136: The Devil's Lair and the Alarm Bell

The clouds over Phoenix Training Center hung low, as if even the sky was casting a shadow over the upcoming challenge.

The air conditioning in the conference room hummed, but it couldn't dispel the chill in the players' hearts.

The projector's white light was dazzling, and the screen displayed shocking scenes.

Millwall players' flying tackles were malicious, their studded boots aimed directly at the opponent's shin.

Elbow strikes were fierce and precise, specifically targeting the opponent's ribs and head.

Every foul was accompanied by the referee's whistle and the opponent's painful groans.

Vardy unconsciously tightened his legs, remembering the rough treatment he had endured in the lower League last season.

Henderson's brows furrowed even deeper; he had seen many teams like this, but Millwall was clearly one of the most extreme.

Even the usually calm Schmeichel frowned slightly; his position as goalkeeper made him more sensitive to such malicious fouls.

"Gentlemen, forget Sunderland."

Lin Feng's voice cut through the silence of the conference room, every word carrying a chill.

He stood next to the projector, his figure outlined by the white light in a stern silhouette.

"Three days from now, where we're going isn't a stadium, but 'The Den,' a true devil's home ground."

His fingers tapped lightly on the table, the rhythm slow and powerful.

"There, football isn't the priority; fighting is."

The temperature in the conference room seemed to drop a few more degrees.

Snodgrass swallowed; he had never seen Lin Feng look so serious.

Old John sat in the corner; he had a deeper understanding of the Millwall team and knew that every word Lin Feng said was true.

"Millwall's technique is rough, but their willpower is astonishing."

Lin Feng continued his analysis, his voice eerily calm.

"Especially at their home ground, fueled by their fanatical supporters, their fighting power will increase by a notch."

The screen switched to a picture of The Den.

Crowds of fans waved their fists, their faces filled with anger and hatred.

The banners in the stands were full of provocation and threats, some content even indecent.

"Against such an opponent, any underestimation or complacency will be fatal."

Lin Feng's gaze swept across each player's face.

"If you go there with the pride of having beaten a Premier League team, I guarantee you'll be torn to shreds by them."

The moment these words fell, the entire conference room fell into a deathly silence.

The players, who had just been gloating over defeating Sunderland, now felt an unprecedented sense of oppression.

Sigurdsson's expression became solemn, and he began to re-evaluate the upcoming challenge.

Walker clenched his fists, knowing that his speed advantage might become a disadvantage against such rough defending.

"The tactics I've devised for this match are very simple."

Lin Feng turned off the projector, and the conference room returned to relative darkness.

"Possession, avoid confrontation, quick counter-attacks."

He walked to the tactics board and began to draw simple diagrams.

"Pass the ball around as quickly as possible; don't give them a chance for close-quarters combat."

Chalk drew clear lines on the tactics board, each line representing a player's running route.

"Once we win the ball, find Vardy immediately."

Vardy, hearing his name, leaned forward slightly.

"Our goal isn't to fight them, but to shut them up with goals."

As Lin Feng's words fell, a few soft sighs echoed in the conference room.

The players began to understand that the difficulty of this match far exceeded their imagination.

Robson raised his hand, his voice trembling slightly.

"Boss, what if they really play dirty against us?"

Lin Feng turned around, his gaze fixed on the young full-back.

"Then that proves our tactics are working."

Robson opened his mouth but couldn't speak, and incredulity was written on the faces of the other players.

"When a team starts to respond to skill with violence, it means they have psychologically admitted defeat."

Old John nodded; he began to understand Lin Feng's tactical thinking.

This was not just a set of tactics to deal with rough play, but also a psychological battle.

"But Boss,"

Henderson spoke, a hint of worry in his tone.

"What if the referee can't protect us?"

"Then we will perform so perfectly that the referee will have no choice but to protect us."

Lin Feng's reply was full of confidence.

"Remember, we are a technical team; our weapons are intelligence and teamwork, not fists and violence."

The atmosphere in the conference room began to change subtly.

Fear and worry hadn't disappeared, but they were replaced by a firm determination.

The joy of defeating Sunderland had not yet faded when Millwall's ferocity poured over everyone like cold water, revealing another face of League One.

After the meeting, the players left one by one.

Their steps were heavier than when they entered, but their eyes were more focused.

Lin Feng stayed in the conference room alone; he opened his laptop.

The screen showed a complex data analysis interface.

This was the first test version of the football simulation engine successfully developed by the Northern Storm Interactive Entertainment studio with his funding and data support.

The dense data on the interface was dazzling, but Lin Feng could easily understand the meaning of every number.

This engine could already quite accurately simulate the tactical styles of different teams and the individual habits of players.

He quickly entered Millwall's relevant data and began a virtual match simulation.

The virtual players on the screen began to play according to the characteristics of real players.

Millwall's players indeed displayed a rough playing style, with every tackle carrying strong aggression.

Hartlepool United's players, on the other hand, showed a more technical playing style in the virtual world.

A virtual match ended.

