Football: I am the coach of Atlético de Madrid.

Chapter 10

Losing the Copa del Rey final put Real Madrid in an awkward position.

After their Champions League triumph, the club had refrained from holding a victory parade, hoping to secure the Copa del Rey and celebrate both trophies together.

Now?

The Copa del Rey had slipped through their fingers. While holding a Champions League trophy was prestigious, it now felt a little cold—especially with their cross-town rivals basking in the warm glow of a freshly won domestic cup.

Atlético Madrid wasted no time. After their victory in Valencia, they returned to Madrid that very night and organized a massive celebratory parade. The city's Atlético fans flooded the streets, celebrating with unrestrained joy, washing away years of frustration.

Meanwhile, Real Madrid was left in an uncomfortable position. Celebrating alongside Atlético would be awkward—like they were congratulating their rivals. And sharing a parade? Out of the question.

Embarrassed, they decided to postpone their own victory parade by a few days.

As the Atlético bus paraded through Madrid to the cheers of ecstatic fans, one sharp-eyed observer noticed something odd: the coach, Yang Hao, was not on board.

Yang Hao had returned to Madrid with the team but was immediately whisked away by Miguel Gil.

The Atlético heir was in an excellent mood. He took Yang Hao to the very bar where they had first met, booked a private room, and cracked open drinks to celebrate.

In his previous life, Yang Hao hadn't been much of a drinker. He was a homebody, preferring to immerse himself in books, brainstorming, and writing. Strangely, after crossing into this world, he discovered he had a surprising alcohol tolerance.

It didn't take long for Miguel Gil to become slightly tipsy, while Yang Hao remained entirely unaffected, as if he hadn't touched a drop.

Miguel was forthright as ever. He began venting about his struggles in recent weeks—how he had tried to understand Yang Hao's ideas but couldn't.

"I get every word you say," Miguel admitted, "but when you put them together... I just don't know where to start."

Yang Hao couldn't help but reflect on the information gap created by decades of progress.

Even the brightest minds of this era, like Florentino Pérez, would struggle to grasp what Yang Hao was talking about—it was simply 20 years too early.

But Yang Hao wasn't here to solve Atlético's financial or administrative issues. His job was to manage the team and win matches.

Getting involved in the club's operations would be overstepping his role—and for what benefit?

Yang Hao kept quiet on the matter, but Miguel brought up an unexpected offer: equity in the club.

Because of his contract, Atlético still owed Yang Hao a significant amount in salary and bonuses. However, with the club's precarious financial situation, it was unlikely they could pay him anytime soon—unless they sold off players.

Instead, Miguel proposed a solution: "We can offer you 10% ownership in Atlético Madrid. That would make you the club's third-largest shareholder."

Yang Hao was stunned. They're offering equity instead of money?

The idea felt absurd.

European football clubs were notorious money pits. Very few turned a profit, and even those rarely paid dividends. Unless you were someone like the Glazers, draining Manchester United dry, investing in a football club wasn't a lucrative venture.

And Atlético wasn't Manchester United.

Even the Glazers were desperate to sell off Manchester United for cash. At its core, owning a football club was like a game of hot potato—find someone willing to take it off your hands before it burns you.

As a time traveler, Yang Hao wanted to say, "Just give me the money instead. I could invest it elsewhere and make far more."

He couldn't help but think back to the tech boom of his past life: Google, Apple, Tencent—he'd written about these companies in his football novels, predicting how they'd explode in value.

With those investments, he wouldn't have to manage a football team. Instead, he could spend his days lounging in luxury and dating celebrities.

...And maybe even buy Qidian someday, he thought mischievously.

Miguel noticed Yang Hao's hesitation and quickly laid out the club's dire financial situation. Atlético Madrid was €70 million in debt, with several payments due soon. Even if they sold off their entire squad, they wouldn't be able to cover everything. Yang Hao's salary would likely remain unpaid, with interest as the only consolation.

Yang Hao weighed his options. If the club couldn't pay him, wouldn't he be at a disadvantage?

Especially considering that, as coach, he would likely scout and recruit promising young players for the club. If these players' values skyrocketed under his guidance, Atlético's overall valuation would increase. Yet Yang Hao would only see a meager interest payment for his efforts?

If he couldn't get his salary in cash, maybe equity wasn't a bad idea.

The proposed 10% stake was essentially an insider deal. Based on the club's current valuation—around €100 million—this was a significant offer.

Atlético's squad value roughly balanced out its debts and unpaid wages. Its most valuable assets were its stadium in Madrid and its training facility in the affluent suburb of Majadahonda.

As for its international brand? Practically non-existent. And they had nearly lost their La Liga status.

Yang Hao remembered that in 2015, Wanda Group had invested in Atlético at a valuation of €200–300 million. At that time, the club was highly competitive, with strong performances both domestically and in Europe.

A football club's value primarily depends on its brand and media exposure, followed by tangible assets like stadiums and facilities. The squad and coaching staff are considered more fluid assets, as player transfers can drastically change a team's value.

In short, taking a 10% stake now was a calculated risk. If Yang Hao's plans for the team worked out, this equity could appreciate significantly.

After some thought, Yang Hao smiled and raised his glass.

"Alright, Miguel. Let's gamble on this together."

Assets like stadiums, training facilities, broadcast contracts, and sponsorship deals are the backbone of a football club's valuation. Yet, at the moment, Atlético Madrid didn't have much to boast about in terms of broadcasting or sponsorship.

As Yang Hao considered the situation, he made a decision.

"10% is too little. I want 20%," he proposed.

Miguel Gil froze for a moment, surprised at the bold demand.

"Don't rush to reject it," Yang Hao continued. "Here's what I mean: guarantee me 10% now. If we win La Liga within three years, give me another 5%. If we win the Champions League within five years, add another 5%. That makes it a total of 20%."

By then, Yang Hao would surpass Enrique Cerezo to become Atlético's second-largest shareholder, only behind the Gil family.

"You're addicted to betting, aren't you?" Miguel asked, half-exasperated, half-amused.

Three years to win La Liga? Five years to win the Champions League?

Such seemingly impossible goals—was he serious?

"You can think it over. I promise, you're not losing out," Yang Hao said with confidence.

If Yang Hao became a shareholder, he knew Miguel would undoubtedly "exploit" him even more. Naturally, Yang Hao wanted to secure his fair share of benefits upfront.

Miguel pondered this and had to admit that Yang Hao had a point.

If Yang Hao truly achieved what he proposed, Atlético wouldn't be losing out. After all, Jesús Gil had poured billions into the club, yet they had only won a league-and-cup double—and not a single European trophy.

"Are you that confident?" Miguel studied Yang Hao's expression and noted the unwavering determination in his eyes.

Yang Hao chuckled. "I'll do my best."

After finishing their drinks, Yang Hao drove Miguel home before hailing a taxi back to the training center in Majadahonda.

Just as he stepped into his office, his phone rang—it was Miguel.

"They've agreed!"

Miguel explained that after returning home, he had discussed Yang Hao's proposal with his father, Jesús Gil, and Enrique Cerezo. Surprisingly, they all approved, especially Jesús Gil.

To the elder Gil, if Yang Hao could deliver a La Liga title in three years or a Champions League trophy in five, it would mean exponentially increasing Atlético's value. In that case, giving him a slightly larger slice of the pie wouldn't matter.

The terms were agreed upon. The next step was to have lawyers draft a contract, and they'd sign it at a later date.

For now, there was no need to make this arrangement public. Yang Hao would continue as head coach, receiving his salary and bonuses as usual.

During the call, Miguel also asked Yang Hao to assist with Atlético's management reforms. Yang Hao agreed—it was only logical, given his newfound stake in the club and the direct impact these changes would have on his coaching.

Yang Hao proposed hiring a headhunting firm to recruit talent directly from the "Big Four" accounting firms (PwC, Deloitte, KPMG, and EY).

"We need to target senior managers in their tech, ICT, and entertainment divisions. The ideal candidates should be under 40," Yang Hao explained.

His reasoning was straightforward: younger hires would be more open to innovation. And at their level, they'd already have at least eight years of experience—enough to be highly skilled and knowledgeable.

These professionals often found themselves stuck at the senior management level, unable to advance further in the hierarchical structure of the Big Four. Their annual salaries typically hovered around €100,000—a figure well within Atlético's budget.

For financial operations, the strategy was the same: recruit top talent from the Big Four.

"Atlético's transformation requires turning the club into a modern enterprise that integrates financial operations, brand development, and comprehensive business management," Yang Hao said.

He emphasized the importance of financial operations, noting that even player transfers often involved complex payment plans and loans. Brand development, too, was critical for achieving global recognition.

"We also need to strengthen relationships with the media. A skilled media director is essential—not just for handling PR but also for safeguarding the club's and players' reputations and minimizing negative news coverage."

As for the sporting side of things, Yang Hao smiled. "That's my domain."

On the other end of the call, Miguel could only listen in awe. Every issue that had plagued him for months was being solved by Yang Hao in a matter of minutes, with clear strategies and actionable steps.

