We made you the King of Prisoners, and now you've become the King of Football?

Chapter 43 "The World's Number One Superstar"

The next day.

Latourby Training Centre.

In the medical room.

The team doctor glanced at the test report in his hand and shook his head.

"It's nothing, just a mild grade one hamstring strain. Young people recover quickly, and after a couple of days of rest, it won't affect your subsequent training at all."

Upon hearing this, Yaldin's heart, which had been hanging in suspense for a long time, finally settled down.

As soon as he arrived at the base this morning, Jiang Ming blocked his way, saying that his leg was acting strangely.

Yaldin was immediately terrified and broke out in a cold sweat.

We can't afford any mishaps with this newly emerging gold!

Without saying a word, they dragged the person into the medical room for testing.

He was just wondering if this kid had only recovered from a serious injury twenty days ago.

Have I arranged too many matches for him lately?

But then I thought, wait a minute!

The longest game this kid has ever played was against Marseille, and he only played for a little over 60 minutes.

The rest are all half-court games.

The team doctor put the report away and looked at Jiang Ming.

"Hmm... Have you done anything recently that caused a sudden surge in your power?"

"Hamstring strains usually happen like this: when your other muscles can't keep up, the hamstrings have to compensate, increasing the burden. To put it bluntly, it's an overuse injury."

"Repeated sprints and excessive weighted squats can cause this; it's a very common minor problem."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Ming immediately fell into deep thought.

His earlier guess was correct; it was Carlos's heavy cannon shot that caused the physical strain.

After all, with such a weak physique, how could he withstand the explosive power of a heavy cannon?

Yaldin said in a deep voice, "If anything happens in the future, speak up immediately. Don't hide anything, understand?"

Jiang Ming then came to his senses and nodded, "Understood, boss!"

"By the way, take advantage of these two days off to talk to the club about the new contract," Jardine changed the subject. "The management has been thinking about it for a while now."

"Okay."

……

Monaco's waterfront landmark.

Inside Dmitry Rybonovlev's private villa.

Rybonovlev sat at the head of the long table, his fingertips lightly tapping the surface.

This Russian billionaire, known as the "Fertilizer King," is also the behind-the-scenes owner of the Monaco club.

He rarely interferes in the team's daily affairs, but he has the final say on all major signings and contract renewals for key players.

Monaco's sporting director, Luis Campos, handed over a thick report.

"Boss, this is all of Jiang's recent match reports, as well as the value assessment made by the marketing department."

Campos pushed the document over.

Rybonovlev lowered his head and flipped through a few pages, his movements gradually slowing down.

Twenty days.

From U19 to the first team.

Five official matches, three goals and eight assists.

Moreover, their opponents were French Ligue 1 and Europa League teams.

This kind of data can no longer be simply described as "genius".

More importantly—he's only 17 years old.

The office was silent for a few seconds.

Rybonovlev suddenly spoke up: "What's Tottenham's attitude?"

"Pochettino made a public statement at the press conference," Campos said in a deep voice. "He said that as long as Jiang is willing to go to London, he will build the team around Jiang."

Rybonovlev squinted slightly.

He certainly understood what those words meant.

A 17-year-old newcomer who has been playing professional matches for less than a month.

However, this has already convinced the managers of the Premier League's Big Six to publicly commit to their core roles.

This kind of thing is crazy enough in itself.

Not to mention, Jiang also has the entire Chinese market behind him.

Campos continued, "The problem now is that he only has one month left on his contract."

"Furthermore, according to my information, Jorge Mendes has already begun contacting Jiang."

Rybonovlev paused for a moment: "Mendes?"

"Yes." Campos nodded. "Several other agencies are also keeping an eye on it, but Mendes is currently the most active."

Rybonovlev leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

If Raiola is more like a lion, then Mendes gives the impression of a true businessman.

He rarely loses control and is extremely emotional.

But it is precisely these kinds of people who are the most difficult to deal with.

Because in Mendes' eyes, players, clubs, transfers, commercial value...

Essentially, they are all just part of a transaction.

Cristiano Ronaldo is no exception.

"It seems..."

Rybonovlev slowly exhaled.

"We need to prepare ourselves for being ripped off."

……

An open-air café on a street corner in Monaco.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the shadows of the trees, leaving dappled spots of light on the table.

Mendes crossed his arms and quietly looked at the Chinese boy in front of him.

Originally, he was scheduled to arrive in France in two more days.

But Mendes eventually changed his mind.

Some players must be secured as soon as possible, otherwise they may be snatched away by someone else in the next second.

"So, Jiang," Mendes said slowly, "now, do you have an answer?"

Jiang Ming did not answer immediately.

He's been thinking about this ever since the Tottenham game ended.

Contracts, resources, media exposure, club relationships...

Each of these factors could potentially determine his career trajectory.

Mendes added quietly, "Do you know how many clubs in Europe are talking about you right now?"

"Tottenham, Paris Saint-Germain, Manchester United, and a few other La Liga teams, except for Real Madrid, of course."

"They are certainly watching your football, but it's not just football."

He tapped the table lightly. "Do you think Pochettino's public statement at the press conference was impulsive?"

"No, it's an attitude. He knows that a player like you, once you truly make it, there's no way you can hide it. So he's extending an olive branch first, just in case you're interested?"

Mendes leaned back slightly: "But being seen and actually standing at the center of the world are two different things."

"I can help you get to that position faster."

Jiang Ming raised his head, his gaze still calm: "I have a question."

Mendes smiled slightly, signaling him to continue.

"Do you value me for football itself, or for the market behind me?"

The air was still for a few seconds, and for the first time, a serious look flashed in Mendes' eyes.

"Football," Mendes replied slowly. "Your China has already shown many examples. If you can't perform well, no amount of market value is anything but empty talk."

Jiang Ming did not answer immediately.

He recalled every match since the system was activated; those modules and special skills were just the beginning.

This body is far from being restored to its peak, and the road ahead for him is much longer than Mendes imagined.

Jiang Ming pondered for a moment, then nodded: "I understand. We must rely on our own abilities to establish ourselves, not be packaged by others."

"I want results, not traffic."

Mendes nodded: "Continue."

"Your previous question was, 'Do I want to become the world's number one internet celebrity?'"

Jiang Ming calmly added, "Remove the word 'traffic' from the equation, and that's my condition."

"If you can do it, then let's sign the contract."

Mendes tapped the table lightly, mentally assessing the boy's words.

This kid spoke quite calmly at first, but the ambition he revealed at the end was enormous.

If this kid can really stand on the world's highest stage based on his own strength, then he also has to bear the corresponding responsibility.

The voting for the Ballon d'Or and FIFA World Player of the Year awards may need to consider him and give him a place.

This is tantamount to making him offend other strong competitors.

But considering this kid's potential and ambition, it's hard not to underestimate him.

He had met someone like this back in Lisbon thirteen years ago…

That person has now become one of the best players in the world.

"I see."

Mendes leaned back in his chair: "It seems you know what you want and which path to take."

"I can help you speed things up, but ultimately, the result depends on yourself."

"Of course."