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

The air pressure was even lower in the locker room.

There was no beer poured over it, and no deafening heavy metal music.

Even Sancho, who usually loves to joke, sat quietly in his chair, looking down and tearing the tape off his shin guards.

Favre stood in front of the tactical board, holding a whiteboard marker, but did not conduct any post-match review.

"Guys, you did a great job today. Go take a shower, go home and rest while we wait for news. The whole team gets a day off tomorrow."

In silence, everyone untied their shoelaces, grabbed their toiletries, and headed to the shower room.

Sun Yang took off his jersey, which was completely soaked with sweat.

The bruises on his right leg, inflicted by Verratti's earlier kick, were particularly noticeable under the fluorescent lights.

Entering the single shower room, Sun Yang turned down the water temperature.

The cool water poured down from the showerhead, directly washing over my exhausted back muscles.

At that very moment, a pale blue, semi-transparent light screen suddenly appeared on his retina.

The system notification sounded in my mind right on time.

[Ding! Host has completed the first leg of the Champions League Round of 16 match.]

[Match Result: Borussia Dortmund 2-0 Paris Saint-Germain. The host scored a goal.]

[Hidden achievement triggered: Perfectly recreate the iconic scene "Flying Immortal from Heaven". Overall performance rating: SSS!]

[Rewards for this match are being distributed...]

[Congratulations, host, you have obtained a special item fragment: Kant's Perpetual Motion Machine Lung (3/3).]

[All fragments have been collected. Initiating automatic synthesis of a special physical talent!]

Sun Yang suddenly opened his eyes.

He felt a fire suddenly ignite deep within his chest. This heat spread rapidly from his heart to every tiny alveolus in his lungs.

The intense, tearing sensation caused by the high-intensity shuttle runs throughout the race was completely enveloped and swallowed by this heat.

Sun Yang involuntarily took an extremely exaggerated deep breath.

A large amount of oxygen flowed smoothly into my lungs. Each breath became extremely deep and powerful. The nausea and suffocation that used to occur after running for seventy minutes were completely gone.

He tried doing a few high-frequency squats in the cramped shower. Instead of feeling sore, his leg muscles became more energized as a large amount of oxygenated blood flowed back to them.

He now feels that if you threw him back onto the court and made two sprints, he wouldn't even be out of breath.

[Special item successfully synthesized: Obtained the talent 'Kant's Perpetual Motion Machine Heart and Lungs'.]

[Physical attribute update: Increased from 72 to 90!]

[System evaluation rewritten: You possess the most insane, tireless cardiovascular endurance in all of Europe. On this green field, a full 90 minutes of high-pressing is merely a warm-up for you. You truly possess the fundamental physical attributes to become a sweeping tyrant on the field.]

Physical fitness has skyrocketed to 90!

Sun Yang clenched his fist tightly, and water splashed between his fingers.

This means he'll never have to look at the weakened stamina bar in the system to calculate sprint distance again. He can be like that tough, dark-skinned Frenchman, Kanté, pressing all over the field, running tirelessly from the first minute to the ninetieth!

The data on the screen continued to change.

[Kante, the midfield tackling master, receives an additional talent bonus: defensive attributes increase by 20 points!]

[Defensive attribute updated: Increased from 50 to 70.]

The moment this text appeared, a flood of top-level tactical concepts about defensive positioning, anticipating the opponent's passing route, and timing of interceptions rushed into Sun Yang's mind.

These 20 points are not fabricated numbers added out of thin air, but rather the result of directly cramming the muscle memory and defensive awareness of high-level defensive players into his brain.

Previously, when faced with an opponent's breakthrough, he could only rely on his physical strength to withstand it. Now, just by glancing at the opponent's dribbling technique, he automatically generates three optimal interception routes in his mind.

[System evaluation rewritten: Your positioning, defensive work, and tackling skills have reached excellent Bundesliga standards. You are no longer just a passive player waiting for the ball in the attacking third; you can now act as the most solid first line of defense in front of the penalty area.]