All that remained was for the headhunting firm to shortlist candidates for interviews. Naturally, Yang Hao would need to oversee the final selection, as he had the clearest vision of what the club needed.

After hanging up, Miguel sat in a daze.

He was completely convinced. Yang Hao wasn't just a talented coach—he was a genius.

The 20% stake? Worth every penny.

Perhaps it stemmed from his gaming days, but there was a time when Yang Hao was enamored with the idea of individual heroics. Even when he was writing novels, he enjoyed portraying the recruitment of a singular talent who could single-handedly change everything.

As he grew older and gained experience, Yang Hao's perspective shifted. With time and knowledge, he realized such notions were impractical.

Take Sevilla's Monchi, for example.

Had this been his younger self, Yang Hao would've written a story where he poached Monchi before Sevilla even realized his potential. But now? He couldn't care less.

It wasn't that Monchi wasn't exceptional, but Yang Hao understood that signing Monchi alone wouldn't suffice.

In Yang Hao's past life, Monchi eventually worked for other clubs, but his successes didn't replicate outside Sevilla. This proved that Sevilla's competitive advantage lay not solely in Monchi but in the broader system built around him.

At its core, Monchi was just one cog in the Sevilla machine—a figure who happened to occupy a pivotal role at the right time.

Having read extensively on management while researching for his novels, Yang Hao had come to appreciate the principle of systems thinking.

Systems vs. Individuals

Modern management emphasizes systematic operations over reliance on individuals. A company that depends entirely on one person risks collapse if that person leaves or is poached.

In contrast, a well-designed system can replace individuals seamlessly without disrupting operations. Every part operates like a cog in a machine, allowing the organization to continue functioning even if one part is removed.

Sevilla's scouting system embodied this philosophy, and Yang Hao was determined to replicate, if not surpass, that model at Atlético.

With his decision to acquire shares in Atlético Madrid, Yang Hao's approach began to change.

Previously, he had approached his role with a "contract worker" mentality. He got along well with Miguel Gil and helped out where he could. But now? This was his investment, and he intended to take it seriously.

He resolved to unearth future stars wherever possible. After all, professional football was a competition of talent. Who better to secure than the next generation's superstars?

Then there was Barcelona—a club that, in the coming years, would undergo a period of instability. It would be the perfect opportunity to plunder their talent.

Would such moves disrupt Barça's potential for greatness? Not Yang Hao's problem.

If Barcelona's dream of building their legendary "Golden Generation" fell apart? All the better. A Madrid-based duopoly would reign supreme in Spanish football.

With that vision in mind, Yang Hao set his plan into motion.

The next morning, Yang Hao summoned César Mendióroz to his office.

The city was still buzzing from the championship celebrations, and the Spanish press was awash with coverage of Atlético's dramatic victory. The team's defeat of the reigning European champions had made headlines across Europe.

Yang Hao's name featured prominently in these reports. At just 25 years old, his meteoric rise had captivated the media, who dubbed him a "genius coach" and marveled at his extraordinary journey.

Mendióroz entered Yang Hao's office, still brimming with excitement. He spoke animatedly about the media coverage and the fans' enthusiasm.

But Yang Hao wasn't interested in small talk.

"Save the flattery for later. I need to discuss something serious with you," Yang Hao interrupted. His no-nonsense tone instantly sobered Mendióroz.

"I remember you worked as a scout for a while?"

"Yes, but not for long—less than two years," Mendióroz replied. He had retired in 1998 and joined Atlético in 2000 to assist Yang Hao.

"Are you familiar with the scouting business?"

"Somewhat. I know the Spanish market well, especially the Iberian Peninsula."

"And South America?"

Mendióroz shook his head. "Not very. It's chaotic over there."

"I'm thinking of building a global scouting network," Yang Hao declared.

Mendióroz chuckled. "That's impossible."

"Why not?"

"Think about it. Hiring enough scouts to cover the entire world would cost a fortune. No club can afford that—not even the biggest ones. Most clubs only focus on specific regions."

Yang Hao nodded. "That's true, but it's also outdated thinking."

Yang Hao grabbed a sheet of paper and began sketching out a scouting network.

At its center was Madrid, surrounded by key regions, each overseen by two to three full-time scouts. Beneath them, a larger network of part-time scouts acted like capillaries, reaching grassroots levels. Their job? Spotting talent and reporting upward.

"This structure is essentially what Sevilla used," Yang Hao explained.

At its peak, Sevilla's scouting system boasted over 300 scouts worldwide, most of them part-time. But Yang Hao wanted to take it a step further—by integrating technology.

A Tech-Driven Scouting System

Yang Hao envisioned a scouting system that leveraged the internet to centralize and streamline operations.

Through a secure online platform, scouts could upload player reports, videos, and statistics directly into a centralized database. Advanced analytics tools would then process the data, allowing Atlético to identify potential stars more efficiently.

"Scouting isn't just about having people on the ground—it's about how you process the information they gather," Yang Hao explained to Mendióroz.

While Sevilla relied on a sprawling network of scouts, Yang Hao believed technology could help Atlético achieve the same results with fewer resources.

With a hybrid model combining on-the-ground scouts and cutting-edge technology, Atlético could achieve global coverage without breaking the bank.

Mendióroz listened intently as Yang Hao outlined his vision.

"You really think this will work?" Mendióroz asked, still skeptical.

"It has to," Yang Hao replied confidently. "If we want to compete with the best, we can't afford to stick to the old ways."

For Atlético, this wasn't just about finding talent—it was about building a foundation for long-term success.

Yang Hao envisioned creating a player database centered in Madrid, where every registered scout, no matter their location in the world, could upload player materials and videos via the internet.

Once the uploaded data passed a review by full-time scouts and was approved by Atlético, the player would be added to the database. At this point, the scout who discovered the player would receive an initial payment.

If the player eventually joined Atlético, the scout would receive an additional commission. Furthermore, as the player developed within the club, every milestone achieved would be tracked in the database, ensuring continued compensation for the scout.

Of course, determining specific rewards and implementation details wasn't something Yang Hao could decide immediately. He suggested that the club hire a third-party agency to conduct market research and propose a feasible plan.

This idea, however, raised concerns.

"Is it really feasible to rely on the internet for connection and communication?" Mendióroz asked skeptically.

"Sure, the internet is being hyped up right now, but many people remain unconvinced. Some think it's just an American bubble. In Germany, DSL services only started in 1998. Can it really spread globally that quickly?"

Yang Hao wasn't surprised by the skepticism.

Every revolutionary technology faces doubt when it first emerges, much like the debates over the usefulness of 5G in 2023.

Back in 2000, the question remained: could the internet truly represent the future?

"Broadband services are still in their infancy globally, but the growth is rapid, especially in the U.S., Japan, and South Korea. Even Deutsche Telekom has decided to lower DSL service fees to about €15 per month—an affordable price for ordinary households," Yang Hao explained confidently.

Then, in an assured tone, he declared to Mendióroz, "The future world will be the internet age!"

Having lived through it, Yang Hao spoke with unwavering certainty.

Mendióroz trusted Yang Hao's judgment but still had reservations. The scouting system Yang Hao described sounded incredibly promising and theoretically comprehensive, but it would require significant investment and time to establish.

"You're talking about spending millions over two or three years. Can the club's current finances handle this?"

Yang Hao smiled. "We'll take it step by step. Cut back in other areas, but this is the club's future core competitive advantage. It's the lifeblood of our team and must be prioritized."

Yang Hao planned to personally oversee the project but delegated operational responsibilities to Mendióroz.

After working together for over a month, Yang Hao recognized Mendióroz's abilities. He was not only competent but also deeply loyal to Atlético, being a second-generation fan and former professional player. His connections and experience as a scout made him the perfect candidate for the role.

With Yang Hao and Atlético backing him, there was no doubt Mendióroz could succeed.

Yang Hao wasn't in a rush. His plan was to establish a framework within a year and ensure consistent investment annually.

Sevilla, after all, took about three years to see modest results from their scouting system. It was only after continual refinement that their network grew to encompass over 300 scouts worldwide.

To further convince Mendióroz, Yang Hao revealed his upcoming stake in Atlético, leaving the scout utterly stunned.

Mendióroz had always regarded Yang Hao as his boss. Now, Yang Hao was set to become part-owner of the club.

Had he not known Yang Hao personally, Mendióroz might've dismissed it as bragging. But considering Yang Hao's relationship with Miguel Gil, he believed it.

"Start preparing immediately," Yang Hao instructed. "Once we sell some players and secure funds, I'll have Miguel allocate the budget for you. Then we'll move forward."

Seeing this as a rare opportunity, Mendióroz was invigorated. While coaching had its perks, leading Atlético's scouting department presented a chance to shape something entirely new—a project that aligned perfectly with his career ambitions.

Determined, he promised to get started right away.

After meeting with Mendióroz, Yang Hao summoned Paralés.

Initially, Yang Hao had planned to send Paralés to university for further studies. However, he now had a different idea.

Paralés would still pursue his education, but Yang Hao wanted Atlético to collaborate with the Madrid University Medical School to establish a dedicated laboratory—something akin to the famed Milan Lab from his past life.

