I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

Chapter 163 The Competition Begins

A stirring and epic symphony suddenly resounded throughout the venue.

The decibel level rose again.

Several bright spotlights shone on the exit of the home team's players' tunnel.

It was designed in the shape of a falcon's head.

At that moment, it was as if a giant beast had opened its mouth.

Morales, channeling his full lung capacity, passionately introduced: "First! Stepping out of the nest is our ruler of the skies, the future legend, the absolute genius who keeps countless college recruiters up at night, the Falcons' on-field brain, the third-ranked quarterback in the nation, Sean McCarthy!"

A figure ran out of the passage at a leisurely pace.

He was about six feet three inches tall, with a slender and well-proportioned figure.

Wearing a well-tailored, deep red home jersey.

Her short, golden hair shimmered under the spotlight, as if she were wearing a faint halo.

His features were striking and handsome, like a classical sculpture.

His icy blue eyes calmly swept across the roaring stands.

His face carried an innate arrogance, with his chin slightly raised.

He raised his right hand, which was wearing the iconic solid blue Under Armour glove.

There wasn't much of an expression on his face.

He simply waved casually and calmly towards the main grandstand.

It was as if a king were inspecting his territory.

Sean! Sean! Sean!

The main grandstand was instantly set ablaze.

Especially in the female audience area, there was an explosion of ear-piercing screams and synchronized, rhythmic shouts.

The crimson waves surged with the sound.

Morales continued chanting: "Right following the leader is the most lethal and fastest lightning bolt in his hand! A super weapon capable of tearing apart any defense and ending any game, wide receiver, Tyreke Jones!"

'

A lean, strong, and explosively powerful black player burst out of the tunnel like a cheetah.

He had a meticulously braided cornrow hairstyle.

His eyes held a defiant and untamed look.

A smug smile played on his lips.

As he ran at full speed, he made a shooting gesture with his right hand towards the nearest camera.

Bang! Right in front of the camera.

Then the finger turned towards the sky.

Head held high.

It was as if they were declaring air superiority.

"Terrick! Look this way! I love you!"

The cheers rose again.

Morales' voice rang out again: "Next up is our silent cornerstone of defense, the unshakeable Wailing Wall! The nightmare of all attackers, the absolute commander of the Falcon's no-fly zone, linebacker Liam O'Connor!"

'

A figure as robust and imposing as an upright grizzly bear strode out with steady, mountain-like steps that were by no means clumsy.

He is over six feet four inches tall.

Broad shoulders and thick back.

The jersey was stretched taut.

Beneath his short, dark brown hair was a face with little expression.

His gray eyes were calm and still.

He seemed oblivious to the commotion around him.

He silently raised his thick arm, which was wrapped in black arm guards and whose muscles were ripped like twisted steel cables.

He gave a simple but powerful gesture towards the stands.

There was no smile.

There was no shouting.

But the oppressive stillness made the noise pause.

Morales continued, "Finally, let's not forget our elegant and precise scoring artist, the gentleman from a legendary family, the ever-reliable anchor, the kicker, Christopher van der Bilt!"

A blond boy with meticulously combed hair, fair and handsome features, who looked more like a white boy who should be browsing ancient books in a library, ran out with a gentle and polite smile.

He bowed slightly and gracefully towards the various stands.

His posture was impeccable.

This elicited a more restrained but equally enthusiastic round of applause.

"Christopher is so handsome! No wonder he's from the Vanderbilt family!"

Eve's friends around her were screaming and waving.

Sarah shook Eve's arm frantically: "Look! Is Sean looking this way? Oh my god, he's so handsome!"

Eve forced a smile, but her gaze lingered more on the serene blue number 21.

Morales used all his lung capacity to passionately introduce each star player.

Each time, it triggers a massive uproar.

The spotlight followed them.

The big screen displayed close-ups of their handsome or domineering appearances.

The entire stadium resembled a giant temple where a ceremony was being held.

The players of Trinity are worshipped gods.

After all the stars had taken their turn on stage, the music paused.

Morales smacked his lips, seemingly still wanting more.

Their gaze, sharp as a hawk's, once again locked onto the away team's warm-up area.

A playful, cat-and-mouse smile appeared on his face.

He adjusted the microphone: "Alright, the grand entrance ceremony is over. Now, let's temporarily shift our attention from our heroes and, in the spirit of sportsmanship, welcome our guests today, the River Valley Academy Knights—uh, the Beacon of Hope?"

