Volume One: Our Own League Chapter 44: The Junior High Football League Is Completely Ruined

Xu He sat on the bleachers, watching the first match with keen attention. Yes, once again, Xu He was merely a spectator. Yet he was wholly engrossed, his gaze never wavering from the pitch. He had high expectations for this game, largely because he was deeply impressed by that Shaolin monk in the 58th Class United Football Team—perhaps even more so than by Yuan Fang, whom he knew well.

Of course, there were memorable figures on the Ninth Class Football Team as well—their goalkeeper in particular. In the previous match, this goalkeeper had dribbled all the way from the backfield, single-handedly breaking through the entire opposing defense to score a goal. That short, chubby fellow had certainly dazzled the crowd, and Xu He would hardly forget such a performance.

With these two teams facing off, the outcome was anyone's guess. Xu He made no predictions—he genuinely didn't know which side was stronger.

As the match commenced, most of the audience’s attention was naturally fixed on the Shaolin monk Liu Peng and the stout goalkeeper. To be honest, Liu Peng continued to be the main attraction. He was truly peculiar, using his head for more than eighty percent of his touches. Moments before, right at the edge of the penalty area, Liu Peng had intercepted a thunderous shot from the Ninth Class striker with his head, sending the ball rebounding far away—yet he only took a single step back, utterly unfazed.

Xu He’s eyes widened. “My god, that’s a real iron head!”

It made Xu He’s own head ache just to watch, but Liu Peng seemed impervious to pain, full of vigor and spirit. In the next defensive play, Liu Peng once again cleared the ball with his head, barely a minute after his previous feat. His head was truly formidable.

Iron Head Kung Fu—its name was well deserved, Xu He couldn’t help but think. Countless spectators burst into applause for Liu Peng; the fellow was genuinely impressive.

Of course, some believed Liu Peng was just a clown, putting on a bizarre show to draw attention. After all, many of those balls could have been cleared with his feet, but he insisted on using his head, making his actions seem overly theatrical and perhaps a bit superficial.

Li Jie frowned slightly.

Zhu Ge explained to his teammates, “I looked into Liu Peng. He really did return from Songshan Shaolin Temple, so the Iron Head Kung Fu is probably authentic. But he hardly played football before, so his footwork is terrible. He trusts his head more, which is why he uses it so frequently.”

Xu He nodded. So that was the reason—Liu Peng was indeed a rare character. Still, Xu He admired him. His heading technique was extraordinary. Xu He even wanted to learn heading from Liu Peng himself, though he doubted he could ever master Iron Head Kung Fu.

The match continued, with Ninth Class’s goalkeeper, Li Bo, lively and active. After his goal in the previous game, his confidence soared, and he kept showing off his footwork in the backfield, baiting the opposing strikers.

In truth, Li Bo might have become a bit cocky. Still, his foot skills were impressive.

Zhu Ge said, “Apparently, Li Bo wasn’t originally a goalkeeper. He played defensive midfield, so his footwork and long passes are quite good, and he’s got a powerful shot. Their team couldn’t find a goalkeeper, but since he played the position back in primary school, he took it up.”

Xu He stared at Zhu Ge—his reputation as the campus snoop was well-deserved; he seemed to know everything.

Both sides had their chances in the first half, but neither managed to score, ending the period at a goalless draw.

The second half began swiftly, with the game as intense as ever. Liu Peng continued to dominate the spotlight with his heading technique, which was nothing short of astonishing. Sometimes, his headers from the backfield sent the ball all the way past the center circle.

Just moments ago, pressing upfield, he nearly headed the ball into Ninth Class’s net from outside the penalty area. Yes, he almost smashed the ball in, not with a lob, but with brute force. The speed and power were remarkable; only a bit of bad luck kept the ball from finding the target.

Xu He was astounded—how could a header pack such force? It almost defied belief.

The match raged on, both sides attacking with spirit, but neither possessed a truly sharp offense. Chances came, but the score remained unchanged.

As the game neared its conclusion, Ninth Class’s goalkeeper, Li Bo, couldn’t resist—he surged forward with the ball, charging into the 58th Class’s half, hoping to repeat his earlier heroics. But the 58th Class United Team was prepared for him this time. Yuan Fang, on the wing, slid in and cleanly tackled the ball away.

Li Bo was terrified—losing the ball as a goalkeeper meant an empty net, a gift to the opponents. His heart nearly stopped. Fortunately, the ball landed at the feet of a Ninth Class player, preventing a quick counter and a goal against an open net.

