I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

The target is on the right side of the frontcourt, where a wide receiver who has already started moving is now in a huge open space!

The Cavaliers' defensive player closest to the wide receiver was also partially distracted by Marcus's earlier escape attempt.

We're now at least two body lengths behind!

The football landed perfectly in the arms of the Priests' wide receiver.

He caught the ball steadily, turned around, and found himself in front of a wide-open space!

He accelerated at full speed, sprinting towards the Cavaliers' end zone!

The terrifying advance was finally halted near the Cavaliers' 15-yard line when the cornerback, who had been desperately chasing back, pushed the ball out of bounds.

Soon, in a tense silence, the referee measured the width of the field and announced:

"Catch successful! First down completed! 38 yards!"

"The Priests have four more offensive opportunities!"

The Cavaliers' home arena, which had been laughing hysterically just moments before, fell completely silent.

It felt as if an invisible hand had gripped my throat.

Only the Pastors' fans in the stands erupted in a huge cheer, as if they had survived a catastrophe.

Commentator Kenny Douglas belatedly realized this and couldn't help but admire him, saying:

"My God! What are we just witnessing?! A brilliant fourth-gear tactical feint!"

"Marcus Rodriguez! The star quarterback from the Cavaliers! He fooled everyone! Including Bruce Keaton, the entire Cavaliers defense, even us commentators and most of the viewers!"

Kenny first praised Marcus for his impressive performance, then continued his analysis:

"Looking back at that brilliant advance, the priests' captain Marcus first deliberately left Bruce open, luring him into a deep chase. Then, he used a realistic, panicked escape to continue wearing down Bruce's stamina and disrupt the defensive formation."

"Finally, just when everyone thought it was a complete failure, he delivered a deadly long pass! He surged 38 yards into the red zone, securing a new first strike!"

"From a desperate third-down, two-yard situation to now being on the verge of victory! This is the mind of a star quarterback! This is his value! He's so fast, so calm! He's found a way to beat Bruce's brute-force defense, not by brute force, but by intelligence and rhythm! Come on, folks, let's give Marcus a round of applause!"

The applause from the audience was sparse.

It seems that most viewers haven't recovered from the reversal they just witnessed.

Kenny also expressed his regret for Bruce, who had given his all:

"Of course, our Cavaliers' Bruce was also fantastic! He gave it his all on that possession and did everything he could."

"But sometimes, football is more than just physical contact. Marcus delivered a textbook example of tactical execution, teaching this young defensive stalwart a harsh lesson."

On the court, Marcus stood at the new starting point of his offense, slowly chewing gum.

A faint smile returned to her face.

He glanced at Bruce in the distance, who was bent over, panting heavily, and barely able to straighten up, his hands supporting his knees.

His eyes were calm, even with a hint of pity.

He knew that this troublesome big guy was nearing his physical limit.

From this point on, the game truly began to fall into the rhythm of the Priests team.

Bruce braced himself on his knees, his chest heaving violently like a broken bellows, each breath accompanied by a burning pain in his lungs.

He couldn't hear what the commentator was saying, nor could he see Marcus's expression.

But he could feel a burning pain in his chest and his legs trembling.

He desperately tried to seize a sliver of oxygen and regain some strength during this brief respite.

But the heaviness in his legs and the tightness in his chest told him that the desperate chase had taken a much bigger toll than he had imagined.

A strong sense of powerlessness welled up inside me.

Bruce couldn't help but reminisce about the days when he and Li Ang played together at the South District Junior High School.

Soon, the priests' new offensive will begin.

The clamor from the stands receded like the receding tide, gradually subsiding until only a suffocating silence remained.

The Cavaliers' defense huddled together, breathing heavily, patting each other's helmets in an attempt to rouse their fighting spirit.

The Priests got a new offensive opportunity just inches from the end zone.

Marcus chewed his gum slowly, his expression returning to that infuriating composure.

He beckoned, and his teammates from the attacking group immediately gathered around. Marcus calmly gave his instructions:

"Red zone formation, same old tricks. Everyone, get your spirits up and tear apart those blue-clad defenders."

"Ready! On your marks! Kick-off!"

The center forward kicks off.

This time, the Priests' offensive line adopted a solid advancing formation, without any flashy moves.

Their goal was very clear: to protect the quarterback and create passing space.

The two guards stood like door panels, firmly blocking the position.

Bruce roared as he started his run at the start of the game, slamming his shoulder into his opponent in front of him, trying to force his way through as he had done before.

His start was still swift, and his opponent was slightly swayed by the impact.

But just as he was about to push off the ground and break through, a noticeable soreness and twitching came from his calf, and his power output suddenly stopped!

In that fraction of a second of delay, the opponent's guard had already adjusted its center of gravity.

With the help of their teammates, they blocked the way again, like a wall.

Marcus comfortably stepped back into his clean pocket, his gaze sweeping across the end area like a searchlight.

The Cavaliers' second line of defense, clearly wary of his previous long passes and feints, instinctively stepped back half a step, creating a fleeting gap in the short to mid-range area.

It's now!

Marcus flicked his wrist, sending a flat and fast bullet pass, like a cannonball, precisely aimed at the close forward who was rushing out from the right!

The tight end used his physical advantage to push aside the Cavaliers linebacker who came to help defend by half a body length.

He caught the ball securely in his arms just in front of the end zone line!

Without any hesitation, he used his momentum to lunge forward and slammed the ball heavily into the end zone!

"Beep—!"

The referee raised both arms:

Touchdown valid!

"Touchdown! Clean and crisp! Marcus Rodriguez!"

Kenny's passionate voice echoed throughout the stadium with the broadcast:

"After a fierce resistance and a close call, this star quarterback responded to the Cavaliers with the most solid play of all! I must say, that shot was impeccable!"

After the touchdown, there was an extra point shot.

The priests' offensive team came off the field, and the special teams' kicker jogged onto the field and easily kicked the ball over the crossbar.

7: 0.

The scarlet numbers on the scoreboard, like a red-hot branding iron, were seared onto the retinas of every Cavaliers fan, as if they were being publicly executed.

Bruce braced himself on his knees, sweat mixed with bits of grass dripping from his hairline, creating a small crater in the soil beneath his feet.

During that defensive play, he watched helplessly as the ball flew past his outstretched fingertips, which he couldn't reach, and into the end zone.

The feeling of trying his best but being powerless was more suffocating to his chest than the muscle soreness.