I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

Chapter 136 Heroes Appear!

For the remainder of the first half, it completely turned into a one-sided performance by the logging team.

Timbers star quarterback Kyle Anderson stood comfortably in the pocket, as relaxed as if he were practicing passing in his own backyard.

The Cavaliers' passing and drive were weak and ineffective, posing almost no threat to him.

He calmly observed his surroundings, then repeatedly used precise, surgical passes to easily slice through the Cavaliers' riddled second line of defense.

They quickly scored in two consecutive rounds.

The first time, he used a long pass of 40 yards to find a wide receiver who had completely shaken off the defense, and the opponent easily rushed into the end zone after receiving the ball.

The second time was inside the red zone, where he used a convincing fake run and pass to completely fool the entire Cavaliers' linebacker defense.

Finally, the ball was comfortably delivered to the unmarked close forward.

The scoreboard relentlessly ticked: 21-0, then 28-0.

The Cavaliers' offense, on the other hand, seemed to be stuck in a quagmire, completely stalled.

Jonas Miller was pale, and every time he dropped back to pass the ball, he was under immense psychological pressure, resulting in stiff and distorted movements.

His passes were either too high and too far off target, or he would make a hasty shot under pressure from the opposing defender, which was easily swatted away or intercepted.

Led by Dwayne Johnson's yellow wall, the lumberjacks' defensive front line relentlessly squeezed the pocket, repeatedly knocking Jonas to the ground.

Each dull thud of a takedown landing drew thunderous cheers and resounding chants of "The Johnson! The Johnson!" from the stands.

The Cavaliers' only point came from Bruce's heroic charge in a desperate situation.

It was near the end of the second quarter when the Cavaliers managed to push the ball into the Timbers' half of the court with a short pass and a brutal collision from Bruce.

The third attack, just one yard away from securing the first down.

The Duke coach called out an unconventional tactic that appeared to be a quarterback sneak attack, but in reality, it allowed Bruce, the center, to have the ball and attack.

After the kickoff, the ball was first passed to Jonas.

Jonas made a clumsy fake move and passed the ball to Bruce, who was starting from the middle.

Blocking his way was none other than Dwayne Johnson, who stood like an iron tower.

"Come on, big guy! Let me see just how hard your bones are!"

Johnson spread his arms wide, revealing a cruel and excited smile, blocking Bruce's path like a wall.

Bruce did not respond to any trash talk.

He simply lowered his head and hugged the football tightly to his chest.

With a low, beast-like growl, he used all his strength and speed to ram Johnson like an out-of-control heavy truck!

"Bang-!!!"

A dull, teeth-grinding thud rang out.

Bruce felt as if he had crashed into a reinforced concrete wall.

A tearing pain shot through my left shoulder, as if the bones were about to dislocate.

But his eyes were bloodshot, his teeth were clenched, and with the momentum of his charge, he frantically stomped his feet on the grass, and against Johnson's terrifying inhuman strength, he inexplicably and slowly inch forward!

A hint of surprise flashed across Johnson's face for the first time, but it was quickly replaced by an even fiercer competitive spirit.

He also roared and unleashed even greater power.

Before the other two lumberjacks could pounce on him to help with the tackle, Bruce had completely lost his balance.

Just as his knees were about to touch the ground, he used his last bit of strength to desperately stretch his right arm holding the ball forward.

His fingers gripped the ball tightly, as if trying to push it out of bounds.

The referee's whistle blew sharply.

After a tense video review, the referee ultimately ruled that the very tip of the football had just crossed the end zone line before Bruce's knee touched the ground.

Touchdown!

The Cavaliers finally broke their losing streak!

Bruce fell to the ground in the end zone and couldn't get up for a moment.

He lay on his side on the grass, his left hand tightly clutching his left shoulder, his face ashen, and his forehead instantly covered with fine cold sweat—a physiological reaction to the excruciating pain.

With the help of the team doctor and his teammates, he staggered to his feet, each step causing his lips to twitch slightly from the pain.

