Chapter 126: That Lightning Bolt in the Wembley Night Sky! Bro, Are You Just Stat-Padding?
Avram Grant never imagined that one day he'd become the manager of a Premier League team—
let alone one as massive as Chelsea.
Not even in his wildest dreams.
At 52, he'd spent most of his life in Israel.
First as a youth coach for over a decade, then gradually moving up to manage several Israeli clubs, including Maccabi Haifa.
He did reasonably well, which led to his appointment as manager of the Israeli national team in 2002.
But even that didn't carry much weight.
In European football, Israel has never been a force—
especially not in the eyes of Western Europe.
At best, it was considered a "long trip for an away game."
During his time as Israel's national team coach, he met Gaydamak,
a young international businessman, only 29 years old, the heir to a complicated family fortune.
His father, Arcadi Gaydamak, had once been investigated by the government for illegal business dealings.
Looking for a safe haven for his son and a way to transfer some assets,
he did what every wealthy person in the world does—
invest abroad.
Their plan?
Buy a Premier League club.
Problem was, they didn't know football. Not at all.
So they turned to Avram Grant.
He became the Gaydamak family's football advisor, involved in every step of the purchase of Portsmouth,
and even helped shape key decisions.
Once the deal was done, Grant became the family's representative at the club, taking on the role of Technical Director.
At that time, Portsmouth were a low-tier Premier League team, constantly flirting with relegation.
Not a powerhouse by any stretch.
But under Grant's influence, Portsmouth saw a massive transformation—
the biggest being the hiring of Harry Redknapp as manager.
That move alone sparked the team's rise.
By the 2006/07 season, just a year and a half later,
Portsmouth had climbed to ninth place in the Premier League.
A huge achievement for a club with limited investment and modest ambitions.
The Gaydamak family, like Roman Abramovich, were Russian-Israeli.
Everyone in the football world understood what that meant.
Even in the Premier League, their connections ran deep.
Thanks to Israeli super-agent Pini Zahavi,
Grant was introduced to Abramovich.
In the 2006/07 season, Chelsea began experiencing a locker room crisis.
The center of it? Andriy Shevchenko.
Abramovich had used countless personal connections to persuade the Ukrainian superstar to join Chelsea.
But after arriving, Sheva was never truly supported by Mourinho.
Abramovich was furious.
On one hand, team performance had declined—Mourinho's dominance wasn't what it once was.
On the other, the billionaire wondered—
"Is this still my Chelsea, or is it Mourinho's Chelsea?"
Mourinho was cashing Abramovich's checks, spending Abramovich's money,
but acting like he was building his own Ferguson-style dynasty?
Not a chance.
Still, Abramovich wasn't stupid.
He knew Mourinho was the backbone of Chelsea.
Beyond Shevchenko, Mourinho's relationship with the backroom staff—particularly Peter Kenyon—
had also soured.
Mourinho felt they weren't backing him fully in the transfer market.
But Abramovich?
He wanted to ask:
"You ignore my input, you humiliate me over Shevchenko, and now you want me to fund more transfers for you?"
"What am I to you?"
Of course, he never said it out loud.
That would've burned the bridge completely.
Instead, Abramovich opted for a compromise.
He needed someone with strong football credentials, respected by Mourinho,
trusted by both the owner and the executive team—
a bridge between the warring factions.
That man was Avram Grant.
At Portsmouth, he had done a good job.
So in July 2007, Grant officially joined Chelsea as Director of Football.
He even started sitting on the bench during matches.
His first major task?
Smooth things over between Mourinho and Shevchenko.
But Grant vastly underestimated the difficulty of that job.
Especially once he dealt with Mourinho face-to-face.
The Israeli soon realized—Mourinho didn't trust him. At all.
Not a single word.
In fact, Mourinho suspected that Grant was a spy,
sent by Abramovich and the board to monitor him.
From that moment on—everything spiraled out of control.
No one knows whether the chaos started with Mourinho's training,
a wave of injuries, or just the general locker room mood.
Whatever it was, it all hit at once.
And it was a mess.
The final straw?
Mourinho's failed request to sign Daniel Alves from Sevilla.
Sevilla had been shopping Alves everywhere but wanted a steep fee.
Chelsea offered €20 million.
Sevilla insisted on the full €40 million release clause—not a cent less.
