"You're getting really annoying. Call me if anything happens. There are still two officers nearby."

"Got it. Sweet dreams tonight."

Erin hung up, got into her Ferrari parked fifty meters away, and sped off.

Mo Yuan crushed out the cigarette and tossed it into the bedroom trash bin. At that moment, he saw Serena Helen wrapped in a bath towel, standing shyly at the door.

Mo Yuan immediately stood and walked toward her.

...

The next morning, Lynn slept in.

He felt as if he had made up for every lazy morning he had missed over the past year.

Waking naturally and completely relaxed, he checked the time. Ten in the morning. Not too late.

He opened the curtains and stretched. The sun was bright today, putting him in an excellent mood.

He had not decided where he should go for the holiday. First, he planned to give himself three days off and not think about work at all.

While showering, he considered how to spend the day.

After choosing between sleeping, hiking, climbing mountains, playing games, and various other activities, Lynn finally made up his mind.

He would go out to sea.

But just as he was eating breakfast and trying to decide whether to invite Erin or Carter to go with him, his phone rang.

Seeing that it was Erin calling, he thought the little princess of the Taylor family had taken the initiative to ask him out.

But before he could say anything after answering the call, he heard Erin speak in an unusually grave tone.

"Lynn, come to 411. It's urgent."

Lynn immediately set aside his relaxed mood and said to Erin, "Okay. I'll be there within ten minutes."

After hanging up, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, then left the house and opened the garage. He took the key to the Maybach from the wall and drove out.

When he arrived at 411 Nightclub, the scene inside made him immediately understand how serious the situation was.

Because he saw many members of the Taylor family there.

Among them was the current head of the family, Fleet Taylor, Erin's father.

The nightclub had just been cleaned that morning, and it was not yet business hours, so the hall was empty. Members of the Taylor family sat casually in different places. Will Taylor stood behind Fleet Taylor.

Will Taylor's father was not Fleet Taylor, but Fleet Taylor's younger brother, Riley Taylor.

Because Fleet Taylor had no son, the heir the Taylor family was grooming was Will Taylor.

They still kept the old underworld mindset. The successor did not necessarily have to be a direct child, and sometimes did not even need blood ties.

Because in the traditional way of underworld survival, the darkness and cruelty one had to bear were things most women simply could not handle. That was also the main reason why Erin Taylor, despite being the little princess, could never become the heir.

Lynn walked up to Fleet Taylor, who was nearly fifty, and said with a touch of respect, "Uncle Taylor, hello."

Fleet Taylor looked like a kind elder on the surface. He had a broad, powerful build and wore a white suit. Four dazzling gold rings adorned his fingers, and he held a cigar between them. When he saw Lynn arrive, his smile deepened, as if he were genuinely pleased.

"Lynn, it's been a long time since I last saw you. How have you been recently? I know you became a football manager. How is it? Are you enjoying yourself?"

Lynn smiled and nodded. "It's more than just enjoyable. It's work I truly enjoy."

"That's good. The reason I called you here is because an old friend called me. It seems there may have been some misunderstanding between your people and my old friend."

Lynn looked at Fleet Taylor, then glanced at Will Taylor standing behind him with a serious expression, like a statue.

Before Lynn could speak, Fleet Taylor leaned his head back slightly and said, "Will, bring Lynn a chair."

Will Taylor immediately turned around, found a chair, and placed it in front of Lynn.

After sitting down, Lynn glanced at Erin, who was sitting beside Fleet Taylor.

Erin gave him a look. Lynn understood what she meant.

Yes.

The people arrested last night had a boss behind them, and that boss was the old friend Fleet Taylor was talking about.

If they were old friends, then this person was definitely not some harmless figure.

Lynn crossed one leg over the other, leaned back in the chair, and looked directly at Fleet Taylor. His tone was serious as he spoke.

"Uncle Taylor, you should know what kind of person I am. I like being direct. Out of respect for our past relationship, I'll speak plainly with you. It's better if we don't circle around the issue. What role are you playing here? Neutral mediator? Or someone trying to fish in troubled waters and squeeze something extra out of me?

"If you consider me a friend, then you should be honest."

Fleet Taylor asked with amusement, "You think I would extort you?"

"Of course. Otherwise, what is the point of this whole setup today? Are you trying to scare me? Or make me believe this matter is very difficult, so if I owe the Taylor family a favor, you'll step in to help?

"That routine is outdated. Just like the Taylor family's old way of surviving became outdated many years ago.

"I'm very disappointed right now. Who helped you back then without asking for anything in return? And now you're using this kind of scene to test me?

"If you continue this boring little drama, I'm not playing along. I don't care what kind of background your old friend has. No one would truly dare touch me."

Lynn's words made several members of the Taylor family stand up instinctively, as though trying to pressure him.

But he simply looked straight into Fleet Taylor's eyes and gave a dismissive laugh.

Living in a foreign country, what was the most important thing?

Personal safety, of course.

Especially once you had money.

What was the life-saving charm Lynn had prepared for himself and his family?

Naturally, it was political connections.

After Lin Jiajie founded Lin Investment, he also had his own advisory team. Part of that team's work was building good relationships with Chinese diplomats stationed in Britain. At the same time, they had established a fund that secretly provided campaign money to British Labour leader Tony Blair, making them one of the backers of his 2001 re-election campaign.

There were many other complex connections as well. Lynn had no need to swagger around and tell everyone what kind of social network the Lin family had in Britain.

But if something happened to him, as long as Chinese diplomats escalated the matter, it would place enormous pressure on the British government.

Lynn could not be considered completely fearless, but he truly was not afraid of just anyone. After all, he did not have the free time to run around making trouble every day. If he did that, then he would truly be seeking death himself and would have no right to blame anyone.

Fleet Taylor lifted a hand, signaling for the others to sit.

He took a puff from his cigar, exhaled the smoke, then smiled and asked Lynn,

"Do you want to marry my daughter?"

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