Football: My AI System Provides Max-Level Predictions-Chapter 782 - 564: Back to the League, Full Firepower! Teammates Go All Out to Help Tang Long Sprint for the European Golden Boot!

The draw ceremony for the Champions League quarter-finals concluded, as time quietly flowed by, it was soon the end of March.

That day, Tang Long had just finished a day of training, and as he stepped out of the training ground, he unexpectedly saw Ronaldo.

Ronaldo skillfully opened the passenger seat door and plopped himself into Tang Long's car.

"Yo, long time no see, looks like your belly has grown bigger again."

Tang Long sized up Ronaldo, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Ronaldo rolled his eyes at him, replying grumpily, "That's called work-related obesity, all thanks to worrying about you. Come on, drive!"

The car slowly started, smoothly driving along the winding road.

Outside the window, lush oak trees on both sides seemed to be pulled swiftly by invisible giant hands, flashing by rapidly, leaving only blurred green afterimages.

"So, tell me, what's up? I thought you had forgotten me to the clouds above."

Tang Long asked with a smile, focusing on the steering wheel.

Ronaldo adjusted his seat backward comfortably, almost lying flat, his hands leisurely placed on his round belly, patting it occasionally, as if caressing a beloved treasure.

"First of all, congrats on passing the Bayern hurdle. You did great, although the process was incredibly tough, the result was smooth, even the Bundesliga champions were defeated by you!"

Tang Long's mouth curved slightly, he said in a mocking tone: "It mainly owes to your miraculous draw luck, picking the strongest second in the group. I must thank you on behalf of the entire Manchester City club."

Ronaldo chuckled awkwardly, at a loss for words, only managing to pat his conspicuous belly again.

"Don't get too cocky, next up in the semi-finals you've drawn Atletico Madrid, they're no pushovers, you've surely heard of the Iron Atletico, right? You better be careful, don't do something crazy like Bonazzoli did and risk your neck."

Ronaldo put away his smile, solemnly advising.

Tang Long nodded earnestly.

"There's more than half a month until the Champions League quarter-finals begins, Guardiola should have ample time to meticulously prepare for the game. As for the league, relax, I'll make a bet with you, if we don't win the League Champion this season, I'll gain weight just as exaggerated as yours instantly."

Over two years of mutual blending, Tang Long and Ronaldo's relationship had grown increasingly close, like longtime friends, nothing was off limits in their conversation.

Ronaldo nodded heavily, with a serious expression, and said:

"I'm not worried about the league, Manchester United has long lost the shadow of contending for the title, Chelsea is also 10 points behind us. Barring accidents, sealing the League Champion three or four rounds early is a sure thing. But, back to the league, your task remains arduous, you must not slack off because you have a more important goal to strive for, that's why I am here for you today."

As the red light ahead turned on.

During the pause of the slowly stopping car, Ronaldo quickly pulled out his phone, his fingers swiftly sliding, found a piece of news, and handed it to Tang Long.

It was news from The Times, the headline read distinctly:

[C Luo: The best Ronaldo? Of course, it's me!]

Once Tang Long saw the headline, Ronaldo exaggeratedly shook the phone and even made a gesture like he was going to throw it out the window, shouting indignantly:

"Cristiano might have Ronaldo in his name, but he brazenly claims himself as the best Ronaldo. Tang, what do you think about this!"

Tang Long sighed helplessly, and said, "Oh, you're at this age, retired for so many years, why are you still giving him a hard time?"

Ronaldo's expression instantly turned serious, speaking firmly:

"Of course, I care! The name Ronaldo belongs solely to me. The whole world knows I'm the one and only Ronaldo, he's merely Cristiano, how can he compare to me?"

Tang Long coughed twice lightly, carefully choosing his words, and said slowly:

"At least from the goal count, it seems like Portuguese Ronaldo indeed has slightly more than Brazilian Ronaldo..."

That was true.

When Brazilian Ronaldo retired at 35, his total career goals numbered 413;

While Portuguese Ronaldo, at 32 this year, had already scored 525.

And this number kept climbing, that's the terrifying aspect of C Luo!

Ronaldo's face flushed slightly, hurriedly explaining, "That's because I had too many injuries, lying in Inter for two years, can he compare with me? He can play 60 games in a season, I played only 60 games in three years combined!"

Tang Long shrugged it off: "Judging by your tone, having many injuries seems like something to be proud of? Vieri once told me about your days at Inter, if you had spent less time in bars, drinking less, you..."

"Stop!" Ronaldo suddenly extended his hand, making a halting gesture, "Don't say another word!"

"Of course, I've had my reasons, but that's all past now, long gone with the wind. You're right, I shouldn't care about these anymore."

"But, your goal count must not be lower than C Luo's. You're the heir I've personally chosen, I've mentioned it several times on social media, the whole world knows this."