Football: He suffered a broken leg at the start of the game, but partnered with Haaland!

The Westfalenstadion was still immersed in a sea of ​​celebration. The fans in the south stand continued to sing their signature song.

Moving the gaze upwards, to the VIP boxes on the top floor of the stadium.

Reinhard Raubal, president of Borussia Dortmund, walked to the sofa with two glasses of champagne, his face flushed. He handed one glass to Sun Yang's father, Sun Wu, and then raised his glass high to Diana beside him.

Raubal's facial muscles contorted with extreme excitement.

"Ms. Diana, Mr. Sun Wu! Please allow me to extend my sincerest congratulations to you! Signing Sun Yang is absolutely the wisest deal Borussia Dortmund has made in recent years! Look down there, look at that sea of ​​yellow cheering for him!"

Raubal pointed out the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, spitting everywhere.

"No need to wait until tomorrow morning. Within three hours, all of Europe's top sports media outlets—whether it's France's L'Équipe, Spain's Marca and AS, or even the ever-proud Sky Sports of the UK—will publish the photo of Sun Yang's volley today alongside Zidane's on their front pages!"

Raubal swirled the glass vigorously, spilling champagne onto the carpet.

"This young man's fame will soar across the entire European continent because of this incredible goal. Believe me, his current commercial value and future transfer fee are already heading towards that terrifying nine-figure figure!"

Diana stood up politely, holding a glass of soda, and clinked glasses lightly with Raubal.

Seated on the other side, UEFA President Aleksandar Ceferin also approached with a broad smile. This influential figure in European football raised his glass to Sun Yang's parents.

Ceferin turned his head and looked at a tall, middle-aged man sitting in the corner. That was Haaland's father, Haaland Sr.

"Old buddy, Dortmund's eye for talent in the transfer market last winter was absolutely shrewd. Bringing your son and Sun Yang into the squad at the same time was a historic investment. Now these Dortmund twins are starting to shine in Europe. In today's Champions League knockout match, they each assisted the other with a goal and scored one themselves. This level of understanding is exactly what you'd expect from a top club."

Haaland picked up a glass of dark beer, tilted his head back, took a big gulp, and let out a hearty laugh.

"Alexander, Erling was really fuming before the game. He needs someone to feed him the ball, and Son is exactly that kind of person who can get the ball to his feet at any time. The connection between these two lads will definitely be a nightmare for defenders all over Europe!"

Thomas, the Puma operations director in the same private room, was laughing so hard his eyes were practically closed.

He walked quickly to Diana's side and clasped her hands tightly together.

"Ms. Diana, please have faith in Puma's sincerity. As soon as this match ends, I will contact headquarters immediately. Tomorrow morning, Puma will fully launch the design and development of Sun Yang's exclusive signature sneakers. We will use top-tier resources to promote that Monkey King image to every corner of the world!"

Faced with the praise from these football bigwigs and business tycoons, Diana and Sun Wu maintained excellent manners and politely responded to each one.

But compared to these commercial values ​​in the hundreds of millions, as parents, they only care about their son who is exhausted off the court.

Sun Wu pressed his hands against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window, his eyes fixed on what was below.

Looking down from here, you can clearly see the home team's bench. Dortmund's chief team doctor, Schmidt, is there giving Sun Yang's legs emergency ice treatment.

Schmidt half-squatted on the ground and deftly unwrapped the bandages from Sun Yang's right leg. Two large bags of icy crushed ice were then directly tied to the muscles on the front of his thigh.

Sun Yang slumped back in his airline seat, holding a white towel with the club's logo on it, which he then covered his head with.

Extreme exhaustion was gripping his entire body. Each breath brought a burning pain to his lungs. If it weren't for the system's support, that half-court counter-attack sprint would have knocked him unconscious on the spot.

Götze, who was still recovering from his injury, handed her a bottle of yellow sports drink.

"Drink some electrolyte water, your muscles are twitching involuntarily, that's a sign of a cramp. You played like a madman in this game."

Sun Yang lifted the towel off his head, took the bottle, tilted his head back, and drank most of it down.

The cool liquid flowed down my throat into my stomach, slightly relieving the burning sensation.

Instead of closing his eyes to rest, he draped the towel over his head again, his eyes looking over Favre's back at the lush green field ahead.

There are five minutes left in regulation time in the game.

The atmosphere on the court did not cool down after Sun Yang left the game; instead, it became even more oppressive and irritable.

Paris Saint-Germain, trailing by two goals, went completely berserk.

They were absolutely unwilling to return home with a 0-2 deficit. Tuchel, in desperation, loosened his tie on the sidelines and gestured for his two full-backs to push forward aggressively. This was a desperate, all-or-nothing tactic. If they could score an away goal here, they only needed a 1-0 victory in the next leg at the Parc des Princes to overturn the deficit and advance on away goals.

Paris Saint-Germain's star-studded attacking lineup has begun to operate at breakneck speed.

Mbappe received the ball in the middle, but instead of passing, he used his incredibly fast speed to overpower veteran Piszczek.

Piszczek, panting heavily, chased after them. Ashraf quickly moved in from the flank and rear to provide support.

The French speedster made a sudden stop at the edge of the penalty area and then unleashed a powerful shot.

The ball flew high over the crossbar.

Goalkeeper Bürki pointed at the midfield and yelled at his teammates: "Push forward! Don't all stay in the penalty area! Push the defensive line outwards!"

Di Maria then made several changes of direction on the right flank, trying to draw a foul from the Dortmund defender. But the experienced Hummels didn't even try to tackle, simply using his broad body to block Di Maria's path and force the ball out of bounds.

Sun Yang sat on the sidelines, watching his teammates build a defensive line in front of the penalty area with their bare hands. He silently calculated the time in his mind.

