Football Tycoon

"Damn it, I really transmigrated!"

Yang Huan sat on the leather sofa in the bar, staring blankly at the huge television screen in front of him.

A football match was being broadcast.

From the voice of the commentator, he gathered that this was the 2010 South Africa World Cup final, with Spain facing off against the Netherlands. The ninety-minute regular match time was nearing its end, and the score remained 0-0.

This made Yang Huan's heart race, as if it was about to leap out of his chest.

About two minutes ago, he had been watching the 2014 Brazil World Cup semi-final in a bar, with the host nation Brazil facing Germany.

As a die-hard Brazil fan, and with Brazil being the host, he had bet three thousand yuan on Brazil to win. Unexpectedly, Brazil collapsed disastrously, losing utterly in front of their home fans, causing Yang Huan to lose a month's wages.

The loss had hit him so hard that he drank himself into a stupor, cursing angrily, calling Brazil's performance a disgrace, accusing their star-studded team of playing like amateurs. Somehow, in his drunken tirade, he even started cursing the Chinese national team for being an eternal disappointment.

Drunk, exhausted, and after venting his frustrations, he passed out.

But as soon as he closed his eyes, he heard deafening cheers around him. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he had transmigrated to 2010.

According to the lingering memories in his mind, the person he had transmigrated into was also named Yang Huan, but unlike his previous self, a lowly loser, this Yang Huan was an out-and-out rich second-generation heir, a true trust-fund baby with wealth beyond imagination.

He was now in the most luxurious bar in Longhai City, which was also the most famous money-burning hotspot, where the minimum spending per person was over ten thousand yuan.

In his previous life, Yang Huan wouldn't have even dared to dream of setting foot in such a place, but in this life, he practically treated it as his second home.

In his past life, he worked his ass off and barely made three thousand yuan a month. But in this life, he was a genuine playboy, and spending just thirty thousand a day was considered frugal.

Just moments ago, he had lost five million betting on Spain to win within the ninety-minute regular time.

Now, the score was still 0-0.

"Is there anything more bizarre or absurd than this?"

Yang Huan casually grabbed a bottle of open Hennessy from the table and took large gulps, pouring it down his throat.

He was craving stimulation. He believed alcohol would help him process everything that had just happened to him.

"Young Master Huan, stop drinking, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep going."

The young woman who had been silently sitting beside Yang Huan all night finally spoke up. She reached out to stop him, forcibly taking the Hennessy bottle from his hand. Still, more than half the bottle had already gone into his stomach.

The girl was stunningly beautiful. Although sitting on the leather sofa made it hard to judge her height, her face was close to perfection—soft and delicate like a peach blossom.

Feeling a bit helpless.

At that moment, the referee in the televised World Cup final blew the whistle, signaling the end of the ninety minutes of regular play. The match was over, and Yang Huan had finished the entire bottle of Hennessy, yet he showed no signs of being drunk.

One of the most painful things is when you try to drown your sorrows with alcohol, only to finish the bottle and still remain sober.

There was a gentle knock on the door of the private room, and in walked a bald man in his forties.

This man wore a fawning smile, and as soon as he entered, he saw Yang Huan finishing the bottle of Hennessy. He immediately clapped his hands and praised, "Young Master Huan, you're truly remarkable! Downing a whole bottle of Hennessy without even flinching—impressive, truly impressive!"

Yang Huan raised his head and looked at the man. His memories told him that this person was Liu Mingwei, a well-known tycoon in Longhai City with connections both in the legitimate business world and the underworld. During the World Cup, Liu Mingwei was running a betting syndicate, specializing in underground gambling. He had already made over ten million yuan from Yang Huan during this World Cup alone.

After closing the door, Liu Mingwei walked over, his gaze first falling on the stunning beauty sitting next to Yang Huan—Zhang Ning. At first glance, he was taken aback by her beauty, thoroughly impressed. But the men involved in the earlier auction were all important clients of his, so for the sake of business, he had painfully decided to let her go. Still, that didn't stop him from feasting his eyes on her.

Feeling Liu Mingwei's fiery gaze, Zhang Ning instinctively moved a little closer to Yang Huan.

At least, Yang Huan's gaze didn't scare her.

"Young Master Huan, it's a 0-0 draw after ninety minutes. Thanks for the five million!" Liu Mingwei made it clear he was here to collect his debt.

