God of Soccer, Please Take Me as Your Apprentice

[Ding!]

[What a show-off move! The host actually allowed two elders from the Joyous Sect to indulge in passionate embraces on his own bed—quite the spectacle!]

[Reward: 40 spirit stones]

Lin Yu: "..."

Sometimes, the system's rewards could be utterly absurd.

Who knew even being a spectator could earn rewards?

Soon enough.

The players proved with their performance that Mo Shangying had celebrated too soon.

In the 24th minute of the match.

The German team scored yet another goal, breaking through Brazil's defense once more.

0-3!

Mo Shangying was living proof of the saying "showering equal affection on all."

Having just calmed down, she agilely leaped from behind Lin Yu, landing squarely on his shoulders.

If not for Lin Yu's upgraded stability, the sudden impact might have sent her tumbling off the bed.

No wonder so many people ended up jumping off buildings over football matches.

Mo Shangying's behavior was the very embodiment of a rabid fan.

Were all football fans around the world this crazy?

Or was it just those who had placed bets?

Lin Yu didn’t understand football fans, but he did understand Mo Shangying...

The moment she climbed onto him, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her legs to keep her steady.

Yeah, purely for safety.

Sure enough.

The next second.

Mo Shangying ruffled Lin Yu's hair, barely containing her excitement as she squealed:

"Little Yu, you're my god!"

"Germany's leading 3-0! Do you know what this means?"

"In World Cup semifinals, no team has ever come back from a three-goal deficit!"

"Germany’s already got one foot in the finals!"

Lin Yu steadied her swaying figure and grumbled:

"I don’t know which foot Germany’s stepping forward with, but if you keep wiggling, you’ll definitely fall!"

Ye Mengfu had already raised her arms, ready to catch Mo Shangying if she toppled over.

Given how recklessly she was moving, it seemed inevitable.

"Be careful..." Ye Mengfu reminded with a soft smile.

Seeing her best friend so thrilled made her happy too.

Mo Shangying quickly climbed down and knelt beside Lin Yu, eyes sparkling:

"Master Yu, how did you predict this so accurately?"

"It’s only the 24th minute, and the score you bet on might actually happen!"

"How did you do it? No one saw Germany being this dominant before!"

"Master, please take me as your disciple! You must be some hidden genius with a secret prediction method!"

Ye Mengfu curled her legs up, resting her chin on her knees as she sneakily glanced at Lin Yu.

His prediction had come true—Germany was winning!

Now, she was even more curious whether his exact score bet would hit.

Earlier, during their pre-match chat, she’d learned Lin Yu had bet 600 bucks on Germany beating Brazil 7-1.

Though she hadn’t reacted as intensely as Mo Shangying, she hadn’t believed such a ridiculous scoreline was possible either.

Now, it seemed like an unprecedented thrashing might actually happen.

Lin Yu stretched his shoulders smugly:

"Of course my bet’s got a shot."

"Take a closer look—what’s the score now?"

The two girls turned back to the screen.

Just one minute after the restart, Germany scored again—0-4!

Four goals in 25 minutes. A completely one-sided slaughter.

This was a World Cup semifinal!

Fans around the world were bound to lose their minds tonight, especially those who’d bet on Germany.

Mo Shangying was beyond stunned.

Her bet on Germany winning was 99% secured now.

But what truly excited her was discovering a "prophet" in their midst!

Earlier, she’d mocked Lin Yu for his "divine dream" nonsense.

Now, she was low-key envious—was there really such a thing as mystical luck?

Could Germany really score seven against Brazil?

By the 28th minute, when Germany netted their fifth goal, Mo Shangying completely lost it.

She knelt beside Lin Yu again, practically begging:

"Master Yu, have mercy—please take me as your disciple!"

Lin Yu sat upright, arms crossed, feigning arrogance:

"Have you ever seen a god get ridden like a horse by their worshipper?"

"Or a master treated like a steed by their disciple?"

"Sorry, no disciples—only mounts!"

Mo Shangying caught the irritation in his tone and quickly backpedaled:

"My bad, my bad! A disciple can totally be a mount too!"

"If Master’s still upset, you can ride me back!"

"I’m pretty sturdy—I can handle it!"

Ye Mengfu: "!!!"

Lin Yu: "???"

What kind of wild talk was this?!

Seriously, her best friend was right there!

If Ye Mengfu weren’t around...

Lin Yu might’ve actually taken her up on the offer.

Who could resist a devoted disciple-mount?

Especially one who seemed eager to "rebel" against her master.

"Cut it out. I said no. It was just a lucky dream—what’s the point of taking you on?"

To maintain his act, Lin Yu painfully declined.

Not that he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t.

He knew next to nothing about football beyond this 7-1 massacre and another match where Messi lost in extra time.

If he pretended to be an expert now, he’d be exposed later.

Mo Shangying still refused to believe it was pure luck.

Even if it was, having a ridiculously lucky guide couldn’t hurt, right?

Hong Kong movies loved this trope—some unassuming guy blessed with god-tier fortune.

To her, Lin Yu’s rejection was just him being petty.

The fastest way to a man’s heart?

Through his... other organs first!

"Master, give me a chance!"

"Taking me as your disciple will bring way more benefits than drawbacks..."

Mo Shangying batted her lashes, her sly gaze screaming mischief.

Lin Yu’s mind raced.

Her so-called "benefits" definitely meant something else, right?

As he puzzled over it—

Mo Shangying rubbed her legs and casually remarked:

"Master, your AC’s kinda chilly."

"Xiao Fufu, let’s share the blanket—don’t catch a cold. Your nightgown’s thin too."

Ye Mengfu took one side obediently: "Mm, thanks Ying’er."

Mo Shangying draped the other half over Lin Yu’s crossed legs:

"Master, cover up too. Wouldn’t want you freezing."

Three people under one blanket?

The vibe was getting dangerously intimate.

Lin Yu braced his hands on the bed, insisting sternly:

"Ying’er, stop calling me master. I never agreed to—"

His words died mid-sentence.

A small, sneaky hand had just slithered under the blanket toward him.

Damn it!

So THIS was the "benefit" she meant?!

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