"Hey, hey, hey, I'm talking to you!"

The match on the screen had just begun.

In the middle of a group of girls gathered around him, like stars surrounding the moon, Feng Liang picked up a peanut and flicked it at Ye Chen's face.

"Damn you—"

Before Ye Chen could react, Zhang Jingshan couldn't hold back his rage and was about to explode in anger.

Ye Chen quickly pressed him back down and casually shook his head, signaling him not to bother.

Why waste energy on a lunatic who could soon end up with a bloody disaster, or worse, lose his life altogether?

Although Ye Chen wasn't sure why Zhao Jiwei's name wasn't mentioned in the infamous bloodshed at the Heavenly Palace Club in his past life, he was certain that the incident would happen tonight, right here.

The reckless actions of Feng Liang and the presence of the same music academy girl who was the trigger in his previous life confirmed this.

Originally, he could have easily prevented the tragedy, but he had changed his mind.

Not only would he not intervene, but he would also make sure Feng Liang had no chance to slip away in the chaos.

In the past, Feng Liang managed to escape because Xu Wenhui and Qiu Yingzhe had drawn the attackers' attention.

Without their arrogance and posturing, Feng Liang wouldn't have gotten away.

So, Ye Chen decided to help Xu Wenhui and Qiu Yingzhe this time—after all, he had some degree of goodwill toward them.

"What's wrong, Young Master Feng?"

After pressing Zhang Jingshan back into his seat, Ye Chen wiped the spot on his face where the peanut had hit him and asked casually with a faint smile.

"How long do you think it'll take to score a goal?" Feng Liang asked mockingly, ignoring Zhang Jingshan's furious expression.

"I'm not familiar with football, so I really wouldn't know. You've got me stumped, Young Master Feng," Ye Chen replied.

"Ha! Then do you dare to bet with me?" Feng Liang laughed maniacally.

"I just have a feeling there might be a high score," Ye Chen said unhurriedly.

"A feeling? You're betting on 7+ goals just based on a feeling? Damn, Li Mu was right—you really are an idiot! Hahaha!"

Before Feng Liang could finish his mocking laughter, the screen showed that Bayern Munich had scored within the first three minutes of the game.

The commentator exclaimed in disbelief, and Feng Liang's expression froze.

Meanwhile, Zhang Jingshan, Li Changfeng, and Zhao Jiwei cheered loudly, "Beautiful!"

An opening goal in such a high-stakes matchup? It hinted at the possibility of a high-scoring game.

"It's just one goal. What are you so excited about?" Feng Liang grumbled, but unease began to stir in his heart.

An opening goal, and an own goal at that, was not a good sign.

"Exactly, just seven more to go. What's there to get worked up about?" Ye Chen remarked playfully.

Zhang Jingshan exchanged an awkward glance with Ye Chen but stayed silent. The playful glint in Ye Chen's eyes, however, gave him an inexplicable sense of calm.

A few minutes later, at the six-minute mark, Bayern's defense faltered, leading to an own goal.

The score became 1:1, with the total goals now at 2.

By the 20th minute, Bayern scored again, making it 2:1.

Goals: 3.

Six minutes later, Bayern struck again. The score climbed to 3:1, with the total goals reaching 4.

In just 26 minutes, four goals had been scored. The room fell silent, and even Feng Liang's face turned pale.

This was less than 30 minutes into the game!

But as the clock hit the 30th minute, Bayern scored again, bringing the total to 5 goals.

Although the first half ended with this scoreline, Feng Liang could no longer remain calm.

If it were just two or three goals, he could have maintained his composure. But a 4:1 scoreline left no room for retreat—it was do-or-die.

And Bayern wasn't a team that would sit back and defend after gaining the lead.

With both teams boasting powerful attacking lineups and one side having no choice but to go all-out, could two or more goals be scored in the second half?

Feng Liang began to tremble uncontrollably.

It wasn't the Lamborghini or the Imperial View Garden house that he cared about—he couldn't accept losing, especially to Zhang Jingshan and Zhao Jiwei.

After the 15-minute halftime break, the game resumed.

In the 56th minute, Barcelona's counterattack paid off: 4:2!

The total goals hit 6.

"Damn it!" Feng Liang cursed, losing his composure.

"Why so anxious, Young Master Feng? It's just six goals—you'd only lose if there are two more," Zhang Jingshan teased with a mocking grin.

Feng Liang gritted his teeth, swallowing his rage.

With over 30 minutes left and the current pace of the game, two more goals—or even four—weren't out of the question.

But he refused to show any hint of panic in front of Zhang Jingshan. His expression twisted into a menacing sneer as he retorted, "Like you said, two more goals. Don't celebrate too early!"

"Let's just wait and see," Zhang Jingshan replied with a faint smile, his tone laced with ridicule.

At the 62nd minute, just six minutes after the previous goal, Bayern scored again.

Goals: 7.

The seemingly reckless bet by Ye Chen and his friends had now placed them in an unbeatable position.

Everyone turned to look at Feng Liang, who was now breathing heavily, his face pale.

"Young Master Feng, looks like we won't get to see you dance on the pole tonight," Zhang Jingshan said with a smirk.

"But you haven't won my car and house yet!" Feng Liang snapped hysterically. His mental state was clearly unraveling.

"Well, let's keep watching then," Zhang Jingshan replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

By now, Zhao Jiwei, Xu Wenhui, and Qiu Yingzhe were looking at Ye Chen with newfound awe.

Ye Chen had been the one to accept the bet, predicting 7+ goals—a near-impossible outcome for anyone remotely familiar with football.

Yet he had agreed without hesitation, citing intuition and Feng Liang's "bad luck" aura as his reasoning.

Could he really tell from Feng Liang's face that this transcontinental clash would unfold in such a bizarre, high-scoring manner?

When the game reached the 81st minute, Bayern scored again: 6:2.

Goals: 8. Feng Liang had lost.

But before he could recover, Bayern scored again three minutes later: 7:2.

And then, in the 88th minute, 8:2!

Goals: 10.

As the final whistle blew, the score remained 8:2.

The seventh-floor hall of the Heavenly Palace Club fell silent, save for the commentator's incredulous voice echoing from the screen.

Such a scoreline, such a number of goals—even Zhang Jingshan and Zhao Jiwei were left dumbstruck.

"You lost, Young Master Feng," Ye Chen said as he stood up, his calm smile breaking the silence.