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

38 minutes.

Dortmund's advance down the right flank was thwarted. Thorgan Hazard was aggressively surrounded by three defenders, and the ball was forcibly cleared out of bounds.

Sun Yang stood at the center circle, his chest heaving. Kante's perpetual motion machine was working at full speed, keeping his heart rate within a reasonable range.

He quickly turned his neck, scanning the entire half of the field like a radar.

Hoffenheim's defensive focus has been completely drawn to Thorgan Hazard, shifting towards Dortmund's right flank.

Sun Yang subtly raised his hand and gestured to Sancho in the distance. The two moved in a coordinated manner, and Sun Yang suddenly switched positions from the crowded right flank to the left sideline.

During this brief defensive vacuum...

In Dortmund's own half, Hummels keenly spotted Sun Yang's movement. The veteran didn't even bother with a run-up, launching a high ball directly from his right foot in the backfield.

The ball crossed most of the field, flying with precise lead time straight to the left flank.

"Keep an eye on that yellow-skinned kid! Block him inside, don't let him turn around!" Breitenwright roared from the coaching bench.

Hoffenheim's right winger Kaderabek and defensive midfielder Rudy reacted immediately. The two quickly closed in from the front and back, cutting off all of Sun Yang's routes to cut inside from the center, clearly intending to force him to the byline and completely strangle him along the sideline.

The ball plummeted downwards.

As Sun Yang sprinted at high speed, he effortlessly lifted the ball upwards with the outside of his left foot. The ball seemed to be glued to his shoe, obediently dissipating all the momentum from its high altitude and rolling forward half a meter.

There is no intention whatsoever to slow down.

Sun Yang lifted his eyelids and glanced at the two men's tight encirclement. He then forcefully pushed off the grass with his right foot.

The god-level talent of Caniggia, the Son of Wind, is speed.

It started with a roar!

Before the director could even zoom out, the yellow and black shadow on the screen left a blur. There was no slow start; it went straight to top gear!

Grass and mud flew wildly under his cleats.

Kaderabek and Rudy's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. They had clearly positioned themselves in advance, but this shadow had simply forced its way past them through their pitifully narrow blind spot!

They disregard tactics and reason; they simply use absolute physical speed to brute force their way through.

Before the two players even had a chance to reach out and tug at the hem of their jerseys, Sun Yang had already dribbled past them like a hurricane.

"Damn! Is that a little motorcycle?" Rudy gritted his teeth and turned to chase after it, only to find in despair that he couldn't even catch a whiff of the dust kicked up by Sun Yang.

Sun Yang surged forward down the left flank like a sharp knife, penetrating directly into the left side of the penalty area.

Hoffenheim's center-back Grillitsch came into position to cover. He lowered his center of gravity, his eyes fixed on the ball at Sun Yang's feet, barely daring to breathe, and not daring to extend his leg rashly.

The two players found themselves in a one-on-one situation on the left side of the penalty area.

Sun Yang flicked the ball with his right foot, then made two high-frequency feints with his upper body, dropping his shoulder. Grillitsch's center of gravity began to sway involuntarily.

It all happened within that microsecond-level half-beat.

Sun Yang quickly touched the right side of the ball with the inside of his right foot and then flicked the ball to the left.

Grealish's forehead veins bulged, and he instinctively stretched out his long leg to block.

But at the same moment he took a step, Sun Yang suddenly flipped the outside of his right foot, which was originally dribbling the ball, outward. The ball changed course instantly at an ergonomically unfriendly angle and slipped away along the right side of the grass!

Ronaldinho's killer move: the "bull tail" dribble!

Grillitsch's ankle cracked under the strain, his center of gravity collapsed, and his massive body slammed heavily onto the grass.

As he fell to the ground, his right arm, which he flung out in a panic, lashed out, and his fingertips touched the shinbone of Sun Yang's rapidly advancing left leg.