On one hand, they wanted to sell.
On the other, they demanded top dollar.
Negotiations went nowhere.
Eventually, the gap started to narrow.
Abramovich told Peter Kenyon he was willing to go as high as €25 million.
Kenyon pushed it to €27 million,
the highest he could authorize as CEO.
He figured—what's an extra €2 million? Abramovich won't care.
But Sevilla never budged.
They wanted €36 million.
Everyone was used to Chelsea overpaying.
So they held firm.
In the end—Alves didn't come.
Then Drogba got injured.
Mourinho wanted the medical staff fired.
Things exploded.
In a fit of rage, Mourinho quit.
Grant took over.
When Grant suddenly found himself promoted from Director of Football to Head Coach,
he was totally shell-shocked.
The biggest team he'd ever managed before?
The Israel national team.
Now he was in charge of one of the biggest clubs in Europe?
Could the squad even trust him?
Would the superstars listen?
Everything was chaos.
The locker room was fractured—
And those issues had existed since last season.
Mourinho's exit only worsened the instability.
The media tore into Chelsea:
Boring football. 1–0 obsession. Defensive-minded.
Grant knew—he couldn't change any of it.
Or rather, he didn't believe anyone could.
When Shevchenko and Drogba had to play together,
when Chelsea's flanks remained their only real attacking outlets,
when the back line had to face the full force of United and Bayswater Chinese FC…
What could he do?
Just like Mourinho, he reverted to a 4-4-2.
At best, he made minor tweaks.
For example, he didn't want Drogba and Shevchenko standing on the same line—
He staggered them, one higher, one deeper,
to add layers to the attack.
But once the league train started rolling,
there was no time to breathe. No room for mistakes.
Even knowing it was a mistake, there was no choice but to charge forward.
After narrowly edging Birmingham 3–2 at home in the opening round, Avram Grant had already sensed danger.
He was deeply concerned about the upcoming trip to Wembley for Round 2.
This wasn't just any match—
It was the globally watched West London Derby.
And worse, the opponent was Bayswater Chinese FC, the team Roman Abramovich despised the most.
No matter what, this one had to be won.
"The absolute worst-case scenario is that you make it out in one piece,"
Abramovich's personal assistant, Marina Granovskaia, warned Grant over the phone.
She didn't say whether that was Roman's direct instruction.
But as his assistant, no one understood his thoughts better than her.
…
August 15, evening. Wembley Stadium, London.
Premier League Round 2: Bayswater Chinese FC vs. Chelsea.
By the 33rd minute, Bayswater had won a free kick on the left wing in Chelsea's half.
It was a long one—over 30 meters out.
Leighton Baines stepped up to take it.
Chelsea's defenders dropped back, forming a line near the edge of the box.
That's when people suddenly realized—Chelsea looked… short.
Ashley Cole: 1.76m
Ricardo Carvalho: 1.82m
Tal Ben Haim: 1.83m
Paulo Ferreira: 1.83m
Frank Lampard: 1.84m
Essien: 1.78m
Shevchenko: 1.83m
Drogba: 1.89m
And Bayswater?
They flooded Chelsea's box with size and presence.
Just among those over 1.85m:
José Fonte (1.87m), Pepe (1.86m), Yaya Touré (1.91m), Edin Džeko (1.93m).
All of them strong in the air.
Add in Maicon (1.84m) and Gareth Bale (1.85m)—
Bayswater's height and power clearly overwhelmed Chelsea.
The whistle blew.
Baines took a short run-up and whipped in a left-footed inswinger.
Everyone charged the box.
The ball bypassed the near post, Drogba, and Carvalho—
and dropped to the far post.
Pepe timed his run perfectly, rising above Ashley Cole and Essien
to nod the ball back across the goal—a high looping header.
It fell near the left side of the six-yard box,
exactly where Čech couldn't comfortably come off his line.
As Chelsea scrambled, José Fonte launched himself into the air
and nodded the ball low toward the bottom right corner.
Čech had been shifting left with the flow of play—
and when the header came back across to the right,
he was caught wrong-footed.
He dove—too late.
GOAL! 1–0!
Wembley exploded.
Another set-piece strike!
No intricate tactics, just raw physical dominance.
Chelsea got bullied in the air.
…
Halftime: 1–0 to Bayswater Chinese FC.
Yang Cheng was pleased.
