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

China has been awarded a corner kick in the attacking third.

Cannavaro paced back and forth excitedly on the sidelines.

He grabbed assistant coach Mario's arm, gesturing excitedly and rambling incoherently in Italian:

"See that, Paul? That's the role of a midfield maestro in modern football. Our number 10 completely controlled the tempo of the game."

Mario looked at the field and nodded repeatedly, his eyes filled with amazement.

"Any opponent who dares to get close to him is deliberately exposing their passing lanes! The Uzbeks are completely confused right now. Fabio, they have no idea whether they should intercept the ball from Son or mark someone else. Our attacking third has been completely revitalized!"

The corner kick is taken.

Sun Yang did not take the penalty kick, but instead lurked at the top of the penalty area, ready to intercept the second ball at any moment.

The ball was headed out of the penalty area by the opponent's tall center-back, and coincidentally, it flew straight into the open space where Sun Yang was.

Sun Yang didn't even bother with the small steps to adjust his stance; he simply chested the ball down. Before the ball even hit the ground, he unleashed a powerful shot with his left foot!

"Bang--!"

With a dull thud, the ball transformed into a cannonball, hurtling towards the goal with a whistling sound. Unfortunately, the shot was too powerful and the angle was slightly too straight, allowing Nematov, who was terrified, to barely manage to punch it away with both fists.

Duan Liuyu, positioned on the perimeter, quickly regained control of the landing point and reorganized the attack.

The last five minutes of the first half turned into a one-sided half-court offensive and defensive drill by the Chinese team.

This youth team, which was previously criticized domestically for "stopping the ball three meters away and losing possession as soon as they press," miraculously played with a suffocating style reminiscent of peak Barcelona's Tiki-Taka under the guidance of Sun Yang, who acted as a global radar.

The football darted across the grass, short passes penetrating like mercury, constantly tearing open gaps in Uzbekistan's flanks.

Although they were a bit unlucky in the final shot and failed to extend their lead, their momentum had completely overwhelmed their opponents.

The Uzbek players were completely outmaneuvered, like bears in a circus. Despite their formidable physical attributes, they couldn't even touch Sun Yang's shirt, and were left with nothing but frantic back-and-forth runs, their stamina rapidly dwindling.

Under immense pressure, mental breakdowns ensued. Captain Kodirkulov, during a dead ball situation, turned and roared furiously at his own defenders, accusing them of being too slow to cover.

Even with the stadium empty, the two men's heated exchange in Russian, their faces flushed and necks red, was broadcast live through the microphones on the sidelines.

In the 45th minute, the referee checked his watch. Because of the goals and fouls that had delayed the game, he raised his finger on the sidelines to indicate two minutes of added time.

It was at this moment that Uzbekistan, which had been suppressed for nearly 30 minutes, finally got a rare opportunity to counterattack.

Ganiev fought desperately in the backfield to intercept Chen Binbin's cross, and without even looking, he launched a long ball to the tall striker Abdikholkov.

Abdikholkov flicked the ball on with his head, then passed it to his strike partner. The opposing striker had just controlled the ball and was preparing to accelerate and dribble into the Chinese penalty area.

Just as this deadly crisis was about to strike, a figure draped in a red battle robe emerged from the side and rear, skimming along the ground!

It's Sun Yang again!

Kante's seemingly inexhaustible lungs provided terrifying sprinting endurance. Even after participating in five minutes of high-intensity pressing in the attacking third, he was still able to complete this long-distance, extreme chase.

Sun Yang made a strong overtake from the outside, and before the opponent could shoot, he used a clean and decisive sliding tackle. He was able to pull off such a long-distance chase!

Sun Yang forcefully cut past his opponent from the outside, and with a fraction of a second before the opponent could unleash a shot, his right leg slid out along the grass.

A textbook-perfect sliding tackle, cutting the ball and the player with precision and force, shoving the opponent's attack out of bounds.

He touched the ball first, without any unnecessary dangerous movements. The referee, standing five meters away, decisively pointed to the corner flag.

A priceless, perfect tackle to clear the ball!

Uzbekistan had their last attacking opportunity of the first half.

With a do-or-die mentality, they crammed all the burly men in their team who were over 1.85 meters tall into the Chinese penalty area.

