Chapter 1 – They Really Don't Treat Transmigrators Like Human Beings Anymore!
"I must be the most pathetic transmigrator in history!"
Yang Cheng lay on a hospital bed in the emergency room, completely drained of strength.
Even breathing felt unbearably difficult.
Yet his consciousness was crystal clear.
Right before he collapsed, he had still been commanding the most crucial title-deciding match of the 2023/24 Premier League season.
In the 88th minute, the Arsenal team he managed had finally broken through the goal of Manchester City, led by the legendary Pep Guardiola.
His first championship title as a manager was finally within reach!
An overwhelming wave of euphoria surged through him, causing him to completely lose control.
Especially when he caught sight of Guardiola's devastated expression—Yang Cheng felt a satisfaction he had never experienced before.
And then—he collapsed.
He clearly "saw" himself being carried off the pitch on a stretcher, "heard" the paramedics calling out next to his ear...
The ambulance raced to the nearest hospital.
Then came a chaotic flurry of emergency treatment.
Doctors and nurses kept speaking to him, and he heard every word perfectly—but he couldn't respond.
It was already 2024.
With modern medicine so advanced, surely they could save him, right?
Just as that thought flashed through his mind, the sharp, urgent beeping from the monitors filled him with dread.
So this... is what it feels like to be on the brink of death?
Two lifetimes of memories began playing before his eyes like a film.
From 1984 to 2011—that had been the start of his ordinary life.
Then in 1995, he'd transmigrated and started over. From then to 2024, it had been a dramatic journey through European football.
His managerial career had seen him bounce between numerous clubs—from giants like Real Madrid, Barcelona, Chelsea, and Manchester United, to the lower tiers of German and Dutch leagues—his footprints were everywhere.
Thirty years!
He had spent thirty long years, grinding his way from a clueless rookie to one of the most respected managers in world football.
And his greatest regret? In all those years—he hadn't won a single major title.
Perennial runner-up.
That was the "consolation prize" the media and fans had given him.
But who couldn't hear the mockery behind the nickname?
Thirty years of struggle, and just when his lifelong dream was finally within reach—he died.
Unwilling!
Even in his fading consciousness, Yang Cheng trembled with frustration.
It had been him who built the foundation for Real Madrid's Champions League three-peat.
He had pulled Barcelona out of its historical slump, paving the way for Rijkaard's Dream Team II and Guardiola's legendary Dream Team III.
Chelsea's first Champions League title? It should've been his!
Manchester United had emerged from the post-Ferguson chaos and remained a top European force thanks to his sweeping reforms.
Even Guardiola had thanked him for the legacy that helped Manchester City to the title.
Thirty damn years!
Time and again, the trophy had been right in front of him, only to slip away for one reason or another.
By 2024, everyone acknowledged Yang Cheng as a world-class manager.
But still—no championship.
I'm really not okay with this!
If I had just one more chance—I would…
Beep—
———
Knock knock knock.
A sudden burst of knocking broke through the darkness.
Yang Cheng let out a startled cry and sat bolt upright.
He gasped for breath like a drowning man saved at the last second.
His back was already drenched in cold sweat.
Once he caught his breath and his mind cleared up, he realized—
He wasn't lying in a hospital bed at all. Instead, he was in a cramped office.
What the hell?
Yang Cheng sat up on the small couch, glancing around.
He had no memory of this office. He racked his brain for clues.
Then—a flood of unfamiliar memories surged through his mind.
He had transmigrated again!
This time, he had gone from 2024... back to the summer of 2003.
His name was still Yang Cheng. He was 23 years old.
Right now, he was in the office of the Bayswater Chinese Football Club, located in North Hyde Park, London.
Bayswater Chinese?
Just the name alone gave him a headache.
This was a huge mess.
His father, Yang Jianguo, had made his fortune in the 1980s with shoes and apparel, determined to build a sports brand for Chinese people.
In 1996, China's football scene had been swept up in a wave of overseas dreams.
Yang Jianguo missed the wave, but carved his own path. In 1997, he bought a small amateur team in London.
His plan? Within a few years, elevate this club to the Premier League as a stepping stone for Chinese players to go abroad.
To that end, he spent a fortune to buy a large plot of land in North Hyde Park, aiming to build a stadium and training ground that could hold ten thousand people.
The bold move had even earned him praise from the Chinese media and fans.
But the good times didn't last.
The Chinese team initially surged through the ranks, but once they reached League Two, they hit a wall.
Heavy investments year after year strained the family's finances, forcing construction on the stadium and training ground to halt.
Debts piled up like an avalanche, crushing the club entirely.
And worse—it threatened the entire Yang family business back in China.
If they weren't careful, they'd be ruined.
Yang Jianguo had rushed back to China to stabilize the situation.
And his only son, fresh out of university, had been left behind in the UK to "manage" this mess in his father's place.
Once he sorted through the memories, Yang Cheng couldn't help but laugh bitterly.
