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

The game was completely free of any probing or passing moments.

The tempo was blazing, and the midfield became a high-pressure, high-intensity meat grinder.

Sun Yang was really going all out, pushing his "perpetual motion machine lungs" to their limits, launching into a tireless anaerobic shuttle run on the grass. Want to be a persistent pest? Then let's test our lung capacity!

Two figures weaved back and forth on the green field. When Sun Yang pressed high up the pitch, Kanté was always right behind him; when Sun Yang dropped back to receive the ball, that black shadow was always right beside him.

The entire midfield area practically became a gladiatorial arena for these two tuberculosis patients.

After running for a full half hour, Sun Yang felt like his throat was on fire and his thighs were as heavy as lead.

He gritted his teeth and glanced at Kanté across the table. The short, dark-skinned midfielder was also sweating profusely, his chest heaving, but his signature shy and honest smile remained perfectly intact.

The original is the original. Relying solely on a single talent component from the system, one cannot completely overwhelm a true top-tier legend.

What's even more deadly is that Kanter's wall-like defense relies not only on speed for steals, but also on his abnormal anticipation and positioning instincts. He always seems to be ghost-like, blocking Sun Yang's most difficult passing lanes, rendering Sun Yang's "point-and-shoot" radar talent useless.

Even if the radar is on, blocking the passing lanes is useless.

The white team regained possession, and Makelele quickly passed the ball to Sun Yang.

This time, Sun Yang learned his lesson. Instead of blindly charging into the crowd, he skillfully dribbled the ball to the wing, forcefully creating space for attacking in midfield.

His gaze swept across the area and landed on Bergkamp, ​​who was lurking on the edge of the penalty area.

Bang! A long, powerful pass, aimed straight at the Ice Prince.

The ball was set too high, with a rapid downward momentum.

Bergkamp stood still, without even swaying, and simply lifted his right foot. Just as the ball hit the bottom, he smoothly tapped it with his toe.

The ball, which had been carrying terrifying gravitational acceleration, seemed to have lost the laws of physics at this moment, and obediently stopped next to the Ice Prince's spikes.

Sun Yang watched from the backcourt, practically drooling. That ball-handling skill was truly like turning the court into an art exhibition.

Bergkamp moved extremely quickly, controlling the ball and pushing it forward in one smooth motion, preparing to pass the ball to Kaká who was making a run into the middle.

But at this critical juncture, that deadly smiling assassin reappeared.

Kante, like a prophet with foresight, positioned himself in front of the passing lane. Before Kaká could touch the ball, he relentlessly stretched out his leg and cleanly intercepted it.

Kanté, who intercepted the ball, did not hold onto it for long. Instead, he deftly pushed the ball forward and passed it to Totti, who was there to receive it.

The transition between offense and defense is rapid.

The red team launched a counterattack on the spot.

Totti received the ball in the attacking third, and Makelele immediately moved up to him with small, quick steps.

The originator of the single defensive midfielder versus the master of the classic attacking midfielder.

The two players immediately took their stances at the front edge of the arc.

Makelele kept his center of gravity low, avoiding blind shots and relying entirely on constantly adjusting his small steps to lock down his position, making it difficult for Totti to advance and take a shot.

Totti used his body to hold the space, his right foot repeatedly feinting on the ball, his wolf-like eyes scanning the surroundings, searching for a deadly passing gap.

Sun Yang sprinted back to defend. He was originally focused on Kanté, who was making a forward run, but he suddenly slammed on the brakes and forcefully turned to the other side.

After battling Kanté on this pitch for half an hour, he finally understood something. Kanté's defense was unparalleled, but the true engine of this Red Team was Totti with the ball.

Killing the opponent's ball-handling carry is more effective than anything else!

Totti is facing a god-like figure like Makelele, and it would be extremely difficult to force his way through.

Suddenly, the Roman prince raised his center of gravity, faked a cross-court press to create half a body length of space, and raised his right leg high, looking as if he was about to unleash a powerful shot, firing a signature heavy cannon shot.

Makelele decisively fell to the ground, throwing himself out to slide tackle and block.

But then! Just as the studs were about to touch the ball, Totti's ankle twisted mysteriously, turning a powerful shot into a low through ball.

That ball was hidden too well.

