On the field, the boys lined up in a row.

Although initially, many reluctant expressions remained on their faces.

But for a very long time, Wang Fa didn’t speak.

In the night, only the wind sweeping across the field, time and breathing together, were once again slowly drawn out.

During that long period.

Lin Wanxing watched Wang Fa gazing at the players, that feeling was somewhat like a wolf pack leader in a wildlife documentary, surveying his subjects with a nonchalant gaze.

Lin Wanxing wasn’t sure why such a strange and slightly chilling comparison had welled up in her mind.

It was just that on that night, in the silent darkness of the city, this was truly what she thought.

Wang Fa slowly began to speak — “Your teacher exchanged a month’s rent with me for a professional football lesson.”

Hearing this, the students’ gazes swept toward Lin Wanxing.

Lin Wanxing was stunned for a moment; she hadn’t expected Wang Fa to reveal their transaction so directly.

“And I indeed know many training methods from professional leagues. Those are time-tested and effective training techniques,” Wang Fa continued.

The students looked at each other.

The reluctant expressions from earlier were gone, replaced by excited looks. For any child who plays football, the four words “professional league” hold tremendous appeal.

“But those methods aren’t suitable for you.”

Suddenly, Wang Fa threw cold water on their excitement.

“Why not?” Qin Ao asked defiantly.

“Because you’re too weak,” Wang Fa said objectively. “All systematic training methods are unsuitable for you as you are now.”

“Then what does Teacher Lin want you to teach us?”

“Yes, what are we supposed to learn from you?”

Perhaps feeling their tone was inappropriate, the students added, “You said that before each training session, we should ask about the purpose and content.”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about what I can teach you,” Wang Fa said, almost as if talking to himself.

The students exchanged glances.

The excitement that had been on their faces earlier vanished again in the night breeze.

The topic seemed to return to their original reason for choosing to give up football.

They were too weak now, and time was so short—they had no hope of defeating strong opponents. If that was the case, why even bother?

“From a very practical perspective, I’ll conduct some targeted training arrangements for Sunday’s match that can help you perform your strengths a bit better. But any training has a long-term process, and you may have already left football before seeing any results.”

“Coach, you’re not trying to scam our teacher out of her rent, are you?” someone mumbled quietly from the corner.

“With such limited time, what’s the point of practicing anything?”

“Indeed, time is short, so all I can teach you is one successful experience,” Wang Fa replied.

The students looked confused.

What Wang Fa said seemed to offer little hope, but what did he mean by “one successful experience”?

“We can’t win anyway, so how is that success?” Fu Xinshu asked.

“Is victory the only thing that can be called ‘success’?” Wang Fa countered.

In the darkness, the students were stumped by the question.

Wang Fa continued at his own pace: “Winning and losing is certainly important, but since you all think you’ll lose anyway, why not set the match goal on what I’m suggesting—complete one tactical coordination that I arrange, and gain one successful experience.”

Wang Fa spoke very practically and seriously.

There was nothing fancy about it, just very concrete tactical arrangements.

“Lvjing International is stronger than you and won’t underestimate you again. You can’t count on luck like last time. We only have one tactical option—counterattack.”

When they heard the words “counterattack,” the expectant expressions on the students’ faces suddenly turned disappointed.

It seemed far from the sophisticated tactics they had been expecting.

Wang Fa said, “I understand you’ve received professional football training and know how to execute a counterattack. That’s nothing special. But the problem is that many times, you ‘know’ but ‘can’t do it.'”

In the night breeze, the students stood straight, some confused, some disdainful, but most listening quietly.

Wang Fa said, “Zheng Feiyang, you originally played midfield, but in that position, your running speed is slow and doesn’t help much with defense or offense, so you’ll drop back and we’ll switch to five defenders. Chen Weidong has a good physique, but he’s still a novice and prone to mistakes. As for you, Qi Liang, you’re a defender with many ideas, but precisely because of this, you tend to lose your mark when defending.”

Wang Fa called them out one by one: “So Zheng Feiyang, you drop back and play sweeper, responsible for covering positions. This will make our defense much more solid. As for offense…”

“Long passes?” Qin Ao’s eyes lit up.

“No, we’ll abandon the previous simple long passes; they’re too easy to defend against. Qin Ao, Chen Jianghe, Fu Xinshu, Lin Lu…”

As Wang Fa spoke, he took out the notebook he always carried with him, pulled a pencil from his pocket, and gestured for the students to gather around.

The light on the field was dim, and the pencil tip made a scratching sound against the paper.

“You two are forwards with strength and speed. Fu Xinshu, you’re midfield. Lin Lu, although you’re a defender, you have good passing ability and insertion skills.” Wang Fa looked at the remaining students.

The players watched Wang Fa, not knowing what he was about to say.

“Counterattack isn’t just about long passes and high balls—that’s a low-efficiency method that opponents can easily anticipate, purely relying on luck. But passing between several players, small-range coordination, and timely forward insertions can make counterattacks more incisive.”

Wang Fa began drawing circles in his notebook and said, “Lin Lu, you’re the first initiator in the counterattack. When the defense clears the ball and you get it, that’s when our counterattack begins. The other three must pay attention—when Lin Lu gets the ball in the back, you must start running.”

Three fuzzy pencil-drawn circles appeared in the notebook.

Wang Fa carefully explained this simple tactic to the students.

When Lin Lu gets the ball, Fu Xinshu drops back to receive it near the edge of the penalty area, Qin Ao positions himself slightly in front to receive the next pass, and Chen Jianghe stays farther forward on the left side.

At this point, Lin Lu needs to quickly pass the ball to Fu Xinshu, then accelerate forward himself, running constantly up the right flank.

When Fu Xinshu receives the ball, he’ll immediately be pressed by opponents, so he doesn’t have much time.

With the ball, he must notice Qin Ao’s position and pass to him while making a forward run himself. At this point, the opponents’ attention will be drawn to Qin Ao with the ball and Chen Jianghe who’s positioned further forward.

Fu Xinshu’s task after passing is to insert forward as well, straight up the middle.

Each small circle on the tactical sheet had the students’ names written on it, with lines multiplying and becoming more substantial.

Wang Fa’s pencil tip finally pointed to the small circle belonging to Qin Ao.

He said, “Qin Ao, at this point with the ball, you’ll have three different passing options—Chen Jianghe furthest forward on the left, Lin Lu inserting on the right, and Fu Xinshu supporting in the middle. This puts you in a very good situation. The opposing team won’t have more than three defenders in the back while including you, we’ll have four attackers. You know what to do next—pass to whoever is unmarked. Everyone else runs to their comfortable positions. Four against three—you might even be able to pass the ball right into their goal.”

The goal was the most crude sketch—a rectangular outline with an opening, while on the actual field, it was 9.2 meters wide and 2.4 meters high, a massive and solid presence.

Qin Ao’s task was to deliver the football into that goal space during the continuous intersecting runs.

“The core of the tactic is to quickly move through midfield and create a numerical advantage in the attacking third. Although you haven’t trained for a long time, you’ve all played football before. This level of coordination can be achieved if you’re willing to put in the effort.”

Perhaps it was Wang Fa’s convincing aura when discussing these matters.

The students all nodded involuntarily.

“For Sunday’s match, our goal is simple—complete this tactical coordination once. That’s what I mean by one successful experience.”

Wang Fa’s pencil tip finally landed on the center of the pitch in his notebook. Those lines, both blurry and clear, gradually formed a vast and flowing field of time: “I call everything I just described ‘Tactic One,'” he concluded.