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

Lewandowski's incredible goal not only brought the score to 3-4, but also brought his season total to 28 goals.

While Haaland scored twice, he currently has only 23 goals in his tally.

Five goals. With so few matches left in the league, it's an insurmountable gap. But the Nordic wizards don't understand the meaning of accepting their fate; their bloodshot eyes are practically overflowing with ambition.

Inside the live broadcast studio, Duan Xuan's voice, hoarse and passionate, came through the microphone: "The battle for the Golden Boot has begun ahead of schedule! Lewandowski proved with an incredibly difficult goal that he is still the best striker in the Bundesliga, and even in all of Europe. But now Haaland is back on the pitch, and his fury is about to set the grass ablaze. The biggest highlight of this match is the final showdown between the old and new strikers!"

Tao Wei then raised his voice: "What Dortmund needs most right now is to slow down their attacking rhythm. Bayern's momentum is building, and the gap is only one goal. The next ten minutes or so will absolutely be a do-or-die battle!"

On the field, Haaland turned his head and looked at Sun Yang standing behind him.

"Captain, they stole one while I was away." Harland gasped for breath, his rough voice sounding like it had been sanded in the rain. "How are we going to settle this?"

Sun Yang wiped the raindrops from his eyelashes and exhaled a puff of white breath. He strode forward and gave Haaland's broad back a heavy thud.

"Get it back, with interest!" Sun Yang stared directly into the other man's eyes. "Go to the front and ram Boateng like crazy. As long as you create space, the ball will be at your feet."

Haaland grinned, revealing a menacing smile, nodded emphatically, and turned to look at the front of the field.

The referee put the whistle in his mouth and blew it forcefully to resume the game.

Eighty minutes.

The rain showed no signs of letting up. The Westfalenstadion remained empty, the only sound the dull thud of raindrops hitting the plastic seats. For Borussia Dortmund, playing at home, the absence of the cheers of 80,000 enthusiastic fans was undoubtedly a de facto weakening of their fighting spirit.

The players on the field were battling it out in the mud, and the suffocating feeling from the intense physical exertion made their lungs ache.

Just then, a deep but extremely regular drumbeat suddenly broke through the high wall surrounding the south stand of the stadium and entered the stadium.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The drumbeats grew louder and louder, forcefully tearing through the noise of the rain.

Outside the cordon set up around the Westfalenstadion.

Old Karl, the fat man, was soaked to the bone. He was shirtless, and the huge bumblebee tattoo on his chest gleamed from the rain. He stood in the ankle-deep puddles, his veins bulging, wildly waving a huge Borussia Dortmund yellow and black team flag.

Behind him were thousands of die-hard fans who couldn't get into the stadium.

In the rainy night, the red and blue flashing lights on the police cars maintaining order cut through the rain, illuminating the group of people who had fallen into a frenzy.

They sang at the top of their lungs, separated by a cold, high concrete wall, facing the direction of the stadium.

"We've always stood together, through wind and rain."

"For Borussia Dortmund, we will never give up!"

This is Borussia Dortmund's team anthem, the most sacred battle song of this yellow and black army.

This kind of chorus may not be as deafening as the roar of 80,000 people inside the stadium. But in this extremely oppressive, empty stadium filled with torrential rain, the stirring melody that came through the high walls was like a dose of the most violent adrenaline, plunging deep into the heart of every Dortmund player.

Veteran Piszczek, who was already unable to straighten his back, heard the song that was etched into his bones. He bit his lip, straightened his back again, and stared at Koeman on the left wing with eyes like a wolf.

Thorgan Hazard grabbed a handful of mud and water from the sideline and smeared it on his face before resuming his tireless sprints back and forth.

Even the usually calm and composed head coach Favre had tears in his eyes on the sidelines. He rushed out from under the rain shelter of the coaching bench, clenched his fists, and roared at his players on the field: "Did you hear that! They're out there getting soaked in the rain! Hold the line! Dortmund has no way out!"

The flame of the spirit can often burn through the limits of the body. At this moment, the entire Dortmund team completed a last-ditch effort to rebuild their fighting strength.

Eighty-fifth minute.

The high-intensity shuttle run and the resistance of the mud finally pushed the muscle fibers of some players on the field to their limit.

After outmaneuvering a strong run down the wing, Bayern's Coman suddenly screamed in pain, clutching his right hamstring and collapsing to the ground. He had suffered a muscle strain.

Flick was furious on the sidelines, but had no choice but to make a substitution, replacing him with Martinez.

Dortmund's situation was equally dire. Sancho's legs went weak and his movement went awry when he received the ball on the right wing, sending it rolling out of play. Hazard also began making frequent passing errors. The midfield battle between the two teams completely stripped away any tactical considerations, degenerating into a pure physical clash.

Whoever has the tougher backbone will be able to stand until the final whistle.

Eighty-eighth minute.

While most players on the field felt as if their legs were filled with lead, there was one person whose running steps remained as light as they had been in the first minute of the game.

Sun Yang.

At this moment, Sun Yang's "perpetual motion machine of lungs" displayed an unreasonable endurance threshold. While others were pushing themselves to the limit, he was still at his peak. This cardiopulmonary function, which defies the norm of exercise, allowed Sun Yang to deliver a freakish physical dominance in the rain-soaked match.

He assisted Piszczek on the left wing to complete a powerful tackle. Before he could catch his breath, he turned and sprinted towards the center, firmly filling the defensive gap left by Witsel.

Wherever there's a crack in the defense, that yellow and black figure, number twenty-nine, will be there to block it.

Bayern Munich continues to patiently make lateral adjustments.

Müller moved to the right flank and received a pass from Gnabry. This master of spatial reading didn't hold onto the ball at all; glancing out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a large open space on the left side of the penalty area and decisively chipped the ball across half the pitch with his left foot, sending a diagonal pass that spanned most of the field.

The ball, curving upwards, headed straight for substitute Perisic.

Piszczek, already severely exhausted, was still two or three meters away from the landing point, unable to take a step and having no time to disrupt the play.

Perisic's eyes were fixed on the ball high in the air, his body leaning back, already poised to control the ball with his chest and then unleash a volley.

Just as the ball was falling...

A figure in yellow and black, wearing number 29, charged forward through the mud. In just a few seconds, Sun Yang leaped up before Perisic could touch the ball, heading it towards the midfield area.

Landing. Exerting force.

Sun Yang didn't even need to adjust his center of gravity. He pushed off hard with his right toe in the mud and chased after the ball he had headed out like an arrow.

Goretzka, who was trailing behind, was about to move forward to control the second ball when he looked up and saw number 29 charging towards him, covered in a spray of water. That terrifying sprinting pace—it was hardly the work of someone who had played 88 minutes of high-intensity football.

Sun Yang took a half-body step ahead, extending his right foot and taking a large step forward with the ball.

Goretzka, having missed his target, couldn't stop himself due to inertia and slid awkwardly into the mud.

Counterattack!

In the 88th minute, Dortmund launched their most brutal and desperate counterattack!

Sun Yang strode across the halfway line. Bayern's defense had already pushed forward in preparation for the attack, leaving only Boateng and Alaba as the two center-backs in the backfield.

Meanwhile, in the middle lane, Haaland, like a maddened Nordic bear, fearlessly cut into Bayern's heartland, following the rhythm of Sun Yang's advance.

A vast expanse of fertile green field lay completely open before them.

Two-on-two in the frontcourt.

Sun Yang raised his head, his gaze piercing through the dense rain, and sharply locked onto the goal in front of him.