From kickoff, the two sides had gone into a furious attacking exchange.
Grant had gambled, trying to stifle Bayswater's high-octane start with a slugfest.
And for a while, it worked.
But soon, Chelsea began losing the midfield battle.
Their offense sputtered.
The home side took control.
Yang Cheng had started Gareth Bale, Džeko, and Arshavin up front.
Midfield: Matuidi, Yaya Touré, and Modrić.
Defense unchanged.
With that setup, Bayswater seized control early
and used both flanks to torment Chelsea.
For the second half, Yang Cheng made no changes.
Keep pressing—especially down the left.
"Ferreira's just back from injury," he told the team.
"From what we've seen, he's still rusty—lacks sharpness."
Everyone knew Ferreira was Mourinho's guy.
Back when José was still around, he'd already wanted Dani Alves.
Now that Mourinho was gone, Ferreira's position was even more vulnerable.
"Gareth, we're going to feed you chances in the second half."
"Find a way past Ferreira."
Bale had just turned 18.
Now he was starting against Chelsea—
and his manager had given him a mission.
The Welshman was fired up.
"Use your speed and dribbling—destroy Ferreira!"
…
Second half—barely 100 seconds in.
Yaya Touré lofted a clever chip to the left channel.
Džeko pulled back, shrugged off Essien, and flicked a header toward space behind Chelsea's back line.
It was damp that afternoon—a light rain had fallen.
The air was muggy and humid.
Wembley's ventilation wasn't great—many fans were feeling it.
But then… a red lightning bolt cut through it all.
Gareth Bale, at full throttle, blasted past Ferreira,
charging onto Džeko's flick.
Ben Haim rushed over to cover.
But before he got close, Bale poked the ball toward the byline
and burst past him with even more speed.
Ben Haim chased hard—on the inside.
But Bale was just too fast.
There was no catching him.
He reached the edge of the six-yard box—two steps ahead of everyone—
looked up, and curled in a low left-footed cross.
The wet pitch made the ball skim, spraying droplets.
Arshavin arrived, met it with his left foot—
and hammered it past Čech.
The moment the ball slammed into Chelsea's net,
the mist of water on the edge of the six-yard box was still settling.
But Wembley erupted.
More than 60,000 fans jumped out of their seats, screaming at the top of their lungs!
2–0!
But the moment everyone would remember—
was that red lightning bolt.
Speed!
Blazing, unstoppable speed.
Human beings are born to worship speed.
That's why the Olympics' sprint events are the crown jewel.
In football, dazzling footwork has its charm—
But nothing stirs the senses like a flash of pure velocity.
And on this night at Wembley,
Gareth Bale stunned everyone in the stadium.
…
Kickoff resumed.
Conceding so early in the second half was a big blow to Chelsea.
While Grant hesitated on whether to make subs,
just three minutes later, chaos struck near midfield again.
José Fonte cleared a long ball up the left side—
and Gareth Bale was first to react, charging toward the landing spot.
But Modrić got there first, securing the aerial ball on the left side of the halfway line.
Gareth Bale saw this and didn't challenge for it. Instead, he kept sprinting forward.
The Welshman accelerated from the left side of midfield and began to tear down the pitch—faster and faster.
Modrić, under pressure from Lampard, flicked a header forward. It turned into another looping ball that dropped into Chelsea's half, near the 30-meter zone.
The ball outpaced Bale for a moment—
Džeko was already there, holding position.
He flicked another header deeper.
By now, Gareth Bale was in full flight.
He had started his run all the way back near his own 30-meter line.
Now he was blazing forward along the left channel—
A straight line from his half, flying toward the top of Chelsea's penalty box.
He didn't know how many players he passed.
He couldn't even see the sideline or the crowd's reaction.
He had only one thing in his mind—
Keep going.
It felt like he was about to take off—
like his entire body was surging with power that had to be unleashed.
In a flash, Bale reached the top left corner of the Chelsea penalty area.
Džeko's flick had already bounced once on the wet turf.
Bale finally noticed—only one defender was nearby.
He wasn't sure who it was, just that he wore blue and wasn't very tall.
But he saw the box.
No time to think—just act.
Bale slowed slightly, swung his right foot to knock the ball forward into the box,
and at the same time, used his right shoulder to force the defender away.
