Budapest, Hungary, June 3, 2026
The Puskás Aréna gleamed like a spaceship, its 67,000 seats a kaleidoscope of Hungarian passion under Budapest's summer dusk. Tonight's UEFA U-21 Championship group stage match—Spain U-21 versus France U-21—was a crucible of Europe's young gods, a step toward continental glory. Lin Feng stood in the Spain U-21 tunnel, his red-and-yellow kit radiant, the crest a flame on his olive skin. His hazel eyes, a tapestry of his Chinese-Spanish heritage, shimmered with fierce resolve. At 19, he was no relic of his past life's failures. His hat-trick at Camp Nou, U-21 debut in Lisbon, and qualifier triumph in Athens had forged a legend, a prodigy now chasing a U-21 crown.
The [**Supreme Football System**] was his hidden edge, a secret no one—teammates, coaches, or the roaring crowd—could pierce. Its permanent [**Causality Powers**] and skills, honed through relentless years, elevated his D-Grade talent to celestial heights. With 31,500 [**System Points**] after humbling Ethan Carter, Lin Feng was poised to dazzle Budapest. Tonight, the [**System**] would weave its magic subtly, his feats a carnival of skill, not a divine flare.
His rival was France's U-21 midfielder, Antoine "Le Fantôme" Dubois, a 20-year-old with cropped auburn hair and gray eyes, known for his ghost-like movement and surgical passes. Antoine's PSG contract made him a Ligue 1 star, but his aloofness—calling rivals "mere shadows" in a press conference—marked him as a specter to banish. In Lin Feng's past life, Antoine was untouchable. Tonight, Lin Feng would make Le Fantôme fade.
The [**System**] flickered in his mind:
[**Mission: Score a Brace in a UEFA U-21 Championship Match.**]
[**Reward: 5,500 system points, +2 Prestige Points.**]
[**Hidden Mission: Outshine Antoine Dubois and Lead Spain to the Knockouts.**]
[**Reward: 3,500 system points, +2 Skill Points.**]
Lin Feng's grin was a spark of dawn. Outshine Antoine and propel Spain forward? He'd make Budapest's arena sing his name, keeping the [**System**] shrouded. His brilliance would blaze as talent, not a cheat.
The Spain U-21 squad huddled, their breath charged with ambition. Diego Ruiz, the lanky midfielder, nudged Lin Feng. "Ready to haunt the French, Feng?" His grin was a flare, distinct from Athens' warmth. Lin Feng's [**Charisma Aura**] pulsed, his voice bold. "Let's make them see stars, Diego." The team roared, their spirits a blaze, a fresh bond ignited.
Coach Javier Sánchez, his gaze sharp as a hawk, fixed Lin Feng with intensity. "You're our spark, attacking midfielder. France is cunning—Dubois is their phantom. Eclipse him."
Lin Feng's reply was steel, yet unique. "I'll turn his shadows to dust, Coach." Sánchez nodded, sensing a legend's rise. In his past life, Lin Feng was invisible. Now, he was Spain's comet.
The teams emerged, the Aréna's roar a tidal wave. France's blue kits shimmered, their players exuding Gallic flair. Antoine Dubois glided in midfield, his gray eyes locking onto Lin Feng with a faint smirk. "Care to chase ghosts, Spaniard?" he called, his voice cool as mist.
Lin Feng's eyes danced, his retort sharp but playful. "I'll make you vanish, Fantôme." The crowd buzzed, sensing a duel, as the whistle sliced the twilight.
The match erupted, a ballet of wit and fire. France's possession game was hypnotic, Antoine's passes threading through Spain's press. Lin Feng flowed like a zephyr, his [**Steel Body**] absorbing tackles, his [**Eagle Vision**] piercing their lines.
In the 6th minute, Spain countered. A defender passed, and Lin Feng controlled with [**Maradona's D10S Touch**], the ball a whisper on his boot. Antoine lunged, but Lin Feng dodged with [**Pelé's Samba Flair**], his dribble a carnival of joy, leaving the Frenchman grasping air. He activated [**Perfect Pass**], threading a 20-yard ball to Diego, whose shot forced a save. The crowd gasped, Antoine's smirk faltering.
France struck, Antoine's through-ball finding a striker for a clinical finish, 1–0. He celebrated with a subtle bow, taunting Spain's bench. Lin Feng dropped back, his [**Beckenbauer's Iron Wall**] instincts thwarting a second goal, intercepting a pass with eerie calm. Diego nodded, their synergy alive. "You're a fortress, Feng!"
In the 12th minute, Lin Feng ignited. Spain regained possession, and he used [**Pirlo's Deep Playmaker**] to dictate the tempo, baiting France's press. Antoine marked him, but Lin Feng spun with [**Cruyff's Phantom Turn**], then entered the 18-yard box. The [**Causality Power**] flared—[*All shots within the 18-yard box score*]. His shot, fueled by [**Thunder Strike**], was a comet, ripping past the keeper.
1–1.
The Spanish fans roared, Diego mobbing Lin Feng with a grin. Antoine's face darkened, his phantom aura dimmed. Lin Feng jogged back, his expression serene, the [**System**]'s magic unseen. To the crowd, he was a prodigy; to himself, a master.
France rallied, Antoine weaving a counter, his shot grazing the post. Lin Feng's heart burned, the [**Hidden Mission**] alight—outshine Antoine. One goal wasn't enough; he needed a brace.
In the 20th minute, Lin Feng struck again. Spain won a free kick 32 yards out. He stepped up, using [**Ronaldo's Knuckleball**], the ball swerving with venom, dipping past the keeper's dive to shake the net.