Eighty-ninth minute.

The fourth official, holding an electronic display board, strode to the vicinity of the center line.

The red number lights up, indicating three minutes of added time.

Head coach Favre reacted immediately. He turned around, pointed at two players in the warm-up area, and loudly gave instructions.

"Torgan! Emrejan! Take off your clothes right now!"

Thorgan Hazard and Emre Can quickly took off their training vests and ran to line up next to the fourth official.

Favre's intention was very clear. He wanted to use his last two substitutions to take off Haaland and captain Reus, who were also exhausted in the attacking third.

This is a common tactic used by coaches in the top five European leagues. They disrupt the opponent's attacking rhythm during stoppage time by making substitutions, effectively wasting the remaining three minutes.

Favre stood on the sidelines, pressing his hands down as he shouted to the players on the field: "Stay calm! Hold onto the ball! Don't rush forward blindly in the last three minutes!"

Just when everyone thought the match would end in a uneventful and drawn-out affair, the situation on the field suddenly took a turn for the worse.

Paris Saint-Germain won a corner kick in the attacking third.

Di Maria forcefully sent the ball into the penalty area.

The tall and imposing Zagadou headed the ball out of the penalty area before Cavani could react.

The ball landed near the center circle. Hummels got there first, unleashing a long pass to Reus, who was making a high-speed run down the right flank.

This was an excellent counter-attack opportunity. PSG's half was completely undefended at this point, with only two midfielders trailing behind.

Reus received the ball with his back to goal. He keenly scanned the large open space in the attacking third with his peripheral vision.

The Dortmund captain didn't stop the ball; instead, he turned and pushed it forward. He was ready to use his speed to tear apart this last line of defense.

Just as Reus dribbled the ball out, a figure in a blue jersey came flying in from the side and behind with a vicious tackle.

It's Verratti.

The Italian midfielder had suffered greatly at Sun Yang's hands and was seething with anger. Seeing that Dortmund was about to launch another counter-attack, he didn't hesitate at all, sliding more than two meters across the grass to reveal his studs.

Slow-motion replays show that Verratti was indeed looking at the ball; it was a tactical foul aimed at the ball, without any malicious intent to injure.

However, his momentum during the high-speed sliding tackle was too great. His right foot didn't reach the ball; instead, it struck Reus's supporting leg's calf very solidly.

There was a muffled thud.

Reus lost his balance while running at high speed. He flipped halfway through the air before crashing heavily onto the grass.

The referee, Mateu, immediately blew his whistle sharply. As he ran, he pulled a yellow card from his pocket.

But Reus, who had fallen to the ground, didn't complain to the referee as usual. He clutched his right groin with both hands, curling up like a shrimp. His face was contorted in pain as he rolled around frantically on the grass.

Haaland was closest to the scene. The 1.95-meter-tall Scandinavian giant's eyes turned red when he saw his captain fall. He strode forward, extended his two large, fan-like hands, and shoved Verratti, who had just stood up, into the chest.

Verratti was pushed back five or six steps by the enormous force and fell to the ground with a thud.

"You damn butcher! Do you want to ruin him?" Haaland roared, pointing at Verratti in a fit of rage.

Seeing this, Mbappe immediately ran over and forcefully shoved Haaland aside. "He didn't do it on purpose! Can't you see? It was a normal defensive move aimed at the ball!"

The players from PSG and Dortmund quickly converged from both ends of the midfield. The tension between the two sides flared instantly. A dozen or so men surrounded each other, shoving and pushing, and a torrent of profanities filled the air above Westfalen.

Off the field, on the substitutes' bench.

When Sun Yang saw Royce fall to the ground clutching his groin, his heart skipped a beat.

He ripped the towel off his head and threw it to the ground. Ignoring the two large bags of crushed ice strapped to his thighs, he stood up and dragged his heavy legs toward the sideline.

He was going to step onto the field and join the fight. Anyone who dared to touch his most respected captain would be dealt with severely; he would not let them leave the field standing.

Thorgan Hazard and Emre Can also abandoned their substitution plans and rushed to the sideline with Sun Yang.

Favre hugged Sun Yang, whose eyes were red.

"Don't be impulsive, Son! You're on the sidelines right now. Going up there would mean a red card and suspension! You're ruining all the efforts of our entire team!" the veteran coach shouted.

Sun Yang was blocked outside the white line and could only stare at the captain who had fallen on the grass.

Referee Mateu blew his whistle frantically, and together with the two linesmen, they managed to separate the two sides involved in the conflict.

Verratti had already received a yellow card, and two yellows would result in a red card. After checking the records, Mateu immediately pulled out a red card and sent Verratti off the field.

In the next match back at PSG's home ground, midfielder Verratti will not be playing.

Mateu gave Haaland another yellow card for pushing him, then turned and waved to the medical staff on the sidelines.

Schmidt, carrying a medical kit, ran to the scene with two assistants.

The cheers throughout the Westfalenstadion abruptly ceased. More than 70,000 fans covered their mouths in shock.

Schmidt knelt on the grass and quickly checked Reus's condition. When his hand touched Reus's groin, Reus cried out in pain.

The Dortmund captain buried his face in the grass, his shoulders convulsing violently. Tears mingled with sweat and streamed into the soil.

He knew best in his heart that it was the Achilles' heel that had plagued his entire career—the fatal old wound that had caused him to miss out on the World Cup title.

Team doctor Schmidt was ashen-faced. He stood up and made a very clear substitution gesture to Favre on the sidelines.

Replace him. Replace him immediately.

Upon seeing this gesture, Favre slumped into the chair at the command post, clutching his head in his hands.

Not only Favre, but also Haaland and Hummels on the field, and even Sun Yang on the sidelines, felt their hearts sink to the bottom.