The Chinese team immediately retreated to defense, resulting in physical clashes, shoving, and pulling within the penalty area. The referee had to run in, blowing his whistle to warn both teams to watch their actions.

In close-up shots during the television broadcast, the average height of the Chinese team in front of the goal was noticeably shorter than that of the strong Central Asian players on the opposing team.

With the referee's whistle, number 6, Ganeev, took the corner kick.

The ball arced high into the air, crashing heavily towards the near corner of the Chinese penalty area. Goalkeeper Zhenwei was blocked by the towering Kobilov and unable to jump out to intercept the ball.

As the crisis loomed once more, amidst the chaos of the crowd, that familiar figure, number ten, suddenly rose from the ground.

Sun Yang unleashed his terrifying core strength and jumping ability. In mid-air, he actually overpowered Uzbekistan's strongest center forward, Abdikholkov, and slammed his forehead into the bottom of the ball, cleanly and decisively heading the deadly cross out of the danger zone.

The ball had just flown out of the penalty area when the referee blew his whistle twice, once long and once short.

The first half has ended.

The score is 2-0.

The young men of the Chinese Olympic team walked proudly toward the players' tunnel. Without a doubt, this was the most exhilarating half they had ever played in the team's history.

Everyone's face was beaming with a warm smile.

Zhang Yuning strode over, put his arm around Sun Yang's shoulder, sweat dripping down his face, but his eyes were gleaming.

"Captain, please give me a few extra touches in the second half! My feet feel so hot right now, they could burn through the turf!"

Sun Yang chuckled and playfully punched Zhang Yuning in the chest, his tone relaxed yet brimming with absolute confidence: "If you create an opening, the ball will definitely be there. In the second half, we'll treat their defense like a morning street."

On the other side, the Uzbek players all hung their heads. Head coach Drulovic stood at the entrance to the players' tunnel, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

He would reprimand any player who passed by without mercy, speaking loudly in Russian.

"Idiots! You're all a fucking bunch of idiots! He kicked you in front of you, and you just stood there like telephone poles watching the show?!"

"Where's your guts? You let a twenty-year-old yellow-skinned kid scare your legs to the point of collapse?!"

The harsh shouts and curses echoed back and forth in the enclosed passageway.

The atmosphere inside the Chinese team's locker room, separated by only one wall, was completely different.

The staff had prepared sports drinks and dry towels in advance, and the players gulped down water, excitedly discussing their teamwork in the first half.

Cannavaro clapped his hands loudly and strode in.

"Well done, guys! That's what you call playing football! That's what you call dominating!"

The translator quickly conveyed the young marshal's praise to everyone, and cheers that seemed to lift the roof off erupted in the locker room.

Cannavaro smiled, then walked to the tactics board, picked up a red marker, and tapped the edge of the whiteboard heavily. The noise immediately subsided, and everyone's eyes focused on it.

"The first forty-five minutes were perfect. But don't forget, there's still a second half. Those Central Asians won't give up easily, even if they grit their teeth." Cannavaro's smile faded, and his sharp gaze swept across the entire field.

Then, he turned his head, his gaze fixed on Sun Yang, who was sitting in the corner wiping his sweat, and snapped his fingers, signaling him to come forward.

Teaching assistant Mario immediately and tacitly handed over a stack of freshly printed heatmaps.

Cannavaro shoved the report into Sun Yang's hand, his finger pressing hard on a scarlet circle in the left flank area of ​​Uzbekistan.

"Sun. Look closely here." Cannavaro lowered his voice and quickly got to the point in Italian, "Their captain, Kodirkulov, made far more back-and-forth runs in the first half to cut off your passing lanes than he should have, and his stamina is completely depleted. What's more, he's currently carrying a yellow card."

Sun Yang, with his built-in language skills, instantly understood the murderous intent in Cannavaro's words and nodded in tacit agreement.

Cannavaro turned around and drew a thick red arrow on the tactics board with a marker, aiming straight for the weak right side of the opponent's penalty area.

"In the second half, we need to change our attacking strategy. I want you to lead the team and shift the formation entirely to the right. Go get the ball, find him, and exploit him one-on-one!"

A glint of arrogance, typical of a World Cup champion, flashed in Cannavaro's eyes: "Break through this defense completely! Once that yellow-carded captain is taken off the field, that Russian old man's twin towers will crumble!"