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

Four days later.

Signal Iduna Park Stadium.

In a crucial Champions League group stage match, Borussia Dortmund will host Zenit Saint Petersburg at home.

England's renowned referee Mark Clattenburg glanced down at his watch, then blew the whistle to signal the start of the match.

Less than three minutes into the game, Zenit gave the home team Hornets a brutal lesson in physical combat.

Dortmund's defensive midfielder Dahoud had just controlled the ball in the center circle when Zenit's defensive midfielder Barrios, like a runaway truck, rammed into him from the side and behind. He showed no intention of slowing down or pulling back, using the momentum of his forward run to bring down both player and ball.

This is exactly the kind of brutal collision you see on an American football field.

With a muffled thud, Dahud let out a scream and rolled several meters across the grass in agony, clutching his groin and unable to get up.

Clattenburg was standing less than five meters away. Faced with such a brutal collision, he simply raised his hands forward, signaling for the game to continue.

No fouls were called.

Zenit launched a quick counter-attack amid the chaos, rapidly transferring the ball to the wing for a cross. Fortunately, veteran center-back Hummels, with his experience, preemptively headed the ball away, narrowly averting the crisis in front of the goal.

"Get up, kid! This is a man's battlefield, don't lie there like a coward." Clattenburg ran past Dahud, casting a cold, sarcastic remark in his eyes.

Sun Yang, standing not far away, narrowed his eyes slightly. He had completely figured out the bottom line of this famous Premier League referee's decisions.

Encouraging physical contact and increasing the intensity of the game is crucial. Unless there are blatant acts of malicious intent to injure, these hand-to-hand combat-style physical clashes will not garner any sympathy from the referees.

The Zenit team had clearly done their homework before the match, thoroughly studying the referee's standards. They were determined to unleash the full potential of their savage physique, honed in the Siberian wilderness.

The game has progressed to the twelfth minute.

Sancho made a forceful change of direction and accelerated down the right flank, but Zenit's left-back Santos reached out aggressively and grabbed Sancho's shirt collar, pulling it back. Sancho had just picked up speed when he was pulled and stumbled. Before he could readjust his pace, Kuziayev, who had rushed to cover, launched a vicious sliding tackle like a flying knife, sending Sancho and the ball flying out of bounds.

The whistle still didn't sound.

Within the first 15 minutes, Zenit forcibly dragged the game into a brutal wrestling match. Dortmund's reliable ground passing and penetration were completely dismantled, and their attacking players were utterly silenced.

The most frustrated player on the field was none other than Haaland, the Nordic giant who was at the very front.

In the 18th minute, Sun Yang, despite Barrios's forceful pulling and dragging in midfield, managed to deliver a highly penetrating low through ball, attempting to connect with the forwards.

Haaland positioned himself with his back to goal, preparing to stop the ball with his right foot and turn.

This was an extremely slippery and underhanded combo that perfectly avoided the referee's attention.

Haaland was on the verge of using his back to goal when this header and block caused his massive frame to buckle and he fell to one knee, like a wild bull whose tendons had been pulled out. Lovren easily intercepted the ball.

The whistle still didn't sound.

After intercepting the ball, Lovren didn't leave; instead, he deliberately stepped over Haaland, spewing out a string of vulgar Russian swear words.

"Softie! Have they been sheltered in the Bundesliga for too long? Have they even forgotten how to play football?"

Haaland was completely enraged.

The Norwegian beast sprang up from the grass, his eyes bloodshot, clenching his fists, which were bigger than casserole dishes, ready to fight Lovren. Lovren, also a seasoned footballer, showed no weakness and stubbornly pushed forward, while another center-back, Rakitic, also aggressively surrounded him, attempting to outnumber him.

A brutal fight was about to break out.

boom.

A figure rushed in, like an insurmountable wall, crashing directly into the heart of the conflict.

It was Sun Yang wearing the captain's armband.

He shoved Lovren's shoulder as he leaned forward, his deep black eyes gleaming with a chilling ferocity: "Put away your filthy hands and rotten mouth, you old soldier. If you want to fight, I'll be the first to cripple you!"

Lovren was forced to take a half step back by this intimidating aura.