The Cavaliers scored another point with an extra-point shot.

Ultimately, Bruce's touchdown, which was almost achieved at the cost of a shoulder injury, only brought the score to 7-28.

The lumberjacks were not even affected and immediately responded with a highly efficient and fluid attack, culminating in a clean free kick by their kicker.

The whistle that ended the first half pierced the noisy stadium.

The bright red numbers on the scoreboard were cold and glaring, heralding a near-desperate start:

35: 7!

Crush them!

Halftime, the Cavaliers' visiting team locker room.

The air was so heavy it felt like you could wring water out of it.

A mixture of sweat, pain-relieving spray, and a deep-seated exhaustion and despair.

Most of the players were slumped on the bench.

Some covered their heads and faces with towels.

Some stared blankly at the mottled ground.

The culprit behind the most serious points lost in the first half, rookie Jonas Miller, huddled in the shadows of a corner.

He buried his face in his knees, his shoulders still trembling slightly.

Bruce sat on the edge of the white medical bed, his bare upper body taut with muscles. The team doctor was carefully wrapping a thick bandage around his red and swollen left shoulder and then applying an ice pack.

The moment the ice pack touched his skin, Bruce's muscles tensed up.

But he clenched his teeth and forced out a muffled groan, refusing to let out a shout.

Coach Duke had his back to everyone, his hands resting on the edge of the tactical board covered with messy lines, his head down, his broad shoulders slumped.

He didn't fly into a rage as usual, but this deathly silence was more suffocating than any roar.

The small TV in the corner was turned down low, but annoying noises still emanated from it.

That was Larry Jensen's inter-game commentary, clearly penetrating everyone's ears.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what a massacre in the first half! A full 28 points! To be honest, even I'm starting to feel sorry for our friends who came all the way from the valley."

Larry's voice came through the cheap speakers, carrying an undisguised sense of superiority.

"Look at their rookie quarterback, Jonas Miller, that kid, God bless him, I suspect his soul is still on the bus!"

"As for their only touchdown in the first half?"

He deliberately dragged out his words, then let out an exaggerated "Ha!" laugh: "Come on! It must have been our lumberjack lads who were soft-hearted and dozed off, or maybe they just felt sorry for that big guy and gave him the money! After all, 35 to 7 is a really bad score, we had to save face for our guests, right?"

In the locker room, several young players clenched their fists instantly, their knuckles turning white.

A flame of humiliation ignited in his eyes.

But it was soon overwhelmed by an even deeper sense of powerlessness.

"Alright, the second half is about to begin. Let's guess what tricks the Cavaliers have up their sleeve? Their only hope, that big guy named Bruce, is already limping, and I bet his shoulder is about to break into eight pieces!"

How much longer can he hold on? Once he goes down, the game will be over!

"I sincerely suggest that all Cavaliers fans with fragile hearts or who brought their children to the game consider leaving early and finding a quiet place in the parking lot to cry, because the second half—"

"I guarantee it will only be a more one-sided and pleasurable rampage! Enjoy it, the land of lumberjacks!"

'

The jarring mockery on television and the faint celebratory songs of the victors coming from the stadium outside felt like cold sandpaper rubbing against everyone's nerves.

28 points is an almost insurmountable barrier in the world of American football.

With their key quarterback out and the backup's mentality collapsing, their only remaining strength, Bruce, is half-crippled and exhausted.

Finished!

The Cavaliers are finished!

The people had lost all hope.

Despair, like the thickest asphalt, enveloped every young heart, causing it to plummet heavily downwards.

Just then—

"Bang!!"

The locker room door was suddenly pushed open from the outside, slamming heavily against the wall with a loud bang that shattered the silence.

Everyone was startled and instinctively looked up, glancing irritably at the doorway.

At the doorway, a figure leaned against the doorframe, slightly out of breath, as if he had run all the way there.

It's Li Ang!

He finally arrived!