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

Sun Yang pulled up his jersey to wipe the sweat and mud off his face, and strode towards the away team's tunnel with somewhat heavy steps.

On the high stands on both sides, the Lazio fans' curses rose in waves, and lighters and coins were even thrown at the barriers at the top of the tunnel.

In the mixed zone where players inevitably leave the field, several Italian local reporters who had been lying in wait for a long time immediately swarmed around like sharks smelling blood.

As soon as Sun Yang entered the mixed zone, a blonde female reporter shoved a microphone bearing the logo of "La Gazzetta dello Sport" directly at his chin.

"Sun, in the second half, your tackle on Milinkovic caused him to fall and get injured. Was this a deliberate act of retaliation after you were provoked? You showed no intention of pulling back your foot. Wasn't that a malicious act that warranted a red card?"

The female reporter bombarded him with questions in heavily accented English, each one a bombshell, eager to smear this Asian kid from the Bundesliga.

Several Lazio staff members around him crossed their arms, sneering, waiting to see how he would fall into a news trap.

Sun Yang stopped and took the towel from the staff member, draping it around his neck. Without even lifting his eyelids, he glanced coldly at the aggressive female reporter, about to speak.

Suddenly, a thick arm covered in mud and grass clippings cut in from the side and slapped the microphone that was almost pressed against Sun Yang's nose away without any politeness.

Dortmund captain Marco Reus stood in front of Sun Yang. The usually debonair German heartthrob was now filled with hostility, staring down at the female reporter with a cold, piercing tone.

"If you don't understand what constitutes a reasonable head-on confrontation, I suggest you quit your job tomorrow and go report on synchronized swimming. Don't insult football here with your ridiculous victim mentality."

The tension in the mixed mining area flared instantly. Just as several Italian journalists were preparing to continue their attack, heavy footsteps echoed from deep within the tunnel.

Lazio coach Sarri, with his signature unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, strode over, his face dark, flanked by two assistant coaches. The old man's bloodshot eyes locked onto Sun Yang, and as they passed each other, he spoke in a low, hoarse Italian-accented English.

"Enjoy your damn victory, kid. The next round will last another ninety minutes, and we'll get our revenge today, with interest."

Hearing this harsh remark, reminiscent of a mafia boss, Sun Yang remained unmoved. He casually tossed the towel draped around his neck onto his shoulder, a mocking smile playing on his lips, and walked straight back to the locker room.

……

A chartered plane from Dortmund took off into the Rome night.

The only sounds in the cabin were the roar of the engines and the players' tired breathing.

The Champions League away game against Lazio completely drained the young players' energy. Several key players didn't even have the energy to joke with each other, and after changing into clean sportswear, they collapsed in their seats.

Haaland leaned against the porthole, snoring loudly. His right leg was wrapped in a thick ice pack, and the bruises seeping from the edges of the protective gear were a shocking sight.

Sun Yang sat in an aisle seat, his face illuminated by the screen's glow. The tablet was playing a loop of Schalke 04's first four matches.

Terzic walked over with his tactical board and sat down in the empty seat next to Sun Yang.

"Can your ankle hold up?" Terzic asked in a low voice.

"It's just a minor injury. The team doctor has sprayed some cooling agent on it, and the swelling should go down within two days." Sun Yang didn't even lift his eyelids, his gaze still fixed on the defensive positioning on the screen.

"You can't rest on Saturday's league match." Terzić tapped the tablet screen. "Schalke are currently on a four-game losing streak and at the bottom of the table. Their coach, Kramer, is going crazy. The Ruhr derby never needs any motivation; they will definitely use a logging tactic against you and Erling."

"I know what I'm doing. They think they can use our home turf to score points and save their lives? They're not qualified." Sun Yang turned off the tablet.

"Take care of yourself. We have a Champions League match against Zenit next Wednesday. This damn double-header in one week is going to kill you." Terčić patted Sun Yang on the shoulder and got up to return to the front row.

Sun Yang leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and quietly activated the passive function of accelerating the recovery of his body's muscles.

A slightly warm, tingling sensation spread from deep within the calf muscles, quickly repairing the damaged capillaries.

Four days later, Saturday afternoon. Dortmund training ground.

The team finished their final round of tactical drills, and the yellow and black team bus slowly drove out of the base, heading straight for Signal Iduna Park.

Due to public health regulations, the Devil's Stadium, which can hold 80,000 people, only allowed 15,000 fans in today.

But this did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of the die-hard fans in the south stand; their yellow and black cheers almost lifted the stadium roof off.

Inside the players' tunnel, the starting lineups of both teams lined up on either side, waiting to enter the field.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of gunpowder, as if it were about to spark.

In the first round of the Bundesliga restart last season, Dortmund thrashed Schalke 04 6-0 at home, a humiliation orchestrated by Sun Yang.

Schalke captain Mascarell glared fiercely at Sun Yang from across the line, his bloodshot eyes filled with malice.

"Hey, Asian lads, don't think you can just stand there and take three points today." Mascarell stepped out of the line and closed in two paces. "We're going to turn this grass into your crematorium."

Today, Reus was rested and on the bench, and Sun Yang still had that heavy captain's armband wrapped around his arm. He casually adjusted the Velcro strap.

"Want to bite someone? Go check the leaderboard first and figure out how to climb out of the relegation zone." Sun Yang's tone was completely indifferent, showing no interest whatsoever in even glancing at the other person.

"Fuck! You'll pay for that mouth of yours!" Schalke striker Paciencia immediately chimed in.

Before he could finish speaking, a thick arm shoved directly into Paciencia's chest.

The 1.95-meter-tall Haaland, like an enraged Nordic bear, stood in front of Sun Yang like a wall of flesh.

"Go back to your relegation zone, you softies! I'm going to put the ball in your net three times today. No, at least five times!" Haaland roared from his high position.

Seeing that something was wrong, the fourth official and the referee team quickly blew their whistles and rushed in to separate the two sides.

Beep—!

The referee blew the opening whistle.

The Ruhr derby has officially begun.

Schalke 04 kicked off first, with Madondo passing the ball back to midfield. Bentaleb received the ball and, without stopping, unleashed a long pass, heading straight for Paciencia on the left flank.

Akanji positioned himself in advance, leaped high to meet the ball's trajectory, and headed it out of bounds.

Schalke throws the ball out of bounds, and the game instantly turns into a meat grinder.

People were thrown about near the center circle, the ball clashing and jostling between countless strong legs.

In the sixth minute, Sun Yang dropped back to receive the pass, and Dahud delivered a cross.

Just as Sun Yang's right foot touched the ball, a blue figure slid along the ground from his side and behind.

Mascarelle brandished his gleaming studs, aiming directly at Sun Yang's ankle!

In his mind, Makelele's spatial awareness mechanism was sounding an alarm.

Sun Yang sensed the danger coming from the defensive blind spot. Using his left foot as a pivot, he lightly pulled the ball up with the sole of his right foot.

Mascarell's cleats barely grazed Sun Yang's socks as he sped past, carving a deep trench more than a meter long into the grass.

Sun Yang used the momentum of the ball pull to complete a half-turn, and casually flicked the ball with the outside of his left foot.

The ball crossed the defense and was precisely lobbed to Sancho, who was making a high-speed run down the right flank.

Sancho received the ball and made a strong run down the wing before crossing, but Haaland, who was making a run into the middle, headed the ball wide under Nastasic's subtle pull.

"That was a really beautiful pass, Son! Feed me more balls, I'm going to blast their left flank today!" Sancho shouted excitedly as he retreated to defend.