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

Consciousness returns to reality.

The morning sunlight streamed into the bedroom through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Cologne villa. Sun Yang sat up in bed. He reached out and rubbed his thigh; after last night's insanely high-frequency twisting motions, his muscles were only slightly sore today.

The "Iron Legs" talent reduces injury by 50%, coupled with superhuman recovery, making it incredibly powerful. For an ordinary player, after yesterday's ordeal, their cruciate ligament would have been ruined long ago.

I went downstairs to the courtyard.

Due to the lockdown measures, the Bundesliga has been completely suspended. The entire Borussia Dortmund team has been forced to remain in their respective homes in quarantine.

On the lawn, his father, Sun Wu, dressed in loose training clothes, was already waiting for him.

Sun Wu held a white waxwood stick as thick as his wrist and tapped it twice on the open space next to him.

"Come on, kid. Take advantage of the suspension to solidify your foundation. I don't know your style of football either, but I know that the fundamentals remain the same. A stable lower body is essential to prevent your body from collapsing."

Sun Yang stood still obediently. Yesterday, he had used the bull's tail and pendulum dribble techniques consecutively in the system, and he urgently needed to completely integrate this extreme center of gravity with his own flexibility.

Sun Wu used a white waxwood stick to tap Sun Yang's lower back.

"Stand in a horse stance, back straight! Your change of direction, to put it simply, is like the 'walking' and 'stance' in traditional Chinese opera. The power comes from the waist, the footwork is rooted to the ground. Press down!"

Sun Yang held his breath and adjusted his center of gravity as instructed. At the same time, he recalled the core muscle force diagram from last night's Great Pendulum exercise and compared it with the force generation techniques his father had taught him.

"The footwork in traditional Chinese opera emphasizes the word 'twisting.' Watch closely!" Sun Wu retracted his white waxwood staff and suddenly slid out a step.

His upper body was leaning to the left, but his legs were strangely shifting to the right. The sight was incredibly awkward, yet it was exactly the same as a top-tier feint on the basketball court – all about using your center of gravity to deceive!

Sun Yang followed suit. He glided across the grass, imagining a defensive barrier in front of him. He planted his left foot heavily, prepared to spike the ball with his right, and twisted his waist in the opposite direction.

Sun Wu seized the opportunity and thrust his white waxwood staff into Sun Yang's lower back without hesitation.

Impacted by the external force, Sun Yang stumbled and fell heavily onto the grass.

"Far from it!" Sun Wu shouted sternly. "In actual combat, will your opponent stand still and let you make moves? Your core strength is too scattered; you'll be sent flying with a single collision. Try again!"

After a morning of basic combined combat training, Sun Yang was drenched in sweat. He was pleasantly surprised to find that this cross-disciplinary integrated training had a remarkable effect on skill proficiency.

Sun Yang's girlfriend, Catherine, walked onto the lawn carrying a professional physiotherapy kit. She was wearing simple gray sportswear and helped Sun Yang lie face down on the mat.

"Your quadriceps are as tight as rocks." Catherine poured essential oil into her palms, rubbed them together to warm them, and then pressed her hands onto the muscles on the outside of Sun Yang's thighs.

A sharp, tingling sensation shot straight up to the top of my head.

Sun Yang gritted his teeth and gasped.

"Don't push yourself too hard. Modern rehabilitation theory suggests that excessive explosive training must be paired with double the amount of soothing stretching." Catherine's professional technique allowed her to break up the hard muscle knots in just a few minutes, dissolving the accumulated lactic acid along the muscle fibers.

Uncle Henry came out of the kitchen carrying a nutritious meal.

Broccoli, boiled chicken breast, and a large glass of bland, dark green vegetable juice. Not a drop of excess oil.

This is the monotonous daily routine of professional athletes. To maintain their body fat percentage, they have to keep their mouths welded shut.

After his lunch break, Sun Yang returned to his room on the second floor and made a video call to his friend Haaland.

The screen flashed, revealing Haaland's sullen face.

The background is the gym of an upscale apartment building in downtown Dortmund. Haaland, shirtless and with his flowing blond hair, is sweating profusely on the treadmill.