He already had a plan:
If the contact was too strong, he'd go down—
Maybe even draw a penalty.
But to his surprise, the defender lost balance completely,
tripped, tumbled, and crashed to the turf inside the box.
Bale didn't look back.
He chased down the loose ball, glanced up at Čech rushing off his line—
then blasted a left-footed strike.
The ball zipped under Čech's left arm,
low and fast, into the back of the net.
"GOAL!!!!!"
"Bayswater Chinese FC score again!!!"
"3–0!!"
"From the 18-year-old Welshman—GARETH BALE!"
"My God, the speed—he's like lightning!"
"I can't believe what I just saw."
"A 70-meter solo run. That explosion, that pace, that stamina—and he's only 18!"
Bale sprinted out of the stadium, howling with joy.
The entire atmosphere in Wembley exploded.
There's nothing that stirs human emotion more deeply than raw speed.
In the Olympics, sprinting is king.
In football, it's the same.
Beautiful technique has its place—
But blistering speed? That's what electrifies a crowd.
Tonight, under the lights of Wembley, Gareth Bale shook every single person in that stadium.
…
Play resumed.
But conceding right after the restart—
a huge blow to Chelsea.
Grant hesitated—should he make changes? Reinforce the defense?
Too late.
Just three minutes later, near the halfway line, chaos struck again.
José Fonte cleared the ball high to the left side.
Bale was already sprinting toward it.
Torres hadn't been especially prolific at Atlético; his goal tally each season had never been eye-catching. But since joining Liverpool, he'd been on fire.
Everyone said it: Benítez finally had a striker who could score.
After the match, Bayswater Chinese FC stood at 1 win and 1 draw from 2 games, collecting 4 points and sitting fourth in the Premier League table.
Ahead of them were three teams with perfect records: Liverpool, Everton, and Manchester City.
Unluckily for Yang Cheng, Round 3 was against Everton.
The brutal fixture list gave everyone a headache, but it didn't stop the British media from going wild over Gareth Bale's performance—a goal and an assist.
Some even shamelessly called Bale a king in the making, with "Ballon d'Or potential."
Yang Cheng honestly wanted to grab a toilet and smash it over their heads.
Seriously?
He's 18! Aren't you embarrassed to hype him up like this?
It's basically praising him to death.
But journalists didn't care.
Their job was to praise.
If the kid underperformed later?
"Well, it's not our fault—we were right at the time. He just didn't live up to it."
Then they'd dig up every mistake, every bit of "black history."
Media everywhere are the same.
When Ronaldinho was flying, partying and chasing women was "off-pitch charm."
When his form dropped, it became "lack of professionalism."
Yang Cheng ordered the media relations department to decline all interviews.
He also called Gareth Bale into his office for a talk.
Afterward, he rang up Jonathan Barnett, Bale's agent, asking him to speak with the family.
Getting famous young is fine.
But don't get crushed by it.
The same message was relayed to Walcott and Di María.
…
August 18, afternoon. Wembley Stadium, London.
Back-to-back high-profile clashes forced Yang Cheng to rotate his squad again for the Everton match.
Starting XI:
GK: Neuer
Defense: Marcelo, Thiago Silva, Pepe, Piszczek
Midfield: Matić (holding), Rakitić and Lass Diarra
Forwards: Di María, Lambert, Walcott
It was a bold rotation, but Yang Cheng stayed cautious with some key positions.
David Moyes' side had opened the season with two straight wins:
2–1 over Wigan at home, 3–1 away against Spurs.
They came into Wembley full of confidence.
Moyes clearly wanted to capitalize on Bayswater's congested fixture schedule, squad fatigue, and heavy rotation.
He was gunning for all three points.
Last round, against Tottenham, they scored from a corner just two minutes in—
Lescott with the early goal.
That gave them the advantage from the start.
But this time, they were facing Bayswater Chinese FC.
Yang Cheng had rotated heavily, so the team started cautiously.
Seeing Everton pressing early, he instructed his players to first stabilize their defense.
Only in the 19th minute did Walcott break down the right and send in a cross to Lambert,
whose shot went just wide.
It was Bayswater's first shot of the game—
and also the first real threat from either side.
With so many new faces and the season still young,
Bayswater needed time to find rhythm.
They eventually adapted to Everton's pressure around the 30-minute mark.
From that point on, the home team started to push forward.