The ball was like a cold scalpel, about to mercilessly cut through the white team's defense and roll straight toward Ibrahimovic, who was holding off the center-back in the attacking third.

Ibrahimovic's massive frame has already pushed the white team's center-backs behind him. As long as the ball reaches Ibrahimovic's feet, it will be a sure scoring opportunity.

"Fill in!" Bergkamp roared.

Before the words were finished, a white figure slid in from the side, skimming along the grass.

It's Sun Yang.

He knew the Roman prince's nature all too well! That old guy loved to use heavy artillery as a cover, when in reality he was killing people with a godlike perspective!

The instant Totti raised his leg, Sun Yang completely ignored the convincing feint and, relying entirely on Rijkaard's spatial intuition, directly blocked the most tricky low through ball route.

His body flew sideways, his lower legs straight.

Sun Yang's cleats left deep marks on the turf, effectively stopping Totti's potentially fatal shot halfway through.

Bang! The ball hit the shin guard and bounced high into the air before landing in front of him.

It's been captured!

Totti's previously composed face twitched suddenly, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. He clearly hadn't expected that his brilliant move would be completely seen through by a mere kid.

Sun Yang didn't care what the veterans thought; he braced himself against the grass and launched himself into the air.

Behind him, Kanté pressed closer with those chillingly rapid footsteps, his defensive pressure relentless.

The time Sun Yang had to handle the ball was no more than half a second.

There's no time to watch the game. Sun Yang suddenly tilted his head back, his gaze sweeping past the center circle to the large defensive vacuum in the Red Team's half of the court.

There, the Brazilian number 8 with short black hair had already shot off like an arrow.

The moment Kaka saw Sun Yang fall to the ground and intercept the ball, he didn't even consider whether Sun Yang could pass the ball out. He turned around and started to accelerate towards the opponent's goal!

This is the absolute arrogance of the Prince of San Siro—pass the ball to me three seconds later, and as long as there's still an opening, I can run there!

The first two steps involve forcibly shifting into gear and accelerating.

After three steps, the long-distance raid was fully underway.

Kaka's long strides and powerful running style were a brutal and destructive aesthetic. With just a few big strides, he tore apart the two Red Team defenders with pure explosiveness, leaving them no chance to even get a glimpse of his own.

Sun Yang inhaled sharply. This ball had to be fed right to Kaka's mouth! If the ball was even slightly slower, or if it was passed even half a meter off target, it would completely ruin Kaka's god-like attacking rhythm.

With his left arm outstretched, his index finger pointed straight at the huge green corridor in front of the Red Team's penalty area.

The talent of "point and shoot" allows for full-scale overclocking.

The radar on the entire map instantly provides the perfect speed and trajectory parameters in my mind.

The muscles in his right thigh bulged out, and as he faced the rolling ball in front of him, the outside of his foot struck the bottom of the ball heavily like an iron whip.

boom!

A muffled, heart-stopping thud exploded.

This wasn't some slow, high-altitude arc; it was an ultra-long-distance direct pass less than 30 centimeters off the ground, like a low-flying cruise missile!

A space cut of 55 meters.

The ball, with its intense external spin, hissed as it skimmed the grass, cutting through the air at breakneck speed.

Kante's sliding tackle was a fraction of a second too late; his studs were just centimeters away from the ball, and a gust of wind whistled past his toes.

Crossing the midfield line.

Break through the last line of defense.

Without deviating from its course, as if equipped with an autopilot, it headed straight for Kaka's sprint route.

The speed of the ball's roll and Kaká's stride frequency achieved an incredible resonance. It felt as if someone had measured the ball in advance and placed it steadily in front of the Brazilian's run.

It felt incredibly comfortable! Kaka didn't even slow down or adjust his pace in the slightest.

At top speed, the outside of his right foot seemed to be rooted to the ground, gently guiding the ball forward.

Man and ball become one!

Start in fifth gear and lock the accelerator to the floor!

The counter-attacking style that terrified defenses across Europe at the San Siro was on full display again in that instant. For the entire second half, not a single player on the Red Team could even touch Kaká's shirt.

The red team's goalkeeper was terrified and could only yell as he abandoned his goal and tried to expand the area he could block.

Facing the onrushing goalkeeper, Kaka's sprint remained perfectly steady; he didn't even lift his head, and his right foot rose high without hesitation...