87: From Heavenly Book to Geometry Wars

Lin Feng looked at Old John's face, which was almost twisted into a knot, smiled, and said nothing.

He stood up from the expensive boss's chair and beckoned to Old John.

“John, come with me.”

He led the bewildered old coach through the corridor to the door of a newly renovated room.

There was no sign on the door, and Lin Feng opened it with his fingerprint.

The room was pitch black, with only a futuristic projection device in the center glowing faintly.

“This is the War Simulation Room.”

Lin Feng pressed a switch, and the room's walls and ceiling were instantly illuminated by soft lights.

He walked to the projector, inserted a USB drive, and then operated the touchpad a few times.

With a soft hum, a beam of light shot out from the projector, casting a lifelike three-dimensional virtual football field onto the empty space in front of them.

Countless blue and red light dots, representing the players of both sides, floated in the air.

Old John's mouth was slightly agape; in all the matches he had coached in his life, he had never seen such a damned thing.

“Start simulation.”

Lin Feng said softly.

Instantly, the light dots on the virtual pitch began to move at high speed.

Those blue light dots were running and passing in a complex pattern that Old John had never seen or understood.

It made him dizzy and his head spin.

“John, look.”

Lin Feng pointed at the virtual pitch, his voice calm.

“Our so-called 'total football' doesn't mean players run around like headless chickens.”

“Its essence is the ultimate compression and utilization of space.”

“Think of it as a geometric war.”

Lin Feng slowed down the simulation.

“First, let's look at defense.”

He pointed to the midfield area.

“When the opponent has the ball, our three closest players will immediately contract like a pack of wolves, forming a deadly triangular encirclement.”

“Look, just like this.”

On the virtual pitch, three blue light dots arrived instantly, locking a red light dot firmly in the center.

“If he passes, our formation will move like a living cage, immediately forming new triangles or diamonds around the new ball carrier.”

“Our goal isn't to make a tackle every time.”

“Instead, it's to use geometry to strangle the opponent's attacking rhythm.”

Old John's eyes widened, staring intently at the light dots, his breathing becoming rapid.

This tactic was too brutal, and too damn brilliant.

“Now, let's look at offense.”

Lin Feng switched modes.

“Offense is like knocking down a row of damned dominoes.”

He made the light dot representing Kyle Walker glow a dazzling red.

“Walker's activation on the right wing is the first card.”

“His first step, as fast as a black lightning bolt, will force the opponent's full-back and center-back to converge on him simultaneously; otherwise, our right flank will be torn open like a hot knife through butter.”

As he spoke, the blue light dot representing Walker sped forward, and two red light dots immediately stuck to it as if attracted by a magnet.

“As soon as they move, a vacuum appears at the edge of the penalty area.”

“At this point, Henderson will have an ocean-wide passing lane, and this is the second card.”

The light dot representing Henderson indeed moved into the newly opened area, and a red passing trajectory line lit up.

“If the opponent chooses to rotate and defend Henderson...”

Lin Feng's finger swiped lightly across the screen.

“Then the third card falls.”

“Our 'Iron Cross' Shawcross will get an open header in the penalty area that even his grandmother could put in.”

Lin Feng didn't elaborate further.

He turned off the projection, walked to a white tactics board nearby, picked up a pen, and personally drew the complex three-dimensional dynamic diagrams into clear tactical sketches.

Every running route, every passing timing, was clearly marked with simple arrows and symbols.

Old John walked over, looking at the tactics board, his expression slowly changing from initial confusion to shock, and finally, a kind of sudden, joyful realization.

“My God...”

He reached out a trembling hand and traced the lines on the tactics board.

“So... that's how it is!”

“This isn't an enigma; this is... this is the physics of football! It's the damned physics of football!”

A door to a new world was violently kicked open before him.

During the training session the next day, Old John was like a changed man.

He no longer looked worried, but instead, holding Lin Feng's hand-drawn tactical diagrams, he roared at the players with newfound confidence for the first time.

“Listen, you little rascals!”

“Forget all the rubbish tactics you learned before!”

“From today on, we're not playing football on the pitch; we're drawing diagrams!”

“Use your runs to draw me the most damned triangles!”

The players were initially a bit stunned, but the eyes of high-football-IQ talents like Henderson and Gylfi Sigurðsson immediately lit up.

The scrimmage began.

“Defend! Defend!”

Old John waved his arms on the sidelines.

As soon as the opposing striker got the ball, Walker, Henderson, and Smalling converged instantly like three wild wolves starved for three days!

The striker was startled and hastily passed the ball to a teammate on the wing.

“Rotate! Move as a unit!”

Old John roared.

Hartlepool's formation instantly shifted, and a new triangular trap formed again.

After three consecutive passes, the opponent couldn't even organize a decent attack and finally, under pressure, took a hurried long-range shot.

The ball flew high over the byline.

“Counterattack!”

Goalkeeper Schmeichel quickly cleared the ball to Henderson.

The counterattack began!

“Walker! Run! Let them see your speed!”

Lin Feng's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached the pitch.

The newly arrived Walker, like a cheetah unleashed, sprinted wildly along the right touchline.

His speed was no longer just mindless running; every change of direction and acceleration was like a poisoned dagger, precisely cutting through the opponent's retreating defensive formation.

The player defending him felt like he was chasing a Ferrari.

“Cover!”

Shawcross pushed high, using his strong physique to solidly block the player tracking Henderson.

With a muffled thud, the unlucky fellow felt like he had hit a granite slab, seeing stars.

Henderson got a moment of space.

He didn't hesitate; with a flick of his ankle, the football, like a precision-guided cruise missile, flew across most of the pitch towards Walker, who was already almost in the opponent's penalty area.

Walker crossed without stopping the ball, and Vardy at the far post easily tapped into an open net!

“That's it!”

Old John excitedly waved his fist.

“This is geometric warfare! Crush them with speed and physicality!”

The entire team began to operate like an activated precision killing machine, every part running at high speed and in an orderly fashion.

In the following few preseason warm-up matches, Hartlepool United achieved big victories against several Championship-level teams.

On the field, they completely dominated their opponents.

That suffocating, omnipresent sense of pressure left all their opponents gasping for breath.

In the Sky Sports commentary box, a veteran commentator watched the match replay, speechless for a long time.

Finally, he wrote in his column:

“I saw a completely unfamiliar Hartlepool.”

“They are no longer the team from last season that relied on flashes of individual genius.”

“They are like a machine from the future, cold, efficient, and deadly.”

“They are about to bring an unprecedented storm to the whole of England.”

On the last day of preseason preparation, in the evening.

Lin Feng stood by the office window, looking at the beautiful sunset over the training ground.

His phone suddenly vibrated; it was a text message from an unknown number.

The message was very short, with only one sentence.

“Mr. Lin, I hear you've created a miracle.”

“I'm very interested in miracles.”

“—K. K.”