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

Bergkamp stopped, draped the towel around his neck, and looked Sun Yang up and down at his thick legs that had withstood Kanté's flying tackle.

"Kid, this thing relies on ball control, not your iron legs that you use as bulldozers." Bergkamp spread his hands, his tone slightly teasing. "The turn of the century requires absolutely flexible ankles, like a sponge to wrap around the ball. With your straight-line power generation habit, you'll easily break your ankles practicing this."

That being said, under the constraints of the system rules, Bergkamp still dutifully walked to the center circle and began to dismantle the defense.

He pointed to the lower middle part of the ball.

"The moment you touch the ball, shift your gaze away from it and don't stare at it. Your supporting leg must lock onto the direction of the weight transfer in advance, and use the outside of your foot to follow the weight of the falling ball, rather than exerting force to kick it."

Bergkamp demonstrated a slow turn. The entire process involved no explosive muscle collisions, only a masterful use of balance and gravity.

Sun Yang stood to the side, his mind frantically replicating every detail like a holographic projection.

"Your turn. Come on, start your show." Bergkamp took two steps back, casually flicked a half-high ball with a side spin, and sent it to Bergkamp.

The ball spun through the air as it flew towards them.

Sun Yang took a deep breath, and the top-notch ball control he had gleaned from Ronaldinho and Maradona was fully activated at this moment. Combined with the martial arts skills he had practiced since childhood, his flexibility in his lower back and range of motion were far beyond the realm of ordinary humans.

Just as the ball was less than half a meter from his right foot, Sun Yang's left leg twisted outwards in a strange way, leaving his center of gravity half-suspended in the air. He then deftly tapped the ball with his right foot.

*Thud.* The instep made contact with the ball, producing a soft, muffled sound.

Immediately afterwards, using his left foot as the center, he unleashed the power of his waist and abdomen like a compressed spring, forcefully twisting his body 180 degrees. His suspended right foot then smoothly brushed the edge of the ball.

The ball obediently followed his steps, circling in a semi-circle before coming to a steady stop on the grass.

It moved with a series of stops and turns, flowing smoothly like clouds and water.

Bergkamp froze as he wiped his sweat. He stared at the trajectory of the ball, then glanced at Sun Yang's thigh. This kid had actually figured it out on the first try. That absurd degree of joint contortion, combined with that muscular physique, was like a brown bear dancing Swan Lake.

"Shit! ...Isn't this kid under Newton's jurisdiction?" The usually elegant Dutchman swore for the first time ever.

The system notification sounded as expected. Cold subtitles flashed across my retina.

[Ding! Skill successfully entered into skill library: Bergkamp's Century Turn (Beginner, practical proficiency needs improvement).]

The second half of the game has officially begun.

Makelele decided to personally demonstrate to this eager-to-learn Chinese-American lad what true midfield defensive philosophy is all about.

The red team kicks off. Totti receives the ball with his back to goal in the 30-meter zone. The Prince of Rome displays exquisite footwork and is equally impressive in physical duels.

Sun Yang hovered seven or eight meters away, his gaze fixed firmly on Makelele.

After controlling the ball, Totti immediately dropped his shoulder and feinted, attempting to create an opening for a turn by changing his rhythm. Unlike Sun Yang, Makelele didn't pounce on Totti like a mad dog. He maintained a perfect defensive distance of 1.5 meters.

Totti pulled the ball to his left. Makelele wasn't even looking at the ball; his eyes were fixed on Totti's hip. Half a second before Totti shifted his weight, Makelele stepped forward, his broad body blocking Totti's path as he attempted to cut in laterally.

Totti was forced to stop abruptly, then jerked his ankle and accelerated to the right.

Makelele, as if he had a cheat code, quickly retreated along Totti's pivot point. By turning his body halfway to the side, he not only blocked the breakthrough but also cut off the passing lane connecting with Ibrahimovic.

The entire defensive sequence lasted ten seconds, during which Makelele didn't make a single move.

He was like a wall forever standing directly in front of him, using his positioning, distance, and incredible anticipation to squeeze every last bit of space out of Totti's attack. In the end, the Prince of Rome could only pass the ball back in frustration.

Sun Yang was stunned.

This is not a grueling, physical brawl. It's about not touching the ball, not injuring anyone, but using pure positional awareness to overwhelm the opponent's mind.

Sun Yang analyzed Makelele's running coordinates in his mind, combining them with Rijkaard's spatial cutting. His defensive attribute experience points surged backstage, and the final piece of the midfield defense puzzle was finally pieced together in his mind.

"Got it?" Makelele said as he passed Sun Yang, "Keeping in position is always more important than staring at the ball."

The competition continued. It was Sun Yang's turn for the practical exercise.

After several passes, the ball reached Kanté's feet. The French midfielder dribbled forward, preparing to orchestrate the Reds' attack.

Sun Yang stepped forward. This time, the rage in his eyes vanished. He stopped steadily a meter in front of Kant, his body slightly turned to the side, his knees bent, his gaze fixed on Kant's shoulder.

Kanté attempted to dribble the ball to the right to create space. Sun Yang finished his mental calculations and moved half a step to the left, filling the space with his body. Kanté raised an eyebrow, immediately pulled the ball back, and tried to force his way past him from the left.

Sun Yang remained completely calm, following Kanté's shift in center of gravity and activating the same "perpetual motion machine" within his body. He made dense, fine steps, always keeping the distance within one meter, sticking to Kanté like a shadow.

The two players started playing a mirror match in the middle of the court.

You lean to the left, I block to the right. You try to pass straight, I cross the road ahead to block the path.