With Diarra patrolling and intercepting in midfield,
Matić and Rakitić could focus more on organizing and creating chances.
Especially Rakitić—
freshly called up to the Croatian national team, he was playing with fire in his boots.
Matić, too, wanted to prove he had earned his place in the Premier League after a year of hard work.
Bayswater gradually began to control the midfield and shift the momentum.
But Everton were tough.
The stalemate lasted into the second half.
Just 3 minutes after the break, Di María and Walcott combined on the left,
overlapping to beat Hilbert, only for Lescott to cut out the final ball for a throw-in.
Marcelo rushed over, wiping the ball on his shirt as he surveyed the field.
Then—a quick throw-in to Lambert.
The English striker chested it with his back to goal, laid it off to Di María,
who one-touched it back.
Marcelo was already back in play—
he took the ball, turned with his back to the sideline,
and whipped in a diagonal pass toward the box.
Lambert was on the move—
the ball threaded right between two defenders.
Perfect timing.
With Lescott behind him, Lambert held his ground,
shielded the ball, and laid it back toward the top of the box.
A flash of red streaked into the scene.
Walcott smashed the ball first-time with his right foot—
a thunderbolt into Joe Hart's goal.
1–0!
The Little Tiger roared.
He was fired up—
just like Gareth Bale, he was 18, and determined to rise.
…
After conceding just minutes into the second half,
Everton tried to fight back—
but were quickly smothered.
The speed of Di María and Walcott made Everton's defense nervous.
Lambert nearly scored with a long-range shot in the 53rd minute.
Once Everton's counterattack wave died down,
Bayswater went back on the offensive.
Moyes signaled for his side to drop deeper—
switching to a defensive counter strategy.
But then, he noticed something strange…
Since when did Bayswater like long-range shots so much?
Lambert? Sure—he's a center-forward.
Taking shots from distance is part of the job.
Di María and Walcott? Also fine—they're wingers.
They're expected to score.
Even Rakitić? Looked decent. Understandable.
But Lass Diarra and Matić?
Shooting from distance too?
Seriously, are you guys farming shot stats or what?
And then came the cherry on top—
Aaron Ramsey, freshly subbed in, also let one fly from range.
That's when Moyes realized—
His defense had done such a good job shutting down Bayswater's approach play,
they had no choice but to shoot from distance.
Even the Sky Sports commentator couldn't help but joke:
"Is this still Bayswater Chinese FC, or are we watching Bayswater Long-Range FC?"
Yang Cheng was innocent.
He really was.
At halftime, he had simply told the players:
"Everton's defense is solid. If you get a chance—have a go."
After all, as the saying goes:
'Even Heaven would age if it saw Hart get hit by a rocket.'
How was he supposed to know the whole team would take that literally?
NND, are you guys trying to score goals…
or boost Joe Hart's save percentage?
To be fair, a couple of those shots actually had quality—
one from Rakitić, and surprisingly, another from Aaron Ramsey.
But both were stopped by Joe Hart.
See? I'm just not meant to be the main character in a novel!
In the end, Bayswater Chinese FC held on for a 1–0 home win over Everton, thanks to Walcott's goal.
What made it both funny and awkward was the match stats:
18 total shots from Bayswater—12 of them from long range.
Talk about awkward.
…
August 25, noon. Premier League Round 4: Bayswater Chinese FC away to Bolton.
After a week of rest, Yang Cheng sent out his strongest XI.
Just 11 minutes in, Džeko scored with a crisp shot from inside the box to give Bayswater the lead.
1–0.
They controlled the first half but couldn't add to the score.
Then, in the 60th minute, Di María played a brilliant through ball,
Arshavin cut in from the left and slotted it home.
2–0.
In the 75th minute, Arshavin won a dangerous free kick.
Leighton Baines stepped up and calmly buried it.
3–0.
Bolton pulled one back in the 81st,
but Bayswater walked away with a 3–1 victory and a three-match win streak.
…
After four rounds:
Chelsea beat Portsmouth 1–0 at homeArsenal edged out Manchester City 1–0 at the EmiratesLiverpool beat Sunderland 2–0 awayManchester United finally got their first win of the season: 1–0 over Spurs
Before that, United had drawn twice and lost once.
Why were they struggling?
Because Cristiano Ronaldo had been sent off against Portsmouth, and then banned for three matches.