Yang Huan didn't like the man's tone, nor did he like his expression—too fake, too insincere.

More importantly, he was in a bad mood, a very bad mood.

"Mr. Liu, five million isn't much to me. Was it really necessary to come here in person?" Yang Huan was already feeling irritable, and now being bothered made it worse.

Liu Mingwei laughed heartily. "Of course, I know a mere five million means nothing to someone like you, Young Master Huan. Didn't you just spend five million on this beautiful lady here..." He shot a teasing glance at Zhang Ning.

Zhang Ning felt an unprecedented wave of humiliation.

She had always been an outstanding student, maintaining her dignity throughout her life, but now she had chosen to fall into disgrace, subjecting herself to such mockery. Hearing Liu Mingwei's words made her so ashamed she wished she could just smash her head against the wall and die.

"Everyone in Longhai City knows the Yang family's wealth. Five million, fifty million, even five hundred million wouldn't faze you. But we have our rules—cash for wins and losses, no hard feelings."

In the end, Liu Mingwei was still here to collect his debt, just dressing it up with polite words.

To Yang Huan, if he couldn't produce the five million right now, or if he didn't come from an immensely wealthy family, Liu Mingwei probably wouldn't be so courteous.

Yang Huan searched his memory and recalled that he still had money in his account. He picked up his phone, opened his mobile banking app, entered his password (his ID birthday), and saw that his account had just under twenty million yuan in it.

An eight-figure balance—something that would have shocked Yang Huan in his previous life.

He had never seen so much money before, but now...

He was momentarily stunned.

"If Young Master Huan is having difficulty, I could help by letting you write an IOU," Liu Mingwei chuckled, thinking Yang Huan might not have enough money in his account. He found it amusing that this spoiled brat was out here pretending to be some big shot without the means to back it up—a pig with a green onion sticking out of its nose, trying to act like an elephant!

"Or, you could use her to pay the debt. But unlike you, I'm not bold enough to spend five million on a single night," Liu Mingwei added, casting another glance at Zhang Ning. The more he looked at her, the more he was mesmerized by her beauty. Even combined, his mistresses couldn't match a single finger of hers.

To Liu Mingwei, everything had a price. While he liked beautiful women, he wasn't willing to spend five million for just one night.

Hearing this, Zhang Ning's face turned pale. Although she had been forced into selling herself, she couldn't stand being treated like a commodity, bought and sold at will—especially not when it came to something she valued so dearly, her **.

Yet, in this situation, she had no control. All she could do was look helplessly at Yang Huan through tear-filled eyes.

Yang Huan was still a bit dazed by the amount in his account, but after hearing Liu Mingwei's words, he realized that Liu was trying to humiliate him. Whether it was by writing an IOU or selling Zhang Ning at a discount, if word got out, Yang Huan would never be able to show his face in Longhai City's elite circles again.

"What's your account number?" Yang Huan calmly looked at Liu Mingwei and gently took Zhang Ning's hand—it was soft, her palm sweaty.

Liu Mingwei was somewhat surprised. He felt that something about Yang Huan was different, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Still, he quickly provided his account details. "Construction Bank, Liu Mingwei."

Within thirty seconds, he received a text notification from the bank—five million yuan had been transferred into his account.

"Thank you, Young Master Huan!" Liu Mingwei said with a forced smile, though inwardly, he was a bit disappointed. He had been eyeing Zhang Ning's beauty. "There's an old saying—'The game's not over until it's over.' Ninety minutes of regular time is up, but there's still extra time. I'm opening a new round of bets. Want to play?"

"How?"

"However you want! You can bet against me directly!" Liu Mingwei chuckled.

In his memory, Yang Huan was a die-hard, fake football fan who bet purely for the thrill of it. He had no real understanding of the game and had even once boasted about buying the Chinese national team, bringing in international stars, and leading them to the World Cup.

Faced with such a "genius fan," Liu Mingwei felt no pressure at all.

Yang Huan looked at the TV screen, then at Liu Mingwei's annoying smirk. He picked up his phone.

"I've got over ten million left in this account. I'll bet all of it in one go, and I'll bet against you."

Yang Huan pointed at the screen where the second half of extra time was about to start. "I'm betting that Spain will score the only goal of the game between the 115th and 116th minute, with Iniesta receiving a pass from Fabregas and scoring with his right foot."

"Mr. Liu, I'm willing to bet. Are you?"