104: The covetousness of the wealthy

In the meeting room of the Phoenix Training Center, the hum of the air conditioning couldn't mask the sound of footballs being kicked outside.

Lin Feng sat at one end of the long table, his fingers gently tapping the surface, a slow but powerful rhythm.

Spread before him was the scout report Richard Arnold had just submitted, dense with text detailing the "visitors" of the past week.

"Barcelona's technical director, Begiristain, sat in the executive box for the entire match yesterday," Arnold's voice carried a hint of nervousness.

"Arsenal's chief scout, Steve Rowley, this is already his third appearance at Victoria Park."

John Stone pushed up his glasses, the financial report trembling slightly in his hands.

"Boss, if a wealthy club really makes an offer, we..."

"This is a good thing," Lin Feng's voice was as calm as water, cutting off Stone's worries.

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"It proves our vision is world-class."

"But for now, not a single one of them can leave."

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly solidified.

Lin Feng rose and walked towards the giant display screen on the wall, tapping the touchpad a few times.

A blue system interface flickered in his mind, and data streamed down like a waterfall.

【Player Name: Gylfi Sigurðsson】

【Current Ability: 78】

【Potential Rating: A+】

【Market Value: £1.5 million】

【Loyalty: 85% (Slight fluctuation due to attention from wealthy clubs)】

【System Suggestion: Stabilize by increasing tactical status and renewing his contract with a raise】

The screen displayed Sigurðsson's detailed data analysis.

Passing accuracy, shooting conversion rate, performance in crucial moments—every indicator glowed with a golden light.

"Richard, prepare a new contract immediately," Lin Feng's voice left no room for discussion.

"Not only should his salary be significantly increased, but more importantly, a 'core status' clause must be added."

"Guarantee his tactical core position in the team for the next three years."

Arnold quickly jotted down the key points in his notebook.

"What should the buyout clause be set at?"

"£20 million."

When Lin Feng stated this figure, gasps could be heard in the meeting room.

John Stone's glasses nearly fell onto the table.

"Boss, isn't that figure a bit too..."

"No," Lin Feng turned around, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I want those wealthy clubs who want our players to understand one thing."

"In the North, every pearl has its rightful price."

He walked back to his seat and picked up the internal phone on the table.

"Send Gylfi to my office."

Twenty minutes later, Sigurðsson knocked on the office door.

The 18-year-old Icelandic prodigy had a trace of unease on his face, clearly having heard some rumors.

"Have a seat, Gylfi," Lin Feng gestured to the sofa opposite, then walked over and sat down himself.

Without the distance of a desk between them, this equal posture allowed Sigurðsson to relax slightly.

"I imagine you've already heard the rumors outside," Lin Feng went straight to the point, without any pretense.

"Arsenal and Barça are indeed very interested in you."

Sigurðsson's fingers clenched into fists, resting on his knees.

"Boss, I..."

"Let me finish," Lin Feng's voice was soft, but carried an undeniable power.

"Arsenal and Barça are great clubs, I don't deny that."

"But if you go there now, you'll only play in the reserves or during garbage time."

"Here in Hartlepool, you are a king."

This statement struck the deepest chord of Sigurðsson's desire.

Having played football in Iceland since he was young, he had always dreamed of proving himself on a bigger stage.

But the picture Lin Feng painted was more real, more tangible.

"When we make it into the Premier League, you will challenge them as the team's legendary core," Lin Feng continued, his voice imbued with a captivating charm.

"By then, you won't be going to Wembley as a substitute, but as an opponent's nightmare."

"Imagine, when you score the winning goal at Emirates Stadium, when you make Barça fans stand and applaud at Camp Nou."

"That feeling will be a thousand times better than sitting on their bench."

A light began to flicker in Sigurðsson's eyes.

This light was not fear of the unknown, but anticipation of the future.

"I am willing to renew my contract," His voice was soft, but exceptionally firm.

"My heart is here, Boss."

Lin Feng nodded with satisfaction.

"Very good. The new contract will make you one of the highest-paid players in League One."

"But more importantly, you will have absolute tactical freedom."

"In my system, you are the one who can change the game."

After training concluded that afternoon, Old John, following Lin Feng's instructions, gathered all the media reporters.

