Julian lay on the bed suffused with the scent of Sophie's body wash, his thoughts racing.
All he could think about was...
How to allocate talent points.
This was the first step in a career that was just beginning to take shape.
According to the system's instructions, talent points could be added to existing skills or to basic attributes.
The options were vast.
Julian's current skills encompassed hand punching, chest unbuttoning, donning and doffing stockings, cheating on exams, realistic acting, and rational collision.
He had yet to use hand punching, donning and doffing stockings, and cheating on exams, but he had to admit that his chest-unbuttoning skills were swift and precise.
Hehehe~
Nevertheless, Julian had no intention of becoming a professional hooligan, so adding talent points to the likes of chest buttoning was out of the question.
The two professional skills of realistic acting and rational collision were more deserving of consideration.
Realistic acting was undeniably useful, but since he had no plans to pursue an acting career at the moment, the current +1 level was sufficient for minor roles.
Rational collision, however, was a crucial skill on the football field.
It seemed more prudent to invest in rational collision.
Yet, the essence of this skill lay not in the skill itself but in one's own "Strength" attribute.
Strength was a fundamental requirement for central defenders and standing centers, especially in the British football leagues that emphasized physical confrontation. Every position demanded a high strength rating.
This was the most elementary and essential attribute.
Given Julian's experience playing football in his past life, he understood this well.
Without robust physical attributes, one couldn't even stand on the field, rendering other skills useless.
Skills were merely refinements built upon a solid foundation, but the foundation itself must first be laid.
Combining his football expertise, Julian concluded that bolstering his strength was the priority.
As soon as Julian made his decision, the talent points in his mind surged into his body!
Julian couldn't help but feel a sudden enhancement in his musculature.
"Wow~"
"Congratulations, host, for successfully allocating points. Your strength attribute has increased from 58 to 59."
Hearing the system's notification, Julian was taken aback:
Shit!
So my strength is only rated 59 points?
The top defenders and centers in the Premier League should all have a strength attribute above 90, right?
Indeed, his current body was too weak.
A strength of 59 was no match for the professional players.
Even Rusty Stripe, the local amateur, must have at least 65 points!
There were only two days remaining, so he needed to act quickly.
He will pick up another talent bubble from Sophie tomorrow night.
How could he make her emotional again?
Forget it, she's been moody lately.
Julian got up feeling refreshed and had two slices of toast with fried scallops for breakfast. He then dashed out, eager to begin his day.
Once upon a time, he would be found studying in his room, but now he had loftier aspirations.
At 08:30, Julian took a taxi to Dune Beach, a popular tourist spot in Southampton.
This picturesque beach boasted unique dunes and a swing set overlooking the sea. The cool morning breeze was a bit damp, and in the distance, several rusted shipwrecks dotted the horizon. The sun, rising between the sea and the sky, painted the scene with a breathtaking beauty akin to an oil painting.
By the time Julian arrived, the security staff had already set up a perimeter of over 200 meters.
Julian pulled out a blond wig from his backpack and put it on, affixing a mustache as well. Then, donning a vest with "Photographer" emblazoned across it, he strutted confidently towards the barricade.
Julian has a daring scheme in mind!
He intends to pose as a photographer to gain proximity to Beckham, and then seize opportunities to go on a few more rendezvous!
That's David Beckham! The golden right foot! The full moon scimitar! Everyone in the stadium!
Even Beckham's mundane moments must be incredibly cool!
When the security guard responsible for clearing the area noticed someone approaching, he quickly stepped forward with a stern expression.
Before the security guard could utter a word, Julian spoke in a gruff tone, "What's the issue here? Why hasn't Beckham arrived yet? What about the rest of the crew? Did my camera not show up? Crap! Did I get the time wrong?"
Julian's realistic acting, combined with a genuine southern English accent, made his performance quite convincing. He truly seemed like a harried photographer who had mixed up the schedule due to working late into the night.
The security guard was evidently intimidated by Julian's presence, "I apologize, sir. You must have remembered the time incorrectly. They won't be arriving until half an hour from now."
Julian's expression grew solemn, "Damn it! Half an hour? This perfect lighting will be gone by then! No, I must call and urge them to hurry up!"
Without missing a beat, Julian pulled out his mobile phone, dialed a random number, and strode into the restricted area, "Hello? It's me. Why aren't you here yet? What? You've already left? Shit! I just heard room service calling. Quickly come over, or you'll miss the best light!"
Though taken aback briefly, the security guard still attempted to adhere to protocol, "Excuse me, sir, but may I see your credentials, please?"
Julian interrupted him, "This blasted seaside breeze is so chilly! Go fetch me a cup of hot coffee, would you? Make sure there's no sugar."
Julian produced two fifty-pound notes from his pocket and handed them to the guard who initially resisted the idea.
"Keep the change as a tip," Julian said magnanimously.
The guard's eyes brightened, and he eagerly snatched the cash, his demeanor switching 180 degrees. "Right away, sir."
Truly, at a crucial moment, one cannot solely rely on acting skills; money often proves to be the ultimate solution.
In the past, two fifty-pound notes would have been a significant outlay for Julian, but now it was merely a trifling expense.
Julian waited on the swing beside the sea for five minutes before the security guard trotted back with a steaming cup of black coffee.
"Sir, your coffee is unsweetened," the guard announced with a smile, clearly eager to please.
Julian took the coffee, crossing his legs, "Thank you. You may return to your duties now. I wish to sit here alone and contemplate the shot."
"Yes, sir." The guard scurried off, having lost all intention of verifying Julian's identification.
Julian sighed in relief and took in the scenic seascape, all while sipping the scalding beverage.
Fuck...it's so bitter!
He'd only requested no sugar to appear tough, but the guard had served him a cup of pure, bitter black coffee.
With no one in sight, Julian quietly spat the coffee back into the cup. It was far too bitter for his taste. He contented himself with using the cup merely to warm his hands.
After half an hour had elapsed, a convoy of security vehicles appeared on the beach road.
The football legend Beckham, looking somewhat bleary-eyed, emerged from a van, surrounded by a horde of staff members, and headed towards the dune-covered beach.
Finally, he's here!
Julian took a deep breath, struggling to resist the temptation to rush over and ask for Beckham's autograph.
Today, I didn't come here for an autograph!
I'm here to get something for free!