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

Eighty minutes.

The blood-red "5:0" on the scoreboard completely shattered the mental defenses of the ten Arsenal players on the field.

Arsenal dropped all pretense. They completely abandoned any attempt to contest the ball, their eyes bloodshot, aiming their scopes intently at the ankles and knees of the Dortmund players. Only one thing remained on their minds: drag as many players down as possible to wash away the humiliation of being five goals down.

Thomas, ignoring the ball near the center circle, launched a flying tackle on Delaney with his gleaming metal studs. Delaney gritted his teeth and met the tackle head-on, the immense impact causing both players to simultaneously clutch their calves and writhe on the ground in agony.

The situation on the left wing was even more outrageous. Ceballos didn't even bother to look for the ball and swung his arm to slap Sancho across the face as he was making a strong breakthrough.

"Beep—! Beep beep beep!"

Referee Lahoz ran all over the field, handing out yellow cards until his hands were sore, but this couldn't quell the Arsenal players' raging anger.

Favre completely lost it on the sidelines, bursting through the technical area and spitting at the fourth official.

"Are you blind?! Is this still football?! They're committing murder! That's a career-ending kick designed to destroy someone's life!"

The fourth official, expressionless, stretched out his hands and pushed Favre back forcefully. Favre, enraged, laughed coldly, then abruptly turned and roared at the substitutes' bench: "Brandt! Take off your jacket! Stand at the center line! Substitute Erling immediately if the ball is dead!"

Brandt ripped off his training vest and ran to the midfield line, pacing back and forth impatiently.

At this point, Dortmund still had possession of the ball, and Raos, following the principle of advantage, did not stop the game.

The time has reached the eighty-eighth minute.

Sun Yang received the ball in the heart of midfield. Xhaka, his eyes bloodshot, charged towards him from the side like a bulldog.

"Go back to your hometown! Leave the ball behind!" Xhaka spewed out London swear words starting with F, using the momentum of his sprint to lower his right shoulder, trying to use brute force to knock Sun Yang directly out of bounds.

Sun Yang didn't even lift his eyelids.

The core muscles contracted violently. The resistance training in the system formed an impenetrable wall at this moment.

Bang! A muffled sound.

Zaka slammed into Sun Yang's shoulder, feeling as if he had crashed into a solid concrete block at full speed. Instead of knocking Sun Yang away, the huge recoil made Zaka stagger back half a step.

Taking advantage of the moment when he lost his balance, Sun Yang subtly flicked his right foot with the outside of his foot.

The ball flew like a missile skimming the ground, precisely tearing through the gap between the two Arsenal defensive midfielders and landing safely at the feet of Sancho on the left wing.

Sancho receives the ball and faces Bellerin directly.

He performed two bicycle kicks in quick succession, but finding he hadn't created enough space, he accelerated directly to the byline. Just before the ball went out of bounds, he unleashed a powerful cutback cross with his left foot.

The ball skimmed along the grass and swept rapidly toward the center of the penalty area.

By this time, Haaland's right leg was already in critical condition. His ankle was so swollen it was almost bursting through his sock. His running form was visibly distorted, and he was only managing to keep going through the pain with sheer grit and determination.

Even so, the Norwegian striker still limped towards the penalty spot, ready to receive the cutback cross.

The center-back Mustafi, who was defending him, came up from the side and behind.

In this match, Mustafi was completely outmatched by Haaland, much like an old lady crossing the street.

He completely ignored the ball's trajectory. His powerful right leg muscles surged with explosive force, his lower leg swung out fiercely, and he unleashed a powerful sweeping kick directly at Haaland.

boom!

The heavy steel cleats landed precisely and forcefully on the side of Haaland's already injured right ankle!

This kind of brutal logging, which uses force directly on the supporting joints from the side and rear, leaves no chance of defense when running at high speed.

"what!"

Haaland let out a sharp cry of pain. Like a tree that had been sawed down, he completely lost his balance and crashed headfirst onto the grass. He curled up in agony, clutching his right ankle with both hands, rolling around on the ground in pain, cold sweat mixed with tears smearing his young, arrogant face.

The thick white bandage that had been tightly wrapped around the wound was now seeping with glaring bright red blood.

Sun Yang, who had just run into the edge of the penalty area to receive the second ball, stopped in his tracks.

He saw the action clearly.

This kind of despicable behavior, which wasn't about defense at all but purely aimed at ruining someone's livelihood and career, completely snapped the string of reason in Sun Yang's mind.

Needless to say.

Sun Yang strode into the penalty area.

Mustafi was still lying on the ground, his hands raised high, trying to fool the referee with an innocent look.

Sun Yang stepped forward, and with a flick of his left hand, forcibly pushed aside David Luiz, who was trying to block his way. Immediately afterwards, his right hand, like a hydraulic clamp, grabbed Mustafi's jersey collar.

After being comprehensively enhanced by the system's combat attributes, and combined with the terrifying core power honed through long-term special training, it is now fully revealed.

He didn't squat down to gain leverage at all; he relied entirely on the brute force of his waist, abdomen, and arms. The veins on his right forearm bulged out like writhing dragons!

Pull it up sharply!

Up!

"Well!"

Mustafi let out a strange cry as if he were being choked, and his face immediately turned purplish-red.

A 1.84-meter-tall, 160-pound strong center-back! Yet Sun Yang single-handedly lifted him straight off the grass and into the air!

Both feet were off the ground by a full ten centimeters!

