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

Ronaldinho tossed his signature dreadlocks, revealing his trademark big white teeth, and smiled with a hint of helplessness.

"God, you're a juicer! You won't even let me rest during halftime?" Ronaldinho muttered helplessly, spreading his hands. "There's no fixed formula for this move. It's called ball control. You have to get along with this round thing like a buddy, know how much it weighs in the air, and know the elasticity of its bounce back after it hits the crossbar."

"Dinho, stop with the fluff, give me some real stuff!" Sun Yang didn't care about any master's airs at all, and shamelessly pressed forward to ask.

The other three superstars also gathered around with great interest. They knew perfectly well that Ronaldinho's talent was unique and irreplaceable in the century-long history of football.

Ronaldinho shook his head and deftly flicked the ball up with his toe once again.

"Listen, Son. Power is never the biggest obstacle; the key is the feeling of your ankle wrapping around the ball." Ronaldinho juggled the ball effortlessly while breaking down the movement. "When you hit the ball against the crossbar, your instep needs to be as taut as a steel plate. The power must penetrate completely to the center of the ball. Even if you kick it a fingernail's width off, the ball will spin away, and its trajectory after hitting the crossbar will be completely out of control."

He lobbed the ball high and headed it steadily with his forehead.

"As for catching a bouncing ball, your eyes need to be faster than a computer. You have to calculate the landing point the moment it leaves the crossbar." Ronaldinho stretched out the outside of his right foot, like a magnetic sponge, directly and steadily catching the falling ball, cushioning all the force. "At the moment of contact with the ball, your ankle needs to relax, sinking down like a sponge. Understand? A seamless switch from stiff to soft."

Sun Yang immediately recalled the ball-juggling training Maradona had given him during the first phase of his training with legendary players. That was the most solid foundation in ball control. Coupled with the enhanced "balance" attribute from the system and the flexibility he had built from his childhood training in Peking Opera, his body had a very high compatibility with this kind of extreme skill.

He hooked a spare ball from the sidelines and quickly walked to the top of the penalty area.

"I'll give it a try." Sun Yang took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

I flicked the ball with my toes, bouncing it twice at knee height to get a feel for it. Then, I suddenly tensed the instep of my right foot and slammed it down cleanly into the center of the falling ball.

boom!

The ball tore through the air and flew out with a whoosh.

It went astray. It hit the crossbeam about half a meter to the left. The rebound was extremely dramatic, sending it flying directly over the baseline.

"Too stiff, man," Ronaldinho whistled from the side. "All you can think about is how to kick that iron bar. You need to think about how to comfortably put power into the ball."

Undeterred, Sun Yang turned around and retrieved another ball.

He lifts the ball up. His gaze locks onto the center of the crossbar. He unleashes a powerful shot!

Bang! Clang!

The dull thud was crisp and pleasant, the ball striking the crossbar perfectly in the center. Due to the immense force, the ball rebounded powerfully, hurtling straight towards Sun Yang's face.

Sun Yang immediately took a half step back, his chest meeting the impact. His mind processed Ronaldinho's theory; at the instant the ball struck his chest, his ribcage rapidly contracted downwards, like a giant sponge, forcefully dissipating 70% of the ball's impact.

The ball rolled obediently to his knees. He braced it with his thigh, caught it with his right foot, and once again drew his bow and fired a shot.

boom!

Unfortunately, the second time the ball hit the wrong spot, grazing the top edge of the crossbar and flying straight into the stands.

Although he only completed one perfect impact-rebound combo, for a beginner who has just started this special training, this is already a terrifying rate of progress that can be seen with the naked eye.

Standing to the side, Da Luo vigorously touched his bald head, a complex meaning in his deep eyes.

"What a terrifyingly talented freak!" Ronaldo exclaimed in his thick Portuguese to Modric and Pirlo beside him. "Does this kid have some kind of precision instrument installed in his muscle fibers? The speed at which he understands the movements is simply unreasonable."

Modric crossed his arms and nodded in agreement: "His flexibility and core control are nothing like those of an Asian player in his early twenties. The pause he made when controlling the ball just now even reminded me of Dinho."

