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

Reus suddenly looked up and flung away the team doctor's large hand that was trying to pull him away.

He bent down, forcefully pulled up his socks to cover the thick shin guards, and casually smoothed out the Hornets logo on the chest of his number 11 jersey.

"No way." Reus's German was low but carried a hint of madness. "These bastards are hoping to kick me off the field with dirty tricks and disrupt our rhythm. I'm not leaving today! I'm going to watch these guys lose with my own eyes!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the veteran captain shook off the support and, even though he still walked with a slight limp, strode onto the field with his head held high. He raised his hand to the referee, indicating that he would continue playing.

Standing on the sideline, Sun Yang watched as the old captain's slightly swaying yet unyielding back burned through his very being.

Harland spat a mouthful of saliva mixed with grass clippings onto the ground. The Norse behemoth raised its fist, as big as a casserole dish, and pounded it repeatedly on its chest, producing a dull thud like a war drum.

Sun Yang turned his head and met Haaland's bloodshot eyes. Their gazes clashed fiercely in the noisy Allianz Arena.

There was absolutely no need for verbal communication. They were both thinking the same thing.

Since Bayern Munich has chosen to play in the most brutal, butcher-like style, then Borussia Dortmund will fight them to the bitter end. Next, they will dismantle their opponent's proud, iron-willed defense, leaving not a trace.

Sun Yang ran silently towards the right flank. He stood firmly at the penalty spot for the free kick won by Reus after his fall.

The clarion call for a desperate counterattack has been sounded.

Bibiana's short whistle rang out sharply.

Sun Yang stood behind the ball, not even looking in the direction of the goal.

He stared at Bayern's penalty area, raised his left arm high, and extended two fingers to make the team's tactical gesture.

Haaland, inside the penalty area, immediately understood, pushed aside Süle beside him, and strode back towards the far post on the left side of the penalty area.

Run-up, swing your leg, touch the ball.

The inside of the shoe creates an extreme friction along the bottom of the ball.

The ultimate technique, "Bay's Curve," is fully activated with its precision guidance mechanism.

The ball bypassed Bayern's well-organized wall of players, spinning dramatically inwards, and flew straight to the far post on the left side of the penalty area.

At this point, Bayern's penalty area was in complete chaos. Hummels, Akanji, and other big men were pulling and tugging at defenders, disrupting the central aerial defense.

Just as Boateng raised his head to find his landing spot, he felt a huge black shadow pounce on his side.

Haaland's massive 1.95-meter frame forcefully pushed aside Boateng's defensive cylinder.

The Norwegian behemoth pushed off the ground with both legs, unleashing its powerful core strength.

The Viking's thick shoulder showed no mercy in mid-air, slamming squarely into Boateng's chest.

"Get out of here!" Harland yelled in English.

Boateng completely lost his balance in mid-air and crashed heavily onto the grass with a dull thud.

Haaland dominated the air, facing the ball but choosing not to head it at the goal.

He straightened his back and abdomen, and pressed his hard forehead against the ball.

The ball changed its trajectory and flew straight towards the edge of the penalty area.

There, a figure wearing a yellow and black jersey with the number 11 had just arrived.

Reus, dragging his injured right leg, gritted his teeth and made no attempt to stop the ball or adjust his stance.

He met the falling ball with a powerful swing of his right foot, which had just been badly injured.

boom!

The instep of my foot struck the ball firmly and accurately.

The ball transformed into a cannonball, skimming the bottom edge of the crossbar and heading straight for the top right corner of the goal.

Neuer's feet were planted firmly on the goal line, and he didn't even have time to make a save, only able to watch the ball smash into the net.

Goal!

Borussia Dortmund came from behind to beat Bayern Munich 4-3 away from home!

Reus did not run towards the corner flag, nor did he seek out Haaland, who had set up the ball for him.

The old captain turned around with a limp, dragging his aching right leg, and ran straight towards the most famous South Stand of the Allianz Arena.

That's where the most die-hard and extreme Bayern Munich fans gather.

Reus ran down to the stands, grabbed the hem of his jersey with both hands, and yanked it off sharply.

He ripped off his number 11 jersey, soaked with grass clippings and sweat, and threw it hard onto the grass.

He roared deafeningly at the south stand, his lean, bruised upper body covered in old wounds.

The Bavarian men, who had just been spewing insults, fell into an eerie silence.

On the high-definition screen above, the replay of Boateng's malicious tackle was still playing repeatedly, followed by slow-motion replay of Reus enduring excruciating pain to shoot into the corner.

An elderly fan wearing a Bayern Munich scarf in the front row of the stands quietly lowered his hand that was raising the middle finger.

He raised his hands and clapped them gently twice.

Then, sporadic applause spread across the stands, eventually coalescing into a chorus of applause.

There was no defection, no betrayal.

This is simply a Bundesliga fan's purest tribute to a veteran whose loyalty and toughness are etched into his bones.

Bibiana walked over to Reus and, in a businesslike manner, pulled a yellow card from her pocket.

Reus smiled nonchalantly, bent down to pick up his jersey, and put it back on.

Terzic, watching from the sidelines, felt his eyes welling up with tears and immediately waved to Sancho, who was on the bench.

He could no longer allow the veteran captain to risk aggravating his injury by staying on the field.

The substitution sign is raised.

As Reus slowly walked off the field, Sun Yang went to greet him.

The old captain took off the captain's armband from his left arm and wrapped it tightly around Sun Yang's arm.

"Well done, Son." Reus was panting heavily. "The rest of the game is yours. Give them a good kick in the ass."

Sun Yang glanced down at the armband on his arm, and when he looked up again, his eyes were burning with fighting spirit.

"Leave it to me. You just sit down and watch how we take the trophy away."

The match restarted, and the clock struck seventy-five.

This is also the point at which both teams' physical strength is on the verge of collapse during high-intensity professional matches.

Bayern's players became noticeably heavier, and their high-pressing formation became like a leaky sieve. After Davies was substituted, their ability to move up and down the flanks was greatly reduced.

But Sun Yang is different.

The Kant perpetual motion machine lungs, a reward from the system, now fully revealed their fangs.

His speed on the field was exactly the same as in the first minute of the game.

Receiving the ball in the center circle, Sun Yang easily bypassed Müller's close marking with a simple change of direction.

Flick was furious on the sidelines.

"Cut off his passing lanes! Don't let him comfortably lob the ball!"

Kimmich and the newly substituted Musiala immediately formed a pincer movement on the left and right flanks, preparing to cut off Sun Yang's long pass connection.

Sun Yang caught a glimpse of Kimmich's movement out of the corner of his eye, raised his right foot, and assumed his signature long pass stance.

Kimmich quickly stepped forward to try to block the passing lane.

Fake news!

Sun Yang sharply flicked his right toe downwards, and the ball obediently passed between Kimmich's legs.

A groin dribble!