The Milan Lab's founder was also a physiotherapist. Yang Hao envisioned Paralés paving the way for a similar initiative, exploring its feasibility before formal discussions with the university.

Ultimately, this too boiled down to finances.

Yet Yang Hao wasn't overly concerned about Atlético's financial struggles. After all, arrangements were already in place for player sales.

For instance, Valerón, Molina, and Capdevila were headed to Deportivo La Coruña; Gamarra and Ayala were likely returning to South America; Hasselbaink was considering a move to the Premier League; and Juninho, having spent the season on loan at Middlesbrough, was inclined to stay in England.

For Yang Hao, none of this posed an issue. The key was ensuring Atlético got the right price.

What Yang Hao didn't anticipate was that the first "customer" to approach Atlético's newly opened marketplace would be practically penniless—Sevilla's newly appointed sporting director, Monchi.

Monchi arrived at Majadahonda accompanied by Paulo Futre.

The moment Yang Hao laid eyes on him, he had the urge to ask, When did you go completely bald? The shine was blinding—there wasn't a single strand of hair in sight.

Monchi had spent his entire playing career at Sevilla as a goalkeeper, though he was never the first choice. Having retired in 1999, he had just been appointed Sevilla's sporting director a few days prior. His first stop? Atlético Madrid.

His visit had a clear purpose: Monchi wanted Zoran Njeguš, Gustavo, and Javi Casquero.

Njeguš, a 27-year-old Serbian right-back, had seen little playtime this season but was nonetheless competent, having earned his spot at Atlético. Gustavo and Casquero, both 24, were Atlético youth academy graduates who had shown promise as defensive midfielders, performing well in the Segunda División.

Sevilla's interest stemmed from Atlético's turbulent years, where the B team was one of the few bright spots, even coming close to winning the Segunda División title. This success had not gone unnoticed by Sevilla, which had just been relegated to the Segunda.

Sevilla and Atlético had collaborated frequently in the past. Players like José Mari and José Luque had moved from Sevilla to Atlético. Now, with Monchi at the helm, his first move was to knock on Atlético's door.

Yang Hao didn't hesitate to entertain the request. After all, these players were up for sale regardless.

However, Monchi wasn't here to spend big. His idea was to buy Gustavo and Casquero on the cheap and take Njeguš on loan. Sevilla's finances were tight.

Seeing Monchi's predicament, Yang Hao couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. It turns out he was better off than he'd thought.

"Forget the loan. Let's make a trade instead," Yang Hao suggested.

"A trade?"

"Yes, three for three. I want Carlos Marchena, José Antonio Reyes, and Sergio Ramos."

Monchi was taken aback, especially at the mention of Ramos.

Yang Hao clarified, "Of course, I understand Marchena is quite valuable. We're willing to pay the difference."

Monchi's eyes widened in surprise. Among the three players, Marchena was the hottest commodity, valued at around €5.5–6 million. Reyes had started making a name for himself in Sevilla's first team, impressing with his speed and technique. The club had plans to develop him further.

As for Sergio Ramos, Monchi vaguely recognized the name—likely a youth team player—but he wasn't familiar with him.

"I'm sorry, Yang, but Marchena has already agreed to join Benfica in Portugal. The transfer fee is €5.7 million."

Yang Hao was momentarily stunned but quickly understood. Much like Atlético's current squad, Sevilla's players had likely been scouted and lined up by other clubs well in advance.

Missing out on Marchena wasn't a big deal for Yang Hao. Marchena's stint at Benfica was underwhelming, and if Atlético needed him in the future, they could always move before Valencia did to bring the Spanish international to Madrid.

In further discussions with Monchi, Yang Hao realized he'd made another error. Jesús Navas and Diego Capel weren't yet part of Sevilla's system.

Sevilla, much like Atlético, was a mess, burdened with financial constraints and a crumbling squad.

Given these circumstances, Yang Hao decided to focus on acquiring Reyes and Ramos. However, he acknowledged that trading three seasoned players for two young talents, one of whom was only 14, would seem unbalanced.

If Yang Hao were less scrupulous, he could have poached Ramos outright without consulting Sevilla. But instead, he proposed a fair deal:

Njeguš for both Reyes and Ramos.

Alternatively, Gustavo and Casquero for two players of Monchi's choosing.

The final decision was left to Monchi.

Reyes showed great potential but was still developing, while Ramos, as a 14-year-old prospect, hadn't yet showcased his future star power. Monchi didn't ponder long before agreeing to trade Reyes and Ramos for Njeguš.

Though the trade wasn't entirely balanced, it was acceptable to both sides.

Paulo Futre, having heard the news, decided to stay back and discuss the swap.

He had also recently learned of Yang Hao's impending stake in Atlético, making him not just a coach but a part-owner.

Futre speculated that Yang Hao was primarily interested in Reyes, whose speed and technical skills were undeniable. Trading an expendable squad member for a high-potential youngster made perfect sense.

"Reyes is promising," Futre commented. "But are you sure about Ramos? He's still so young."

Yang Hao smiled, his excitement palpable. "I want to meet Ramos in person."

In Yang Hao's eyes, Ramos stood out among Spanish defenders—an heir to Puyol's legacy and a leader like no other. His commanding presence, fighting spirit, and innate leadership made him a perfect fit for Atlético.

Someone like Ramos simply couldn't be left for Real Madrid.

"I won't let Florentino have him!" Yang Hao declared with fervor.

Futre chuckled, sensing the fierce determination in Yang Hao's tone.

As their conversation shifted, Yang Hao noticed a detail in the transfer reports.

"Lionel Pilipauskas wants to return to Uruguay to join Peñarol?" he asked.

"Yes," Futre confirmed. "His agent mentioned it two months ago, and Peñarol has shown interest in bringing him back."

"And now?"

Paulo Futre shook his head. "Nothing since then."

It was clear that after seeing the team successfully avoid relegation, Lionel Pilipauskas had second thoughts.

That was understandable; it was human nature.

But since he had already decided to leave, it was better to be straightforward about it.

"Tell Peñarol we want Walter Pandiani in exchange," Yang Hao said.

"Pandiani?" Futre frowned, clearly unfamiliar with the name.

"He's Peñarol's top scorer, nicknamed 'El Rifle.' His market value is about €700,000. You handle the details," Yang Hao instructed.

Futre was surprised. He had no idea where Yang Hao got this information, let alone how he knew Pandiani's market value.

Yang Hao, of course, wasn't going to reveal his secret.

In reality, Pandiani was set to join Deportivo La Coruña this year for exactly €700,000. The striker was a physical player, rough around the edges technically but sharp in front of goal. His strong aerial ability made him a natural finisher, akin to Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink.

What Pandiani had that Hasselbaink didn't was relentless determination, excellent stamina, and impressive off-the-ball movement—traits Yang Hao valued highly.

It also didn't hurt that Pandiani held dual Uruguayan and Italian citizenship, freeing up a foreign player slot.

Yang Hao was thinking ahead. Even if Atlético managed to sign Adriano, there was no guarantee the Brazilian striker would adapt to La Liga or the team.

Given the long season ahead, including participation in the UEFA Cup, it would be a challenge to compete on three fronts. Relying on just one or two consistent forwards was not enough.

Signing the 24-year-old Pandiani would be an excellent addition to the squad's depth.

Ultimately, Yang Hao didn't care who emerged as the primary scorer, as long as the goals came.

"By the way, Paulo, could you set up a meeting with Jorge Mendes for me?" Yang Hao suddenly asked.

Futre blinked. "What's the matter?"

"Several teams are interested in Hugo Leal, aren't they?"

Jorge Mendes was the most influential agent in Portugal at the time. Some even claimed he controlled the pipeline for Portuguese players moving abroad. While that might have been an exaggeration, it highlighted his prominence.

Hugo Leal was one of Mendes' players.

Yang Hao knew Mendes' portfolio in 2000 was a treasure trove of future stars. Additionally, Mendes had strong connections in Brazil, and Yang Hao wanted to leverage this relationship to facilitate the signing of Adriano and potentially other Brazilian players.

"Got it. I'll arrange it," Futre replied.

With the league season over, the transfer market across Europe began to stir.

After Atlético's Copa del Rey triumph, goalkeeper coach Giorgio Pellizzaro bid farewell to Yang Hao, the coaching staff, and the players. Pellizzaro planned to rejoin Claudio Ranieri, who was currently without a team.

For the upcoming season, Pedro Jaro would take over as the goalkeeper coach.

The first departure from the squad was midfielder Luigi Sartor. Approaching his 32nd birthday, the Italian opted to join Serie B side Torino, likely seeking to wind down his career in his homeland.

Next up was Bejbl.

The Czech midfielder's agent secured a deal with French club RC Lens. With a fifth-place finish in Ligue 1 and European competition on the horizon, Lens appealed to the 27-year-old, who was set to leave Atlético on a free transfer. Ultimately, the club managed to sell him for €2 million.

With Sartor and Bejbl's exits confirmed, other clubs quickly swooped in.

