I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

Chapter 134 Touch back

After finishing his tirade, Coach Duke took a deep breath.

He forced himself to calm down.

There's no way around it; as angry as he may be, the Duke coach is still a player who just wants to climb the ranks at heart.

He's a bastard who just wants to win.

At most, he's the kind who has a foul mouth.

Anger won't solve anything; it will only hasten the team's demise.

The Duke coach doesn't want to lose, at least not to get blown out of the game right from the start and lose everything.

After thinking it through, he decided to back down and have the special operations team abandon their counterattack and directly touch the ball back when they broke off.

This was a last resort, since the fundamental strength of both sides wouldn't change because of the Cavaliers' anger.

Coach Duke whirled around and roared at the special teams, his voice hoarse but ruthless: "Listen up, all of you! After the kickoff, the moment that damn ball gets into the end zone, don't hesitate! Don't waste a second! Immediately, right now, kneel down and touch it back! Got it? One yard! Not a fucking inch!"

"Your job is to hold onto that ball tight, and then kneel down like guilty bastards in church! Remember! As long as the ball is there, you're there. If you lose the ball, you're all fucking fired!"

The young members of the special operations team blushed instantly, and their breathing became heavy.

To be so humiliated by the opponent, to have to kneel down and admit defeat at the very beginning of your first offensive opportunity?

Bruce and several other hot-blooded team members' Adam's apples bobbed.

With eyes full of defiance and resentment, the Duke coach, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, glared and took a step forward, spitting almost through the mask of the foremost player onto his face: "Damn! You have a problem with that? Huh?! Want to be a lone hero, then get a concussion from those swarms of wasps? Now take off your gear and get the hell out of here!"

"If you want to win, if you don't want to get fucking beaten like a dog, then do as I say!"

"Anyone who dares to think they're so smart, I'll make them spend the rest of the season lovingly on the bench! Got it?!"

The fear of crushing defeat and the dread of the coach's absolute authority ultimately extinguished the young man's pitiful fighting spirit like ice water.

The team members gritted their teeth and forced out a muffled reply: "Yes, Coach!"

The Duke coach was still not reassured.

He took two steps to the attacker, grabbed the strap on his shoulder guard with his large hand, and almost lifted him off the ground.

Face to face, he growled viciously, "You! You little brat! Your eyes are fucking welded to that ball! Catch it, look down, kneel! Empty your mind of everything except those three words: 'catch, kneel, protect'!"

"If you dare to even entertain the slightest thought of such a thing, I'll personally train you until you vomit after the match! Understand?!"

The attacker trembled at his shout, his face turned pale, and he could only nod frantically.

"Beep—!"

The whistle for the kickoff rang out sharply, like a knife slicing through the scorching roar of the stadium.

The lumberjacks' kicker took a short run-up and unleashed a powerful kick-off.

The rugby ball soared high into the air, tracing a long arc.

Carrying the yellow roar of tens of thousands of home fans, it crashed into the depths of the Cavaliers' end zone.

The Cavaliers' offensive rebounder, facing countless fierce gazes in the paint, steadily caught the ball in his arms.

Almost at the same moment he touched the ball, the group of burly men from the lumberjack special operations team, dressed in bright yellow uniforms, howled excitedly like a pack of wolves that had smelled blood.

Together, they charged forward with astonishing speed and overwhelming force, sweeping across the halfway line!

They clearly anticipated that the Cavaliers, after being so humiliated, would try to get back at the opponent with a strong comeback.

The home commentator, Larry, with his characteristic outspokenness, was giving a rapid-fire commentary over the loudspeaker: "Look at that charge! The Lumberjacks' lads are like a pack of hungry wolves spotting fresh meat! They've pounced! How will the Cavaliers respond? They'll choose—"

He hadn't finished speaking.

On the court, the Cavaliers' offensive rebounder received the ball without hesitation, without even glancing at the figures sweeping towards them like a yellow mudslide.

He knelt down on one knee in the end zone without hesitation, pressing the football firmly onto the grass beneath him.

Touchdown counterattack.

Possession of the ball is secure.

The next offensive possession begins at the team's 20-yard line.

The lumberjacks, who were charging at full speed, suddenly came to a halt.

The ferocity and excitement on his face froze instantly, turning into astonishment and disbelief.

They looked at the obedient blue figure kneeling on the ground in the end area, as if they had punched cotton.

Immediately following was an even louder burst of laughter, filled with contempt and mockery.

A member of the special operations team of a logging crew, sporting a mohawk and a fierce expression, pointed at the counter-attacker, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

He exaggeratedly spread his hands at his teammates and said, "Ha! Hahaha! Did you see that? He knelt down! This coward didn't even have the guts to try! He surrendered right away!"

"Wow! Wow! Wow! Touchdown!"

The commentator, Larry, yelled in a high-pitched voice over the radio, his sarcasm almost overflowing from the speaker.

"My God, guys, did you all see that? The River Valley Knights, with their very first touch of the game, and with our Lumberjacks' enthusiastic welcome in hand, chose to—"

"Uh, a wise tap? No, a utterly cowardly tap!"

"They didn't even let the ball leave the end zone! What is that? Is it waving a white towel? Or is it calling in the loser's safe lane?"

"Whoa—!!!"

The boos, more unified and louder than ever before, erupted from every corner of the stands like a long-accumulated yellow storm.

The sound coalesced into a suffocating roar, slamming into every blue figure in the center of the arena.

The boos were filled with naked contempt, disappointment, and a kind of pleasure in watching the weak make a fool of themselves.

"Go back to the valley and nurse, you spineless wimp!"

"Where has your courage gone? Did it get eaten by dogs?"

"Give me my money back! I didn't come here to watch you kneel and beg for my money!"

The Cavaliers' special teams players, heads down, hurriedly and somewhat haphazardly jogged back to the bench.

They stared intently at the grass beneath their feet, too afraid to look at the churning yellow sea and the countless raised middle fingers.

Coach Duke stood like a statue on the sideline.

His face was expressionless, except for the masseter muscles on the side of his cheeks, which were twitching violently and incessantly.

The formal offensive round begins.

The Cavaliers' offensive players dragged their leaden legs onto the court.

The entire team was shrouded in an atmosphere of near-despair and oppression.