In the press conference room at Victoria Park, camera flashes popped continuously.

Sophie Green sat in the front row, her voice recorder ready.

"I have an important statement to make," Old John's voice was exceptionally clear through the microphone.

"Regarding the transfer rumors about Gylfi Sigurðsson, I want to clarify something."

The reporters below stopped their actions, listening intently.

"Gylfi Sigurðsson is not for sale by Hartlepool United."

"Any offer below £20 million is a waste of time."

The press room erupted instantly.

£20 million? This figure was absolutely astronomical for a League One player.

Even top Premier League stars rarely reached such a valuation.

A reporter from The Sun was the first to raise his hand and ask,

"Coach John, do you really think Sigurðsson is worth that price?"

Old John's face showed a confident smile.

"The price is determined by the market."

"If a club is willing to pay that price, then it means he is worth it."

"If not, then it means they haven't realized Gylfi's true value yet."

Sophie Green quickly jotted down these words in her notebook.

She could sense the deeper meaning behind this statement.

This was not just about protecting a player, but also about declaring Hartlepool United's strong stance to the entire football world.

After the press conference, the headlines of major media outlets were dominated by this "sky-high price tag."

The Guardian's headline was: "Northern Ambition: League One Player Valued at £20 Million."

The Daily Mail was even more exaggerated: "Crazy Hartlepool: Do They Really Think They're Manchester United?"

But no matter how the media evaluated it, this price tag indeed achieved the desired effect.

Those wealthy club scouts who originally wanted to "snag a bargain" began to re-evaluate Sigurðsson's worth.

After all, no one would set such an outrageous buyout clause for an ordinary player.

In the evening, the Phoenix Training Center was brightly lit.

Lin Feng stood in the tactical analysis room, with a large screen in front of him displaying footage of Birmingham City's matches.

This team, recently relegated from the Premier League, would be their opponent in the second round of the League Cup.

They possessed Premier League-level physical confrontation and match experience, absolutely incomparable to previous opponents.

"Chain defense," Lin Feng drew a complex defensive formation on the tactics board.

The distances between the three lines were compressed to the extreme, and every player had clear responsibilities and positions.

"Move as a whole, like a chain, giving the opponent no space to penetrate."

On the offensive end, his demands were even simpler and more direct.

"Seize the moment of the opponent's mistake for an instant counter-attack, a fatal blow."

"No need for fancy combinations, just the most direct speed and power."

This tactical approach was entirely tailored to Birmingham City's characteristics.

They were accustomed to the high intensity of Premier League play, but might find this extreme defensive counter-attack uncomfortable.

After the tactical analysis, Lin Feng returned to his office.

On his desk was a newly delivered email, the sender being the Hartlepool Mail.

Sophie Green's exclusive interview article was complete and would be published in tomorrow's newspaper.

Lin Feng opened the email and quickly scanned the article's content.

Sophie's writing was delicate, perfectly blending his business philosophy and football philosophy.

Especially the description of the "Northern Dragon Arena" was full of aspirations and expectations for the future.

Such reporting was very helpful for the club's image building.

Just as Lin Feng was about to close the email, his phone suddenly chimed with a text message notification.

A familiar number appeared on the screen, from Los Angeles across the Atlantic.

"I saw your 'fireworks,' they were beautiful. But I'm more curious about the person who set them off."

The sender was Keira Knightley.

The tone of this message was no longer as provocative as before, but instead carried a subtle curiosity and inquiry.

Lin Feng stared at the screen for a few seconds, then placed his phone aside.

He didn't reply, nor did he delete it.

He just sat there quietly, contemplating how this transatlantic game of chess would unfold.

Outside the window, the night deepened over Hartlepool.

The lights on the training ground were still on, a few young players conducting extra training.

They were unaware of the external commotion, focused only on the ball at their feet and the goal before them.

This pure focus was the quality Lin Feng admired most.

And it was something he was determined to protect.

No matter how tempting the outside world, no matter how much pressure the wealthy clubs exerted, he would not let anyone destroy this purity.

Because he knew that a true dynasty is not built on money, but on belief.

And now, that belief was taking root and flourishing in the lands of the North.