Leeds United and Chelsea expressed interest in Hasselbaink. Deportivo La Coruña aimed to snap up Molina, Capdevila, and Valerón in a package deal. Valencia set their sights on Baraja. Real Madrid inquired about Solari. Middlesbrough pursued Juninho Paulista.

Atlético had effectively become a bustling supermarket, drawing every club looking to spend in the transfer market.

What choice did they have? The circumstances were beyond their control; it had been expected.

In Yang Hao's previous life, Atlético had been forced to sell players after their relegation, with some contracts containing relegation clauses that further weakened the club's position. This time, things were different.

Having successfully stayed in La Liga, Atlético held the upper hand.

Yang Hao quoted Deportivo a steep price:

Molina for €5 million.

Capdevila for €10 million.

Valerón for €20 million.

"Take them if you want, otherwise forget it," Yang Hao firmly stated. No discounts.

These valuations were notably higher than in his previous life, bolstered by the players' impressive recent performances. Besides, Deportivo had been courting Atlético's players for months—surely they could pay a premium.

And they could afford it.

Even though Real Madrid's presidential elections were still unresolved, the club had already finalized a €25 million deal for Flavio Conceição. Additionally, Pauleta had been sold to Bordeaux in Ligue 1 for €9.1 million.

With over €30 million in the bank, Deportivo could afford to splurge.

After dealing with Deportivo's inquiry, Yang Hao left Madrid that same day. Accompanied by Mendióroz, he boarded a flight to Lausanne, Switzerland.

Yang Hao had been eyeing Edwin van der Sar for a while.

When Atlético first inquired about him with Juventus, the Bianconeri didn't reject the offer outright—but van der Sar did.

Through his agent, Rob Jansen, the Dutch goalkeeper conveyed his desire to stay at Juventus. Having struggled in Turin, he was determined to redeem himself and prove his worth at the club.

As a result, the potential transfer fell apart.

But just a few days ago, Jansen suddenly called Yang Hao, saying that van der Sar now wanted to meet him in person.

Yang Hao eagerly accepted. Since van der Sar was currently with the Dutch national team preparing for the Euros, Yang Hao agreed to meet him in Lausanne, Switzerland, after a warm-up match between the Netherlands and Poland. Van der Sar would take a brief leave to meet discreetly.

When Yang Hao arrived in Lausanne, Jansen handed him two tickets to the match. Accompanied by Mendióroz, Yang Hao watched as the Netherlands beat Poland 3–1. Patrick Kluivert scored twice, and Frank de Boer added another.

Despite his impressive season with Atlético, Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink didn't make the Dutch squad, unable to win over Frank Rijkaard. Hasselbaink, incensed, publicly criticized Rijkaard in the media.

During the game, Yang Hao noticed van der Sar wasn't at his best. When they met at a hotel afterward, he saw that the goalkeeper's spirits seemed similarly low—not what one would expect from a player preparing for a major tournament.

"Forgive me for asking, but what made you change your mind?"

Yang Hao's curiosity was genuine. The club's earlier reports indicated that van der Sar was adamant about staying at Juventus. What had shifted in such a short time?

Van der Sar and his agent exchanged glances. After a moment's hesitation, the goalkeeper explained, "Juventus is preparing to sign Buffon."

Yang Hao wasn't surprised.

Juventus was now run by Luciano Moggi, the controversial powerhouse of Italian football and a central figure in the later Calciopoli scandal. Moggi's son managed one of Italy's most influential sports agencies, and Buffon had been on Juventus's radar for some time.

It was no secret.

Similarly, AC Milan was also replacing their goalkeeper this summer but had opted for Dida instead of Buffon. While Buffon's price was a factor, everyone knew he was Moggi's target.

Yang Hao remembered reading in his previous life that in 2001, Buffon had almost joined Barcelona. The deal was reportedly close, but once Moggi found out, he called Buffon's agent with a simple question: "Where do you think you're going?"

Buffon didn't go anywhere except to Juventus.

While the Buffon-Juventus saga became legendary, Moggi's methods for securing the transfer weren't without controversy.

"Does Juventus really have the budget for this?" Yang Hao asked with a smirk.

Juventus wasn't broke, but Moggi was famously frugal, always working within his means.

For example, last summer, Juventus sold first-choice goalkeeper Angelo Peruzzi to Inter Milan for €19 million and Thierry Henry to Arsenal for €16.1 million. The proceeds funded the arrivals of Darko Kovačević (€17 million), Sunday Oliseh (€10 million), and both van der Sar and Gianluca Zambrotta (€8 million each).

Moggi's maneuvering strengthened Juventus overall—a testament to his shrewdness, despite the later scandal that tarnished his reputation.

But this summer, Yang Hao hadn't heard of any big sales from Juventus. Meanwhile, they were rumored to be pursuing David Trezeguet, another expensive acquisition. Where would the money for Buffon come from?

"Juventus already spent €8.3 million on Uruguay's U20 goalkeeper Carini. If they add Buffon..." Jansen explained candidly.

Carini had impressed at the U20 World Cup, but his move to Juventus wouldn't amount to much in the end.

"Is Juventus suddenly in the mood for a spending spree?" Yang Hao asked skeptically. That didn't align with Moggi's usual behavior—unless...

"Real Madrid's presidential candidate, Florentino Pérez, has already approached Juventus. If elected, he plans to sign Zidane," van der Sar revealed a closely guarded secret.

Yang Hao's brow furrowed. "Juventus agreed?"

"It seems likely," van der Sar replied. Otherwise, why would Moggi be targeting Buffon?

"When Atlético made its initial offer, Juventus was upfront with me. They were considering a new goalkeeper. Now, word is that Real Madrid's offer for Zidane is astronomically high—higher than Figo's transfer last year," Jansen added.

Yang Hao sighed, piecing together the situation.

This had to be the result of the butterfly effect caused by his arrival.

Earlier, Yang Hao had advised Pérez against waiting too long with his Galácticos project, pointing out that aging stars wouldn't be as marketable in a few years.

It seemed Pérez had taken that advice to heart, now aiming to sign both Figo and Zidane in a single summer.

In Yang Hao's previous life, Real Madrid had approached Juventus about Zidane in 2000, but the offer wasn't high enough, so Juventus declined.

Now, however, Pérez was pulling out all the stops. Two global superstars in one transfer window? That was ambitious.

"An offer for Zidane that surpasses Figo's?" Yang Hao mused. "Pérez certainly isn't holding back."

Poor Sanz—how could he possibly endure all this?

Juventus, too, had seen enough to realize that van der Sar wasn't adapting well to Serie A. With Real Madrid essentially delivering money to their doorstep, Luciano Moggi was happy to ride the wave, offloading Zidane and van der Sar to bring in Buffon.

European football was becoming more intriguing by the day.

"Mr. Yang, may I ask you a question?"

Van der Sar looked directly at Yang Hao, his eyes filled with a mix of intensity and hope.

"Of course."

"Mr. Hill told my agent that you once said I was the best goalkeeper in the world. Is that true?"

As he posed the question, van der Sar stared unwaveringly at Yang Hao, as if to ensure there was no room for deceit or evasion.

"It's true," Yang Hao answered without hesitation, his tone resolute.

In reality, he had said van der Sar was one of the best, but Miguel Gil had simplified it when passing the message along. Not that it mattered.

"I deeply admired Louis van Gaal's Ajax team," Yang Hao began, "and I firmly believe that the future of goalkeeping lies in doing more than just standing on the goal line. Goalkeepers can contribute much more—organizing the defense, controlling the penalty area, and even initiating attacks."

"I spoke with Mr. Perri Zaro about this, and he told me that in Italy, the demand for goalkeepers is simple: don't make mistakes. But in the Netherlands—and especially under Van Gaal's Ajax—goalkeepers had to play a far more proactive role. Sometimes, you were almost like an attacking player yourself. Isn't that true?"

Many credit Manuel Neuer with revolutionizing the sweeper-keeper role, but those familiar with the history of football would know that van der Sar pioneered many of these ideas.

In his prime, van der Sar's footwork rivaled that of many midfielders. His pinpoint long passes allowed him to launch counterattacks directly from the goal, and his defensive positioning often made shots seem as though they were aimed straight at him.

However, in Italy, such a playstyle wasn't appreciated. Juventus fans dismissed his defensive style, failing to see the nuances of his game. They accused him of doing "nothing" during matches, chalking up his clean sheets to sheer luck or poor opposition finishing.

Even the defenders at Juventus found his assertive approach disconcerting—who was this goalkeeper barking orders at them?

And under a coach like Carlo Ancelotti, who lacked the vision to utilize van der Sar's unique skill set, the Dutchman struggled.

At his best, van der Sar could go on streaks of clean sheets. Yet, in the eyes of fans, it wasn't his doing. When mistakes inevitably came, they blamed him for everything.

Italian supporters even coined a derisive nickname for his blunders: Papere—ducks.

Yang Hao, however, was different. He understood van der Sar's strengths and characteristics. He explained his tactical philosophy for the upcoming season, emphasizing that the goalkeeper and penalty area would be entrusted to van der Sar, allowing him to fully utilize his talents.

"I once heard someone describe a goalkeeper's role this way," Yang Hao continued.