Ronaldo sighed and looked at Sun Yang, who was stubbornly running to retrieve the ball in preparation for another attempt.

"Damn it, sometimes you have to admit that there is such a despairing talent gap in this world." Da Luo exclaimed loudly, not caring at all about Sun Yang's presence.

"You know, after I retired, I also coached a few of those hyped-up youth academy prodigies. I taught them how to dribble past opponents." Ronaldo gestured with his index finger. "I told those kids, this is too easy. The defender is right in front of you, you flick the ball to the left, feint to the right, and when he loses his balance, you just step on the gas and go. Is that hard?"

Pirlo lazily added, "For an alien like you, this is indeed just a walk."

Da Luo shrugged and spread his hands: "And the result? Those young men tried to twist their bodies like I did, and they fell flat on their faces on the grass. One unlucky guy even tore his ligaments on the spot. They just can't learn it! Their muscles and nerves simply can't make such extreme judgments about changing direction at that high speed."

Ronaldo turned his head and stared intently at Sun Yang, who had just completed his third shot attempt.

"Many mediocre players run themselves ragged, until their thighs cramp up, and they might barely be able to touch the starting line of these geniuses." Ronaldo's voice gradually lowered, with a hint of solemnity. "But the most deadly ones are these geniuses who are born with top-notch ball sense. They are more greedy than anyone else, and more willing to sweat than anyone else."

He pointed to Sun Yang's back, which was completely soaked with sweat.

"This kid turned our house upside down in the first half. As long as his leg doesn't get broken, you'll definitely see the birth of an ultimate monster on the pitch, a combination of all our strengths. His future achievements will be no less than those of us old guys." This was the alien's assessment.

Ronaldinho joined in, grinning carefree: "That's why I'm having a headache. He's broken down all our special moves into data and absorbed them into his muscles bit by bit. At this rate, he'll definitely use us as a whetstone when the second half starts."

During the casual conversation, the recovery time for the halftime break came to an end.

The virtual referee blew the whistle to signal the start of the second half. The temporary players from both the red and white teams, who had just disappeared, reappeared as a stream of data on the green field, regrouping and returning to their positions.

Sun Yang forcefully wiped the sweat from his eyes and kicked the ball back to the center circle. After shamelessly asking for advice during halftime, he could clearly feel that his touch on the ball had improved significantly. Although there was no tangible increase in proficiency on his skill panel, his control over the ball had become more solid than ever before.

He walked to his own half and took his position, his eyes fixed intently on Ronaldo and Pirlo on the opposite side of the center circle.

Ronaldo twisted his thick, buffalo-like neck, his joints cracking loudly. He stopped smiling and looked at Pirlo not far away.

"Andrea." Ronaldo's muscles bulged unbelievably, like a prehistoric beast about to break free of its cage. "This kid has taken too much from us for free. As his seniors, we have to teach him a lesson. He should know that understanding the theory is one thing, but whether he can survive in the cutthroat arena is a completely different matter."

Pirlo slowly brushed a few strands of long hair that had fallen across his forehead back behind his head. His eyes, which had previously seemed like those of a dead fish that never seemed to wake up, were now wide open, flashing with a chilling light.

"Agreed, Ronaldo. The training trial card has expired." Pirlo glanced at Modric, Ronaldinho, and Sun Yang opposite him, a refined, cold smile playing on his lips. "Next up is the hellish half for professional players. Doesn't this kid like tireless high pressing? Let him press to his heart's content. I'll make sure he doesn't even smell the ball for a full forty-five minutes."

The referee put the whistle in his mouth.

Ronaldo stood firmly on the football, slightly lowering his explosively powerful body.

Standing next to Modric, Sun Yang felt the atmosphere on the field plummeting at an alarming rate. The aura emanating from those two football legends was completely different from what it had been in the first half.

This is the bloodthirsty aura of a world-class superstar who, after being provoked, is ready to strike with deadly force.

The sharp opening whistle ripped through the empty stadium. The second half, a true battle between superstars in their prime, had officially begun.