Mustafi was terrified and desperately tried to pry open Sun Yang's wrist with both hands, but he found to his despair that the wrist was harder than a railing made of cast iron and he couldn't budge it even a millimeter!

This scene, broadcast live in high definition, was shown to screens across Europe without reservation.

In the Sky Sports broadcast booth, Lineker jumped up from his chair in shock, his voice cracking: "My God! That power is terrifying! Sun Yang lifted Mustafi into the air with one hand! That's pure rage! Arsenal weren't playing football, they were committing crimes!"

Thierry Henri's face turned ashen, and he shook his head repeatedly: "He's really lost it! Who could tolerate such dirty play? This kind of vile foul aimed at a cripple deserves to be beaten up!"

"Beep beep beep beep!!!"

Referee Laos's whistle was sharp and urgent, like an alarm was about to be sounded. He sprinted over from outside the penalty area.

"Let go! Release him immediately!" Laos roared at Sun Yang.

The remaining Arsenal players, as if waking from a dream, swarmed forward, ready to fight. Dortmund's Hummels and Witsel, their eyes also bloodshot, charged into the penalty area. The two teams collided like two high-speed trains, shoving and hurling insults at each other, the scene completely out of control.

Laos struggled to squeeze into the center of the crowd and forcefully shoved the crazed Zaka aside.

He faced Sun Yang directly, his tone extremely stern: "Step back!"

Sun Yang's eyes, however, were unusually calm, yet they held a chilling coldness that sent shivers down one's spine. There were no angry roars, not a single unnecessary insult.

He loosened his grip as if throwing away a piece of stinking garbage.

thump.

Mustafi's legs went completely weak, and he collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently. He didn't even have the courage to look up and meet Sun Yang's gaze.

Laos acted decisively. He first showed Mustafi a yellow card on the ground. Then he pulled out his notebook and opened it. Mustafi already had a yellow card.

Without any hesitation, Laos pulled a red card from the back pocket of his shorts and held it high above Mustafi's head.

Two yellow cards become one red card, get out of the game!

Arsenal had only nine men left on the field.

After dealing with the perpetrator who had caused everything, Laos turned around and faced Sun Yang. He also showed a yellow card with a blank expression.

He glanced at the scoreboard. In the first half, Sun Yang had already received a yellow card for shoving Tierney in defense of Haaland.

Laos held out his left hand. The red card, a death sentence, once again pierced the sky and appeared in everyone's sight. His finger pointed resolutely to the players' tunnel outside the field.

Two yellow cards result in a red card, sending the player off the field!

The Dortmund bench and players on the field went wild.

Hummels, like an enraged lion, stood in front of Laos and shouted, "Are you blind? This was self-defense! He almost ruined our center's career! You gave him that card without any reason!"

Favre, standing on the sidelines, was so angry that he grabbed a water bottle and smashed it heavily onto the turf, splashing water everywhere.

On the contrary, it was Sun Yang, the person involved.

He calmly walked over and pulled the enraged Hummels away. He didn't argue with the referee at all. Rules are rules, and he knew better than anyone what he was doing and the consequences of taking action.

He deftly removed the captain's armband from his arm and personally wrapped it around Hummels' arm.

He turned around and strode toward team doctor Schmidt and the stretcher team who had already rushed onto the field.

Haaland was carefully lifted onto a stretcher. The Norwegian powerhouse, who could usually dunk over two guards, was now sweating profusely from the pain.

He gritted his teeth, staring blankly at Sun Yang as he approached, forcing out a bitter smile that looked more like a grimace: "Brother, you got a red card for me, that's too much of a loss. These cowards don't deserve your red card at all."

Sun Yang stretched out his large palm and patted the cold metal edge of the stretcher forcefully.

"Shut up. Go and rest and recover."

There was no unnecessary sentimentality. Sun Yang neither went to see Laos nor to see the Arsenal players who looked like they had lost their parents. He simply stood calmly beside the stretcher, walking steadily and with his back straight into the players' tunnel.

This was the first red card he received in his professional career.

They take things openly and honestly, and eat with absolute confidence!

At this moment, only the hoarse arguing of the players from both sides remained in the empty stadium.

Laos finally managed to quell the commotion, his right hand firmly pointing to the penalty spot. Mustafi's foul had clearly occurred inside the penalty area; a penalty was the obvious outcome.

Thorgan Hazard, his face ashen, walked to the penalty spot with the ball in his arms. Martin stood on the goal line, arms outstretched, making a final psychological battle and a last-ditch effort.

The whistle blew.

Thorgan Hazard didn't have a fancy long run-up; he just took two quick steps and coldly pushed the ball into the bottom right corner of the goal with the instep of his right foot!

Martin misjudged the direction and desperately lunged to the left.

The ball slammed into the white net without any doubt.

6: 0!

This shocking score, like a bloodstained nail, is forever nailed to the pillar of shame of Arsenal, a century-old powerhouse.

The match restarted in the center circle. Laos glanced down at his watch; just over ninety-one minutes had passed.

He didn't even bother to add a second of stoppage time, and directly blew the final three whistles to end the game.

"Beep—beep—beep!"

Arsenal's players had no intention of shaking hands with their opponents; they all hung their heads and fled into the players' tunnel like refugees. This was the most humiliating and unforgettable night of their careers.

On the sidelines, Dortmund's coach Favre showed no joy in celebrating the six-goal victory. His face was ashen, he ripped off his tie, and strode towards the team doctor's room.