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

The system countdown has been completely reset to zero.

Sun Yang suddenly sprang up from his soft bed.

He greedily inhaled the fresh air into his lungs, his chest heaving violently. His pajamas were already soaked with cold sweat, and he looked as if he had just been pulled out of the water.

The sunlight outside the window of the Cologne villa was a bit too bright; the time on my phone showed that it was already the afternoon of the second day.

Even though the "Personal Muscle Recovery Acceleration" passive skill in the system panel was constantly running at overload, repairing damaged muscle fibers, the mechanical shooting that pursued absolute power and the ultimate blind spot for a full 20,000 times... this torture-like special training still left his central nervous system in a state of numbness after overload.

Sun Yang threw off the covers, rolled out of bed, and as soon as his feet touched the solid wood floor, a dull, aching pain immediately shot through the muscles deep in his inner thighs and around his knees.

This is the price of forcibly acquiring the legendary skills of a historical figure for free. If you can't train them to death, then train them to death.

He pushed open the bedroom door and slowly walked down the stairs to the first floor.

In the spacious living room, Sun Wu, the father, was pacing in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window. He held a phone in his hand and was having a heated discussion with someone on the other end, speaking English with a slight Chinese accent.

"We've already conceded on the London theater lease issue within our bottom line. If they still try to squeeze us out on the profit-sharing ratio, then this deal is off! Tell them that Sun Yang doesn't need their traffic pool now."

The old man's tone was as hard as a rock; clearly, in the European business world, this protective father was a ruthless character who would never suffer a loss.

On the other side of the living room, Diana, the mother, was nestled in a large leather sofa.

She wore gold-rimmed glasses, and in front of her was a laptop computer flashing charts, with a thick stack of business contracts piled high beside her.

"Puma's new additional clauses are outrageous." Diana didn't even look up, her marker drawing a large red circle on the document. "They think they can swallow all your image rights for next season with this pitiful signing bonus? Dream on. I need to have my legal team teach them how to revise their offer."

Just then, his girlfriend Catherine came out of the kitchen carrying two cups of freshly brewed hand-drip coffee.

She handed the cup to Diana, and as she turned her head, she saw Sun Yang walking down the stairs, holding onto the handrail.

"Hey, darling." Catherine raised her pretty eyebrows, her azure eyes revealing a hint of teasing and concern. "What's with those exaggerated dark circles under your eyes? Did last night's wild party drain you dry, you perpetual motion machine?"

Sun Yang rubbed his stiff neck and chuckled twice to make up an excuse: "I just brought back the Bundesliga MVP trophy, and I'm so excited that all I can hear when I close my eyes are the roars from the South Stand over the past half-season. I haven't been able to sleep well for most of the night."

Of course, he couldn't tell his family the truth. He couldn't very well say that last night he was forcibly locked in a space by some inhuman system, risking the destruction of his legs, and forced to practice Robben's cut-in and Henry's shot ten thousand times each, could he?

That kind of purely mentally tedious torment is even more exhausting than playing ten consecutive Champions League knockout matches.

At this moment, my uncle, who was the full-time logistics manager, came quickly from the kitchen carrying a large tray.

The tray contained a standard post-match recovery meal for professional athletes—boiled chicken breast with no oil, a few pieces of broccoli, and a large portion of soulless quinoa rice.

"Replenish your carbs first." The uncle pushed the plate in front of Sun Yang and turned on a tablet computer. "Coach Favre sent you an email half an hour ago with the latest match schedule for the Champions League quarter-finals. Eat and read it, kid, the real tough battle is coming."

Sun Yang pulled out a dining chair and sat down, expressionlessly stuffing dry chicken breast into his mouth while swiping the screen with his fingers.

Dortmund's quarter-final opponent has been decided.

Atalanta, a powerhouse in Serie A, is jokingly referred to as "the real blue and black" by European media!

According to the schedule, if Sun Yang wants to face Arsenal in the semi-finals and exact revenge, Borussia Dortmund must first overcome Atalanta. Meanwhile, Arsenal must also contend with the defensively strong Atlético Madrid in the other quarter-final.

