Heh, he said on his lips that they should just play as usual, play however they want, but if they really played however they wanted, it would be the same situation as just now, and they would likely be throwing tantrums again in a few minutes.
However, Arteta would definitely not say such things. After all, he was the superior of his boss, and above him was an even more powerful financial group. These people were absolutely not to be offended, and the consequences of offending them would be unthinkable.
Losing this job would be a minor issue. If he truly offended those guys, with their financial power, they could prevent him from ever being a football coach again, or even doing anything at all.
After contemplating for a moment, Arteta turned back and smiled at the middle-aged man.
"Haha, you flatter me. I just yelled at them a few times. The players must be tired too. They can't keep scoring for long!"
As Arteta spoke, he could only think of Cao Baming. After all, all five goals so far had been scored by him alone. Essentially, he had initiated the attack and finished it all by himself, with others having little to do with it.
"In that case, I hope they can continue. Remember what I said, just have them play normally. I'm not asking them to fix the match."
Hearing this, Arteta could no longer hold back. He hadn't expected the other party to repeat himself. His thick skin was truly remarkable, and for a moment, he couldn't understand it.
"Alright, alright, you can rest assured, rest assured!"
Just then, the leader turned his head and walked back towards his VIP seats. Arteta also turned back and shifted his gaze back to the field.
However, at that very moment, as he turned to look at the field, a flash of light caught his eye. Looking closely, the flash wasn't anything special. It was the trajectory of the football, which had drawn a white line in the air. Under the sunlight, the reflection was even more intense.
In just one second, the football had slid from the left side of his vision directly to the right, heading towards the opponent's goal.
Arteta's heart leaped!
What the hell! No way!
The football had traversed almost the entire pitch, heading towards the opponent's goal. Despite the goalkeeper's best efforts, the ball still slipped under his arm and into the net!
With such a long-range shot, Arteta didn't even need to scrutinize who had taken it. Without thinking, he knew it could only be Cao Baming.
As expected, just a little over 20 minutes into the match, the sixth goal appeared. This goal was also from Cao Baming, while the others looked on helplessly.
Now they recalled that perhaps they had overestimated their opponents. They never imagined that in just 20 minutes of play, they would concede six goals, with each one seemingly scored with ease, as if they were in their element and exerting no effort at all.
However, if they thought about it carefully, the opposing team was actually in the top tier of the Argentine league. A mid-table team in such a league still had some strength.
Perhaps not enough to compare with the current Arsenal, but if they were to play a match against a lower-ranked team in the Premier League, the outcome would be quite uncertain.
And now? Now, this was the reality before them. Cao Baming alone had scored six goals. If four goals were a "big four," and five were a "five-star performance," how should six goals be described?
Should it be called "six six smooth sailing" or "six paths of enlightenment"? If he scored seven goals next, wouldn't it be "seven dragon balls"?
There was no helping it; this guy was simply too outrageous.
Arteta was speechless. He had just reassured the leader, only to be proven wrong on the spot.
Suddenly, he felt another presence behind him and broke out in a cold sweat.
He turned around cautiously. No one was there, and he let out a sigh of relief, a huge sigh of relief.
However, when he turned back again, his peripheral vision caught sight of the high-ranking leader he had just spoken with. The leader's expression was far from friendly; it could even be described as terrifying.
It seemed the leader was glaring at him with intense eyes. He couldn't discern whether it was disappointment or anger, but the feeling conveyed by that gaze was incredibly clear: it felt like a scalpel slicing across his skin.
He figured the leader wouldn't bother to get out of his seat again, but that look was like a final ultimatum. Arteta's heart began to pound.
No more goals! Even he himself hadn't expected that one day he would be coaching his team on the field, desperately hoping they wouldn't score again. In fact, conceding a goal would be better.
Taking advantage of the goal celebration, Arteta couldn't help himself. He risked a foul and went over to Cao Baming, gently putting an arm around his shoulder.
At this moment, Cao Baming knew without even looking back that this person was his team's head coach. He even knew the purpose of his visit was already clear.
"Okay, I understand. I'll try to score fewer goals, alright!"
Despite saying this, Cao Baming had no intention of holding back when he returned to the field. At this rate, they would score at least a dozen goals in the first half.
Even so, he was still far from meeting the system's skill upgrade requirements. It would be a shame not to seize these opportunities.
But he felt helpless. He turned away again with a sliver of hope, waiting for the players to restart the game.
He set a personal goal for himself: at least not to exceed ten goals in the first half. That way, he might still be able to offer a reasonable explanation to the management.
By halftime, he would have an opportunity to communicate properly with the players.