Lying in a bed filled with the lingering scent of Sophie's bath, Gunnard found himself unable to fall asleep. His mind was racing with thoughts of how to allocate his newly acquired talent point.
This was the first crucial step in his yet-to-be-launched professional career.
According to the system's prompt, the talent point could be applied to existing skills or to his basic attributes. This offered a wide range of possibilities.
Currently, Gunnard possessed the following skills: **Hand Technique**, **Bra Unclasping Technique**, **Stocking Removal Technique**, **Exam Cheating Technique**, **Realistic Acting**, and **Reasonable Collision**.
Although he hadn't yet used the **Hand Technique**, **Stocking Removal Technique**, or **Exam Cheating Technique**, he had to admit that his **Bra Unclasping Technique** was both quick and accurate. He chuckled to himself at the thought.
Of course, Gunnard wasn't planning to take the path of a professional scoundrel, so he definitely wouldn't waste a precious talent point on something like the **Bra Unclasping Technique**.
The two skills worth considering were **Realistic Acting** and **Reasonable Collision**, both of which had professional applications.
**Realistic Acting** was incredibly useful, but since Gunnard wasn't planning to act in movies anytime soon, the current +1 level was sufficient for small-scale situations.
On the other hand, the **Reasonable Collision** skill was crucial on the football field. It made sense to invest the talent point here. However, the core of **Reasonable Collision** wasn't just technique—it was the "Strength" attribute.
Strength was a primary attribute for center-backs and target men, and in the physically demanding English leagues, every position required a high level of Strength. It was the most fundamental and essential attribute.
As someone who played a lot of football in his past life, Gunnard knew this all too well. Without a strong physical foundation, you couldn't even hold your ground on the field, no matter how skilled you were in other techniques.
Skill and technique could only refine what was already there; building a solid foundation was the first priority.
With a strong base in the "Strength" attribute, combined with the **Reasonable Collision** skill, Gunnard could naturally perform at a level higher than most ordinary players.
After considering his past football experience, Gunnard decided to improve his Strength attribute first.
With a single thought, the talent point in Gunnard's mind immediately flowed into his body!
He instantly felt every muscle in his body grow more robust!
Gunnard couldn't resist feeling his muscles… Solid!
"Ding~"
"Congratulations to the host for successfully allocating a point. The host's Strength attribute has increased from 58 to 59 points."
Hearing this system prompt, Gunnard was taken aback:
Whoa~
So, my Strength attribute is rated so low by the system? Only 59 points!
Top defenders and strikers in the Premier League likely have Strength attributes above 90 points, right?
No doubt, this body is still too weak.
With a Strength rating of 59, he wasn't just lagging behind Premier League defenders and strikers; he was far behind even amateur school teams.
Not to mention, based on the system's rating scale, even Rusty's Strength value would probably be at least 65 points!
Facing Rusty head-on in a one-on-one match on the field would definitely be a disadvantage.
There were only two days left, so he had to make the most of his time collecting!
Tomorrow night, he had to collect another one of Sophie's talent-level bubbles.
How could he get Sophie's emotions to flare up again?
Forget it, no need to overthink it. Lately, this little girl has been getting angry at the drop of a hat for some unknown reason.
Tomorrow, I'll go get some freebies from Beckham first…
Gunnard stretched lazily with a contented smile and soon fell into a sweet dream.
In his dream, he saw Anne Hathaway, dressed in a Catwoman bodysuit, strutting toward him with her alluring catwalk…
The next morning, the sun was shining brightly!
Gunnard got up full of energy, ate a simple breakfast of two slices of toast and grilled scallops, and hurried out the door.
Usually, at this time, he would be in his room studying, but now he had a more important and worthwhile goal.
At 8:30 in the morning, Gunnard took a taxi to a famous spot in Southampton—Dune Beach.
This place not only had unique dune landscapes but also seaside swings.
The morning sea breeze was still a bit chilly. Looking out, all he could see was the clear sea water, several rusted wrecked ships in the distance along the shoreline, and the rising sun between the sky and sea—everything was as beautiful as a painting.
At this time, the security staff had already started setting up barriers, cordoning off an area of about two hundred meters of beach.
Gunnard took out a golden wig he had bought on the way, put it on, added a fake mustache, and wore a vest with the word "Photographer" printed on it. Then, he swaggered toward the barrier.
This was Gunnard's bold plan!
He was going to pose as a photographer to get close to Beckham and find an opportunity to get as many freebies as he could!
After all, it's David Beckham! The golden right foot! The bending free-kick! A football legend adored by millions!
Even ordinary bubbles from Beckham would definitely be top-notch!
Seeing someone approaching, the security guard immediately stepped forward with a stern face.
Before the guard could say anything, Gunnard spoke in a rough voice, "What's going on? Why isn't Beckham here yet? Where are the other crew members? And where's my camera? Damn it! Did I get the time wrong?"
His realistic acting, combined with a typical Southern English accent, made Gunnard's performance very natural, as if he were really a photographer who had overworked himself last night and got the time wrong.
The security guard was obviously taken in by Gunnard's aura, "Sorry, sir, you must have gotten the time wrong. They won't be here for another half hour."
Gunnard frowned, "Damn! Half an hour? The perfect lighting angle will be gone by then! No way, I need to call and hurry them up!"
As he spoke, Gunnard pulled out his phone, randomly pressed a few numbers, and started a fake call while walking into the restricted area. "Hello? It's me. Why aren't you here yet? What? You've already set off? Nonsense! I can hear the room service in the background! Hurry up, or we'll miss the best light!"
The security guard, though a bit confused, dutifully followed Gunnard, "Sir, according to regulations, may I please see your credentials—"
Before the guard could finish, Gunnard frowned and said, "This damn sea breeze, it's freezing! You, go buy me a cup of hot coffee, and remember, no sugar."
Gunnard pulled out two fifty-pound notes from his pocket, handing them to the guard who was about to refuse to get him coffee.
Gunnard generously added, "Keep the change as your tip."
The guard's eyes lit up, and he eagerly took the money, his attitude doing a 180-degree turn, "Yes, sir, I'll be right back."
Sure enough, in critical moments, acting isn't enough—you need money to get things done.
Two fifty-pound notes would have been a significant expense for the old Gunnard, but now, it's just a drop in the bucket.
Gunnard sat on the seaside swing, waiting for five minutes before the guard came back, carrying a steaming cup of black coffee.
"Sir, your coffee, no sugar," the guard said obsequiously, not even thinking about checking Gunnard's credentials anymore.
Gunnard crossed his legs, took the coffee, and said, "Thanks. You can go back to your duties now. I need to sit quietly for a while and plan out the shots."
"Yes, sir." The guard cheerfully walked away.
Gunnard secretly breathed a sigh of relief, enjoying the beautiful sea view as he sipped the coffee.
Damn… it's really bitter!
I said no sugar just to show off—did they really have to give me pure black coffee?
Seeing no one around, Gunnard quietly spat the coffee back into the cup and used it just to warm his hands.
Half an hour later, seven or eight support vehicles parked along the beach road.
Football superstar David Beckham, looking sleepy, stepped out of his van, surrounded by a group of staff, and walked toward Dune Beach.
He's here, finally!
Gunnard took a deep breath, trying to suppress the urge to rush over and ask Beckham for an autograph.
Today, I'm not here for Beckham's autograph!
I'm here to get some freebies!
end.