Chapter 210: Chapter 131: Who in the World Does Not Know You
’Hmm... The location of the Japanese Community seems pretty average, too. And the population of Japanese descent is small. Most importantly, this seems like a way to get on Li Wei’s good side.’
’If worst comes to worst, I’ll just build the prison and basketball court over in the Japanese Community instead.’
"Oh, right," he said. "Bring me the population distribution map for the Japanese Community. I want to take a look."
Meanwhile, for Li Wei, far away in New Jersey, a task dialogue box suddenly popped up before his eyes:
[Task: The Vanishing Tribe - Complete]
[Your influence has grown. Though you took no direct action, your sway was enough to protect this tribe and save it from the brink of extinction.]
[Task Reward: Free Attribute Points +0.1]
[You resolved this issue without resorting to violence, preventing any conflict or bloodshed.]
[Bonus Reward: Free Attribute Points +0.1]
Li Wei: ’Huh? I just completed the task like that?’
’I haven’t even talked to Mayor Holmes about this yet.’ Li Wei was a bit dumbfounded. ’Is my word really that powerful now? I didn’t say a thing and Holmes already pissed his pants.’
But in the end, the task was complete, and he had scored 0.2 attribute points. He wasn’t going to question the system bugging out; he’d just treat it as a freebie.
An unconscious smile spread across Li Wei’s face. To the many sports reporters present, however, that smile seemed to mock the existing rules.
The camera flashes at the press conference were still going off like crazy. The moment Roger Goodell finished speaking, the press area erupted into a frenzy, like an alligator pit that had just been thrown a piece of raw meat.
Giving no one a chance to breathe, a reporter with thick-lensed glasses and a Washington Post press pass hanging from his chest shot to his feet. Without even waiting to be called on, he shouted his question:
"Mr. Li Wei! I’m a sports columnist for The Washington Post. The league claims your stats are authentic, but this completely defies the common understanding of human physiology!
An 18-year-old of Asian descent, who has never undergone the physical conditioning of the NCAA system, somehow possesses speed greater than a top-tier black wide receiver and strength surpassing a linebacker?
We have reason to doubt the authenticity of this physical report! Have you used some new type of drug that current anti-doping agencies can’t detect? Or, to put it bluntly, is this whole thing a fraud?"
The room was in an uproar. Although everyone had their suspicions, no one expected someone to be so direct.
Li Wei, sitting on the stage, adjusted his microphone. The smile on his face faded slightly, and his dark eyes calmly met the questioner’s gaze.
"I’m willing to take a urine or blood test at any time," he said. "If there isn’t a cup handy, I don’t mind taking the test right in front of you. That is, if you’re not afraid of feeling inadequate."
A wave of laughter rolled through the audience. The reporter’s face flushed crimson. Just as he was about to sit down, another journalist from the Boston Globe stood up, his words even sharper.
"If the stats aren’t the problem, then the process is! It’s a well-known fact that the NFL and the NCAA have an unspoken understanding. The Giants have a terrible record this year and are desperate for a superstar to save their ticket sales.
Mr. Li Wei, can we not reasonably suspect that you, or your family, used certain unorthodox financial means—to put it plainly, bribery—to get Commissioner Goodell to open this back door for you?"
At this, even Roger Goodell’s expression soured. John Mara’s brows furrowed. He reached for the microphone to field the question for Li Wei but was stopped by a hand gesture from the young man himself.
"I’m an orphan. I’d appreciate it if you’d be a little more professional with your questions," Li Wei said. "When I first came to the United States of America, I lived in a basement in Sunset Park. I had to scramble for discounted items at grocery stores and meticulously compare prices just to survive. What would I use to bribe a multi-billionaire? Next!"
A burly, veteran reporter from ESPN stood up. He wasn’t as rash as the previous two; instead, he took out his phone and read the contents of a tweet aloud.
"Mr. Li Wei, just a few moments ago, a famous veteran defensive player, a multi-time Pro Bowl linebacker, commented on this matter in his latest tweet.
He said, ’It’s disgusting watching that kid run his mouth up there with no shame. Welcome to the big boys’ league. I’m gonna make you run home crying to your mama for milk come the preseason in September.’"
The reporter paused, scanned the room, and then fixed his gaze on Li Wei to continue.
"And it’s not just him. According to our sources in the locker rooms, the vast majority of active NFL players are strongly dissatisfied with your special admission.
Their anger stems from the fact that they played for three, or even four, years in the NCAA without pay, enduring countless injuries and poverty just to earn a ticket into the league.
And you? You not only skipped that process but also landed a multi-million dollar contract. They see this as a desecration of the spirit of the sport and a mockery of their own efforts. Do you have a response to that?"
The entire room fell deathly silent. Every camera zoomed in on Li Wei’s face, trying to capture the slightest hint of panic or guilt.
Li Wei was starting to get angry.
’Fuck it. I have a cheat system. What do you have?’
’And even putting that aside, even if I have a cheat system, I earned these attribute points by grinding out tough missions. The effort and hardship I put in is no less than you guys taking massive doses of drugs and training day in and day out—’
’Screw it. The bottom line is, I have a cheat system. Do you?’
He extended a finger and lightly tapped the microphone.
TAP. TAP.
"In my homeland, the Celestial Dynasty, we have an old saying: ’When you face a setback, look for the cause within yourself,’" he said. "But just in case that veteran didn’t do so well in his college literature classes and can’t understand, let me put it more simply—"
"If you suck, train harder," Li Wei said. "Stop thinking this or that is impossible for other people. Why couldn’t he break an NFL record when he was in high school?"
"As for that veteran who said he’d make me cry for my mommy, and all those other useless bums just coasting in this league, please pass a message on to them for me: I’m also looking forward to meeting them on the field."
He paused for a second.
"And please, be sure to remind them to buy the most expensive insurance policy in the world before September."
...
Two hours later, Li Wei couldn’t be bothered with any of the post-signing parties and went straight home.
He got a call from Elizabeth.
"Hello? Miss Elizabeth," Li Wei said, answering the phone. "Long time no see. Good afternoon."
"I told you, just call me Liz..." Elizabeth Mellon sighed. "You were too impulsive in your speech today."
"But I liked it. That’s what competitive sports are all about," she said, her tone shifting to a smile. "You’re now... uh... how does that one saying go?"
After thinking for a moment, she said in somewhat clumsy Mandarin,
"Everyone under heaven now knows your name."
