Time passed, and the players on the field were due for a break, having trained for a long time. At this moment, their curiosity surged once again.
Where had that man gone? Had he really left? Who was he? And why did he possess such powerful shooting skills?
A short while later, the man reappeared from the players' tunnel, accompanied by the team doctor who had conducted his physical examination. The results of the examination were entirely satisfactory.
The man was in excellent physical condition, with outstanding statistics. At twenty-six years old, he was at the peak of his career, in his prime.
However, as anticipated, he had no prior experience playing for any professional team.
Not only had he never played for a professional club, but not even for lower-tier clubs or amateur teams. Apart from a few friends he made during school, his football experience was limited to street games.
He was a complete novice in organized football, yet his skill was undeniable.
This time, the man changed into a new outfit. His tattered, ill-fitting leather shoes were replaced with the club's training footwear, and he wore the club's training jersey.
This wasn't because he had become a member of the club, but because Arteta could no longer bear to see him in his worn-out, two-sizes-too-big, greyish-brown leather jacket.
After changing, he immediately looked much more spirited. However, his hair remained disheveled, obscuring half of his face.
"Over here, you can come here!" Arteta beckoned to him with a smile.
His smile wasn't born of warmth, but of anticipation that this guy was about to be proven wrong by his own players.
"You can skip the regular training for now. I'll arrange an in-house practice match this evening. But before that, you need to prove your basic abilities to me.
"Since you have no experience playing for any team, we know nothing about you. This is Arsenal, one of the best football clubs in the world. Not just anyone gets a chance here, do you understand?"
The man nodded slightly, indicating his understanding, but remained silent.
The players on the field were walking towards them, their curiosity piqued about who this newcomer was.
Seeing this, Arteta directly called over a few of the players.
"This person wants to be challenged. You guys will supervise him and start with our most basic training drills. See how his skills measure up."
Upon hearing this, the players immediately became excited and eager.
However, Arteta only selected five players, excluding Cao Baming, Messi, and Henry.
Max stepped forward and, after listening to the rules, began the challenge.
The most classic aspect of football is, of course, shooting ability. Its essence lies in the precise control and accuracy of the ball's direction and power.
Unsurprisingly, this situation required specific targets for training.
But the cardboard cutout wall used earlier had already been utilized during training. A spark of inspiration struck a few of them when they spotted a water bottle, half-filled with water, in the distance.
"Today, we'll make him despair completely. Let's add a bit of difficulty!"
Ødegaard whispered to his teammates, pointing at the bottle nearby. Everyone immediately understood his intention.
The group found three water bottles from around the field, each containing some mineral water. They then gently placed them on the edge of a goal frame used for training.
"The target is that water bottle. Shoot the ball at the bottle placed on the goal frame, and then get it into the net. Simple enough."
As Ødegaard spoke, he noticed the disbelieving expressions of his teammates.
"What? I thought you just meant kick the bottle itself, but you want to hit the bottle and send it into the net! That's insane!"
"I wish I had placed it closer to the goal. Why didn't you say so earlier?"
They spoke in hushed tones, while Max, standing on the other side, seemed unfazed.
"Alright, let's begin."
With that, Max ignored everyone else and kicked a nearby football towards the target. It flew in a near-straight line, like a bullet, successfully striking the mineral water bottle placed on top of the goal frame and knocking it into the net.
The others were stunned.
Ødegaard was about to suggest adjusting the position of the goal frame, but now he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"This guy is such a show-off!" Vieira muttered quietly.
Max was about to retrieve the second ball but was stopped.
"Hold on, hold on. I haven't finished explaining the rules!"
"Each person gets three chances. You go first. Hitting the water bottle and getting it into the net are two different things!"
With that, Ødegaard stepped back, ready to watch him falter. The first shot might have been luck; his luck couldn't possibly hold out forever!
His teammates behind him began to feel nervous. Was this person really this strong?
Even they themselves weren't confident they could complete this task!
The shooting distance was over thirty meters from the goal, and the goal frame was placed somewhat arbitrarily inside the penalty area, and even off-center.
This meant the goal frame was not directly in the line of the shot. It was impossible to get it into the net in a straight line. It required precision, like playing billiards, to hit the side of the mineral water bottle!
Ødegaard began to regret not seizing the opportunity to mention adjusting the goal frame earlier. To save face for himself and for everyone else.
But now, it seemed, if none of them could accomplish it, the embarrassment would be even greater!
Looking at the difficult angle, he was already losing confidence and even started contemplating excuses.
Arteta was also watching from a distance.
Under everyone's gaze, Max, without much adjustment, took his second shot!
The football traveled in a straight line. The most anxious were, of course, the five players standing nearby.
With a *bang*, it successfully hit the water bottle. However, this time, the water bottle flew out of the goal and continued for tens of meters, landing in the spectator stands!
"Thank heavens!" The group collectively sighed in relief.
They themselves wouldn't have had the confidence for two consecutive successful shots!
Max showed a hint of regret on his face, then quickly retrieved the third ball.
"This guy's power is insane. Look at that water bottle just now, it was almost full of water!" Martinelli whispered.
"Let's see. He definitely won't make this one!"
Max seemed a little unconvinced. This time, without any adjustment, he kicked the ball, but with considerably less power than the previous shot.