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

The Atlanta coaching bench on the sidelines.

Gasperini's eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed the tactical board from the chair and slammed it heavily onto the grass in front of him.

The plastic board cracked instantly, and the small round magnetic tiles representing the positions of both teams scattered all over the ground. He looked down at the mess on the ground.

A yellow tile representing Dortmund's number 29 happened to land right in the middle of a group of blue defensive tiles. The huge impact shattered the blue team's formation, creating a large vacuum area.

This is a perfect microcosm of how Sun Yang single-handedly crushed Atlanta's defense on the field just now.

An indescribable sense of shame surged through Gasperini's mind. He lifted his leather shoe and stomped heavily on the number 29 magnet, crushing it to pieces.

He strode to the edge of the white line and roared at the players on the field in Italian, "Push forward! Forget about the damn defense! Charge!"

The extreme instructions turned Atlanta into a suicide squad with no defensive structure. They piled up a large number of attackers in the frontcourt, but a fatal gap appeared in the midfield and defense.

Dortmund coach Favre observed the situation calmly, then decisively stood on the sidelines and gestured with his arms down. The team's overall formation retreated, using the most solid positional defense to wear down the opponent's momentum, while secretly concealing their counter-attacking capabilities.

The match has reached the 75th minute.

Atalanta continued to apply pressure in the attacking third. Gomez received a pass at the edge of the penalty area and was just about to dribble across and unleash a long-range shot when a yellow and black figure appeared like a ghost from the flank to cover.

Sun Yang didn't even attempt a tackle; he was like a precisely calculated solid wall, blocking Gomez's path as he prepared to unleash his power.

Gomez was forced to slow down and adjust. In that half-second of hesitation, the experienced Hummels stepped out from behind and cleanly poked the ball away with his long leg.

The ball rolled to Witsel's feet. The afro-haired midfielder glanced up, made no unnecessary movements, and delivered a long, low through ball that pierced the right flank.

Thorgan Hazard received the ball and dribbled forward, while Atalanta's defensive midfielder Freuler attempted to clear it out of bounds with the ball. Instead of confronting him directly, the Belgian international passed the ball across to Sun Yang, who was making a high-speed run from behind.

Sun Yang deftly controlled the ball with his right foot, and the ball came to a comfortable stop beside his foot.

The only things blocking his way were left wing-back Gosens, who was sprinting back, and center-back Djimsiti, who was trailing behind.

The entire right flank defense zone was so vast it was terrifying.

Everyone watching the field felt a sudden jolt. In the first half, Sun Yang, from the same position, made an audacious, lightning-fast cut inside from the right wing and scored a stunning goal.

Sun Yang dribbled forward at breakneck speed, his movements so fast they left afterimages, the ball seemingly glued to his toes.

Gosens and Jim Sitti were on high alert, barely daring to breathe or make a move, their eyes fixed on Sun Yang's left foot.

At that very moment, Sun Yang made his move.

His left shoulder suddenly dropped, his entire upper body tilted dramatically inward, his left leg slid wide to the side, and his right foot swept the ball with the inside of his foot. It was a textbook prelude to a lateral cut-in.

This set of feints was so smooth and deceptive.

Before Gosens and Jim Sitti could even think, their bodies reflexively shifted all their weight, lunging straight inwards in an attempt to block the inward cut.

But just as they shifted their weight...

Sun Yang's left foot didn't even touch the ball. He simply drew a semicircle above it.

The real killer move was hidden in his right foot. He suddenly flicked the outside of his right foot outward, using the terrifying core strength of the reverse fold to forcefully pull his body back to the outside line.

False inside cut, real bottom cut.

Caniggia, the Son of the Wind, was pushed to his peak speed, his cleats kicking out a mud puddle on the grass.

One step. Just this one step.

Sun Yang cleanly and efficiently bypassed the unbalanced Djimsiti, piercing through the entire right flank defense like a swift knife.

He reached the byline and didn't even look up to check where the ball would land in the penalty area. With his right foot, he met the rolling ball and delivered a powerful low cross.

In the center of the penalty area, defenders Troy and Caldara were completely disoriented.

Their minds were filled with Haaland's monster-like finishing ability, and the two rushed towards the near post of the penalty area, stretching out their legs in an attempt to shove the ball out of bounds before Haaland could touch it.

Haaland's massive frame had already reached the designated position, but the moment he saw the ball's trajectory, the Norwegian maestro cunningly slashed with both legs, leaping directly over the ball.

He deliberately let the pass pass pass by.

Atalanta's entire defensive force missed their target, and two center-backs slipped and fell awkwardly in front of the goal.

The ball skimmed along the grass, like a sharp scalpel, cutting straight through the crowded penalty area and rolling towards the far post.