The touch was extremely light. With Sun Yang's current "Iron Legs" providing an abnormal 50% damage reduction resistance, this was barely even a tickle.

But in Sun Yang's mind, an alarm went off, and the opportunity had arrived.

He had no intention of resisting head-on, and smoothly took advantage of this weak resistance.

"what!"

A scream erupted from Sun Yang's mouth as he dramatically lost his balance in mid-air, crashing forward to the ground and rolling twice due to the immense momentum.

The movements were realistic, and the expressions of pain were perfectly captured.

"drop!"

Referee Guido Winkman, who had been following nearby, blew his whistle decisively without hesitation. His right index finger pointed resolutely to the white spot at the 12-yard box.

Penalty!

In the empty Westphalian stadium, a noisy protest erupted from the away team's bench.

Hoffenheim players swarmed around the referee like a swarm of wasps whose nest had been disturbed.

"Bullshit! That's definitely diving! He's just a Hollywood actor!"

"I swear I didn't even touch a hair on his leg! He's acting! That's a hoax!" Grillitsch scrambled up from the grass, pointing at Sun Yang on the ground, his neck turning red with rage, and roared loudly.

Winkman's face was grim. His left hand was pressed against the pocket of his breast pocket containing red and yellow cards, and his right arm pointed directly at the penalty spot, sternly warning all Hoffenheim players who approached: "I saw it clearly. Obstruction in the penalty area is a foul. Get out of the penalty area, or I'll pull out a card immediately."

The VAR assistant referee confirmed this through the headset. The replay clearly showed that Grillitsch made solid physical contact with Sun Yang's left shinbone when he fell. Within the rules, this was an impeccable penalty.

A seasoned player with exceptional ball intelligence.

Sun Yang brushed the grass clippings off his basketball shorts and stood up easily.

Haaland scooped up the ball and strode over, the two of them giving each other a high five.

"Well done, bro." Harland grinned, looking like a triumphant bandit.

"Smash those bastards' goal. Remember, don't hold back, shoot into the corners." Sun Yang patted his broad back, turned and left the penalty area.

The restricted area was forcibly cleared.

Haaland placed the ball squarely on the white penalty spot and calmly took five steps back.

Hoffenheim goalkeeper Baumann stood with his feet on the goal line, arms outstretched, his body bouncing from side to side like a gorilla, trying to distract the penalty taker with feints.

"Come on, kid! Kick it here! I know where you want to kick it!" Bowman shouted trash talk.

Haaland's rugged Scandinavian face resembled that of a wolf eyeing its prey. His eyes were bloodshot, and he unconsciously licked his lips as he coldly stared at the goalkeeper leaping about in front of him.

A sharp whistle pierced the air.

There was none of the Brazilians' fancy, short run-up steps, nor the feints to observe the goalkeeper's center of gravity.

Haaland took three steps in two, his massive body suddenly exerted force, and he swung his left foot, unleashing a brutal and unreasonable shot at the ball!

boom!

The ball exploded with a terrifying thud, like a cannonball being fired, and flew straight towards the bottom left corner of the goal with afterimages.

Bowman guessed the right direction and stretched his body to its limit. But the ball was simply too fast, carrying overwhelming kinetic energy, cruelly grazing the edge of his glove before slamming into the net!

The net was pushed up in an exaggerated white wave!

2 is better than 2!

Dortmund equalizes!

The empty stadium echoed with the hoarse shouts of Dortmund's substitutes and spectators.

Favre was waving his fists on the sidelines, the veins on his forehead throbbing.

It took less than twenty minutes to go from 0-2 down to 2-2 tied. The Hornets' stinger had firmly pierced the heart of their opponent.

However, fate seems unwilling to let this suspenseful final battle end there.

Hoffenheim displayed an indomitable, steely resilience. Coach Breitenreit didn't sit down for a single second; he strode to the very edge of the technical area, waving his arms vigorously like a battle flag, urging the team not to retreat and to continue their desperate counter-attacking tactics.