Before the Zenit players could retort, Sun Yang turned to Clattenburg, who was sprinting towards him, and said in a cold and menacing tone, "Sir, is this a Champions League match or a fighting octagon? If you can't see that mastermind behind the scenes, I suggest you take off your whistle and go see an ophthalmologist!"

"Watch your words, Dortmund captain, I am the judge on the pitch!" Clattenburg warned with a dark face after being confronted directly.

Sun Yang let out a cold laugh and withdrew his pressuring gaze. As the leader on the field, he had done his part in protecting his own, and the referee's judgment had been tested.

He turned around and grabbed Harland, who was still on the verge of going berserk. His hand unleashed an extremely strong core force, forcing the Norse behemoth back two steps.

"Shut up! Save your energy for playing football, you idiot! Want to get a red card and open champagne for the Russians?" Sun Yang stared at Haaland's purple face, like a majestic Eastern lion. "Take control of your shitty temper, and don't fall for someone's provocation like a brainless rookie!"

"Those bastards used dirty tricks! That old dog just elbowed me in the back of the neck!" Harland pointed in Lovren's direction, angrily waving his long arm, spitting everywhere.

"This is the Champions League, nobody's giving you sympathy here!" Sun Yang grabbed Haaland by the collar of his jersey, forcibly pulled his gaze down, and quickly gave him tactical instructions by bringing his lips close to his ear.

"They want to drag you into a mud-soaked brawl, but you'll deliberately deny them any physical contact. Lovren's turning is as slow as a clumsy Siberian bear. For the next ten minutes, don't stand in the middle like a sitting duck. Instead, cut diagonally into the space between Rakitsky and Lovren!"

Haaland was panting heavily, his chest heaving like a bellows.

"Can you do it? Are you aiming to score, or do you want to fight and go back to the locker room for a cold shower!" Sun Yang suddenly increased the force under his hand, his eyes sharp as knives.

Locked in by those dark, cold black eyes, Harland's frenzied nerves miraculously cooled down.

"Leave it to me. Put the ball in the gap, and I guarantee I'll tear those Russians' goal apart." Haaland gritted his teeth and nodded heavily.

"Step back. Get ready to celebrate the goal." Sun Yang released his grip, smoothing out the wrinkles in the Devil's collar, and calmly ran towards the midfield.

The competition has resumed.

Dortmund threw the ball out of bounds from their own half, and after two simple passes, the ball returned to Sun Yang's feet.

The time displayed on the big screen was twenty-four minutes.

Zenit manager Semarak was gesticulating wildly and roaring on the sidelines, directing his midfielders to press relentlessly.

Kuzyaev and Wendell, like two wolves smelling blood, formed a tight encirclement from the left and right. They attempted to replicate the brute force they used to take down Dahud at the start of the game, using their sheer weight and power to crush Sun Yang onto the grass.

Seeing the two burly men charging towards him menacingly, Sun Yang's eyes remained unmoved, and he suddenly lowered his center of gravity.

Kante's perpetual motion machine-like lungs operate at breakneck speed. They not only provide him with an insanely powerful heart and lungs, but also grant Sun Yang unparalleled chassis stability in European football.

Just a fraction of a second before the door slammed shut and collided with the two people.

Sun Yang's right foot made a freehand half-circle above the ball.

Start with the Great Pendulum Dribble!

He deceptively slumped his upper body to the left, his shoulders dropping dramatically, the tilt of his center of gravity so exaggerated that he almost flew close to the ground.

Kuzyaev's defensive nerves were already stretched to the limit. He subconsciously assumed that Sun Yang was going to make a strong breakthrough from the left, so he hurriedly stretched out his long leg to try to block the path in advance, leaving his chassis wide open.

The next second, Sun Yang's right outside foot, like a sharp blade plucking a string, defied the grain and gently plucked to the right.

The ball, like a nimble sprite, skimmed along the grass and passed straight between Kuzyaev's legs, which were spread wide apart!

Caniggia, the Wind Child, unleashed his god-like talent in an instant!

The explosive power of the 100-meter dash at 10.07 seconds level is fully activated.

Sun Yang was like a heavy supercar with the accelerator floored, leaving a blurry afterimage as he burst out from between the two men, leaving the two stunned Zenit midfielders completely behind.