Chapter 067: An Awkward Debut

This story is purely a work of fiction.

On a bright and sunny weekend, the fan club of Dahe organized a large-scale cheerleading squad. The Steel Horn Cheerleaders were mighty in force, setting out with mobile publicity as early as noon. Chi Zhaoming, who was resting at the hotel, was in a gloomy mood and did not wish to join the main group for sightseeing. There was a Dahe team match at noon, the first game since Hao Benshan took over the club. After receiving the news of a certain victory for Dahe, Chi Zhaoming thought he might as well place a bet during the match and see if he could gain anything from it.

Throughout Dahe, people everywhere were discussing the upcoming match, and word had spread that several stars from H City would be present.

Amid the clamor of drums and gongs, crowds thronged the main road leading to the sports center, while vehicles packed with fans moved slowly toward the arena. Some film enthusiasts, meticulously dressed in team jerseys and gear, hoped to obtain autographs from their favorite H City celebrities.

Inside the Dahe Sports Center, fans and spectators had already taken their seats. The stars from H City, accompanied by Hao Benshan, arrived at the VIP lounge. Upon entering, they were immediately swept up in an unprecedented wave of enthusiasm. The Dahe fans were no strangers to them; the thunderous cheers of the Steel Horns could be heard across the country. The singer, Awei, was especially fond of the fiery passion of Dahe fans.

Before the game, they had already signed autographs for many fans and supporters. Satisfied, each returned to their respective places.

At the Dahe TV broadcast booth, Chi Zhaoming saw the familiar figure with the braided hair preparing for the live commentary. The commentator’s words were full of confidence in Dahe’s victory, which was like a shot of adrenaline for Chi Zhaoming, boosting his own faith. He quickly opened the betting page and hurried to place his bet on Dahe.

In the luxurious box, Hao Benshan was chatting amiably, while his friends from H City smiled and showered him with compliments, making him beam with joy.

“Today, you shall enjoy the football feast my club has prepared for you,” Hao Benshan announced. “When the match is over, Leng Junfeng, you must sing a song for my team to bless Dahe Club.”

Leng Junfeng laughed, “That depends on your team’s performance.”

“It will be spectacular, I promise you won’t leave disappointed!” Hao Benshan replied confidently.

Before kick-off, a brief club ownership ceremony was held. Hao Benshan’s address was met with thunderous applause; the atmosphere was electric, drums resounded, and the rallying power of the Steel Horn Cheerleaders was truly no exaggeration.

At the command center of MC International Entertainment, Will and his colleagues directed matches opening all over the world from the control hall. Given the teams’ equal strength, with the home team slightly favored, MC set the line at Dahe giving half a goal to the Hornets, and Dahe’s odds fluctuated between 0.75 and 0.90.

Will’s gaze was fixed on the live feed from the stadium. The camera happened to focus on several H City stars, and a broad smile spread across his face.

In one corner of the hall, a staff member in charge of liaising with the Dahe site approached Will with a report: “We've received word from the Dahe on-site trader that everything is operating normally. All relevant personnel are in position and ready to act according to your instructions in case of any unforeseen events. Today’s costs have been minimized—the Dahe forward lost some money gambling on the side recently, and so did the midfield engine, the head coach’s son. The coach himself seems unaware of his son’s involvement. We’ve contacted the son directly and reached a secret agreement; he’ll follow headquarters’ instructions.”

Will cared about the Dahe game—after all, the presence of H City celebrities meant that things couldn’t be too blatant, or it would draw unnecessary criticism. No one wanted that outcome. “What’s the status of the betting on both sides?” he asked.

“Our trader set a pretty successful line. First, we hyped the arrival of H City stars, creating the impression that Dahe’s victory was certain. The odds fluctuated between 0.75 and 0.9, leading players to believe Dahe would cover the spread. When the odds hit 0.9, betting activity noticeably increased. At present, bets on Dahe exceed the Hornets’ by nearly 200 million. Should we drop the odds below 0.75?” the trader asked.

