Super Wingstorm

Yang Yang!

The voice grew closer and closer.

He had no idea how long or how far he had run before a faint light appeared ahead, tearing through the dark world.

The sudden light stung his eyes, forcing them shut. It took a moment for him to adjust to the glare. When he opened them again, he finally got a clear look at his surroundings.

It was a soccer field!

The soft, green turf, the goals at either end, the white lines marking the pitch, and the empty stands...

It was all so familiar to him.

"Where is this?" Yang Yang asked, as if speaking to the air.

But to his surprise, he actually got a reply.

"Welcome to Super Training."

Hearing the cold, emotionless voice, Yang Yang couldn’t help but turn and look around, but he couldn’t see a single soul.

"Who? Who is it?" he shouted.

"You don’t need to be afraid. I am here to help you," the cold voice said again.

"Help me?" Yang Yang found it unbelievable. "Help me with what?"

"Don’t you want to become a professional player and compete on the same field as Ronaldo?"

"Yes, but..."

"I can help you," the voice said with absolute certainty.

Yang Yang couldn’t believe his ears. ’I must be dreaming,’ he thought. ’I have to be. How else could I explain something so bizarre?’

"No need to doubt. You are, in fact, dreaming. Please, look."

As soon as the voice finished, the main stand of the stadium suddenly blurred. The scene then shifted, revealing an incredibly familiar sight—it was his room, and the person sleeping soundly in the bed was none other than himself.

"Wh... What is going on?" Yang Yang was shocked.

The scene shifted again, back to the empty main stand, but the voice offered no further explanation.

"This is Super Training."

Yang Yang took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He was certain he had stumbled into something strange.

The voice seemed to sense he needed time to calm down and remained silent.

After a few minutes of silence, Yang Yang finally mustered his courage again.

"You said you could help me. How?"

It had to be said, the chance to compete on the same field as a superstar like Ronaldo was a lifelong dream for Yang Yang. It was just too tempting.

"In Super Training, as long as you’re willing to work hard, you can become the best and most outstanding superstar in the world."

"How is that possible?"

"You don’t believe me?"

Yang Yang nodded without hesitation.

Almere’s head coach, John Reep, was a former Netherlands international. He was a teammate of Cruyff at Ajax, and together they won multiple Eredivisie and Champions League titles. After playing for several top-tier clubs, he joined Saint-Etienne, where he and Platini won a Ligue 1 title and were runners-up in the UEFA Cup for the team.

It was precisely because of his influence in Dutch football and at Ajax that John Reep was able to make Almere, a club founded less than seven years ago, an Ajax satellite club. This allowed them to enter the third tier of Dutch football, with hopes of being promoted to the second-tier professional league this season.

And John Reep, with his sharp eye for talent, had lamented to Yang Yang more than once that while he was good in many areas, his fundamentals were just too poor. At sixteen, he had already missed the optimal window for building a solid foundation.

So, how could Yang Yang possibly believe it?

"Fine. See for yourself."

As the voice faded, the scene around the training field shifted again. Lifelike figures of many star players appeared: Pele, Maradona, Van Basten, Ronaldo, Zidane... Yang Yang was incredibly familiar with every single one of them, able to name them all by heart.

"This is..." Yang Yang was confused.

"You can pick any one of them to try," the cold voice said again.

Yang Yang paused for a moment, then pointed to one of his most admired idols, Ronaldo.

With a thought, the figures of all the other stars surrounding the field instantly dimmed. Only Ronaldo, wearing a red and blue jersey, remained brilliant and quickly walked onto the field.

Meanwhile, a defender in a white jersey suddenly appeared on the training field, taking a defensive stance in his own half.

Ronaldo sprinted forward with the ball. His entire dribbling sequence was incredibly fluid, each touch on the ball effortless. When he reached the defender, he suddenly dipped his right shoulder, but his right foot didn’t pull the ball away. Instead, after planting his foot firmly, he pushed off hard, changed direction to the left, and with a touch from his left foot, both he and the ball blew right past the defender.

The whole process happened in the blink of an eye, but it left Yang Yang utterly stunned.

Because Ronaldo’s move had no flashy frills. The technique was very simple, yet incredibly effective and deadly.

This was Ronaldo’s signature move, the Pendulum Move.

As a die-hard fan of the Brazilian superstar, how could Yang Yang not know it? But seeing it on TV versus watching it up close were two completely different experiences. The impact was on a whole other level.

Besides the Pendulum Move, the demonstration on the field continued, covering nearly all of Ronaldo’s dribbling moves during a high-speed attack. Every single one left Yang Yang, watching from up close, completely dumbfounded.

The gap in skill was immense, so vast that he felt an urge to prostrate himself in worship.

Speed had always been his strength, but as soon as he had the ball, his pace would drop significantly. The Ronaldo in the demonstration, however, showed no degradation in his technique even at high speed, ensuring his dribbling attacks lost very little momentum.

Looking at his jersey, it was clear this was him at his peak during his time at Barcelona.

"This is Ronaldo’s signature charge," the cold voice said once Yang Yang had calmed down.

"Let me see another."