He scoffed, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm: "Especially their new quarterback, oh, you know, that Chinese kid who supposedly developed his speed by chasing stray dogs in the neighborhood streets, Li Ang, number 21. I heard they gave him a nickname: 'Light Speed ​​Runner'?"

"Ha! Running fast on a run-down community field is a completely different thing from running fast in our Falcon Stadium, in front of 15,000 spectators, against a real Falcon defense!"

"Kid, welcome to the real game. Experience the difference. Look at our Tyreke over here, that's speed kissed by God! And look at our Shawn, he'll show you with his surgical passes and top-notch brain that being a quarterback isn't just about running around like a rabbit!"

"What it needs is a calm mind and strong arms! As for the supposedly tough defense of River Valley Academy—"

'

He drawled out his words, making an exaggerated expression of confusion: "Well, after losing their key forward, I'm really curious, what do they plan to use to stop our Falcons' magnificent offensive onslaught today? With sheer passion? Or with—devout prayer? Hahahaha!"

Deafening laughter, boos, and shrill whistles erupted from the main stands.

"That's right! Pray, you brats from River Valley!"

"Their defense? It doesn't exist!"

"Li Ang? We'll turn him into Li the Crawler later!"

The deep red stands erupted in cheers.

There was an undisguised, condescending collective hostility and mockery towards the away team.

The sound waves were like a real tsunami, crashing wave after wave onto the lonely blue area on the sidelines.

On the River Valley Academy side, the team members had ashen faces, clenched teeth, and eyes blazing with fury.

The warm-up exercises were all imbued with a sense of suppressed rage.

Li Ang stood at the very front of the line.

He had already taken off his warm-up jacket.

He was only wearing a blue away jersey.

The number 21 was somewhat glaring against the deep red background.

He slowly performed high leg raises.

His gaze swept calmly over the group of Falcon team members opposite him, who were shining brightly and enjoying the cheers of the crowd.

He raised his eyes again, looking up at the commentary booth high above.

Morales's smug face was faintly visible behind the glass.

His face was expressionless.

There was no anger.

I wasn't nervous.

There wasn't even any obvious aversion.

Amidst the clamor and uproar, he made an extremely slight movement to his right wrist.

He turned his neck.

It was as if they were simply checking whether the various parts of the body were functioning properly.

On the bench, Jack Davis looked at Li Ang's profile, which was so calm it was almost eerie.

He then looked around at the imposing and hostile giant stadium.

He put himself in Li Ang's shoes, imagining himself fully recovered and standing in Li Ang's position at that moment—

The pressure of being targeted by the entire audience, humiliated by the commentators, and overshadowed by the star power of the opposing team must have already made his heart race, his palms sweat, and his mind go blank.

But Li Ang looks like—

It was so relaxing, like taking a walk in my own backyard!

Is this guy's nerve made of titanium alloy?

Jack couldn't help but mutter through gritted teeth, "Damn it—this godforsaken place—"

Coach Duke walked up to Li Ang at some point.

He had his hands in his training pants pockets, his expression still stern.

His voice was very low, only audible to Li Ang: "You heard that? Just pretend it's nothing. Focus on your game, trust your tactics, trust your brothers. Everything else is just noise."

Li Ang stopped moving his wrist.

His gaze shifted from the noisy stands to the Duke coach.

He nodded slightly.

The calmness in his eyes had vanished.

Instead, it possesses a cold, sharp, and condensed radiance, like a blade before it is drawn from its sheath.

He turned his gaze back to the center of the court.

That green field now seemed to have transformed into an arena where a bloody battle was about to unfold.

The referee led the two captains toward the center circle.

"Captains! Guess the side at halftime!"

The referee stood in the center circle, tossing the gleaming silver coin high into the air.

The coin tumbled in the air.

It drew a brief arc.

Then, with a soft "ding," it landed on the back of his gloved hand.

He quickly covered it with his other hand.

The referee looked at Li Ang, who was wearing a blue away jersey and representing River Valley Academy, and said, "The away team will guess."

Li Ang stood in the center circle.

Opposite him was the captain of Trinity College, the blond quarterback with ice-blue eyes, Sean McCarthy.

Sean was slightly taller than him.

She was looking him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze that carried a hint of superiority.

A faint smile played at the corners of her lips.