“No. Lower Dahe’s odds to around 0.65 and hold for a few minutes. Then raise the line to Dahe giving three-quarters of a goal, and push the odds above 1.1. This will send a strong signal that Dahe is bound to win. Some players will think that even winning half the odds is worthwhile, and the difference from 0.65 is negligible. Monitor the betting for a few minutes and report back.”

“Yes, I’ll adjust the line now.”

The trader called the control center: “Raise the line to three-quarters, and push Dahe’s odds above 1.1.”

In the blink of an eye, Chi Zhaoming saw the line shift—Dahe’s odds soared above 1.1. This only strengthened his resolve to bet on Dahe. Whether he could win the full odds, he no longer cared. His right hand landed the mouse on Dahe, entered an amount of 1A, clicked confirm, and the bet was placed—potential winnings 1.1A.

As expected, after the line adjustment, Dahe became the overwhelming favorite, and a flood of bets poured in like an unstoppable tide. In just a few minutes, over ten million was wagered on Dahe. The trader hurried to Will: “Your strategy is brilliant. In just three minutes after the adjustment, the betting is overwhelmingly on Dahe. We’ve achieved maximum returns with minimal investment. A victory for us.”

“Relay the message to the Dahe on-site staff. Make sure everyone is in place and everything is executed properly,” Will instructed.

The head trader called the on-site operator at Dahe, who wore a headset and whispered with the club’s management on the sidelines, the team leader just nodding repeatedly. After giving instructions, the operator returned to his seat at the broadcast booth, looking relaxed and at ease, waiting for the whistle to blow.

The match began. Dahe seized the initiative, launching effective attacks. The Hornets’ goal was under constant threat; their keeper was kept busy, deflecting Dahe’s relentless bombardment.

But Dahe’s players did not hurry. Their three-striker tactic quickly bore fruit, and before twenty minutes had passed, the Brazilian player Sunray scored a goal.

At last, the opening goal had been secured, not disappointing the H City stars who had come to support them. Hearing the fans’ celebratory cheers, the celebrities stood up, shaking Hao Benshan’s hand to congratulate him. “A strong general has no weak troops! Your team’s performance astonished us—you should be proud!” Windy and Joker chimed in, “Cheers for you!”

As the referee signaled play to resume, the match continued. But for reasons unknown, the tempo slowed to a crawl, draining energy from the crowd. Dahe’s midfield engine seemed to sputter and die, and the three strikers ceased their offensive. The coach’s son wandered the midfield like a zombie—offering no passes forward, making no effort to contest possession, nullifying Dahe’s advantage.

The head coach, confused and at a loss, paced the sidelines, hoarse from urging his team to quicken the pace, but nothing changed. Just before halftime, the Hornets mounted an effective attack. Their midfielder intercepted near the center line and launched a long ball to the left winger, who sent in a cross. Their tall striker dove in and headed the ball into the net, equalizing just before the break.

This result caught Dahe’s head coach off guard. He had been determined to make a strong start after the club changed hands. The club’s senior executives, when the score was tied, appeared unconcerned, almost as if they were hoping Dahe would lose.

Their demeanor brought the coach some relief, for he understood it was MC’s will—only revealed to the top brass before kickoff, without informing the poor new owner. For the club, a loss was the preferred outcome.

But he remembered Hao Benshan had wanted a victory to entertain his friends from H City. This result might not suffice. The coach sensed his own days at Dahe were numbered, perhaps this would be his last match in charge.

He cared little for his own future. What troubled him was his son’s performance—perhaps his son’s career would end here. He understood the club’s motives, but could not fathom why his son and the strikers had played so poorly.

The second half continued the lethargic pace of the latter part of the first. The whole team seemed unable to play. The coach gave up shouting, slumped on the bench like a defeated rooster, pondering that perhaps his own career was already over at this very moment.

(To be continued)