Then came the second, the third, the hundredth, the thousandth... the engine performed tens of thousands of match simulations at an astonishing speed.

Each simulation generated a large amount of data, which was automatically analyzed and categorized by the system.

Half an hour later, the simulation results were out.

The data showed that if Hartlepool United got entangled in a struggle with the opponent, their win rate would be less than 30%.

This result confirmed Lin Feng's initial judgment.

However, if the "avoid confrontation, quick counter-attack" tactics were strictly implemented, the win rate would increase to over 70%.

"Sure enough," Lin Feng thought, "there's no need to use brute force against a beast."

He closed the computer and walked to the window.

The sky outside was still gloomy, but Lin Feng's mood brightened.

Data doesn't lie, and the correctness of the tactics had been verified.

Now, all that remained was for the players to execute these tactics perfectly.

The office door was knocked.

"Come in."

Richard Arnold pushed the door open, holding a thick report in his hand.

"Mr. Lin, I just received some interesting news."

Arnold's face showed an excited expression.

"Several European giants have sent scouts, and they will be watching our match against Millwall live."

Lin Feng turned around, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Which ones?"

"AC Milan, Real Madrid, Arsenal, Chelsea."

Arnold rattled off four prominent names in one breath.

"Their targets are not only Sigurdsson but also Vardy, Henderson, and Walker."

A subtle smile played on Lin Feng's lips.

This news was not unexpected for him; it was even within his expectations.

Their continuous victories against Premier League teams had already brought Hartlepool United's players into the sights of European giants.

"Tell me, what level of scouts did they each send?"

Lin Feng walked back to his desk and began to read the report Arnold had brought.

"AC Milan sent their chief scout, Paolo Maldini, and Real Madrid sent their technical director, Jorge Valdano."

Arnold's voice carried a hint of reverence.

"Arsenal and Chelsea also sent high-level scouts."

Lin Feng nodded in satisfaction.

These names represented the top scouting networks in European football.

Their arrival meant that Hartlepool United had truly entered the radar of European giants.

"Let them watch."

Lin Feng put down the report, his gaze directed out the window.

"The bigger the stage, the more spectators, the higher the value of our actors."

He turned to Arnold, his eyes sparkling with a profound light.

"Tell Old John that for this match, we not only need to win, but we need to win beautifully."

Arnold's eyes lit up, and he began to understand Lin Feng's true intention.

This was not just an ordinary League match, but an opportunity to showcase Hartlepool United's strength to all of Europe.

"This is our first time presenting our 'product' to all of Europe."

Lin Feng's voice carried a shrewdness characteristic of a businessman.

But within this shrewdness, there was also the professionalism and confidence of a football coach.

"Understood, Mr. Lin."

Arnold nodded.

"I will immediately arrange the relevant reception work to ensure these scouts have the best viewing experience."

Lin Feng waved his hand.

"No need to arrange anything special; our strength will speak for itself."

After Arnold left, the office returned to quiet.

Lin Feng reopened his computer, but this time he didn't run a tactical simulation; instead, he opened the World-Class Club Development Platform interface.

The system showed that the team's overall strength rating had improved again after the recent matches.

But more importantly, the players' individual potential values were also constantly increasing.

Vardy's potential rating rose from A- to A.

Henderson's rose from B+ to A-.

Even the youngest Walker improved from B to B+.

Behind these numbers was the rapid growth of the players in high-intensity matches.

Lin Feng closed the system interface with satisfaction.

Everything was going according to his plan.

Now, all he needed was to complete this perfect commercial showcase in Millwall's "The Den."

The clouds outside began to disperse, and the light of the setting sun shone through the clouds onto the earth.

The lights of Phoenix Training Center lit up one by one, and the players were undergoing targeted training.

Their movements were more cautious than usual, and their passing rhythm was faster.

The meeting had made them re-realize the challenges they were about to face, and now they were making the most thorough preparations for it.

Lin Feng stood by the window, watching the players on the training ground in the distance.

His phone vibrated, and a new text message appeared on the screen.

It was from Keira Knightley again.

"I heard you're going to London; The Den isn't a fun place, you know."

Lin Feng glanced at the text message, then placed his phone on the table.

He didn't reply immediately, but continued to look at the training ground outside the window.

A few minutes later, he picked up his phone and quickly typed a few words.

"No matter how fierce a lion is, it's just a beast in a cage."

After sending this message, Lin Feng put away his phone and prepared to leave the office.

Starting tomorrow, the team would undergo their final preparations.

Three days later, they would embark on their journey to London.

What awaited them there was not only Millwall's challenge but also the scrutiny of scouts from Europe's top clubs.

This would be a truly significant test, a crucial battle that would determine whether Hartlepool United could truly enter the European football spotlight.

Night fell, and the training lights of Phoenix Training Center were still on.

The players were still training hard, making their final preparations for the upcoming challenge.

And in the office building nearby, Lin Feng was formulating even more detailed tactical plans.

The importance of this match had already surpassed that of an ordinary League game; it would become a significant turning point in Hartlepool United's history.