With a thought, Yang Yang pointed to the figure of another idol, Van Basten.

This time, the demonstration showcased the Dutch superstar’s shooting skills in and around the penalty area. He used every possible technique, his leg movements incredibly fluid. The various difficult shooting motions he executed seemed to possess a captivating beauty and rhythm, leaving Yang Yang mesmerized.

He had watched match recordings and highlight reels of Van Basten countless times, but he had never been so profoundly shaken as he was now.

Only someone who had actually played on a pitch could truly appreciate the astonishing level of skill required to perform such difficult moves while facing a tight defense.

’Is this what it means to be a superstar?’

After digesting the shock from watching his two idols, Yang Yang quickly moved on to the demonstrations of other superstars.

Pele’s rhythm, Maradona’s dribbling, Bergkamp’s first touch, the Cruyff Turn, Zidane’s ball control...

It wasn’t just attackers; there were midfielders and defenders too. From attacking to passing to defending, nearly every star Yang Yang could name left a dazzling display of their peak performance on the training field. Each one left him dumbfounded, unable to calm himself for a long time.

’This is a superstar!’

"What are you thinking?" the cold voice finally asked after a long silence.

Yang Yang took a deep breath. "Can Super Training really help me?"

"Of course," the cold voice replied without a hint of doubt.

"But my coach said my fundamentals are too poor, that I’ve already missed the best age to build them. There’s no way..." Yang Yang’s voice was tinged with bitterness. This was his greatest source of pain.

Even though he knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t worked hard enough, but because of his coach’s limited ability, he still couldn’t accept it. He refused to be defeated, refused to give up.

"He’s right. You have indeed missed the best age for building a solid foundation. Based on your current trajectory, you will almost certainly be cut this summer. If you can join a professional team after returning to your country, you might get some playing time, but it would be very difficult to achieve anything significant. It would be better to take his advice and focus on your studies for a more promising future."

Although he had been mentally prepared, hearing these words still hit Yang Yang hard.

After a pause, the cold voice spoke again.

"But in Super Training, it is entirely possible."

"Really?" A spark of hope ignited within Yang Yang.

"Of course," the cold voice replied again, leaving no room for doubt. "Although you’ve missed the optimal age, it’s not entirely impossible to improve your fundamentals. It’s just that compared to before the age of twelve, you’ll now get half the results with twice the effort."

Yang Yang immediately asked with concern, "Then what do I have to do?"

"Practice. Endlessly repeat those tedious, boring basic drills for long periods."

"That’s it?" Yang Yang was a little surprised. ’Isn’t that a bit too simple?’

"Yes. Once you’ve perfected your fundamentals and met my requirements, you can learn these Star Skills."

Yang Yang’s eyes lit up. ’So that’s what they’re called. Star Skills.’

Looking at the superstars surrounding the field—some retired, some still in their prime—his heart surged with excitement. Learning just one of their moves would be enough to secure his footing in the professional leagues, let alone having access to so many.

"Learning is easy. Applying is hard," the cold voice said, as if sensing his thoughts and dousing his excitement.

’That’s true,’ Yang Yang thought.

Ronaldo’s Pendulum Move, Zidane’s Marseille Turn, the Cruyff Turn... never mind professional players, even Yang Yang himself knew how to do these flashy moves. But he could only pull them off in casual practice; on the pitch, they were useless. Especially after coming to the Netherlands, he couldn’t even perform the most basic technical actions properly under pressure from a defender, even in daily training.

"I understand," Yang Yang said, nodding as if he had been taught a lesson.

"Can you endure this hardship?" the cold voice confirmed once more.

"I can!" Yang Yang replied without a moment’s hesitation.

"You should know how tedious and boring those basic drills are, and how arduous the challenge you’re about to face will be. Are you mentally prepared?"

Yang Yang understood. A key reason why John Reep had concluded he could no longer improve was that at his age, no one could stand repeating those tedious, boring basic drills.

It required not only immense determination but also incredible self-control.

But he had no other choice.

Either give up on his dream and return home in disgrace, or practice.

Yang Yang took a deep breath. "I can do it."

Playing in a professional league was his biggest dream, and this was his last chance. No matter how hard or bitter it was, he had to persevere.

"Alright then. The first step starts with juggling."

"Juggling?"

This was a mandatory introductory lesson for all soccer players. When he first touched a soccer ball at the age of ten, he started with juggling.

"Once you can do five hundred consecutive juggles, we will proceed to the next step."

"Five hundred consecutive juggles?" Yang Yang was surprised. ’Isn’t that a little too easy?’

When he played back home, the coach’s standard for passing was one hundred. Over the past few years, especially after coming to the Netherlands, he had consistently worked on this skill. Five hundred consecutive juggles wouldn’t be a problem for him.

But just as he was secretly feeling pleased with himself, the cold voice shattered his pleasant illusion once again.

"With the instep of your left foot and right foot, the inside of each foot, the outside of each foot, the front of each thigh, plus your left and right shoulders and your head. That’s a total of eleven parts. You must be able to do five hundred consecutive juggles with each part to be considered qualified."

"What?" Yang Yang’s face fell.

’I’m screwed.’