2–1.
The Aréna quaked, scouts from London and Rome scribbling furiously. Antoine's composure cracked, his gray eyes flashing. Lin Feng's grin was subtle, Diego cheering. The [**System**] chimed:
[*Ding!*]
[**Mission Complete: Score a Brace in a UEFA U-21 Championship Match.**]
[**Reward: 5,500 system points, +2 Prestige Points.**]
[**Total System Points: 37,000**]
The first half ended, Spain leading. In the dugout, Sánchez was electric. "Feng, you're a blaze! Keep it fierce!" Diego tossed him a towel, laughing. "Dubois is fading fast!" Lin Feng's reply was light, fresh. "Let's bury his ghost, amigo." Their banter sparked camaraderie, distinct from Lisbon's market warmth.
The second half was a tempest. France pushed, Antoine driving their midfield with desperate flair, his passes testing Spain's keeper. Lin Feng was a conductor, his [**Steel Body**] defying fouls, his [**Iniesta's Tiki-Taka**] linking passes with [**Perfect Pass**] precision. In the 55th minute, he intercepted a pass with [**Beckenbauer's Iron Wall**], sprinting forward. Antoine fouled him, earning a yellow, but Lin Feng rose, unshaken.
Spain won a corner in the 65th minute. Diego's delivery soared, and Lin Feng leaped, using [**Pelé's Samba Flair**] to weave through defenders. Antoine marked him, but Lin Feng twisted with [**Messi's La Croqueta**], setting up a teammate for a tap-in.
3–1.
The stadium roared, Spanish fans chanting "Lin Feng! Lin Feng!" Antoine's face was ash, his phantom aura extinguished. Sánchez leaped, scouts nodding. The [**System**] sang:
[*Ding!*]
[**Hidden Mission Complete: Outshine Antoine Dubois and Lead Spain to the Knockouts.**]
[**Reward: 3,500 system points, +2 Skill Points.**]
[**Total System Points: 40,500**]
The match ended 3–2, a late French goal irrelevant. Spain advanced to the U-21 knockouts, and Lin Feng was named Man of the Match, his free kick replayed on screens. "For Spain's future," he said into a microphone, his [**Charisma Aura**] radiant. Antoine left the pitch, humbled, another rival felled.
Lin Feng opened the [**System Shop**], its glow a private star. He typed "skills":
- [**Neymar's Rainbow Flick (+25% Trickery)**]: 700 points.
- [**Baggio's Divine Curl (+30% Curve Shot Accuracy)**]: 4,000 points.
He chose [**Baggio's Divine Curl**], spending 4,000 points. A surge of finesse flooded his boots, his shots now bending like poetry. With 36,500 points, he was ready for the knockouts.
---
That evening, Lin Feng joined Diego and the U-21 squad at Budapest's Széchenyi Thermal Bath, its steaming pools aglow under starlight. The air hummed with laughter, the scent of paprika-spiced goulash wafting from a nearby stall. Diego handed him a bowl, grinning. "You made France vanish, Feng. Soak like a king!" Lin Feng laughed, his reply warm. "Only if you stop stealing my passes, Diego." Their bond was vibrant, a new shade of friendship.
Lin Feng eased into the warm water, chatting with teammates about Hungary's legends—Puskás, Honvéd. A local offered him a shot of pálinka, which he sipped, wincing at its fire. His [**Charisma Aura**] earned cheers, his playful cough sparking laughter. In his past life, he'd shunned such moments, too consumed by failure. Now, Budapest's warmth was his pulse.
His phone buzzed—a call from Wei. "Leading Spain, Feng?" his father's voice rumbled, stern yet proud. "Valencia's still atop La Liga, thanks to you."
Lin Feng gazed at the steam rising, Budapest's skyline faint. "It's for our name, Papá. How's Mamá handling the spotlight?" His tone was earnest, not a grand vow, their bond a steady anchor.
"She's framing every article," Wei chuckled, softer than usual. "Keep your heart strong, son." Lin Feng promised, his heart full, their dynamic evolving.
Back in Valencia, Lin Feng's butterfly effect rippled. His flair and goals had kept Valencia CF atop La Liga, their Copa del Rey campaign thriving too, though he let teammates bask in the glory. A TV in the bathhouse flickered with the latest table, a quiet testament.
**La Liga Table (June 3, 2026, after 36 Matchdays)**:
| Rank | Team | Played | Won | Drawn | Lost | Points |
|------|----------------|--------|-----|-------|------|--------|
| 1 | Valencia CF | 36 | 26 | 7 | 3 | 85 |
| 2 | Real Madrid | 36 | 24 | 8 | 4 | 80 |
| 3 | FC Barcelona | 36 | 22 | 9 | 5 | 75 |
| 4 | Atlético Madrid| 36 | 20 | 10 | 6 | 70 |
| 5 | Sevilla FC | 36 | 18 | 8 | 10 | 62 |
Lin Feng's heart swelled, but his focus remained on the U-21 knockouts, Valencia's triumph a silent backdrop.
As he lay in his hotel, the [**System**] flickered:
[**Hidden Mission Unlocked: Win Man of the Match in a UEFA U-21 Knockout Match.**]
[**Reward: 6,000 system points, +2 Influence Points.**]
Lin Feng's eyes gleamed like Budapest's stars. Antoine Dubois was another shadow surpassed. The [**System**] was his secret, his empire his destiny. The U-21 knockouts loomed, and Europe would bow.
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