Both fires must burn brightly at the same time for them to have a chance to clash in the semifinals.

As for the other half of the bracket, the competition is fierce. Manchester City will face Lyon, a team full of rising stars from Ligue 1, while the most eye-catching clash is undoubtedly the early showdown between Barcelona and Bayern Munich.

Scrolling down the email revealed a ten-page tactical analysis briefing attached by Favre.

The Atalanta team, personally trained by Gasperini, can be summed up in two words: mad dogs!

The aggressive three-defender system, the relentless man-marking throughout the game, and the high-pressing with maximum aggression. As soon as you get the ball, even if you're standing in your own half near the corner flag, two or three 200-pound Italian Serie A giants will instantly pounce on you and subject you to a brutal and merciless chokehold.

Sun Yang stared at the dense red lines of running positions on the tactics board, chewed the broccoli in his mouth, and began to deduce the breakthrough point in his mind like a sophisticated computer.

To deal with such a fearless and high-pressure defense, if you choose to play a passing and control game with them in the middle and get bogged down in positional warfare, you're just asking for trouble.

After spending two days resting at home, Sun Yang, carrying his training bag, stepped into the locker room of the Borussia Dortmund Blaker training base on time.

The Hornets have officially assembled to prepare for the Champions League single-leg knockout stage a month from now.

The atmosphere in the locker room was visibly relaxed, the afterglow of the Bundesliga title win still lingering. The Norwegian maestro Haaland, shirtless, waved his thick arms, spitting as he boasted to Sancho about his glorious achievement of winning the Golden Boot.

As soon as the locker room door opened and Haaland saw Sun Yang enter, he immediately shut up, rushed over barefoot, and grabbed Sun Yang's shoulder.

"Ha! Look who's here! Our Bundesliga MVP!" Haaland grinned, looking like a victorious bandit. "Brother, that empty stadium in Lisbon is all cleaned up and waiting for us! The only regret is not being able to pierce Atalanta's net in front of 80,000 people. But no worries, as long as you comfortably place the ball into the open spaces as usual, I guarantee those Italians will cry their way home to their mothers!"

The arrogance in this guy's tone was almost overflowing, but that's the instinct a striker should have.

"Put your shoes on first, so you don't step on my feet." Sun Yang smiled and patted his broad back, then reached into the cabinet and pulled out a yellow and black training vest, a symbol of the main player, and put it on.

The training field was covered in lush green grass.

Assistant coach Terčić blew the whistle hanging around his neck, interrupting the boys' chatter.

The strength and conditioning coach took over the field first.

"Everyone, get down! Put the foam rollers under your bodies!" the strength and conditioning coach shouted, clapping his hands.

Following the group, Sun Yang skillfully used a foam roller to roll his gluteus maximus, calf muscles, and tibialis anterior muscles in sequence. He then followed the instructions to complete a deep static stretch targeting his hamstrings and hip flexors. Accompanied by waves of satisfying muscle soreness, the stiffness left over from the holiday was gradually dispelled.

Only after everyone had broken out in a light sweat and their joints had fully warmed up did head coach Favre step forward.

"Attention everyone! The upcoming Champions League matches will be played behind closed doors! This means the stadium will be so quiet you could hear a pin drop. We'll hear our opponents' tactical calls clearly, and they'll hear your communication on the field as well." Favre, hands behind his back, swept his sharp gaze across everyone. "Now, begin low-intensity tactical drills in small groups! Get back into form slowly!"

The main lineup has been temporarily disrupted.

Sun Yang, Haaland, and Guerrero were assigned to the attacking group, which consisted of players wearing yellow vests.

On the other side of the field, the Red Vest defense was anchored by the experienced Witsel in the defensive midfield, with Hummels and Akanji forming the first-line center-back pairing behind him, and Bürki guarding the last line of defense in goal.

With a crisp whistle, the intra-team scrimmage, aimed at finding the rhythm of the game and testing new tactics to defeat the enemy, officially kicked off.