Immortality Starts From Making Money.-Chapter 376: The Noble Clan Hidden Movement.

The day after the match, Mingze City was more animated than it had been in years.

From the bustling marketplaces in the Lower District to the refined tea houses of the Middle District, nearly everyone was discussing the unforgettable clash between the Chen Clan Team and the Black Spider Team.

Compared to the first match where the Blood River Team had come from a goal down to score twice and secure victory.

The second game revealed an entirely different dimension of football to the people of this world.

It was not merely a game of scoring first.

It was a game of endurance.

Of belief.

Of resilience.

"It isn’t over until it’s over."

That phrase echoed in the hearts of countless spectators.

When the Black Spider Team had taken a commanding three-goal lead, hope had all but vanished for many. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

The Chen Clan supporters had grown quiet, their earlier optimism crushed under the weight of what seemed like inevitable defeat.

Most believed the Black Spider Team had the match firmly in hand.

And yet, when the final whistle sounded, the scoreboard displayed an astonishing result.

Three–three.

A draw.

The comeback was something no one had foreseen.

If the first match had introduced football into the conversations of the people, the second had firmly planted it in their hearts.

On the streets, the excitement showed no sign of fading.

"Did you hear? The Black Spider leader thrashed his players mercilessly when they returned to their clubhouse," one man whispered animatedly to his friend.

"Hahaha! I heard that too," the other replied with a grin. "They say some of them were beaten so badly their own parents wouldn’t recognize them."

"But I heard it wasn’t entirely the players’ fault," a third voice interjected. "Apparently, it was the leader’s poor substitutions that cost them control of the match."

"Really? Where did you hear that?"

Such gossip could be heard on nearly every corner.

Even women who had previously shown no interest in martial competitions or public spectacles now spoke passionately about the game of football.

While the common people relived the drama with excitement and laughter, the influential and noble clans were holding far more serious discussions.

In the Inner City, within the sprawling estate of the Shi Clan, the atmosphere was solemn.

The Shi Young Master walked along a narrow, deserted cobblestone path.

The usual sounds of the estate servants’ footsteps, distant conversations were absent. This path led to a more restricted section of the clan grounds.

He stopped before an ancient wooden building, its structure simple yet imposing. Standing guard at the entrance were two cultivators whose auras were restrained but powerful.

"Young Master," one of the guards said respectfully, bowing slightly. "The Patriarch is waiting for you."

The young master nodded calmly and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by soft spiritual lamps.

At its center sat a middle-aged man upon a woven futon. He had a short white beard and sharp, composed features.

His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, his posture upright and dignified.

"Father," the young master greeted in a low, respectful tone.

Slowly, the Shi Patriarch opened his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, they seemed like a boundless abyss, deep, unfathomable, and filled with terrifying power.

Then he blinked, and the overwhelming aura receded.

"What is happening in the city?" he asked, his voice calm yet authoritative.

Without hesitation, the young master summarized the recent events, the explosive popularity of the football matches.

Many commoners believed the noble clans paid no attention to such mundane matters.

They were mistaken.

From the shadows, the clans monitored everything.

Control was maintained not merely through strength, but through information.

After listening carefully, the Shi Patriarch fell silent for a moment.

"Who would have thought a mortal game could create such waves?" he murmured thoughtfully.

He looked at his son. "Have you investigated the group behind this game?"

"Yes, Father," the young master replied. "I have met them. Their leader appears to be a young master as well."

"Oh?"

"He is not a simple person," the young master added.

The Shi Patriarch’s eyes flickered with mild surprise.

He knew his son well; calculated, intelligent, and rarely impressed by his peers.

For him to describe someone of the same generation as "not simple" was no small acknowledgment.

"What do you intend to do?" the Patriarch asked.

"Father, I plan to create our own football game."

The Patriarch studied him carefully. "You intend to use the game as bait... to draw out the master refiner behind those artifacts?"

"Yes, Father. Compared to the game itself, the master refiner is of far greater importance."

"Very well," the Patriarch said at last, nodding with approval. "Proceed with your plan. You have my support."

"Thank you, Father," the young master replied, bowing slightly before withdrawing.

While the Shi Clan began making calculated moves, they were not alone.

Inside the City Lord’s Mansion, beneath an elegant pavilion overlooking a tranquil pond, the City Lord sat opposite an old man.

Between them rested a Go board.

"What are your thoughts on this mortal game?" the City Lord asked casually as he placed a white stone.

The old man did not immediately respond. He held a black stone between his fingers, studying the board as though the fate of kingdoms depended on his next move.

"An interesting pastime," he said at length. "But ultimately useless. A waste of time. Why would cultivators concern themselves with chasing a ball?"

The City Lord chuckled softly. "I expected that answer."

He leaned back slightly. "But I do not believe it is as simple as you think."

The old man paused and finally lifted his gaze.

"Oh?" His brows furrowed. "It may be popular now, but such trends fade. Everything eventually returns to obscurity."

"I am not referring to the game itself," the City Lord clarified. "I am referring to the people behind it."

The old man’s eyes sharpened.

"According to my reports, their VIP chambers are unlike anything seen before," the City Lord continued. "Have you heard of the Moon Orb?"

The old man shook his head. "What is it?"

"A lighting artifact capable of illuminating an entire arena as brightly as midday. Both matches were held at night, yet the stadium shone as though under the sun."

The old man’s expression shifted slightly.

"And what of the device that displays the match time? Or the artifact that amplifies the commentator’s voice so that tens of thousands can hear clearly?"

Silence fell between them.

The old man’s earlier dismissiveness began to waver.

"Finally," the City Lord said, his voice lowering with significance, "have you witnessed the Game Replay Crystal?"

The old man slowly set down his stone.

"That...," the City Lord continued, "is something I have never encountered in my life. I am not even certain such a thing should be possible."