They really don't treat transmigrators like human beings anymore!
The standards were getting lower and lower.
Last time, at least when he transmigrated to 1995 Germany, he had a job—and a coaching license.
But this time?
He started off not just broke—but tens of millions in debt.
In pounds!
Zhu Yuanzhang started with a begging bowl—I've got millions of pounds in debt.
We both have bright futures ahead of us...
In his past life, Yang Cheng had managed both Chelsea and Arsenal. He knew London well.
North Hyde Park was a famous wealthy district. Notting Hill, Bayswater, and Paddington were all world-renowned neighborhoods.
How the hell did anyone get a plot of land this big here to build a stadium and training center?
All he could say was—the god of transmigration was insane.
But this location—was unbeatable.
———
Knock knock knock.
The knocking came again.
"Ah Cheng, are you awake yet?"
Yang Cheng followed the voice to the door, took a deep breath, and replied, "Awake, Uncle Lin."
The voice belonged to Lin Zhongqiu, the family's long-time financial officer who had followed Yang Jianguo from the early days.
When Yang Jianguo returned to China to stabilize their businesses, he left Lin behind to "help" Yang Cheng.
Yang Cheng walked over and opened the door.
Lin Zhongqiu looked at the fresh-faced heir, straight out of university. That handsome, pale face still had a youthful innocence untouched by the real world—and it made Lin feel a twinge of pity.
Yang Cheng took after his mother—both in looks and temperament. He was gentle, lacking the sharp edge of a businessman.
Even with the sky falling, he could still sleep peacefully.
"The negotiator from Chelsea's Russian owner is about to arrive," Lin Zhongqiu reminded him. "You'd better get ready. I'll handle the details—we stick to the plan I told you before. Don't accept anything under ten million pounds. Got it?"
Yang Cheng was supposed to be a mascot. Lin handled all the real negotiations.
But when Lin mentioned Chelsea, Yang Cheng perked up.
"Abramovich?"
"Yeah. One of the guys coming is his banking representative—Cash Harris, Chairman of Seymour Pierce Investment Bank."
"And another is the famous agent, Pini Zahavi."
"They say these two are key figures in his acquisition of Chelsea this year."
Yang Cheng frowned.
In his previous life, he had managed Chelsea for two seasons. The first to lay the foundation, the second exploded in results.
They finished runners-up in the Premier League, just behind Ferguson's Manchester United. In the Champions League, they were on a roll.
But after they beat Guardiola's Barcelona in the semifinals and were heading for the title—Yang Cheng was fired on the flight back from Barcelona.
The reason? He had refused to sell the aging Drogba.
After his dismissal, his assistant coach led the team to victory in the Champions League final.
And now, right after transmigrating—Chelsea was knocking on his door again.
Truly, fate has a cruel sense of humor.
"Uncle Lin, why are we selling this land?" Yang Cheng asked humbly.
Lin looked confused.
"I mean, the location of this land is incredible. I took a closer look—within a kilometer, there are six subway lines, five stations—including Paddington, one of the most critical railway hubs in all of London."
"We could totally use this land to raise funds, attract developers, do real estate. Wouldn't that be more profitable?"
Lin stared at him in surprise—then a glint of admiration flashed in his eyes.
But he soon smiled bitterly and shook his head.
"Ah Cheng, you're oversimplifying things."
Yang Cheng didn't understand.
"This land is ours, but its use has been fixed. According to the city plans, it can only be used for a stadium or training facility."
"We've thought about what you suggested. But even if we had investors, changing the land use alone would be a bureaucratic nightmare. It would take years to get approval."
"And even if the government agreed, we'd have to pay a massive fee."
Lin let out a helpless sigh.
"Our funding has already dried up. Many players have heard the rumors and are causing trouble. We've sold quite a few already, but it's a drop in the bucket. Our only option now is to sell the land to stop the bleeding."
It was a desperate attempt to cut losses.
But once they sold the land—what would become of Bayswater Chinese FC?
No need to ask.
Without a home stadium or training ground, what chance did the club have of surviving?
Yang Cheng never expected to face such a dire situation right after transmigrating.
Was there really no other way?
"We've tried everything we could think of, Ah Cheng."
Lin saw the unwillingness in his eyes and tried to console him. "It may feel like years of effort gone to waste, but at least we're not losing everything. And after Abramovich buys Chelsea, he plans to build a new stadium and training center."
"They're the only ones interested in this land and have the money to buy it."
He gave Yang Cheng's shoulder a comforting pat.
"Don't overthink it. Go wash up. I'll get ready."
As he watched Lin leave, a fire burned in Yang Cheng's chest.
He was not willing to give up.
In his past life, he had been just a coach—played and discarded by the rich clubs.
And now, what—he was going to relive that fate all over again?
No way.
Yang Cheng refused to accept it.
There had to be another way!
Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.
Read 20 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Canserbero10