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

The fifteen-minute break passed in the blink of an eye. Under the Roman night sky, the battle at the Olympic Stadium reignited.

Due to health and safety regulations, only about 10,000 fans were allowed in the stands today. However, the roar of the Lazio die-hards in the North Stand was comparable to a full house of 100,000. Pale blue smoke drifted down the steps, enveloping the home team's defensive half in a pungent, acrid smell.

The giant Lazio flag waved wildly to the deafening battle anthem, with dazzling fireworks exploding at its highest point, making the entire stadium look like an active volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

Before the second half even kicked off, Lazio coach Sarri stood on the edge of the control area with a grim face and made a series of substitutions with a wave of his hand.

Number 14, Holt, replaced striker Correa, while number 92, Akpa, replaced the exhausted winger Marusic.

"Sarri, that old smoker, has compressed the formation, pulled the forwards back and brought in the midfield meat grinder. He's trying to fight us hand-to-hand in the mud," Reus whispered to Sun Yang, covering his mouth with his hand.

Sun Yang looked up and glanced at Lazio's half of the field. Milinkovic was staring at him, his deep-set eyes revealing a murderous ferocity.

During halftime, Sarri drew a large X on the tactics board in the locker room and then slammed it onto the magnetic pin representing Sun Yang's number 2 jersey. He gave Milinkovic a firm order: as a top-class box-to-box midfielder in Serie A, he had to completely dismantle Dortmund's brains in the second half, even if it meant risking getting cards.

Referee Tilpan blew the whistle to start the second half.

As soon as the ball was kicked off, the Lazio players, like a pack of hungry wolves smelling blood, relentlessly scrambled for it across the field, their physical tackles becoming outrageously aggressive.

In the 51st minute, Dortmund intercepted the ball in their own half. Bellingham, under pressure from two defenders, got there first and passed the ball diagonally to Sun Yang.

The ball, carrying moisture from the grass, rolled rapidly along the ground.

Just as Sun Yang was about to receive the ball, Milinkovic charged in brutally from the side and behind. The 1.92-meter-tall Serbian giant didn't even look at the ball's trajectory, directly falling to the ground to reveal a row of gleaming steel studs, and viciously tackled Sun Yang's right ankle, where he was supporting his weight!

The Lazio fans in the stands erupted in a morbidly excited roar. In Serie A, they loved watching this kind of violent aesthetic of crippling technical geniuses on the spot.

"Sun! Behind you!" Bellingham roared, his eyes wide with terror.

Sun Yang had already sensed it. Makelele's almost supernatural, abnormal sense of position gave him a beast-like intuition for danger in blind spots.

In a typical technical midfielder's case, they would almost certainly jump to avoid the ball and save their life, but that would also mean giving up possession and being caught off guard by a deadly counter-attack.

Sun Yang didn't move an inch.

The "iron leg" talent hidden in his body was fully activated. Instead of dodging, the muscles in his right leg suddenly expanded and straightened, like a solid steel pillar driven into the ground, directly colliding with the row of deadly spikes!

Two powerful bodies collided violently on the grass.

There was none of the scene that everyone had expected: the Asian kid breaking his leg and screaming in agony.

A loud, explosive crash was clearly heard through the microphones on the sidelines, echoing throughout the stadium.

The 1.92-meter-tall Milinkovic let out a piercing howl. His massive body, propelled by the terrifying recoil of the collision, tumbled 180 degrees in mid-air before crashing heavily back onto the grass. The Serbian tough guy curled up in agony, clutching his calves, his face contorted in pain.

In contrast, Sun Yang was only pulled back half a step by inertia. He brushed the grass clippings off his socks, his expression calm as if nothing had happened, and steadily placed the ball under his feet.

Referee Tilpan's urgent whistle pierced the night sky. He sprinted over from ten meters away, his finger pointing directly at Sun Yang.

Foul! Dortmund free kick in the attacking third?

No, Tilpan's gesture pointed to Dortmund's half. He actually ruled that Sun Yang's tackle was too aggressive and malicious, awarding Lazio a direct free kick from 30 meters out!

This absurd ruling completely ignited the fury of the entire Dortmund team.

"Are your eyes in the back of your head?! He was the one who used his cleats to tackle him!" Haaland shoved Reva aside, stormed up to Tilpan, and roared angrily, "That coward kicked the steel plate himself, and you actually called a foul on us?!"

Captain Reus quickly rushed over to put pressure on them: "Sir, look at the replay on the big screen! This is a blatant misjudgment; your biased refereeing is ruining a Champions League match!"

Dortmund coach Terzić on the sidelines went berserk, rushing to the fourth official and spitting at him. He even received a yellow card for swearing in German.

Tilpan, with a stern face, completely ignored the Dortmund players' attempts to block him, stubbornly pointing to the location of the foul and signaling for Lazio's team doctor to come onto the field immediately.

Sun Yang walked forward with a sullen face, grabbed Haaland who was about to confront the referee, and pulled him back sharply.

"Shut up, Erling. There's no point in wasting time talking to a blind man." Sun Yang coldly instructed his teammates, "Get the wall in place. We'll see how I shove the ball into that damn net later."

After the team doctor spent half a day giving him emergency treatment, Milinkovic finally limped to his feet. When he looked at Sun Yang again, his gaze had lost its ferocity and gained an indelible layer of apprehension. He simply couldn't understand it; for a fleeting moment when their feet clashed, he truly felt as if he had kicked a piece of cast iron covered in human skin.

Lazio's star striker Ciro Immobile, holding the ball, slowly walked to the penalty spot.

Thirty meters from the goal, slightly to the left, this is precisely the sweet spot where he has the highest goal-scoring rate in his career. As the Serie A Golden Boot winner in recent seasons, his goal-scoring instinct and technique are no joke.

The referee blew his whistle. Immobile took a deep breath, took a quick run-up, and slammed his right instep into the lower middle part of the ball.

This shot was devoid of any fancy moves; it was purely a violent combination of ultimate core strength and perfect point of contact with the ball.

The ball streaked across the sky, barely clearing the towering wall of players before plummeting through the air with an incredibly tricky inward spin, heading straight for the absolute top right corner of the Dortmund goal!

Dortmund goalkeeper Hitz didn't even have time to complete his diving save; the distance was too close, and the ball was too fast. He could only turn his head in despair, listening to the sound of the ball hitting the net.

Two to three.

Lazio pulled one back, now trailing by only one goal.

A deafening tsunami erupted throughout the Olympic Stadium. Lazio fans threw beer into the air and screamed as they gave the middle finger to Dortmund's half.

Immobile sprinted towards the corner flag, executing his signature sliding knee celebration. As he ran back to the halfway line, he deliberately slowed down and circled around to Sun Yang and Haaland, arrogantly raising his chin: "See that, kid? In Rome, only our Lazio can fly in the sky!"