85: The value of genius

On the other end of the phone, Richard Arnold's voice sounded like he'd been punched hard, muffled and annoyed.

He almost bit out the name.

"Stoke City?"

Lin Feng leaned back in the black leather executive chair, his fingers tapping silently on the smooth mahogany tabletop like a metronome, one beat after another.

There wasn't a hint of surprise on his face.

In fact, a nearly imperceptible curve even appeared at the corner of his lips.

"Very good."

He spoke calmly, his voice carrying a playful tone that Arnold found unfamiliar.

"This shows that our vision is as good as a team preparing to crush their opponents with muscle in the playoffs."

"Now, all we have to do is snatch the player we're interested in, right in front of them."

"Intercept."

Arnold fell into a long silence on the other end of the phone; he felt as if his brain had been forcibly stuffed into an F1 engine, completely unable to keep up with his boss's ridiculously fast thinking.

Lin Feng slowly closed his eyes.

Instantly, the azure holographic screen in his mind, which others couldn't see, lit up.

The [Market Analysis] module was activated.

Data about that man poured down like a waterfall.

Ryan Shawcross, nicknamed "Iron Cross," 6 feet 7 inches tall, 250 pounds, a muscular beast who could defend from position one to position five, a monster from Manchester United's youth academy.

A line of bold red data clearly appeared in the center of the screen.

Stoke City's offer: a four-year contract worth a total of £1 million.

"Richard, contact his agent directly."

Lin Feng opened his eyes, a predatory glint in his deep gaze, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

"We match Stoke City's offer."

"Then, add a clause that he, and his agent, absolutely cannot refuse."

Arnold's breathing stopped.

"What... clause?"

"A devil's clause."

Lin Feng's voice was light, yet like a poisoned dagger, precise and deadly.

"Tell his agent that Shawcross's contract will include a tiered, high-value bonus directly tied to his playing time, rebounds, blocks, and steals data."

"The better he plays, the more he gets, with no upper limit."

"Additionally, if he is traded from us to any team contending for a championship in the future..."

"He himself will receive fifteen percent of the total transfer fee."

On the other end of the phone, there was a gasp; Arnold felt his worldview had been completely overturned.

He had been in this business for twenty years and had never seen such a crazy way of playing.

This was no longer just gambling on a player's future.

This was using the club's future profits to buy a present, to buy a soul that could bring victory to the team with its body and will.

"On the other hand, how's that kid from Sheffield, Kyle Walker, doing?" Lin Feng changed the subject.

"Sheffield United won't let him go; they treat that kid like the next Wade, absolutely doting on him."

"Then don't talk to the club."

Lin Feng's tone turned cold.

"Contact his parents directly."

After hanging up the phone, Lin Feng didn't pause for a moment; he opened the holographic projection equipment in his office.

He didn't write any text but directly called up the system's 3D tactical simulation function.

In the air, a virtual figure wearing a Northern Storm blue and white jersey appeared out of nowhere.

That figure, like a black lightning bolt, performed powerful shuttle sprints between the virtual court's right baseline and the three-point line.

Behind him, trails of red data lines followed.

Those trajectory lines precisely outlined the role he would play in Lin Feng's "Geometric Offense" system.

A sharp blade, tearing through defenses, unstoppable.

Lin Feng encrypted this detailed PPT, which planned Walker's growth path, tactical position, exclusive training plan for the next three years, and even precise daily calorie intake, and sent it directly to Walker's family's email.

After doing all this, he picked up another phone.

This time, it was a call to the legendary midfielder, former England iron-blooded captain, Paul Ince.

"Mr. Ince, this is Lin Feng of Northern Storm."

His tone carried the respect due to a legend.

"Regarding your son, Tom, I cannot guarantee him an immediate starting spot."

"But I can guarantee you that here, he will receive the most scientific and systematic growth environment in all of England—no, in the entire world—and a visibly bright future."

"Phase two of the Phoenix Training Center is already underway, and the anti-gravity recovery pods and dynamic capture analysis system inside are always open to you and Tom."

In the subsequent rounds of phone negotiations with player agents, Lin Feng displayed negotiation skills and psychological warfare abilities that left Sports Director Richard Arnold in awe.

He could always pinpoint the deepest desires of the other party with deadly accuracy.

Sometimes it was money.

Sometimes it was a tangible future for the player.

In comparison, the acquisitions of Liam Bridcutt and Peter Hartley were uneventful; Lin Feng used a flexible "loan-to-buy" approach and almost effortlessly finalized these two young defensive reinforcements.

A few days later.

Lin Feng's plan began to show its terrifying effectiveness.

Ryan Shawcross's agent was completely swayed.

Money.

Future planning.

Especially that devil's promise of "secondary transfer percentage," like a devil in a black trench coat, constantly whispering in his ear, tempting him, making it impossible to refuse.

He decided to fly to Manchester immediately to persuade his player, that unruly muscular brute, to reconsider the offer from Northern Storm.

Kyle Walker's parents were also completely moved by Lin Feng's professional and almost terrifying PPT.

They began to put pressure on their son and Sheffield United Football Club.

As for the two underage children, 17-year-old Kyle Walker and 15-year-old Tom Ince, Lin Feng had already had his legal team prepare youth training contracts and apprentice contracts that fully complied with both NBA collective bargaining agreements and The FA regulations.

Every detail was meticulously precise.

In the evening.

Richard Arnold's call came in again.

This time, his voice was filled with an uncontrollable, almost explosive excitement.

"Boss, it's done! Shawcross agreed!"

"He said... he said he wants to play for a boss who truly understands his value, who can let him use his body to tear apart opponents!"

"Now, it just depends on whether Manchester United will set any obstacles!"