I'll steal Gao Qiu's life and lead the Song Dynasty to prosperity.

The grassland east of the rear garden of Prince Duan's Mansion is usually a place for horse racing and training. It is flat and open, covering more than ten acres.

At this moment, two wooden frames were erected at each end of the field, with a net made of hemp rope stretched in the middle, about ten feet high and two feet wide.

White lime was used to draw rough lines on the ground, dividing the grassland in two.

About thirty people gathered on the sidelines, all of them dressed in shorts and short-sleeved shirts.

Half the people were dressed in indigo, and the other half in ochre.

These people were all carefully selected by the government.

There were guards on duty, nimble young servants, and several football players.

The crowd whispered among themselves, their faces a mixture of curiosity and eagerness.

Liang Shicheng stood in the shade by the field, holding a cup of herbal tea, but his eyes were fixed on the field.

He had seen many strange and unusual things over the years he had followed the prince, but this was the first time he had ever seen anything like it.

Zhao Ji and Zhao Mingcheng walked side by side.

Zhao Ji changed into a lake-blue robe with arrow-sleeved sleeves, a leather belt around his waist, soft-soled boots, and his hair was tied up high with a silk ribbon. He looked radiant.

Zhao Mingcheng was still wearing the traditional imperial student robe, only with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Your Highness, everything has been prepared as Young Master Zhao instructed," Liang Shicheng stepped forward and reported.

Zhao Ji nodded, his gaze sweeping over the makeshift goalposts on the field, then looking at the crowd divided into two groups, rubbing their hands together in anticipation, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"Mingcheng, your football skills are quite impressive."

Zhao Mingcheng cupped his hands in a respectful gesture.

"Your Highness, the beauty of this magic trick lies not in the gestures, but in the intricacies within it."

He walked to the center of the field, clapped his hands, and everyone quieted down.

"I've invited you all here today to accompany the Prince in trying out a new play called Football." His clear voice echoed throughout the room.

"Unlike traditional Cuju (ancient Chinese football), this game has three key aspects."

He bent down and picked up a ball from beside his feet—slightly larger than a regular ball, made of cowhide and filled with cork shavings—and weighed it in his hand.

"Firstly, the ball is allowed to land."

After saying that, he tossed the ball to the ground.

The ball bounced twice on the grass and rolled more than ten feet away.

Everyone exclaimed "Huh?"

Traditional Cuju emphasizes that "the ball should not touch the ground".

This new play is quite something; the very first scene is the opposite of what you'd expect.

"Secondly, you can compete for it." Zhao Mingcheng gestured for a guard in blue to step forward. "Try to take the ball from my feet."

The guard was a burly man who hesitated before stepping forward upon hearing this.

Zhao Mingcheng used the back of his foot to push the ball forward, and the guard stretched out his foot to intercept it. The two feet collided, and the ball was poked away.

Zhao Mingcheng turned around to protect the ball, gently nudged the guard behind him with his shoulder, and regained control of the ball.

"Did you all understand?" Zhao Mingcheng released the ball. "As long as you don't touch it with your hands or intentionally hurt anyone, you can block it with your body or steal it with your foot."

A buzz of discussion arose in the arena.

Physical collisions? That's something new.

The guests' eyes lit up.

Their usual practice of hand-to-hand combat involves some sparring, but it's mostly fancy moves. This kind of real, hard-fought competition is more in line with a man's spirit.

"Thirdly, look at that door." Zhao Mingcheng pointed to the wooden frame net in the distance.

"The ball has to roll on the ground and go through the net to score; it's not a high-hanging eyeball, it's a real goal."

Zhao Mingcheng took a few steps back, ran up, and unleashed a powerful shot.

The ball flew out like a shooting star, leaving a white trail on the grass, and crashed into the net with a "bang," making the rope net shake three times.

"Excellent!" Zhao Ji was the first to cheer, clapping his hands and laughing. "That's powerful! Much more satisfying than those superficial flirtatious glances!"

The crowd cheered.

The speed and power of that ball are exhilarating to watch.

Zhao Mingcheng wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at Zhao Ji.

"Would Your Highness like to give it a try?"

"Let's try! Of course we'll try!" Zhao Ji couldn't wait any longer. He strode to the center of the field, took the other ball, and asked, "What's the procedure?"

"Today is the first test. We'll practice passing, stopping, and shooting," Zhao Mingcheng said. "Your Highness, please observe—"

He summoned two guards, and the three of them formed a triangle, passing the ball to each other.

The ball rolled around on the ground, sometimes gently pushed with the inside of the foot, sometimes flicked with the instep, and sometimes even stopped with the thigh or chest before being passed out.

Emperor Huizong watched intently, the ball seemingly alive, moving around at their feet.

"I'll take it!" He took the ball and, imitating the move, pushed it with the inside of his foot.

The ball rolled out crookedly and was intercepted by Zhao Mingcheng.

"No rush, Your Highness." Zhao Mingcheng kicked the ball back. "Let's get a feel for it first."

Zhao Ji became interested and tried it a few more times.

