As a promising young talent, Wang Shuo certainly wanted to beco stronger, grow up healthy, and avoid injuries.
And now, things were looking up. He had just been given a Damage Reduction buff—and a significant one at that.
Although Wang Shuo couldn’t completely avoid injuries, this was a huge boost for him.
At the very least, he could now go all out and truly begin his grind.
For example, he could play in more matches.
And he could increase his training intensity.
Before, he was afraid of getting injured, so his physical training, especially muscle-building exercises, had always been done with extre caution.
And now?
That worry was gone!
How did Manchester United’s Ronaldo transform from Little Ro into the Ronaldo everyone knows?
Wasn’t it by working out day and night at Sporting Lisbon?
Wasn’t it by constantly chasing after fitness coaches and improving his physique after joining Manchester United?
Other people didn’t dare to train like that because they were afraid of injuries.
But Ronaldo, thanks to his grandmother’s African heritage—that bit of African DNA in his muscles—managed to forge himself into a beast through sheer hard work.
That’s what made him so damn good.
Now, although Wang Shuo didn’t have any African genes, he had the [Damage Reduction] buff.
He could also push himself to the absolute limit!
Another point worth noting was that in the Ball God System, the improvent of Passive Skills was built upon one’s own physical attributes.
Why was Wang Shuo’s running ability so strong?
The boost from [Breathing] was certainly very important, but his innate running ability was already outstanding.
With the [Damage Reduction] buff, Wang Shuo could go all out and constantly improve his fundantal attributes through training.
The higher his fundantal attributes, the greater the benefits from his various passive skills, and the more pronounced their effects would be!
Once he understood this, Wang Shuo was completely fired up!
’European Football Scene, I’m going to out-grind you all!’
...
Mainz’s facilities were very basic.
On the first team, aside from the head coach who had a private office, everyone else basically worked cramd together.
In public interviews, they spun it nicely, saying it "facilitated communication and collaboration."
But everyone knew it was because they didn’t have the money to build more!
However, there was one exception.
Axel Busenkel was a club veteran.
He had joined the team in 2000, serving as the rehabilitation coach.
Back then, Klopp was still a player on the first team.
Later, when Klopp took charge of the team and began to overhaul the first team, Busenkel, who was exactly 30 at the ti, beca one of Klopp’s most trusted assistants. He started taking on more responsibilities and focused on his own professional developnt.
Thus, he took full charge of Mainz’s only gym, becoming the club’s fitness coach.
For every match, the number of seats on the coaches’ bench was limited.
Busenkel didn’t have a spot, so he didn’t need to travel with the team for away gas.
On every match day, he would move his chair in front of the large TV in the gym, lie back, put his feet up, pop open a couple of beers, and watch the ga while he drank.
He was living the good life.
He did this even during ho gas.
After Mainz’s 2-0 victory over Kaiserslautern, it was already 7 PM.
The sky had darkened.
Seeing their team secure a third consecutive win, the Mainz fans left Bruch Road Stadium completely satisfied.
Busenkel, too, happily folded up his lounge chair, cleaned up the beer bottles and peanut shells, and prepared to head ho to his wife.
"Another beautiful evening!"
But just as a hopeful Busenkel was about to lock up, two figures suddenly burst in from outside.
One was tall but slightly thin.
The other was a bit shorter and even thinner.
"We’re closed."
Busenkel thought they were fans who had barged in. "Sorry, this area isn’t open to fans."
"It’s , Axel," the taller one called out.
His tone carried a hint of helplessness, as if he’d been taken hostage.
The voice sounded familiar. Busenkel walked over, flipped on the lights, and saw that it was Subotic.
"What are you doing here?"
He then looked beside Subotic. Wasn’t that the 17-year-old rising star, Wang Shuo, who had just put on an outstanding performance?
"Hey, Wang, great to see you! You were fantastic out there just now."
"Thanks for the praise, Axel."
"Wait a second, give an autograph."
Busenkel hurried over, opened his small backpack, and took out a small notebook and a pen, handing them to Wang Shuo.
"Just write, ’To the clever Hans.’"
"Hans?"
"My son," Busenkel said with a grin.
’Doesn’t that na just sound smart?’
"He’s a Mainz fan too. He made promise to collect every player’s autograph for his collection."
Wang Shuo understood imdiately and quickly scribbled his signature.
"Hey, wait a minute, Axel. If you’re collecting every player’s autograph, how co you never asked for mine?"
The thought struck Subotic out of nowhere.
’Who is he looking down on?’
’Wang Shuo got to sign, so why not ?’
’Do I have that little presence?’
"Th-This... I’m asking you now, aren’t I? I just didn’t have a chance before, and you rarely co here." Busenkel’s voice was even louder than Subotic’s, making him sound completely innocent.
"Is that so?"
Subotic looked completely unconvinced.
Just then, Wang Shuo finished signing. Busenkel imdiately took back the notebook and pen and shoved them forcefully into Subotic’s hands.
"That’s right, exactly!"
’Fine.’
Subotic could only sign it.
"By the way, Wang, didn’t you guys just finish a match? What are you doing here?" Busenkel asked, a little puzzled.
Wang Shuo gave a mischievous grin and looked around. He saw that while Mainz’s gym wasn’t large, it was very well-equipped.
The place was also relatively quiet, a good spot to train in peace.
"I didn’t get enough of a workout in the match, so I wanted to co for an extra training session," Wang Shuo said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Busenkel’s eyes went wide.
He had seen players do extra training before.
But he had never, ever seen a player co for an extra session by himself right after a match.
’Isn’t he being a little too hard on himself?’
"Are you sure?"
"Of course."
As he spoke, Wang Shuo had already taken off his jacket and was walking toward a stationary bike.
"It’s already past 7 PM," Busenkel "reminded" him, turning to follow.
’Strictly speaking, it’s after closing ti.’
"It’s fine. I’ve still got plenty of energy. I’ll probably train for another two or three hours and then head back."
’Two or three hours?’
Busenkel almost shouted out loud.
’Seriously, buddy, are you for real?’
’My wife is waiting for at ho, and you want to train for another two or three hours?’
’By the ti you’re finished and I get ho, the mood will be totally killed!’
"You’re still young, Wang. Don’t overdo it, you could get injured," Busenkel advised earnestly, feeling his anxiety mount.
"I’m not that fragile, Axel. If you have sowhere to be, you can go ahead. I’ll be fine on my own."
’Will he be fine?’
Busenkel didn’t think so.
’As a responsible fitness coach, how could I just leave a 17-year-old kid in the gym to train recklessly by himself?’
Wang Shuo didn’t notice Busenkel’s strange expression. He smiled at Subotic and said, "From now on, I’m coming to the gym an hour early every morning, and I’ll co back for an extra session after training ends."
Busenkel wanted to cry when he heard that.
’Bro, it’s fine if you want to grind yourself into the ground, but don’t drag into it!’
’My wife is waiting for at ho!’
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