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

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

The air in the locker room of Songkhla Stadium in Thailand was so stuffy it felt suffocating.

The tactical whiteboard on the wall was covered with dense drawings, all marked with markers indicating the main areas of attack and defense for both sides.

Cannavaro stood in front of the whiteboard, slapping the Iranian team roster list heavily on it, the sound echoing in the small space.

"Guys, flush all your joking around on the training field down the toilet! Tonight isn't a stroll on the lawn, this is a bloody gladiatorial arena!"

The translator, Xiao Li, quickly relayed Cannavaro's words to the players.

The young players of the national Olympic team sat in front of their respective lockers, each with a solemn expression, the relaxed atmosphere after the first two consecutive victories completely gone.

Cannavaro turned around, placed his hands on the tactical table, and scanned each player with his sharp eyes.

"These Persians are as strong as rocks, and their playing style is notoriously brutal. Once they get desperate for a spot in the next round, they're capable of doing anything that could injure someone. To protect our attacking anchor, Zhang Yuning, you'll be on the bench tonight."

Zhang Yuning nodded without a single complaint. The scientific group training a few days ago had shown him the professionalism of the coaching staff and Sun Yang, and he was now absolutely obedient to the arrangements.

Cannavaro picked up the roster and began announcing today's drastically changed starting lineup.

"Goalkeeper Chen Wei. The defense, from left to right: Dilimulati, Zhu Chenjie, Wei Zhen, Feng Boxuan. I need the four of you to be like reinforced concrete, sealing off the penalty area. Anyone who dares to come in, just knock them down with your bodies!"

"In midfield, Tian Xin and Huang Zhengyu, your job today is to be Sun Yang's bodyguards. Take care of all the dirty work and hard tasks. Sun Yang, in the center, continue to be the team's brain."

"We've made a big rotation in the attacking third today: Chen Pu, Hu Jinghang, and Zhou Junchen. The three of you don't need to participate in complex positional battles today. Just run forward freely and use your speed to break down their slow turns."

After reading the list, Cannavaro walked straight up to Sun Yang.

"Sun, the Persians will definitely send someone specifically to target your ankle today. Protect yourself; you're in charge of setting the pace on the field. If something feels off, I'm giving you permission to directly direct a tactical change."

As Sun Yang bent down to adjust his shin guards, he smirked.

"Coach, don't worry. They'll have to see if their teeth are strong enough to eat me alive."

His improved physical attributes and the Kant perpetual motion machine lungs gave him ample confidence.

At 8 p.m., the players from both sides stood at the exit of the players' tunnel on time.

Because the games were played behind closed doors, the huge stands were filled with empty blue and red seats, with a few staff members wearing masks scattered about high up in the stands.

Without the deafening cheers and shouts, the atmosphere in the arena was not relaxed at all; instead, it was filled with a tremendous sense of psychological pressure.

The rustling of cleats on the grass, the thuds of the ball hitting the ground, and the heavy breathing of the players were amplified in the empty stadium.

The referee blew his long whistle, and the match officially began.

Iran kicked off first, and from the very first second, they displayed a suffocating high-pressing attack in the attacking third.

It was only two minutes into the game.

As soon as Tian Xin stopped the ball in the backfield, Iran's tall center forward, with his studs showing, launched a vicious sliding tackle close to the grass.

Tian Xin broke out in a cold sweat and quickly passed the ball to Huang Zhengyu next to him, then jumped up in a sorry state to avoid a disaster.

Before Huang Zhengyu could even turn around after receiving the ball, Iran's left winger slammed into his back like a wall.

With a muffled thud, Huang Zhengyu lost his balance and fell headfirst onto the grass.

The referee called a foul on the Iranian team, but his hand didn't even reach into his pocket, and he didn't even give a verbal warning.

This is the standard tonight, so loose it's almost unbelievable.

Sun Yang quickly ran over, grabbed Huang Zhengyu, and clapped loudly for the whole team.