He'd done a "Zidane"—headbutting a defender.
That earned him a red card and a two-game extension on the suspension.
Without Ronaldo, United's attack dried up.
After four rounds, two teams had 10 points (3 wins, 1 draw):
Liverpool and Bayswater Chinese FC.
Liverpool led on goal difference—+7 to Bayswater's +6.
Fernando Torres was on fire.
4 goals and 1 assist in his first four games.
Manchester City under Eriksson were also solid—3 wins, 1 loss (9 points, 3rd place).
Arsenal sat in fourth with 8 points (2 wins, 2 draws).
United? Just 5 points—10th place.
It was still early,
but Bayswater's stability contrasted sharply with United's unconvincing start.
…
One week later: Premier League Round 5.
United still hadn't fully recovered from Ronaldo's absence.
They scraped a 1–0 home win over Sunderland, but the performance was unconvincing.
Chelsea lost 0–2 away to Aston Villa—a major upset.
Post-Mourinho Chelsea was clearly slipping.
Liverpool shocked everyone.
Benítez's side destroyed Derby County 6–0 at Anfield.
Torres and Xabi Alonso both scored twice.
It was a storm of attacking football.
Torres, in particular, was electric.
6 goals in 5 matches—incredible, beyond all expectations.
Arsenal beat Portsmouth 3–1 at home.
Bayswater Chinese FC returned to Wembley and crushed West Ham 3–0.
Yang Cheng stuck to his usual blitzkrieg opening strategy.
Within 6 minutes, an in-form Gareth Bale led a lightning-fast counterattack and assisted Arshavin for the opener.
Early in the second half, Bale crossed from the left, and Džeko scored.
Then Džeko added another before the final whistle to seal it.
Bayswater 3–0 West Ham. Džeko brace.
The Bosnian now had 4 goals in 5 matches—an outstanding start to the season.
After five rounds, Liverpool remained top, with Bayswater right behind.
Then came Arsenal, Aston Villa, Everton, Chelsea, Newcastle.
City and United were 8th and 9th, respectively.
…
With Round 5 in the books, the league paused for the international break.
But before that, UEFA held their annual awards ceremony and Champions League group stage draw
at the Grimaldi Forum in Monaco.
Bayswater Chinese FC had reached the Champions League quarterfinals last season.
Still, they were placed in Pot 3 based on coefficient points.
Which basically meant they were almost guaranteed to be drawn into a Group of Death.
In contrast, the other three English teams—Liverpool, United, and Chelsea—
were all Pot 1 seeds.
So for Bayswater, their remaining five possible Pot 1 opponents were:
AC Milan, Inter, Barcelona, Real Madrid, and Bayern Munich.
No easy pick.
Pot 2 wasn't much better:
Valencia, Roma, Werder Bremen, Sevilla—all top-tier sides.
Or traditional powers like Lyon, Porto, and Benfica.
No matter how the draw played out—it was going to be brutal.
Yang Cheng, though, had his eye on Pot 4,
which included: Lazio (Serie A), Shakhtar Donetsk, Dynamo Kyiv, Beşiktaş, and Fenerbahçe.
Why?
Because every one of them was a logistical nightmare—
either freezing weather in Ukraine or exhausting travel to Turkey.
Best-case scenario? Glasgow Rangers.
But of course, Yang Cheng didn't get lucky.
From 8 possible Pot 4 teams, his group drew Lazio from Italy.
And the real bombshell?
Bayswater drew Real Madrid again.
A 1-in-5 chance, and they hit it. Again.
But Yang Cheng didn't mind. In fact, he was thrilled.
Why?
"No one knows how to beat Real Madrid better than I do!"
To him, this was a good draw.
To everyone else?
It looked like he was trying to stay optimistic after being slapped with a nightmare.
Who wants to face Real Madrid?
Pot 2?
They got Werder Bremen from the Bundesliga.
So now the group was:
Real Madrid – La Liga championsWerder Bremen – Bundesliga third placeBayswater Chinese FC – Premier League championsLazio – Serie A third place
The true Group of Death.
It couldn't get more lethal.
Get 30% off on my Patreon and enjoy early access to new chapters.
You can also purchase the next 100 chapters of the novel directly from my Patreon page.
Hurry up! The promotion ends on February 2, 2026.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Canserbero10