84: The afterglow of being crowned champion

The clamor of the Championship celebration echoed over Hartlepool for two full days before slowly subsiding.

But Lin Feng didn't take a break for himself.

Early the next morning after the celebration, he called several key figures of the club to the Phoenix Training Center.

The coffee in the meeting room was steaming, but the atmosphere quickly cooled from post-celebration joy, becoming serious.

Old accountant John Stone's face was still red, and his hands were trembling as he held a financial report.

"Boss... I... I've checked it many times."

He adjusted his reading glasses, his voice tinged with a slight sob, as if holding a sacred relic.

"Not only have we paid off all our debts, but we also have over three million pounds in profit in our account..."

"We did it!"

He looked at Lin Feng, his eyes like he was looking at a god walking among men.

Lin Feng just nodded calmly, showing no reaction to a figure that would drive any lower-tier club insane.

He stood up, walked to the whiteboard, and picked up a pen with decisive movements.

"Gentlemen, the celebration is over."

"Now, let's talk about League One."

His voice wasn't loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.

He turned and wrote several large words on the whiteboard: League One Season, Six Core Goals.

"First, League champions, direct promotion."

"Second, in the FA Cup and League Cup, we must reach at least the fifth round; we want Premier League teams to hear our name."

"Third, in the summer transfer window, complete the second evolution of the squad."

With each point Lin Feng made, the meeting room grew quieter, as if the air had been sucked out.

When he finished the six points, the newly appointed Sporting Director Richard Arnold, a professional manager accustomed to big scenes, couldn't help but gasp and subconsciously grip the pen in his hand.

These were not the goals of a newly promoted team at all.

This was a declaration to treat the entire League One as a stepping stone and crush it underfoot.

"I know what you're thinking."

Lin Feng put down the pen, his gaze sweeping over everyone like a scalpel, "My philosophy is very simple: four words, dimensional reduction strike."

He paused, ensuring everyone understood.

"We will use a Championship-level squad to play in League One."

"We will use Premier League-level logistical support to back the team."

"We will use tactical ideas from the next decade to win matches."

"It's like driving a tank into a carriage race; all we have to do is roll over them."

As he spoke these words, in Lin Feng's mind, only the holographic system interface, visible only to him, was rapidly operating.

The Player Radar module was activated, and player profile cards flashed like a waterfall, with data accurate to two decimal places.

Kyle Walker, Club: Sheffield United, Potential Rating: A, Current Ability: 68, Peak Potential: 87, Traits: Speed 95, Explosiveness 93, Tactical Fit (Total Football - Wing Back Attack): 92%.

Ryan Shawcross, Club: Manchester United U18, Potential Rating: A-, Current Ability: 65, Peak Potential: 84, Traits: Strength 90, Heading 88, Defensive Anchor, Tactical Fit (High Press - Central Iron Curtain): 88%.

Shaun Maloney, Club: Aston Villa, Potential Rating: A-, Current Ability: 71, Peak Potential: 83, Traits: Technique 89, Free Kicks 87, Tactical Fit (Penetrating Attack - Free Roaming Attacker): 90%.

Lin Feng turned around and wrote three positions on the other side of the whiteboard.

"For the summer transfer, we need three pieces of the puzzle."

"A right-back with speed to outpace opponents, a strong center-back who can be a defensive leader, and an attacker with good technique who can kill games with free kicks."

His gaze turned to Richard Arnold, like a general issuing operational orders.

"Richard, you have two tasks."

"First, contact Sheffield United and inquire about Kyle Walker's price; I want to know their bottom line."

"Second, contact Manchester United; we want to loan their young center-back, Ryan Shawcross."

Arnold nodded vigorously, quickly jotting notes in his notebook, feeling his blood begin to boil.

"Tell them," Lin Feng added, his tone unequivocal, "Hartlepool can give these young players something Premier League giants can't: an absolute starting position, and a quantifiable, visible future."

"We will train them in the most scientific way, allowing them to become true stars here."

"And," Lin Feng's tone grew heavier, with a hint of chill, "our own players."

"Vardy, Henderson, Smalling... everyone, start contract negotiations immediately."