"Don't hold onto the ball! Increase the frequency of passing and receiving! Pass the ball with one touch!"

In the following ten minutes, the match devolved into a brutal hand-to-hand combat.

The Iranian coach waved his arms incessantly on the sidelines, urging his players forward like sheep. They had thoroughly studied the Chinese team before the match and knew that their mixed-race captain, number 10, was the team's sole soul.

In order to shut down Sun Yang's passing lanes, the Iranian team sent out Afkan, a defensive midfielder specifically tasked with doing the dirty work.

This burly man, standing at 1.85 meters tall, was like a piece of chewing gum that wouldn't stick to him, clinging to Sun Yang from the very beginning. Whenever Sun Yang got the ball, he would use both hands and feet to bring him down, ball and all.

But Afkan soon discovered that this job was simply not for humans.

This number 10 on the Chinese team doesn't play by the rules at all.

"Damn it, why doesn't he look at the ball when he passes it? Does he have eyes in the back of his head?" Afkan cursed inwardly as he ran.

Once the ball reaches Sun Yang's feet, it never stays for more than a second. With his maxed-out passing attribute "point and shoot," Sun Yang doesn't even look up. Although he's facing the right flank, his right foot precisely curls out a hidden diagonal pass, finding Chen Pu who's making a run down the left flank.

This completely unreasonable "blind radar-style" pass caused Afkan to miss every time, unable to even touch the hem of Sun Yang's clothes.

What made Afkan even more desperate was Sun Yang's terrifying running range.

Defensive midfielders fear two types of players most: those who are fast enough to dribble past them, and those who tirelessly run all over the field. Sun Yang perfectly embodies the latter.

Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes passed.

Sun Yang was like an emotionless running machine, running from the edge of his own penalty area all the way to the top of the opponent's penalty area, and then calmly returning to the center circle to defend.

This kind of full-field coverage off-the-ball movement completely outmaneuvered Afkan, who was closely marking him, to the point where he was practically sticking his tongue out.

At the same time, in the live broadcast studio of CCTV Sports Channel, far away in China.

Unlike the somber atmosphere at Songkhla Stadium, the studio atmosphere tonight was exceptionally relaxed.

He Wei picked up his teacup, took a sip, and smiled at his partner Xu Yang: "Dear viewers, this might be the most enjoyable night we've ever had commentating on a national team match. Because there's no pressure to qualify, even if we lose this match, we'll still advance."

"That's right." Xu Yang leaned back in his chair, his face full of emotion. "The reason we can watch the Asian Cup group stage with tea in hand is all thanks to that number ten on the field."

He Wei watched the close-up shot of Sun Yang on the screen and expertly recited the statistics: "Since the start of the tournament, Sun Yang has already scored five goals! He scored a hat-trick against South Korea, and in the last match against Uzbekistan, he scored two goals and provided one assist. He currently leads the top scorer list in this Asian Cup, truly showcasing his talent to the fullest."

"Now we can even look ahead to our opponents in the knockout stage," Xu Yang said with a smile. "It will most likely be the second-place team in Group D, and barring any surprises, it will be either Jordan or the UAE."

The atmosphere in the live broadcast room was lively and cheerful, but on the grass in Thailand, the mood suddenly turned icy.

The match has reached the 21st minute.

The Iranian assistant coach on the sidelines picked up his communicator, listened for a moment, and then ran to the head coach's ear and whispered something, his face turning pale.

The Iranian coach's expression changed drastically. He turned around abruptly and roared at the players on the field in Persian.

"South Korea has scored! Push forward! If you don't win, you're all going home!"

This news completely shattered the last vestiges of reason the Iranian players had.

Afkan wiped the sweat from his face hastily and gulped for air. He felt as if his legs were filled with lead, and his lungs were on fire.

He raised his bloodshot eyes and stared at the figure of Number Ten, who was a dozen meters away and was not even out of breath, his steps still light and agile.

We have to do something.