"A goalkeeper's job on the field is to identify problems, recognize the situation, and quickly provide solutions. It's a skill that comes with experience.

"Experienced goalkeepers can read an opponent's attack in advance, giving them enough time to organize the defense in front of them. But younger goalkeepers often lack this, relying instead on sheer talent to resolve situations.

"Regardless of whether a goalkeeper is seasoned or inexperienced, once they start making mistakes, it's easy to fall into a spiral of self-doubt—until they lose confidence entirely."

As Yang Hao spoke, van der Sar's expression changed. His usually composed demeanor gave way to visible surprise and emotion. It was as if he couldn't believe this young, unfamiliar coach could articulate something so deeply resonant.

"Who said that?" van der Sar asked.

Yang Hao smiled, suppressing the urge to name-drop Joop Hiele, a former Dutch national team goalkeeper who had spoken these words about Tim Howard during his Manchester United tenure. Instead, he adapted the quote to inspire van der Sar.

"Everyone experiences self-doubt," Yang Hao said softly, "you, me—everyone.

"But only by overcoming our doubts can we achieve true progress."

For the first time, van der Sar seemed moved. Yang Hao, observing his reaction, noticed the Dutchman close his eyes briefly, as if trying to steady himself. When he opened them again, his gaze was firm.

Word by word, he declared:

"I am willing to join Atlético!"

On his way back to Madrid from Lausanne, Switzerland, Yang Hao could barely suppress the urge to hum a tune.

Signing van der Sar felt like giving Atlético Madrid wings—though Yang Hao had no intention of stopping there.

Now that he was a shareholder in Atlético, he felt even more compelled to pursue his ambitious goals. As a time traveler, he didn't have to choose—he wanted it all!

Thus, Yang Hao instructed Mendiodo to fly directly from Switzerland to the Czech Republic to negotiate with Blsany about signing Petr Čech.

From his memories, Čech wouldn't move to Sparta Prague until 2001, after a season as a starter. That transfer fee had been around €500,000. Currently, Čech had only made one senior team appearance, which ended in a loss—his value couldn't possibly be high.

"Sign him!" Yang Hao ordered confidently.

Once signed, Yang Hao would decide whether to integrate Čech into Atlético or leave him in Blsany to gain experience.

With van der Sar in one hand and Petr Čech in the other, Yang Hao couldn't help but feel like the football world was at his feet.

But as soon as he landed back in Madrid, his phone notified him of several missed calls. One of them was from Joan Capdevila.

Yang Hao immediately felt an ominous premonition.

Sure enough, when he returned the call, Capdevila candidly explained his desire to transfer to Deportivo La Coruña or Valencia, asking Yang Hao and the club to seriously consider their offers. His main reason was his aspiration to play for a Champions League team.

Last summer, Capdevila had transferred to Atlético from Espanyol with dreams of achieving great things and earning a call-up to the national team.

Who could've predicted that in just one year, his time at Atlético would turn into a disaster?

Over the phone, Capdevila expressed gratitude for Yang Hao's trust and faith in him, saying how much he appreciated working with him. But, regrettably, he had to leave.

Yang Hao was deeply disappointed but could only wish Capdevila the best.

After hanging up, Yang Hao felt a pang of bitterness. He had placed high hopes on Capdevila, recognizing him as a talented and intelligent player.

In Yang Hao's plans, domestic players were the backbone of his squad, and someone like Capdevila—Spain's future starting left-back—was indispensable.

More importantly, Capdevila's playing style fit perfectly with Yang Hao's tactical needs.

Yang Hao didn't want to let him go, especially since quality left-backs were hard to find. But he couldn't force him to stay.

Truth be told, it wasn't Capdevila's fault—or that of the other Atlético players. The club still hadn't paid last season's delayed wages and bonuses, only issuing IOUs instead.

From a working man's perspective, who wouldn't jump ship in such a situation?

Still, Yang Hao was unhappy.

"Hello, Paul? What's the status of our negotiations with Levante?" Yang Hao called Paulo Futre.

"We've been in talks, but their asking price is steep."

"How much?"

"€5 million."

"Then pay it—lock it down before Real Madrid or Valencia realizes what's happening," Yang Hao said decisively.

"Got it."

After hanging up, Yang Hao exhaled deeply.

"Valencia, don't blame me."

Since Valencia and Deportivo were targeting Capdevila, and Yang Hao couldn't yet outmaneuver Deportivo, he decided to take his frustration out on Valencia.

Not just Vicente—Yang Hao planned to dismantle the Bat team's wings entirely and turn them into BBQ skewers!

Vicente had come through Levante's ranks, a rising talent in Spain's national youth teams. In Yang Hao's memories, Spain's famed dual-wing system featured Vicente and Joaquín—and both had played for Valencia at one point.

Coincidentally, Vicente's Levante was struggling in the Segunda División, while Joaquín's Real Betis had been relegated to the Segunda as well.

Fueled by equal parts ambition and frustration, Yang Hao was determined to weaken Valencia while strengthening Atlético.

Vicente's potential and talent were undeniable.

In Yang Hao's previous life, Johan Cruyff had once said that Vicente and Ronaldinho were Spain's and Brazil's brightest stars, respectively.

Such a prodigious talent was bound to attract attention from top clubs. Atlético's trump card was offering him a starting spot.

With Santiago Solari poised to join Real Madrid, Vicente could step in as an immediate starter.

…

Predictably, when Atlético met Levante's hefty €5 million asking price, Vicente found it hard to turn down the prospect of starting for the club.

Going to Real Madrid meant competing with Savio and Solari; joining Valencia meant facing Kily González.

But at Atlético, Yang Hao guaranteed him a starting role.

To prove his sincerity, Yang Hao personally traveled to Levante to speak with Vicente, sealing the deal.

With that, Atlético secured Vicente's signature for €5 million.

…

After finalizing Vicente's transfer, Yang Hao didn't return to Madrid but instead headed straight to Seville.

Earlier, when Monchi visited Madrid to discuss Zoran Njegus's transfer, Yang Hao had proposed a swap deal involving José Antonio Reyes and Sergio Ramos. Sevilla had agreed.

Reyes's situation was straightforward since he had a professional contract. But Ramos's case was more complicated—he was too young.

With no other options, Yang Hao decided to handle it personally, traveling to Seville to speak with Ramos's parents directly.

The issues with Ramos's transfer were minor—he didn't seem like an exceptional talent.

And that wasn't entirely wrong; if he had been more talented, he likely would have played in more advanced positions rather than as a defender. At most, Ramos stood out among his peers for his physical attributes and tenacity. Whether he stayed at Sevilla or joined Atlético didn't seem to make much difference at the time.

The real concerns lay in how Ramos would adapt to life at Atlético.

To address this, Yang Hao provided assurances. Atlético was currently overhauling its youth training system, preparing for cases like Ramos's. Player welfare and support would be taken seriously.

Yang Hao also promised Ramos a monthly living stipend of €100. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a young player to manage in Madrid.

As for education, Yang Hao had already arranged for Ramos's transfer to a suitable school to continue his studies. Though truthfully, knowing Ramos's personality, it was hard to imagine him excelling academically.

Once all these matters were settled, Ramos's parents agreed to the transfer.

Yang Hao then had a long talk with Ramos himself, showering the teenager with praise and encouragement. He promised Ramos that he would become a key player for Atlético in La Liga and one of the best defenders in Spain, Europe, and even the world.

At 14, Ramos was easily flattered. His confidence soared, and he enthusiastically agreed to join Atlético.

Thus, Atlético secured both José Antonio Reyes and Sergio Ramos from Sevilla in exchange for Zoran Njegus.

One city, two teams, and both relegated in the same season—what a coincidence.

Unlike Sevilla, which was offloading players left and right, Real Betis, after selling Alfonso to Barcelona, had improved its financial situation. The club's primary goal now was to retain its key players, like right winger Finidi George.

After their relegation, Betis had quickly hired Fernando Vázquez, the 45-year-old coach who had impressed during his stint at Mallorca, to lead their recovery.

But rebuilding a team after relegation was no easy task.

With three center-backs, four midfielders, and veteran Urzaiz leaving or retiring, Betis's defense and midfield were in shambles.

To make matters worse, the €16.5 million they received from Alfonso's transfer couldn't all be reinvested in new signings. The club had set a paltry €6 million transfer budget for the season.

Faced with such constraints, Vázquez was at his wit's end.

In this context, Yang Hao approached Real Betis with a compelling proposal.

Atlético offered to trade Celso Ayala and midfielder Gustavo for Betis's young winger Joaquín.

In 1998, when the world was fixated on Betis's record-breaking signing of Denílson, the club had quietly acquired Ayala from River Plate for €4 million.

Though Denílson struggled to adapt, Ayala had performed admirably, catching Atlético's attention a year later.

However, Ayala hadn't thrived at Atlético, often relegated to the bench instead of forming a partnership with Paraguayan teammate Gamarra. After one season, his market value had declined, but his experience and skills remained intact. A return to Betis, where he had played well before, seemed like a natural fit.

