I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

Chapter 144 Turn-to-Turn

Soon after, the Cavaliers' Gatki scored as well.

The score is now 35-21.

They were only 14 points behind.

Although the score difference is still large, it is no longer out of reach.

A middle-aged male football fan, still holding a beer mug, tilted the mug, and the golden liquid spilled onto his pants without him noticing.

His lips trembled as he murmured in an almost inaudible voice, "This—how the hell is this possible—Kyle got the ball stolen? And this lousy Cavaliers team scored a touchdown on their fast break?"

'

His friend next to him, a young man in a bright yellow support jersey, was pale and had vacant eyes. He repeated dryly, "Yes—he—he stole the ball from Kyle? From Kyle? What—what happened?"

The lumberjacks' bench was deathly silent, as if frozen in ice.

Dwayne Johnson stood there frozen like a statue glowing red with rage.

The veins on his thick neck bulged, his teeth were clenched so hard they were grinding, and his bloodshot eyes were fixed on Li Ang in the distance.

That gaze seemed to want to devour him alive, to chew him to pieces.

Some of the other lumberjacks clutched their heads in anguish, burying their faces in towels.

Some stood with their hands on their hips, looking up at the sky as if questioning God;

Many more people stood there blankly, staring unfocused at the glaring changes in the scoreboard, unable to understand or accept these successive blows.

On the field, Kyle Anderson missed his tackle and then lurched forward a few steps before coming to a stop due to inertia.

He slowly straightened up, turned around, and his icy blue eyes were as cold as the Siberian tundra.

They stared intently, unblinkingly, at the blue figure of number 21 in the distance.

Shock, rage, an unprecedented sense of shame, and a sliver of trepidation that he himself vehemently denied, creeping up like a venomous snake, churned and intertwined within him.

That guy————

That number 21 who appeared out of nowhere —

They not only saw through his intentions but also disrupted his pass.

Now, they've actually used this almost humiliating method to steal the ball that rightfully belongs to him right under his nose.

Then he walked away, having completed a long and humiliating return touchdown in front of him and tens of thousands of home fans.

This was practically like pinning Kyle Anderson, the pride of Lincoln Academy, to the mud and rubbing his face repeatedly with their feet!

In the commentary booth, Larry, the outspoken commentator, seemed to find his voice again after nearly twenty seconds of silence.

His previous sarcastic and confident tone vanished, replaced by a dry, hoarse voice filled with complex and indescribable emotions, even with a barely perceptible tremor: "Ladies and gentlemen—I—I need to confirm with my ears and eyes that what just happened is real."

He swallowed hard, his voice booming through the microphone, "Touchdown. Another touchdown!"

"Number 21 from the River Valley Academy Knights, Leon. Once—I can't find the right adjective, unbelievable?"

Fantastic? Insane? Perhaps all these words combined don't do it justice. This was an epic, the most incredible defensive counter-attack performance I've ever seen in my entire commentary career—"

"He anticipated the running back's cross pass in a desperate situation, and with superhuman speed and acceleration, he tipped the ball away with his fingertips before Kyle Anderson, our Lincoln State star quarterback, could get there!"

"Then, he controlled the ball, turned, started, accelerated—starting from his own half, sprinting over sixty yards, leaving all the pursuers, including Kyle himself, behind, rushing into the end zone, and finishing with a touchdown—"

"My God—this Chinese kid, Li Ang—who is he? His file says he's a sophomore in high school, and this is his first official match?"

"That observation, that anticipation, that terrifying speed, that—that fucking calmness like taking a walk in the backyard! Guys, I apologize for all my previous dismissive, stupid comments. We were all wrong, terribly wrong."

"This number 21, he's not some lucky rat—he's a monster. A real monster on the field!"

A light-speed runner? Ha! To hell with light-speed runners, this guy's a lightning incarnation! He's a ghost assassin!

His tone became more serious than ever before, even carrying a hint of concern for the home team: "Right now, the score is 35 to 21. The difference has been narrowed to 14 points. And the game, the third quarter, has only just begun. Listen, Lumberjack Nation, I have to tell you a fact!"

"You're in big trouble. Huge trouble. That number 21, he's completely changed the game."

Kyle Anderson walked off the field with a gloomy expression, his icy blue eyes filled with frost.

He ripped off his helmet, his blond hair soaked with sweat and plastered to his forehead.

Each step was heavy, as if to crush the grass.

On the sideline, Kyle brushed past Dwayne Johnson, who was about to enter the game.

Johnson's thick arm slammed heavily onto Kyle's shoulder pad with a dull thud.

He grinned, revealing gleaming white teeth, his chubby cheeks bulging with a savage smile, and said, "Hey, Kyle, relax. That was just an accident. That yellow-skinned kid got lucky."

He twisted his neck, making a cracking sound.

Zi Guang, with a ferocious grin, pointed at the blue number 21 on the other side of the court and said, "Leave the rest to me. I'll make sure those Cavaliers' cowards don't even get a yard past me! I'm going to crush their offensive line to dust!"

He paused, a hint of regret flashing in his eyes, followed by an even more intense ferocity. "It's a pity that the cunning little bastard ran to the defense. If he had dared to stay on the offense and stand opposite me, I swear I would have stuffed him, ball and all, into the grass and beaten the shit out of him!"

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Kyle Anderson stopped in his tracks, took a deep breath, and barely managed to suppress the frustration and humiliation in his heart.

He nodded to Johnson, suppressing his emotions, and said, "I was careless just now. Next round, I will personally fight back and crush them."

After saying that, he patted Johnson's thick armor and added, "This round of defense is yours, Johnson. Mark them closely, especially that number 21. Don't let him touch the ball again."

"Leave it to me!"

'

Johnson responded in a deep, muffled voice, pounding his broad chest.

He turned around and strode onto the court with the Lumberjacks' defensive squad, a group of menacing men in yellow shirts.

On the other side, the Cavaliers' defensive players were excitedly rushing off the court.

Sweat, grass clippings, and uncontrollable ecstasy mingled on their faces.

They surrounded Li Ang, slapping his helmet and back forcefully.

"That's fucking awesome, Li Ang!"

'

"Are you the Flash, kid?!"

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"Well done, bro!"

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