The left side of the penalty area, at the far post, is completely undefended.

Another young Dortmund striker, Sancho, had somehow found his place in the box. Standing still, he had plenty of time to catch his breath, facing such a perfect, unforced pass.

He glanced up at goalkeeper Sportiello, who was desperately making a run back, and calmly pushed the ball into the bottom right corner of the goal with the inside of his right foot.

The ball nestled into the net without any doubt.

3:0.

The outcome of the match was no longer in doubt.

Sancho was so excited that his face turned red. He ran to the right sideline and jumped directly onto Sun Yang's back.

"Holy shit! Son, do you have radar in the back of your head?" Sancho's thick London accent boomed from the sidelines. "How did you manage to squeeze that damn ball through such a tight gap between the players?!"

Sun Yang reached out and supported Sancho's leg, wiped the sweat from his chin, and laughed loudly in fluent English, "That's because those guys don't have enough brain cells; they can only keep an eye on one big guy. But buddy, your shot was as weak as an old lady taking a stroll. Next time, remember to eat a full meal before putting in any effort, okay?"

Haaland strode over and grabbed both of them. These three young attackers, representing the future of European football, unleashed their passion without restraint in front of Atalanta's penalty area.

This was a massacre belonging to the storm of youth.

Sidelines.

Gasperini didn't erupt in anger again. He seemed completely drained of energy, slumping into a plastic chair on the coach's bench. He covered his face with his hands, letting the fragments of the tactical board scatter at his feet.

We lost. There's no way to recover.

When you face a midfield monster who can withstand double teams with his iron body, break through and cut inside to unleash powerful shots, make accurate passes, and see through the movement of everyone on the field, even the most ingenious tactical system becomes a piece of waste paper.

The air in the upper stands was so cold it felt like it was about to freeze.

Kirk, who had just been talking at length about Atlanta's defensive weaknesses, now felt his throat getting dry.

He swallowed hard and turned to look at Simeone. Atletico Madrid has always prided itself on its midfield strangulation defense and its chain-like pressing of the 4-4-2 formation. But after seeing Sun Yang's incredible outside-of-the-foot pass after outmaneuvering three Serie A workhorses, and this seemingly effortless feint inside before actually making a run down the wing, Koke even began to doubt the solidity of his own defense.

"Boss, is this kid made of iron? He's not even afraid of fouling." Kirk lowered his voice, his tone carrying a apprehension he himself didn't realize.

Simeone's face was ashen, and he remained silent. He clenched his fists. In the mind of this Argentine bandit coach, various models for breaking Dortmund's positional warfare were constantly being devised, but he found that no matter how he arranged the formation, that number 29 was a variable that could not be controlled by common sense.

Sitting to the side, Arsenal manager Mikel Arteta's usually impeccably dressed face was deathly pale. He scribbled wildly in his tactical notebook with his pen, the sharp tip even piercing the paper.

He knew better than anyone that Arsenal's current porous defense would be a complete disaster against this monster, and he needed to go back and work through the night to come up with an extremely targeted tactic.

The massive three-goal deficit completely shattered the Atalanta players' will to fight.

In the next ten minutes or so, the pace of the game dropped dramatically. Atalanta abandoned their full-court press and retreated entirely to their own half, giving up the fight.

Dortmund decided to call it quits. Favre made a large number of substitutions, taking off key players such as Haaland and Hazard to rest. The team began to play passively, passing the ball around in their own half without any real threat.

Time passed by, second by second.

When the first minute of stoppage time arrived, the referee glanced at his watch and, without letting the game drag on any longer, blew the final whistle three times.

On the empty stadium's big screen, the score remained 3-0.

With Sun Yang's dazzling goal and two assists, Borussia Dortmund effortlessly defeated the Italian dark horse and advanced to the Champions League semi-finals.

On the field, Dortmund players began to hug each other.

Sun Yang took a white towel from the assistant coach on the sidelines and casually wiped the sweat from his face. He turned around and walked unhurriedly toward the players' tunnel.

Suddenly, he stopped at the entrance of the passage.

He slowly turned around and raised his head. His gaze, as if it were a tangible thing, pierced through the gap between the two tiers of stands and locked onto the highest tier.

He knew that representatives from the two teams facing off the following night were sitting there. Whether it was Arsenal or Atletico Madrid, the winner would be Dortmund's final stepping stone to the Champions League final.

Facing the gaze from above, Sun Yang raised his left hand, his index and middle fingers together, and made a shooting gesture without any restraint, pointing towards the private room.

Then, with a smug smile on his lips, he turned and strode into the players' tunnel without looking back.

Wash your neck clean and wait.