Shaken, Li Bo waved apologies to his teammates as he sprinted back to defend his goal. After this scare, he dared not venture out recklessly again.

The 58th Class United Team launched a fierce final attack, but despite several attempts, they failed to score. The match ended in a goalless draw.

The player who drew everyone’s attention was still Liu Peng. His heading was not only powerful but uncannily well-timed, as if straight from a science fiction film. Li Bo, in contrast, did not repeat his previous exploits and nearly caused a disaster, so he didn’t draw much notice this time.

But Xu He was no longer concerned with them. Now, his heart was pounding with excitement—the Tenth Class Football Team’s match was about to begin, and he would have a chance to play.

Though only a substitute, Xu He was full of anticipation; he wished the match would start at once.

As his teammates walked onto the pitch, Xu He, seated on the bench, shouted with all his might, “Go, Tenth Class Football Team! Go! Go! Go!”

The other substitutes shot him annoyed looks—what a drama king, they thought. There wasn’t even a live broadcast; why was he so eager to steal the spotlight?

But soon, Xu He’s voice was drowned out by a chorus of shrill, youthful cries.

“Go, Lin Xuefeng! Go, Lin Xuefeng!” The Lin Xuefeng fan club was at it again, and their ranks seemed larger and louder than ever—clearly, new members had swelled their numbers. Lin Xuefeng’s charm was undeniable.

Xu He gazed at the field, trembling with excitement as both teams lined up for the entrance ceremony. Once it was over, the match would soon begin.

He raised his voice and sang the national anthem with the players on the field. The crowd joined in, their voices so mighty it seemed all of school would be swept along.

Xu He could hardly wait for the match to start.

In his heart, Xu He urged himself, “Xu He, your second league game is about to begin—give it your all!”

Soon, the anthem ended. The players took their positions on the field, awaiting the referee’s whistle to signal the start.

All around, a palpable sense of anticipation filled the air.

Suddenly, a piercing, furious shout shattered the moment: “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Who gave you permission to play football here? Didn’t the school explicitly forbid football games? Are you openly defying the rules? Are you trying to rebel?”

The eruption startled everyone.

Xu He turned instantly toward the voice, his heart sinking as his face fell.

There, in Xu He’s line of sight, stood Chang Derong, the grade director for the first-year class at Jin’guancheng No. 17 Middle School. His anger was palpable, his eyes bloodshot, his face stormy.

Seeing him, many first-year students in the stands hurriedly slipped away, fearful of being caught up in the storm.

Even some second-year students, seeing Chang Derong’s wrath, were intimidated.

On the field, Zhu Ge and the others watched Chang Derong approach in a fury, their spirits sinking—they feared the match would be canceled, and their carefully organized league would be doomed.

Zhu Ge gave Mu Yang a bitter smile.

Xu He felt only desolation. How had things come to this? Just a moment ago, hope and excitement had filled his heart; now, before a single ball had been kicked, the match was over before it began. The disappointment was overwhelming, his face dark with frustration.

No, no, please, not like this!

But Chang Derong was unmoved by their pleading eyes. He strode forward, still fuming, and demanded, “Didn’t we just say on Monday that football matches are forbidden? Who told you to play here?”

The players on the field lowered their heads, unable to meet his gaze. Those who didn’t bow their heads were struck dumb, too frightened to answer.

Chang Derong was clearly exasperated with them.

He glared at the group and declared, “I don’t care who told you—you’re all to leave the field immediately. And I’m confiscating your football; let’s see if you dare play here again!”

He gestured for the referee to hand over the ball.

He continued, “I’ll let it go this time—no punishment. But listen well: this is your last warning. If anyone organizes a football match here again and I find out, you’ll be severely dealt with—written self-criticisms, disciplinary records, and your parents will be called. I hope you take my words to heart, because next time, I won’t be so lenient!”

Xu He and the others felt utterly crushed. It was over—completely over.

And Xu He felt a deep sense of injustice.

How could the match end before it had even begun? He had longed to play.

But fate had other plans—they’d been caught by Director Chang.

Director Chang ignored the bewildered players and turned to the crowd of girls on the bleachers, shouting, “You, too—go back! This is a school, not your fan club headquarters. Stop this nonsense—I don’t want to see it again. Go, go, go!”

Reluctantly, the girls left.

Finally, Director Chang turned back to the players. “This league can’t go on. The school does not allow it—do you understand?”

Xu He felt darkness fall over him. The league they had worked so hard to build was truly finished.