Following that, skill proficiency also received a significant update.

[Skill: Zidane's Marseille turn. Extremely successful in actual combat, and he calmly broke through against a top-class defensive midfielder like Verratti.]

[Proficiency level updated: Increased from 8/100 to 13/100.]

So cool!

This settlement was a timely tactical boost.

In the next leg away game in Paris, the opponent will definitely launch a fierce counterattack at the Parc des Princes. This will place extremely high demands on the defensive toughness of Dortmund's midfield. With 90 in stamina and 70 in defense, Sun Yang is absolutely confident that he can completely shut down those super strikers worth over 100 million euros near the center circle.

He turned off the tap. Sun Yang quickly dried himself with a towel, changed into casual clothes, and walked out of the court.

Sitting in his uncle Henry's black van, Sun Yang silently drove back to his private villa in Cologne.

As soon as he pushed open the bedroom door, he collapsed onto the soft bed. Closing his eyes, his consciousness quickly sank, and he effortlessly entered the dream training camp.

The virtual Westvalen stadium in the system space remained as bright as day.

The large screen on the sidelines was still repeatedly playing Sun Yang's domineering volley.

French midfield legend Zinedine Zidane stands at the center circle.

This usually stern, bald man was wearing a retro number 10 jersey of the French national team today, with a ball under his feet.

Seeing Sun Yang approach, Zidane rarely showed a smile of appreciation.

"Well done, kid." Zidane kicked the ball to Sun Yang. "That stunning goal you scored today had a touch of my style back in the day. Your upper body was extremely low, and the way you stretched your right instep to strike the ball was perfect. It was even more decisive than when you were in training camp."

"It's because you taught me so strictly. If it weren't for those ten thousand first-time volleys, I wouldn't have been able to find that feeling of oneness with the ball." Sun Yang was unusually modest, as he steadily stopped the ball at his feet.

Zidane stepped forward and patted Sun Yang's broad shoulder forcefully.

"My coaching career is over."

"Feints to deceive the center of gravity, and the calm and elegant Marseille turn in extreme situations. I have imprinted all the qualities of a top midfield commander into your very being."

The French legend slowly turned around.

"Football is a sport that requires more than just physical strength; ultimately, you have to use your brain. Go and conquer the entire European football scene, my last student."

The words fell.

Zidane's tall, imposing figure transformed into countless blue specks of light, dissipating in the wind onto the lush green grass.

Looking at the empty center court, Sun Yang felt a strange sense of loss. He was about to bring up the system panel to see how to start the next stage of special training.

Sudden.

The bright operating lights above the training camp suddenly went dark.

The surrounding stands shifted rapidly, transforming into a bustling stadium brimming with the wild spirit of South America. Countless blue and white confetti rained down from the steep stands.

Immediately afterwards, a loud cry of an eagle echoed from the sky.

Pampas Eagle!

A retro black and white rough leather soccer ball fell from the sky, slammed heavily onto the grass in front of Sun Yang, and bounced more than half a meter high.

A left foot, clad in a black sneaker, effortlessly and deftly removed the ball.

A chubby man with curly hair, only about 1.68 meters tall, wearing the classic blue and white striped number 10 Argentina jersey, emerged from the shadows of the stands, juggling the ball.

Every time he juggled the ball, it seemed glued to the back of his left foot, extremely obedient, never leaving his foot by more than ten centimeters.

He stopped the ball and looked up. His unruly, defiant face was now fully exposed to the spotlight.

The South American man with ramen noodle-like hair looked Sun Yang up and down.

"Kid, I heard you have to use such a tedious and laughable motion to get past someone?"

Diego Maradona!

The uncrowned king of Napoli, the absolute god of Argentina, and the unparalleled football king with the most individual dominance in the history of world football.

Maradona stomped the ball under his foot, arrogantly raised his chin, and pointed at Sun Yang's nose.

"I'll teach you today what it means for one person to completely cut through an entire team's defense!"