At first, he was clumsy and either kicked the ball wide or high, but he was intelligent and soon he figured it out and was able to pass the ball to Zhao Mingcheng steadily.

"That was exhilarating!" A blush spread across his face. "That kick was solid, like...like a catapult projectile, making a loud bang!"

After practicing for about fifteen minutes, Zhao Mingcheng saw that Zhao Ji had become familiar with the basic ball-touching techniques, and then said...

"Your Highness, shall we try to steal the ball?"

He called over the guard in blue from earlier and whispered instructions to him.

"You and the prince give it a try, but don't go all out, but don't hold back either, lest the prince feel like you're really stealing from him."

The guard understood and stood opposite Zhao Ji.

Zhao Mingcheng gently passed the ball to Zhao Ji.

"Your Highness, protect the ball and don't let him steal it."

Zhao Ji moved his foot and controlled the ball.

The guard stepped forward and stretched out his foot to hook it.

Zhao Ji instinctively tried to dodge, but Zhao Mingcheng stopped him.

"Your Highness, use your body to block it!"

He did as instructed, turning to the side and using his shoulder and back to brace against the guard. The two bodies collided, causing Zhao Ji to stumble and the ball to be poked away.

The guard intercepted the ball and passed it back to Zhao Mingcheng.

"Interesting!" Zhao Ji was not annoyed at all; instead, his eyes lit up. "Again!"

This time he was prepared.

When the guard tried to steal the ball again, he didn't retreat. Instead, he went to meet him, using his shoulder to block the guard while keeping the ball firmly under his feet.

The guards exerted more force, and Zhao Ji gritted his teeth and held on, actually managing to protect the ball.

"Excellent!" Zhao Mingcheng clapped his hands. "Your Highness understands quickly!"

Zhao Ji laughed heartily, the sweat on his forehead glistening in the sunlight.

"Now that's what you call a real tackling match! Traditional Cuju (ancient Chinese football) emphasized agility and skill, but this football is about real, hard-fought battles! It's exhilarating! Absolutely exhilarating!"

Emperor Huizong became even more excited and tried several more times, each time more steadily than the last.

Although he inevitably had his things stolen a few times, the real sense of confrontation made his blood boil.

"Try a shot one last time." Zhao Mingcheng led him to a spot about twenty paces from the goal. "Your Highness, aim carefully at the goal and shoot with the instep of your foot. Don't be afraid of it going high or wide, just put all your power into it."

Zhao Ji took a deep breath, took two steps to run up, and swung his right foot, striking the ball hard.

"Bang!"

The ball flew like an arrow, straight toward the goal—then soared more than a foot over the crossbar and whistled out of play.

The onlookers wanted to laugh but dared not, struggling to hold it in.

Emperor Huizong himself was amused.

"High! High!" Undeterred, he tried again. This time the ball went wide, grazing the goalpost and flying out.

The third time, he adjusted his posture, pointing his toes and using his calves to generate power.

The ball went into the net.

"It's in!" Zhao Ji shouted, raising his arms, and the crowd on the sidelines cheered along with him.

He turned to look at Zhao Mingcheng, his eyes gleaming brightly.

"Mingcheng, this football... is wonderful! I'm drenched in sweat, my legs are sore, but I feel... incredibly refreshed! It's a hundred times more exhilarating than watching a theatrical performance in a brothel!"

Zhao Mingcheng handed over a handkerchief with a smile.

"I'm glad Your Highness is pleased."

"It's more than just liking it!" Zhao Ji took the towel and wiped his face haphazardly. "Football relieves stress, improves health, and is more effective than any elixir or supplement!"

After resting for a while, everyone drank some herbal tea.

Emperor Huizong's interest remained undiminished. He pulled Zhao Mingcheng to sit under the shade of a tree by the field and pointed to the field, asking questions.

"Mingcheng, you just said that football also emphasizes formations, like military tactics. Tell me in detail."

Zhao Mingcheng broke off a tree branch and began to draw on the sandy ground.

"Your Highness, please look, this formation is called '442'." He drew four rows of little figures, "The four defenders are like a strong city wall, specializing in defense; the four midfielders are like cavalry supporting the attack, connecting the front and the back; the two forwards are like sharp knives attacking, specializing in scoring goals."

Emperor Huizong (Zhao Ji) bent down to examine the object closely, seemingly lost in thought.

"Four to defend, four to attack, two to defend... Hmm, let's play it safe."

"Exactly," Zhao Mingcheng said again. "If you want to overwhelm the border with a large force, you can use the '4-3-3' formation." He erased and redrawn it.

"The back four remain unchanged, the midfield is reduced to three, and the forward line is increased to three. With attacks coming from all three directions, it's like a massive army pressing in, with continuous offensive pressure."

"Excellent!" Zhao Ji clapped his hands. "This is an imposing display!"

"There's something even more ingenious." Zhao Mingcheng drew again, "'4-2-3-1'. Four defenders, two midfielders—two specializing in interception and sweeping, like vanguards in front of the general's tent; three responsible for support and organization, like central command; only one forward, like an isolated army deep in the field, looking for an opportunity to strike a fatal blow."