Adding Gustavo to the deal, Atlético's offer addressed two of Betis's most urgent needs. The club found the proposal too good to refuse and quickly agreed to the trade.

With Betis's approval, Yang Hao reached out to Joaquín and his agent.

Born and raised in Seville, Joaquín was a lifelong Betis fan with deep ties to the club. In Yang Hao's past life, Joaquín famously turned down offers from Real Madrid, Manchester United, and Chelsea after achieving stardom.

But that was after he had established himself.

Currently, Joaquín had yet to make a first-team appearance. Moving from Segunda División Betis to La Liga Atlético, from Seville to the capital, combined with Yang Hao's patient persuasion and explanations, eventually swayed him.

Joaquín agreed to the transfer.

No one was happier than Yang Hao.

Securing Vicente and Joaquín—the golden wingers of early 2000s Spanish football—under his command filled him with excitement.

But Atlético's ambitious rebuilding had only just begun.

As Yang Hao traveled north from Seville back to Madrid, he had barely settled in when his phone rang.

It was Paulo Futre.

"José Vega is here!"

"Ah, José! Finally, we meet!"

When Yang Hao saw José Vega, his enthusiasm was almost over the top, catching the Portuguese agent off guard.

Vega had been asking Paulo Futre about this young coach, wondering if he'd be a tough character to deal with. After all, it was rare for coaches and agents to get along smoothly.

But Yang Hao's overt friendliness surprised not just Vega but even Paulo Futre, who couldn't help but feel the agent was walking into one of Yang Hao's carefully laid traps.

"To be honest, José, it's not easy to get a busy man like you to meet," Yang Hao joked.

José Vega caught the hint of complaint hidden in the joke.

"I've been in France handling Pauleta's transfer," the agent explained casually.

In reality?

He had been back in Spain for days, preoccupied with Figo's high-profile transfer saga.

Yang Hao didn't mind. Atlético's current standing couldn't compare to Real Madrid, Barcelona, or even Deportivo. The club couldn't participate in marquee transfers like Figo's world-record-breaking move or even Pauleta's €10 million deal. Vega treating Yang Hao with cold indifference was only to be expected.

Without Futre's intervention, Vega probably wouldn't have come at all.

"Well, knowing how busy you are, let's skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point."

"Sure."

"Hugo Leal is not in my plans."

Yang Hao's directness made Vega's expression darken.

"I understand that Hugo is a talented player and highly sought after by other clubs, but he doesn't fit my style. I hope you can understand that."

Vega forced a smile and nodded.

"Of course, I'm aware you've been in touch with other clubs for Hugo. Let me save you some trouble—I want €10 million as the transfer fee. That's my price."

Hugo Leal, at just 20 years old, was already a Portuguese international. Though Yang Hao had benched him last season, Leal had put in solid performances, boosting his market value. Yang Hao's €10 million demand mirrored the fee Leal fetched when he moved to PSG in 2001 after playing a season in the Segunda División.

"That'll be difficult," Vega said, shaking his head. "Hugo has talent, but his performances last season don't justify that price."

"Don't be modest. If anyone can pull this off, it's you," Yang Hao replied with a knowing smile.

"If you put it that way, I can only say... I'm not a miracle worker," Vega retorted, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. He felt Yang Hao was applying undue pressure.

"I heard Porto is interested in Hugo Leal?" Yang Hao smoothly changed the subject.

Vega exchanged a glance with Futre, trying to decipher Yang Hao's intentions.

"As I said, Hugo is a talented player. Many clubs are interested."

Yang Hao nodded with a smile. "Then let's discuss this: I'll trade Hugo Leal for Deco and Carvalho from Porto. What do you think?"

Caught off guard, Vega hesitated, taking his time to consider.

Deco, nearly 23, had come from Corinthians in Brazil. Benfica bought him for €4 million in 1997 but loaned him to second-tier Alverca, where he excelled, scoring 13 goals in 32 matches and helping them secure promotion.

In the 1998/99 season, Deco was loaned to Salgueiros, where his performances earned him an €8 million move to Porto mid-season.

Last season, Deco established himself as Porto's starting attacking midfielder. While he only scored once, he provided seven assists and shone in the Champions League, contributing three goals and four assists in 11 matches. He nearly helped Porto eliminate Bayern Munich in the quarterfinals.

Deco was clearly more valuable than Hugo Leal, not to mention Carvalho, who was also part of the deal.

At 22, Ricardo Carvalho had joined Porto's youth system in 1995 and spent much of his early career on loan. Last season, he played just 11 games for Setúbal.

While Carvalho's future potential wasn't yet evident, Deco's ability was unquestionable.

"Yang, there's no doubt Hugo Leal is a gifted Portuguese international, but he's still not on Deco's level," Vega said diplomatically.

"How much is the difference?" Yang Hao asked bluntly.

Vega wasn't used to Yang Hao's direct negotiation style, finding it too sharp and uncompromising.

Seeing Vega's hesitation, Yang Hao smiled. "Deco is excellent, but let's face it—he's a Brazilian with Portuguese nationality. Hugo Leal, on the other hand, is a homegrown Portuguese international."

Yang Hao wasn't demeaning Brazilian players but stating a reality: local players often held more value due to domestic roster rules.

Every league, whether it was the Premier League, La Liga, or the Primeira Liga, had a system that favored homegrown players.

"Believe in the power of local talent, my friend!"

"I can't comment on this now. I'll need to speak with Porto's president, Pinto da Costa, before giving you an answer," Vega replied cautiously.

Yang Hao nodded. That was only fair. But he wasn't about to let the issue drop.

"How about this: Deco and Carvalho for Hugo Leal, plus €5 million from our side."

Hearing this, Vega finally showed signs of being impressed. He even began to reevaluate Yang Hao, his gaze carrying newfound respect.

That was an additional €5 million!

"Yang, forgive my bluntness, but can Atlético even afford that right now?"

Before meeting with Yang Hao, José Vega had spent a long time chatting with Paulo Futre.

Since taking over Atlético, Yang Hao had shown a preference for player swaps: swapping with Sevilla, swapping with Real Betis, and now planning a swap with Porto. It was blatantly obvious—the club simply didn't have the cash.

As for selling players like Valerón to Deportivo, first, the negotiations hadn't concluded; second, even if the transfer happened, would Atlético really reinvest that money into acquiring Deco and Carvalho?

Yang Hao grinned. "I guess Paulo hasn't told you yet?"

José Vega froze and turned toward Futre, who began to sweat nervously, throwing desperate glances as if to say: Don't look at me; you're going to blow my cover.

"I'm now Atlético's third-largest shareholder. The contract was just signed a few days ago, so yes, what I say does count."

José Vega was truly stunned.

Forget him—no one in the football world would have guessed that Yang Hao, a young coach, was also an Atlético shareholder. This...

"This matter is settled then: €5 million. I want Deco and Carvalho. You take Hugo Leal. If you have the skill to sell him for an even higher price, I won't mind."

After a pause, Yang Hao brought up another matter. "I hear most of Sporting Lisbon's players are under your management. I'm interested in one of their young players."

Vega realized, to his frustration, that ever since meeting Yang Hao, he'd been led around by the nose. He couldn't regain the initiative.

"You mean Quaresma?"

This was Sporting's brightest young talent, touted as the "next Figo."

"No."

"Dani?" The player compared to Rui Costa.

"Neither. His name is Cristiano Ronaldo."

José Vega frowned and shook his head. "Never heard of him."

He wasn't even sure if his agency represented Ronaldo and made a mental note to check later.

"I'm interested in him. Bring him to Atlético."

Vega didn't push back.

After all, a 15-year-old kid he hadn't even heard of likely had no significant talent.

As for why Yang Hao wanted him? There could be countless reasons.

Vega's best guess was that someone close to Cristiano Ronaldo had approached Yang Hao through back channels, persuading him to help out.

This kind of thing was all too common, and Vega didn't think much of it.

It was like how Paulo Futre hadn't been surprised when Yang Hao signed Sergio Ramos—it was just business as usual.

After seeing Vega off, Yang Hao sat alone in his office, grinning to himself.

This was the advantage of being a time traveler.

Even a powerhouse agent like Vega couldn't possibly know that of the three players Yang Hao had mentioned today, the one he'd dismissed entirely—Cristiano Ronaldo—would become a global superstar.

Who could've guessed that Deco would become one of the best midfielders in the world or that Carvalho would ascend to the ranks of elite defenders?

Even Vega wouldn't know that none of this would matter to him in the end.

Because in just two years, a man named Jorge Mendes would swoop in, snatching both Quaresma and Cristiano Ronaldo from Vega. Mendes would orchestrate Quaresma's move to Barcelona and Ronaldo's transfer to Manchester United, cementing his reputation as a super-agent.

Mendes would also exploit Vega's growing conflict with Porto, taking control of the club's player contracts. Riding Porto's Champions League victory in 2004, Mendes would ascend to the pinnacle of European football management.

For now, Vega was still reveling in his status as the kingpin of Portuguese football, blissfully unaware of what was coming.

Incidentally, there was another player at Sporting: a future center-back developer extraordinaire named José Fonte.