"Damn quarantine! I'm going crazy, Sun Yang!" Haaland yelled at the camera. "Favre just makes us do planks and post video check-ins every day, what's the point? I need a pitch, I need grass, I need to actually sweat it out on the field!"

Sun Yang chuckled. This Norwegian prodigy is a pure goal-scoring machine; being suspended is worse than death for him.

"Relax, Erling. All the matches in the world are suspended now. Nobody can take your place in the top scorer rankings. You should practice your heading at home."

"Lewandowski has scored ten more goals than me!" Haaland abruptly stopped the treadmill, panting as he leaned closer to the screen. "That Pole is definitely training extra at home. Those bastards at Bayern Munich won't waste a moment. Once the season resumes, Lewandowski will absolutely continue leading the scoring charts like a mad dog. And I'm stuck running here!"

Sun Yang didn't reply. He slowly turned around and took two heavy trophies from the display case next to him.

A U23 Asian Cup Golden Boot, and a tournament MVP Crystal Trophy.

He shoved the two trophies right in front of the camera, their crystal-clear material dazzling on the screen.

Haaland on the other end of the video immediately shut up.

He stared intently at the trophy, his Adam's apple bobbing twice.

"Look at this, buddy," Sun Yang said deliberately, his face full of Versailles-like expression. "National team honor. Earned it game by game, his touch is really good. This is a genuine Golden Boot."

"You bastard!" Haaland angrily grabbed a handful of his blond hair. "You're deliberately provoking me! You promised to give me the Bundesliga Golden Boot this season. Now look what you've done, you're making a splash in Asia while your best partner is left to rot in his apartment."

"You're already getting impatient?" Sun Yang put the trophy back in its place, his expression turning serious. "As soon as the German Football Association announces the resumption schedule, I need you to be in peak physical condition. I have a new idea."

Haaland grabbed a towel and hastily wiped his sweat: "What do you need me to do?"

Sun Yang's mind flashed through Pirlo's strategic vision from the system and Modric's stylish through ball route.

"Once the season starts, the schedule will be incredibly packed. Our opponents will definitely target our defensive tactics, packing the box with all their defenders. I need you to drop back more often to receive passes, and play as a false nine. As soon as you draw their center-backs out, creating space in the flanks, immediately turn and make a run!"

Sun Yang drew several hardcore running trajectories on the screen with his finger.

"My pass won't slow down to accommodate you. Once you see me touch the ball with the outside of my right foot, no matter how many people are in front of you, close your eyes and go for the first ball. I guarantee the ball will bypass all the defenders and hit you precisely in your sprint path. It will be an arc that will leave all Bundesliga center-backs in despair."

Haaland's mind went blank.

A midfielder who can not only make endless through balls, but also kick incredible outside spin shots? That's a top-tier "playmaking machine"!

"No problem! As long as the ball gets through, even if it's a bomb flying over, I can blast it into the goal!" Haaland clenched his fist.

"Go and conserve your energy. In the upcoming matches, we not only need to compete for the Golden Boot, but also to pull Bayern Munich off their throne."

After hanging up the video call, Sun Yang tossed his phone onto the bed. With the tactical communication complete, all that was left was to grind for proficiency in the system.

As night fell, the entire city of Cologne fell silent. The deserted streets spoke of the desolation of the quarantine period. This passionate football city had entered a state of hibernation.

Meanwhile, in Sun Yang's bedroom.

He lay flat on the bed, eyes closed, breathing steadily and deeply. His consciousness, however, was already immersed in that cold, immersive system space.

On the virtual football field, Sun Yang is relentlessly battling against Ronaldinho's signature "elastico" dribble.

Push the ball outwards, twist your ankle to its limit, and forcefully pull it back.

Again and again. Monotonous and mechanical, yet imbued with a fanatical focus. Without superstar sparring partners, he would pull up holographic recordings and correct his mistakes as he watched. Before him were only virtual obstacle cones arranged in a matrix.

Each successful breakthrough increases the proficiency number on the panel by one point.

In this world at a standstill, some are enjoying their holidays, while others are complaining about having no football to play. Sun Yang, however, is using this excellent buffer period to tirelessly hone the secret weapons in his arsenal.

He knew very well that once that isolation door was pushed open again...

The defenders of the Bundesliga are about to face a real storm.