There were no sparks flying from collisions, no flashy moves. This was a high-level battle of wits. The midfield pitch was churned up by the two players' quick, controlled footsteps. Kanté changed his rhythm three times in a row, but Sun Yang neutralized each change with his impeccable positioning.

Kante was forced to stay in place to protect the ball. The Red Team's fluid attack suddenly stalled, and the entire midfield became a tangled mess.

Sun Yang's tenacious defense not only shut down Kanter, but also subtly severed the Red Team's connection between the front and back lines.

Bergkamp and Kaká in the attacking third sensed the opportunity.

In the 58th minute, Kante had no choice but to pass the ball sideways.

Sun Yang had been waiting for this half-second opening. He decisively made a sliding tackle, changing the ball's trajectory and sending it rolling straight towards Bergkamp, ​​who had dropped back to receive the pass.

Bergkamp received the ball without even raising his head, and with the outside of his right foot, he flicked it up. The ball traced a subtle through ball in the air, precisely tearing apart the defense of the two Red Team center-backs, and heading straight for the edge of the penalty area.

A white lightning bolt tore through the grass.

How fast was Kaka at his peak? He could leave all defenders behind and create one-on-one opportunities.

The red team's goalkeeper reacted swiftly, decisively abandoning his goal and gliding across the grass like a hungry wolf.

Kaka's right foot had just touched the ball when the goalkeeper's hands were already on his boots. With a dull thud, a sure goal was thwarted, and the ball bounced high into the air above the edge of the penalty area.

Sun Yang, who had just climbed up from the center circle, stared intently at the black and white sprite tumbling in mid-air.

Without the slightest hesitation, he slammed the chassis of "Child of the Wind Caniggia" to the ground with a powerful kick. His thigh muscles tensed, his arms swung violently, and he lunged towards the landing point with afterimages.

The ball began to plummet rapidly at its highest point.

The two center-backs of the red team are frantically rushing back. At this moment, even a moment's hesitation to stop and adjust the ball will result in the opponent intercepting it.

Sun Yang held his breath as he sprinted. The image of Ibrahimovic's inhuman bicycle kick flashed through his mind, and the volley technique personally taught by Zidane was burning hot.

He rushed to within a meter of the penalty area. Without slowing down or stopping the ball.

Facing the rapidly descending ball, Sun Yang kicked off the turf with a powerful stomp, sending both feet completely off the ground.

His core tightened abruptly, and his body arched backward to an exaggerated limit in mid-air. God-level flexibility was unleashed! His left leg rose high to find balance, and his right leg swung in a brutal semi-circle, slamming down hard to meet the ball's ferocity!

Snapped!

A deafening bang ripped through the empty stadium.

A celestial being descending from the heavens in the air.

Without even the slightest spin, the ball transformed into a white armor-piercing bullet, hurtling straight towards the upper right corner of the goal.

The goalkeeper on the ground had only just propped himself up on one side when he could only watch helplessly as the white light smashed through the net and slammed heavily into the back barrier.

3-2. The White Team has taken the lead!

After scoring, Sun Yang landed smoothly, his chest heaving. Large beads of sweat rolled down his chin and landed on the grass.

Zlatan Ibrahimovic strode over from the Red Team's camp. Far from being angry, the arrogant Swedish striker's eyes gleamed with excitement. He stretched out his large, fan-like hand and ruffled Sun Yang's black hair.

"That kick is kind of like Zlatan's. You didn't embarrass me, kid." Ibrahimovic's praise always carried an air of superiority.

Totti, Bergkamp, ​​and Kaká also stepped forward. Kante and Makelele even patted Sun Yang on the shoulder with smiles.

In the eyes of these true giants at the pinnacle of the football pyramid, impressive statistics are meaningless. Sun Yang's series of performances, which dismantled and recombined the strengths of everyone involved, have earned him a place in this world.

For the remainder of the match, the intensity of the competition decreased, and both sides displayed dazzling technical skills on the field, enjoying the process of the game.

The electronic whistle blew continuously until the end of the match.

This time, the six superstars on the field did not vanish into specks of light as they had in the past.

The scene distorted abruptly. The stadium disappeared, and everyone found themselves standing in a futuristic virtual tactical analysis room. On the huge holographic projection table in the center, the ninety-minute video from before was playing in slow motion, frame by frame.

"Come here, kid," Makelele pointed to the red and blue dots on the table, "look at your positioning in the 40th minute. You rely too much on physical explosiveness to clean up messes. If you were in the Premier League with all those butchers, a half-second delay would have ruined your ankle."

Kanter bluntly took over the playsheet: "The coverage is fine, but there's too much ineffective running. Use short, quick steps to block inside cuts; that will save you at least 30% of your energy."

Bergkamp simply pulled up a God's-eye view of the turn of the century. "After you turn, what should you pay attention to? When the ball is in mid-air, you should have the position of everyone in the penalty area memorized."

Six top experts surrounded the sand table, each offering their sharpest insights.

They meticulously analyzed every inch of the pitch and every passing option in the game, and fed it all into Sun Yang's mind.

Sun Yang didn't dare blink, his brain absorbing information like a dried-up sponge. In the system panel's notification bar, the values ​​for defense, tactical awareness, and passing vision jumped at a visible speed. Especially the perpetual motion machine module he got from Kanté, after absorbing this experience, truly ushered in a qualitative leap from "running blindly" to "running with his brain."

I wonder how long they've been subjected to this tactical approach.

His consciousness finally left the virtual space. Sun Yang opened his eyes; it was already broad daylight outside the window.