Zhao Mingcheng explained the classic formations from the top five European leagues to Zhao Ji in detail.

Emperor Huizong stared at the formation on the sand table, his eyes widening.

He suddenly slapped his thigh: "This...this is exactly what Sun Tzu's Art of War is all about!"

Zhao Mingcheng smiled.

"Your Highness is wise. The 442 pattern is like 'first make yourself invincible, then wait for the enemy to become vulnerable,' meaning to first secure the position and then plan an advance; the 433 pattern is like 'attack where they are unprepared and strike when they least expect it,' meaning to use offense as a substitute for defense; the 4231 pattern requires 'using orthodox tactics to engage and unorthodox tactics to win,' and that lone army in the front line is the unorthodox force."

"Wonderful, Mingcheng!"

Emperor Huizong of Song abruptly stood up and paced back and forth.

"Hearing your explanation, I realize there's a myriad of possibilities hidden within the act of tackling and shooting! In the past, Cuju (ancient Chinese football) was about elegance and individual skill, emphasizing finesse and finesse. But football is about formation, teamwork, and strategy! Excellent! Excellent football!"

He became more and more excited as he spoke, pulling Zhao Mingcheng and pointing to the field.

"Come on, let's set up our formation and see what happens!"

Zhao Mingcheng followed instructions and divided the twenty-two people into two teams, each roughly standing in a "4-4-2" formation.

Although the players didn't yet understand positioning and support, the mere sight of this formation created a completely different atmosphere compared to their previous chaotic ball-grabbing.

Emperor Huizong (Zhao Ji) stood on the sidelines, watching intently, occasionally offering pointers.

"That guy in blue on the left wing should move a bit towards the center to support the central attack!" He clapped his hands, "Great! The red team's defender made a brilliant interception! Pass it out quickly!"

After a simplified offensive and defensive drill, everyone was exhausted but their eyes shone brightly. This trick was novel, energetic, and strategic, much more exciting than simply playing football.

As they played, the sun gradually set, turning the grassland a golden hue.

Liang Shicheng glanced at the sky and stepped forward, speaking softly.

"Your Highness, it's almost Shenshi (3-5 PM)."

Emperor Huizong was in the middle of his enthusiastic speech when he heard this and was taken aback.

"Is it already late afternoon?"

He looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was indeed setting in the west. He was surprised to find that he had been playing for nearly two hours.

"So fast..." He murmured, still savoring the moment, glancing at the still-excited crowd, then at Zhao Mingcheng, his face filled with reluctance.

"Mingcheng, this play is truly a joy to behold! I have never felt so...so thoroughly entertained!"

Zhao Mingcheng smiled.

"If Your Highness enjoys it, you can play again next time. However, the rules of the Imperial Academy still apply, so I must return before Shenshi (3-5 PM)."

Zhao Ji sighed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Very well, Liang Shicheng, prepare a carriage to send Mingcheng back to the Imperial Academy. Choose a sturdy horse, one that is sure to be reliable."

"Yes." Liang Shicheng bowed in response and turned to make the arrangements.

Emperor Huizong then pulled Zhao Mingcheng aside and earnestly gave him instructions.

"Mingcheng, be sure to come earlier next time you have a day off! I still have much to discuss with you about the ways of football!"

He thought about it.

"By the way, those formation designs and basic rules, explain them to me in detail next time you come. Also, make these goals and the ball more refined, Liang Shicheng!"

Liang Shicheng hurriedly returned.

"What are your orders, Your Highness?"

"Have the craftsmen make ten...no, twenty new balls! They must be made of cowhide, stuffed with good material, and very elastic! The goalposts must also be remade; the wood must be sturdy, and the net must be fine!"

Zhao Ji spoke with great enthusiasm,

"Have the sewing room in the manor rush to make two more teams of clothes. They must be bright and breathable. I want to form a football team."

"A football team?" Liang Shicheng was taken aback.

"That's right! A football team!" Zhao Ji laughed heartily. "One team in blue, one team in red. They'll train frequently and even have matches!"

Zhao Ji truly deserves to be called a genius when it comes to entertainment; he learns these kinds of entertaining things incredibly quickly.

Zhao Mingcheng cupped his hands and smiled.

"If Your Highness is in such a good mood, I will gladly oblige. However, today's exercise is quite strenuous, so please rest early."

"I know, I know." Zhao Ji waved his hand, his face still flushed, from excitement and the sun.

The carriage was ready and parked outside the garden gate.

Emperor Huizong personally escorted Zhao Mingcheng to the second gate, and even pulled him aside to say something before he got into the car.

"Mingcheng, don't forget next time you come!"

"Yes, Your Highness, I have noted it down." Zhao Mingcheng bowed and turned to get into the carriage.

The carriage moved slowly forward. Zhao Mingcheng leaned back inside, listening to the rumble of the wheels rolling over the bluestone road, and let out a long sigh of relief.