It was as if they were looking at something novel but insignificant.

Li Ang didn't look at Sean; his gaze calmly fell on the referee's hand covering the coin: "Words."

The sound is clear.

The referee removed his hand.

The side of the coin facing up is the human head.

The referee looked at Li Ang: "Literally. River Valley Academy guessed correctly. Attack or defend?"

Without almost any hesitation, Li Ang decisively said, "We'll attack first."

This choice immediately drew a jeer from Morales in the commentary booth: "Wow! Wow! Our guest has chosen to attack first? Is he so eager to get the ball into our Falcons' defense so the game can become garbage time sooner? Hahaha!"

66

A burst of laughter erupted from the main stands in response.

"idiot!"

"He's courting death!"

"Sean, teach them a lesson later!"

Sean McCarthy, with his standard, well-educated arrogance, said: "Hey, Chinese kid, I heard you're a show-off who likes to play on both ends of the court. It's a shame I can't teach you a lesson right away with your picks. Oh well, my teammates will make you understand the difference between us."

J

After saying that, he stopped looking at Li Ang.

He turned and ran back to his teammates to give instructions to the defensive team.

Li Ang ignored him and turned to run back to the receiving area behind his team's kickoff line.

Blue 21 stood out starkly against the edge of the deep red ocean.

The Duke coach waved his arms and shouted from the sidelines, "Special Teams! Get on the court!"

'

His voice sounded somewhat hoarse amidst the noise.

His face was tense, and sweat was already beading on his forehead.

The return of the kickoff is a high-risk, high-reward tactic.

Especially in away games like this, against a clearly stronger opponent.

He actually preferred to play it safe and receive the ball before starting his attack near his own 20-yard line.

However, he is no longer in charge of the Cavaliers team.

Li Ang, who is in charge, once again took the initiative to be the receiver this time.

Soon, the special operations team members from River Valley College ran onto the field.

This includes wide receiver Kevin, tight end Taylor, and several other players responsible for screens.

Following the training plan, they quickly spread out in front of Li Ang.

To form a preliminary wedge-shaped protective wall.

But against the clearly taller and faster Trinity Force, the wall looked somewhat flimsy.

The kickoff for Trinity College was given by their star kicker, Christopher Vanderbilt.

His blond hair was perfectly styled as he slowly walked to the teeing ground.

Her posture was elegant and composed.

It was as if they weren't playing rugby, but performing an art piece.

He aimed at the ball.

approach.

Take a step.

boom!

The ball was kicked high into the air.

It drew a high and far parabola in the air.

It was spinning violently.

It flew precisely to the receiving area of ​​the River Valley Academy.

This kick, in terms of power, angle, and landing point, was of professional quality.

It instantly won a round of applause from the home crowd.

"Christopher is awesome!"

"Go ahead and answer it, you Chinese kid, if you dare!"

Morales's excited voice rang out: "Perfect kickoff! Look at Christopher's footwork! With that placement, that number 21 from River Valley Academy has to risk going deep into the end zone!"

'

The ball is flying through the air.

Li Ang stood at the forefront of his own side's end zone.

Tilt your head slightly.

My gaze was fixed on that spinning, falling black dot.

He has now broken through to the mid-stage of Qi Refining, and both his physical fitness and the internal energy within his body have improved significantly.

The surrounding noise of mountains and waves seemed to be blocked by some invisible barrier at this moment.

It became distant and blurry.

He could clearly hear his own steady heartbeat.

I felt the true qi in my body, which was in the middle stage of Qi cultivation, flowing actively and gently through my meridians.

It brings unprecedented power, agility, and a keen sense of awareness of the surrounding environment.

He could even sense the trajectory of the Trinity Force members rushing towards him like sharks smelling blood.

You could hear their heavy, swift footsteps.

The ball falls.

Li Ang did not choose to kneel down and touch down in the end zone to play it safe and start his attack from the 20-yard line.

He took a step forward.

Stretch out your arms.

He caught the ball steadily in his arms.

Both hands were locked tightly like iron clamps.

The transition from catching to hugging was completed in an instant.

Morales screamed: "He caught it! Number 21 caught the ball at the edge of the end zone! He didn't choose to touch it! He wanted to go back! That arrogant Chinese kid!"

"6

A shout immediately erupted from the stands: "You're asking for it!"

"Stop him!"

"Go, Falcon lads!!"