But at the moment, Fonte himself was still a project under development. What was there to poach?

Yang Hao's thoughts drifted elsewhere. If Deco and Carvalho ended up at Atlético, what would happen to Mourinho?

Without Porto's success to launch his career, could the Portuguese tactician still become "The Special One"?

The more Yang Hao thought about it, the more amused he became.

His efforts to establish a rapport with Mourinho in recent months hadn't been for nothing. At least he'd managed to get the man's personal phone number. If Mourinho's career truly stalled, Yang Hao figured he'd give him a call.

He didn't have much to offer, but there'd always be a spot for him as an assistant coach.

What's that? Juanma Lillo?

Who says you can only have one assistant?

Mourinho was a master of defensive tactics. Assigning him to handle the team's defensive training would be a sure win.

Ah, European football without The Special One would be a duller place. (Cue Yang Hao's gleefully smug expression.)

Deportivo La Coruña finally caved.

Under Atlético Madrid's unwavering stance—and with the three players unwilling to help the club pressure Atlético—Deportivo's transfer activity stalled. Players like Valerón and Capdevila, who were highly sought after, added to the pressure. For instance, Valencia, urgently needing a playmaker, showed interest in Valerón and Capdevila. Their left-back, Carboni, was aging, and acquiring Capdevila seemed a prudent move.

Under this multi-faceted pressure, Deportivo ultimately agreed to Atlético's terms.

The three players transferred to Deportivo for a total of €35 million.

When both clubs officially announced the deal, Valerón and Capdevila each called Yang Hao to express their gratitude and wish him success in his future endeavors.

Yang Hao returned their sentiments with sincerity—parting on good terms, after all, was important.

Shortly after the announcement, Atlético officially declared that they had rejected Valencia's €15 million bid for Rubén Baraja.

This, too, was one of the changes brought by Yang Hao.

In his previous life, Baraja's transfer had only cost €11 million. Under Yang Hao's management, however, Baraja's performances had been stellar—especially against Valencia and Barcelona, where Atlético had triumphed. His reputation had soared.

Valencia had no choice but to raise their offer.

But Yang Hao made it clear to management: they must do everything possible to keep Baraja.

With the recent sales of key defensive players, Atlético received a significant influx of funds. The first thing the club did was clear all outstanding wages owed to players from the previous season.

To emphasize this, Enrique Cerezo held a press conference to announce the payments and made a promise: from this point forward, Atlético would ensure players' salaries and bonuses were paid on time, with no delays.

Shortly after, club general manager Miguel Gil announced sweeping changes to the management structure.

Under the new structure, the board and president oversaw operations, with a general manager heading various departments, including Public Relations, Finance, Fan Services, Athletics, and Marketing.

Gil also introduced the newly appointed department heads.

Public Relations: Andrés Velasco, formerly a journalist at Spain's La Sexta television network. Originally, the club had considered Cadena SER's star host José Ramón de la Morena.

While a lifelong Atlético fan with a massive influence in Spanish sports media, De la Morena had a notoriously sharp tongue and a polarizing personality. He even had public disputes with Atlético figures like Luis Aragonés. Yang Hao argued he wasn't a good fit for the role, advocating instead for a neutral, diplomatic figure. Velasco, known for his rich industry connections and excellent reputation, was chosen instead.

Finance: Fernando Vázquez, previously a senior manager in KPMG's auditing department, known for his expertise in financial systems and process management. He joined Atlético with a hefty €300,000 annual salary and was already working to reform the club's financial systems.

Athletics: Paulo Futre.

Fan Services: Temporarily headed by board member Clemente Balavede, with plans to later appoint a retired legend for the role.

Marketing: The position remained unfilled, though a shortlist had been prepared for Miguel Gil and Yang Hao to review. Yang Hao had been too busy to focus on this for now.

Sweeping Reforms Underway

Enrique Cerezo and Miguel Gil made bold, high-profile changes that sparked a wave of optimism. The announcement that Atlético's financial crisis had been resolved further boosted morale. The club had repaid its short-term debts and loans, leaving only long-term, low-interest obligations.

"Atlético is undergoing a massive rebuilding effort," declared Miguel Gil at the press conference. "Very soon, you will see a revitalized, battle-ready Atlético Madrid!"

The statement received thunderous applause.

Once the news broke, positive coverage from the media began to flood in. Fans and journalists alike praised the transformation, which dispelled much of the gloom that had surrounded the club in recent seasons.

At last, sunlight shone on the Vicente Calderón Stadium.

Following the press conference, Atlético hosted a banquet for club executives, players, coaches, journalists, and fan representatives.

This marked Yang Hao's first public appearance as Atlético's head coach. Unsurprisingly, the media swarmed him, jokingly "complaining" about his past reluctance to work with reporters.

Yang Hao was caught off guard by his unexpected fame.

"You've gained quite the reputation—what did you expect?" joked José Ramón de la Morena of Cadena SER.

"Twenty-five years old, you saved Atlético from relegation under impossible odds, defeated the reigning European champions, and won the Copa del Rey. What do you think that makes you?"

De la Morena wasn't wrong—Yang Hao had left a mark on Spanish football.

Still, Yang Hao suspected that part of his reluctance to attend press events stemmed from a subconscious fear of criticism.

Neither the newly appointed head of Public Relations, Andrés Velasco, nor José Ramón de la Morena, nor anyone else for that matter, doubted that Yang Hao needed to improve his relationship with the media.

Yang Hao, seizing the opportunity, promised to better fulfill his duties as Atlético Madrid's head coach in the upcoming season.

Once the journalists had left, Miguel Gil wasted no time in pulling Yang Hao aside, insisting he join an interview session later that day.

"I've already booked my ticket to Brazil. I really can't spare the time," Yang Hao offered as an excuse to decline.

But Miguel Gil wasn't having it.

"Don't forget, you're also a club shareholder."

Fine. There was no escaping this one.

According to Miguel Gil, this was the third and final round of interviews.

Previously, a headhunting firm had shortlisted several elite professionals from the Big Four consulting firms. After consulting Yang Hao and following a rigorous selection process, they had settled on a standout candidate: Carlos Leo, a 38-year-old Madrid native.

Carlos Leo was born and raised in Madrid but had graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in the United States. After graduation, he joined the U.S. branch of PwC, working as a senior manager in their Technology, Information, Communications, and Entertainment division.

For years, he had been trying to find an ideal opportunity to return to Madrid. When the headhunters introduced him to Atlético's rebuilding plans, he was immediately captivated.

Not only was he a lifelong Atlético fan, but he also saw great potential in the club's ambitious project. He had flown in from the United States specifically for the interview.

The day before, Enrique Cerezo and Miguel Gil had met with him for a long discussion, and they were thoroughly impressed.

This final meeting was more informal—a chance to chat casually over afternoon tea and hear Carlos Leo's thoughts on the club.

Yang Hao wasn't particularly knowledgeable about marketing, but as Carlos Leo shared his insights into the strategies of American sports clubs, his depth of expertise was evident. His ideas weren't mere conjectures but well-researched conclusions backed by solid data.

It was no surprise that Cerezo and Miguel Gil were so optimistic about him.

Carlos Leo acknowledged the significant challenges Atlético faced, describing them as immense yet accompanied by rare opportunities. He resonated deeply with Yang Hao's earlier assertion that the future belonged to the internet. He firmly believed that sports marketing and promotions would inevitably move toward globalization, offering incredible potential.

This vision was one reason he had decided to leave PwC.

However, given Atlético's current brand and influence, breaking into the global market—especially in North America—would be difficult.

Even in Europe, it wouldn't be easy.

The key to unlocking these opportunities, he explained, lay in the team's on-field performance.

"Sports, at its core, rewards the strong. Humanity has always revered strength," he said.

By this point, Yang Hao had already made up his mind. This guy was a true talent. He glanced at Cerezo and Miguel Gil, signaling his approval.

The interview was essentially a success.

Still, Cerezo presented Carlos Leo with a challenge: finding a sponsor for the team's shirt sponsorship.

Not just Atlético, but many clubs in Spain and across Europe struggled to secure shirt sponsorship deals. Despite being a potentially lucrative revenue stream, selling this space was no small feat.

Carlos Leo seemed momentarily stumped.

After all, if the broader European football scene hadn't cracked this issue, how could he be expected to have a ready solution before even taking up the role?

Compounding the issue was Atlético's limited recognition and influence in markets like the United States, which Carlos Leo was most familiar with.

The conversation hit a deadlock.

That's when Yang Hao proposed a new direction.

"Try the Middle East."

"The Middle East?"

Miguel Gil, Cerezo, and Carlos Leo all stared at him, stunned.

Carlos Leo was the quickest to react, though he furrowed his brow. "You mean oil companies in the Middle East?"

"No, airlines," Yang Hao clarified.

Carlos Leo's eyes lit up, and he slapped his thigh in excitement. He nearly jumped out of his seat.

"Yes, of course! There are several airlines in the Middle East aggressively expanding globally. They'd definitely be interested in this kind of sponsorship. It's just that no one's thought to approach them before!"

More importantly, everyone knew that Middle Eastern companies were exceptionally wealthy.