"For the new contracts, set the release clause at a figure they themselves find absurd; I want all teams looking to poach players to be deterred by that number."

Finally, he pressed the remote control, and a stunning architectural rendering appeared on the projection screen.

It was a modern, streamlined training base, at least double the size of the current Phoenix Training Center.

"This is the plan for phase two of the Phoenix Training Center."

"On the existing foundation, we will expand to include an all-weather indoor training hall, a youth academy dormitory building capable of accommodating all academy players, and a research center equipped with the most advanced sports science equipment."

"Construction will begin immediately after the season ends."

"The budget is two and a half million pounds."

A collective gasp echoed in the meeting room.

John Stone's mouth was agape, wide enough to fit an egg; he simply couldn't believe his ears.

Richard Arnold, the Sporting Director accustomed to grand spectacles, also leaned forward, staring intently at the rendering on the screen, his eyes filled with shock.

This was no longer the scale of a League Two, or even a League One club.

This was the setup of a Premier League giant.

But the shock Lin Feng brought them was far from over.

He pressed the remote control again.

The screen switched to an even grander, more breathtaking building.

It was a futuristic, modern professional football stadium, designed to resemble a coiled dragon.

The stadium's exterior featured blue and white dragon scales, shimmering in the sunlight, full of power and visual impact.

Below the rendering, a prominent line of large text read:

"Northern Dragon Arena - Hartlepool United Football Club's future home."

"Capacity, thirty-five thousand people."

Lin Feng's voice, in the deathly silent meeting room, sounded like a giant rock thrown into a calm lake, stirring up monstrous waves.

"Next season, our goal is to reach the Championship."

"Within three years, we want the name Hartlepool United to appear on the Premier League standings."

"And this stadium will be our fortress for challenging the Premier League, and even Europe, in the future."

"This is my 'Northern Football Empire' blueprint, which I share with you all today."

The entire meeting room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

John Stone's mouth was open; he was completely speechless, feeling his heart about to leap out of his throat.

David Pulis and the Marketing Manager, among others, were utterly awestruck by the magnificent blueprint Lin Feng had laid out, watching the "Northern Dragon" on the screen, feeling as though they were personally participating in the creation of a legend.

In Richard Arnold's eyes, an unprecedented light burst forth.

He had initially thought coming to Hartlepool was just a stable job for the twilight of his career.

But at this moment, he knew he was wrong.

He had not joined a small League Two club.

But a football empire on the verge of rising.

His long-cooled ambition and passion deep within him were completely ignited at this moment.

At the end of the meeting, Lin Feng turned off the projector, and the meeting room returned to brightness.

He stood up, his gaze sweeping over each core member, who had been overwhelmed by his blueprint.

He concluded the meeting with an incredibly firm tone.

"Tomorrow, we will witness a historic moment for Hartlepool United."

"No matter what difficulties we encounter, we must believe in our team, believe in our players."

"Because we are champions!"

"We deserve that trophy!"

When the meeting ended, Arnold and Youth Academy Director David Pulis walked out of the meeting room, feeling somewhat dazed.

They felt as if they weren't working for a small club newly promoted to League One, but participating in the founding ceremony of a vast empire.

Excited, yet a little scared.

Lin Feng remained alone in the office.

He looked out the window at the land being leveled, and on the system interface, the vague outline of the "Northern Dragon Arena" reappeared.

He knew this was just the first step.

It wouldn't be easy to poach talented players favored by clubs like Sheff Utd and Manchester United.

He had to find a way to convince the youth academy directors of those big clubs that sending their talents to Hartlepool had more prospects than letting them rot in their own reserve teams.

Just then, his office phone rang.

It was Richard Arnold.

"Boss," Arnold's tone sounded a bit troubled, with a hint of offended annoyance, "I just contacted Brian McClair, Manchester United's Youth Academy Director."

"After he heard our proposal to loan Shawcross and guarantee him a starting position, he asked if I had been drinking too much."

Arnold paused, his voice even lower, as if reporting a terrible battle outcome.

"He also said we were too late."

"Shawcross is already a Stoke City player."