Once he connected the dots, Carlos Leo looked at Yang Hao with newfound admiration.

"What an incredible vision and instinct!"

Miguel Gil and Cerezo were equally taken aback.

Could this be what people mean by regal charisma—a presence so commanding it inspires instant loyalty from brilliant minds?

As Yang Hao boarded the flight to Rio de Janeiro, he was still reflecting on the impactful meeting from earlier that afternoon.

After Yang Hao suggested targeting the Middle East for sponsorship opportunities, Carlos Leo became like an eager student, bombarding Yang Hao with questions.

While Yang Hao wasn't an expert in marketing or finance, his background as a writer meant he had dabbled in a wide range of topics. His football novels often touched on investments, business strategies, and technology, which gave him a surprisingly broad knowledge base.

This allowed him to answer Carlos Leo's questions with ease, often offering insights that left the newly appointed marketing director stunned. Many of Yang Hao's offhand comments seemed to spark epiphanies for Carlos, deepening his admiration for the young coach.

If Yang Hao hadn't already booked his flight, Carlos Leo might have insisted on continuing the discussion through the night.

Upon learning that Yang Hao was not just the coach but also a shareholder in Atlético, Carlos Leo didn't hesitate to formally accept the role. His first priority upon joining was to restructure the marketing team and begin reaching out to Middle Eastern airlines, hoping to secure a lucrative sponsorship deal before the new season began.

This "38-year-old youngster," as Yang Hao jokingly referred to him, was brimming with enthusiasm.

"The recent reforms at the club seem to have really energized everyone," remarked César Mendiódo, who was seated beside Yang Hao on the plane. He was accompanying Yang Hao to Brazil to help lay the groundwork for Atlético's South American scouting network.

Before Yang Hao's departure, Atlético had received confirmation from Uruguayan club Peñarol. They had agreed to a swap deal: striker Walter Pandiani, known as the "Rifle," would join Atlético in exchange for goalkeeper Leonardo Píris Pascas. Atlético would also pay an additional €400,000.

This was a win for Atlético. Yang Hao assured Enrique Cerezo and Miguel Gil that Pandiani's abilities were comparable to those of Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink. The two executives were thrilled—not only did the club save on salary expenses, but Hasselbaink, with his dual titles as La Liga and Copa del Rey top scorer, was still attracting bids of up to €30 million.

Though several clubs, including Chelsea, were attempting to negotiate the price down, Atlético remained firm.

Why budge?

They weren't in financial peril, and Hasselbaink's achievements justified their asking price.

Yang Hao, however, had a secret reserve price of €25 million—but if an English club was willing to pay €30 million, he wouldn't complain.

When Yang Hao landed in Rio de Janeiro, he was greeted by Paraguayan player Carlos Gamarra's agent, Paco Casal.

Before the season had even ended, Gamarra had been working to return to Brazil, negotiating with clubs such as Corinthians before ultimately settling on Flamengo.

In Yang Hao's previous life, Gamarra also ended up at Flamengo for a transfer fee of €6 million.

But this time, Yang Hao didn't want cash—he wanted Adriano.

Paco Casal wasn't Brazilian or Paraguayan but Uruguayan. He was also the agent for Píris Pascas and Pablo García, and reportedly held the rights to nearly all Uruguayan players—a major powerbroker in South American football.

Yang Hao had heard rumors from Pablo García suggesting that Casal had questionable ties with the Uruguayan Football Association, involving various underhanded dealings.

Such arrangements were common in European football too, particularly in Eastern Europe and Portugal, with figures like José Veiga.

In the chaotic South American football market, Yang Hao knew he needed someone well-connected to navigate the complexities and secure his targets.

Of course, such collaborations came at a price.

Casal was eager to send Pablo García to AC Milan.

Yang Hao was reluctant. García was one of the three defensive midfielders he relied on heavily, alongside Bejbl and Rubén Baraja. If all three left, Atlético would essentially have to rebuild its midfield from scratch.

Still, when García heard that Milan was interested, he couldn't resist. The allure of a major European club was too strong.

Fine, Yang Hao thought—if you want to leave, go ahead.

There was no point in forcing someone to stay.

In exchange, Casal played a key role in facilitating Gamarra's transfer back to Brazil.

The day after arriving in Rio, Yang Hao, accompanied by Casal and Mendiódo, visited Flamengo.

The storied Brazilian club was embroiled in a high-profile scandal involving legendary striker Romário.

The controversy stemmed from Romário skipping training sessions to party at nightclubs, which led the club to fine him.

But Romário wasn't one to back down.

The fallout escalated to the point where Flamengo's president, Santos Silva, terminated his contract.

Romário, ever defiant, retaliated by suing the club for $6 million in unpaid wages.

And if that wasn't enough, the "Lone Wolf" declared his intent to join Flamengo's archrivals, Vasco da Gama.

Flamengo's leadership was in disarray, scrambling to manage the crisis.

This chaotic backdrop set the stage for Yang Hao's visit to negotiate for Adriano.

Romário going to Flamengo's archrival, Vasco da Gama? Unthinkable!

Yet, that's exactly what happened. The controversy escalated until Romário not only joined Vasco but also sued Flamengo, demanding $6 million in unpaid wages. The scandal rocked Brazilian football, leaving Flamengo president Santos Silva scrambling to manage the fallout.

Amid this chaos, Yang Hao's arrival was met with a warm welcome.

Paco Casal had already paved the way for the meeting. Carlos Gamarra, who had thrived in Brazilian football and was still at his peak at 29, fit Flamengo's needs perfectly—if only they had the money.

Yang Hao's proposal, swapping Adriano for Gamarra, immediately won Santos Silva's approval.

The Brazilian league in 2000 hadn't yet undergone its restructuring, so the season was already well underway. Adriano, a key player for Flamengo, had a near one-goal-per-game ratio.

However, everyone knew Brazilian football prioritized offense, with defense often an afterthought. Stats like Adriano's were impressive but needed context.

What made Adriano stand out was his inclusion in Brazil's U17 national team, which won the 1999 U17 World Cup in New Zealand.

In Yang Hao's previous life, there had been rumors online claiming Adriano was the tournament's top scorer with six goals, leading Brazil to the title. Curious, Yang Hao had researched before traveling to Brazil and found the tournament's actual top scorers each had just four goals: Qatar's Boussif, Ghana's Ishmael Addo, and Brazil's Leonardo Macaé.

Adriano, on the other hand, didn't score any goals.

This wasn't due to a lack of talent—Brazil's U17 coach Carlos Cesar had used Adriano as a left winger. When Adriano returned to Brazil and shifted to a forward role (partially thanks to Romário's departure to Vasco), his goal-scoring took off.

In this sense, Adriano owed Romário a debt of gratitude.

Flamengo, meanwhile, felt they were getting an excellent deal. Trading a raw prospect like Adriano for an experienced player like Gamarra seemed like a steal.

After agreeing to the deal, Santos Silva even took the initiative to recommend other Flamengo players to Yang Hao. Among them, Yang Hao noticed Júlio César—the future "Saint César" of Inter Milan fame.

But with Van der Sar already in the squad and Petr Čech on the way, Yang Hao knew there wouldn't be enough game time to help Júlio César grow into the goalkeeper he would become. For now, Yang Hao decided not to disrupt his path.

After finalizing the Gamarra-Adriano trade, Yang Hao handed over further negotiations to Mendiódo. Atlético Madrid, Flamengo, and Adriano's agent would handle the remaining details, with Paco Casal assisting where needed.

Yang Hao also secured Adriano's contact information.

The young Brazilian star still lived in the same impoverished neighborhood where his father had once been shot three times. It wasn't a choice—he simply couldn't afford to leave.

Footballers in Brazil earned little money. For Adriano and countless others, the ultimate goal was clear: move to Europe and start earning.

When Yang Hao met Adriano, his first thought was, He's built like a tank.

It was hard to believe he was only 18.

According to Adriano's father, Almir, growing up in a chaotic neighborhood made Adriano physically tougher than his peers. He was naturally bigger, stronger, and incredibly quick on his feet, constantly darting around the streets.

Yang Hao couldn't help but imagine a mischievous young Adriano leading street fights.

Almir had been worried his son might follow the wrong crowd, so when Adriano was 11, he enrolled him in a professional football school. By 1995, thanks to his physical prowess, Adriano caught Flamengo's attention.

Seven years of professional training had turned Adriano into a physical powerhouse with exceptional technical skills.

Almir beamed with pride, patting his son on the shoulder as he told Yang Hao, "Believe me, sir, my son will become the best footballer in the world!"

Adriano smiled at his father's praise, his eyes shining with hope as he looked at Yang Hao.

"I believe it!" Yang Hao replied, moved by the deep bond between father and son.

Yang Hao then invited Almir to accompany Adriano to Spain, assuring him that Atlético Madrid would provide them with better living conditions and even find Almir a job.

"I can tell, Almir—your son still needs you very much."

As Yang Hao prepared to leave Brazil, he was filled with excitement. Adriano's future would undoubtedly take a different path now that Yang Hao was involved.

(End of Chapter)

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