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

The ball made a dull thud the moment it left the instep of Sun Yang's left foot.

The ball initially flew straight towards the corner flag area.

The angle at which he kicked was ridiculously off.

Zenit goalkeeper Kerzhakov, standing right in the center of the goal line, suddenly relaxed, and even a sneer appeared on his lips.

The distance was a super long distance of 36 meters, plus the right leg, which was just seriously injured and had difficulty even standing, was used as the supporting leg.

This yellow-skinned kid is forcing a shot with his weaker left foot, which he's not good at. What kind of crap can he possibly produce?

Kerzhakov's feet seemed nailed to the goal line; he didn't even bother with a symbolic save, just tilting his head back and watching the ball rapidly ascend through the air.

More than 12,000 Borussia Dortmund fans in the stands also let out a long sigh of regret as the ball followed this absurd trajectory.

but.

As the ball soared over the wall, spinning wildly into the penalty area, reaching its highest point...

A horrifying scene unfolded.

A ball with strong lateral spin generates a bizarre aerodynamic force that completely defies common sense as it cuts through the air at high speed.

The ball, which was originally flying towards the corner flag, seemed to be slapped hard in mid-air by an invisible giant hand.

The flight path suddenly deflected at a large angle.

A clearly visible "inverted C" curve suddenly formed in the air above Signal Iduna Park, plummeting rapidly with a sharp, tearing sound as it cleaved the sky.

Kerzhakov's sarcastic smile froze.

His eyes contracted violently, and even a cry for help caught in his throat. By the time he instinctively pushed off the ground with his legs, trying to lunge sideways, he didn't even have the chance to inhale the exhaust fumes.

The ball, carrying an unreasonable and brutal momentum, grazed the inside edge of the left post and smashed into the corner of the net.

The immense impact ripped the net outwards into an exaggerated, acute-angled cone shape, seemingly lifting the goal up with it.

Two to zero.

The entire stadium, which can hold tens of thousands of people, fell into a two-second silence.

Immediately afterwards, the DJ at the scene started yelling into the microphone at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking.

"Goooooooooooooal!!!"

"My God, what happened? Roberto Carlos has possessed us! Our Asian captain used his left foot, which he's not good at, to unleash a powerful shot from 36 meters away that would have turned Newton's coffin upside down."

The more than 12,000 fans who were allowed into the stadium went completely wild. Their eyes were glowing red as they waved their beer mugs, wildly spraying white beer foam into the air.

The violent tremors caused by the stands made the entire stadium feel as if a mini-earthquake had occurred.

In front of the coach's bench.

Head coach Terčić, who had been standing on the sideline with his chin in his hand, suddenly took off from the spot. His face turned bright red, and he pounded his chest three times with his fists before turning and roaring at the substitutes' bench.

"See that? That's my fucking captain. Even with a broken leg, he can still smash the Russian goal to smithereens with his other foot."

Inside the stadium.

After scoring, Sun Yang did not celebrate by sliding on his knees or running as usual.

He stood upright with his back straight, his index fingers pointing to the sky.

Sweat streamed down his stern face, landing on the grass. His pure black eyes held a suppressed, extreme arrogance.

Haaland sprinted from the penalty area and grabbed Sun Yang by the neck with his thick arm.

"What the hell, bro? Did you stuff C4 in your left foot? I was aiming for the second impact point, ready to fire a follow-up shot, and you fucking blew it right in there!"

"Give me a break, big guy, my right leg is cramping." Sun Yang chuckled as he patted Harland's broad back.

Sancho, Brandt, and others surged forward like a tide, completely surrounding Sun Yang and frantically ruffling his hair.

After everyone had vented their emotions, Sun Yang pushed his teammates aside, dragged his injured right foot, and slowly walked towards the center circle.

As Sun Yang passed by the perpetrator, Barrios, he didn't even glance at him out of the corner of his eye, as if the person standing next to him was just a wisp of air.

This blatant disregard was more humiliating to the proud Russian than being spat on directly. Barrios's face turned ashen, and his teeth clenched so tightly they pounded.

Referee Clattenburg watched the twenty-year-old Asian man brush past him, a deep admiration flashing in his eyes. This kid was definitely a tough nut to crack.

The game restarted, and just a few minutes later, Clattenburg decisively blew the whistle to end the first half.

With a 2-0 lead, Borussia Dortmund strode confidently into the players' tunnel.

The atmosphere in the home team's locker room was as lively as boiling water.

As soon as Sun Yang sat down on the bench, team doctor Schmidt rushed over carrying a heavy medical kit. Without saying a word, he picked up a pair of scissors and, with a "snip," cut open Sun Yang's right sock, which was covered in mud and grass.

On his shinbone, a horrifying bruise, purplish-black in color and swollen to the size of half a tennis ball, was exposed to the air without reservation.

The teammates who had just been laughing and joking around suddenly gasped. The locker room fell eerily quiet.

"Fuck. Barrios, that son of a bitch butcher. He wasn't playing football, he was clearly aiming to break his leg." Haaland slammed his fist into the metal cabinet door in a fit of rage, making a loud thud.

Schmidt frowned, deftly cleaning the edges of the wound with an alcohol swab, then picked up a cooling spray and sprayed it vigorously onto the swollen area. The white, cold air hissed and quickly condensed into a thin layer of frost.

"Severe soft tissue contusion. Initial assessment indicates no bone fracture, but this injury absolutely prevents him from playing again. Son, you need to go to the hospital immediately for X-rays to rule out the risk of a fracture." Schmidt, while applying pressure with an elastic bandage, turned to the head coach and issued the "medical death sentence."

Terzic stepped forward, his brow furrowed.

"Listen, Son. Take off your shoes and go take a hot shower. I'll have Witsel replace you in the second half."

"There's no need to change coaches." Sun Yang suddenly raised his head, his eyes calm but brooking no argument.

"Stop talking nonsense, kid. This concerns your entire career. If you develop a chronic condition and ruin this leg, how am I supposed to explain it to management?" Terzic grabbed a handful of hair in frustration, his voice so loud it almost made dust fall from the ceiling.

Sun Yang did not argue. He stood up, leaning on the cabinet door, and then, in front of everyone, stomped his right foot, which was wrapped in thick white gauze, on the floor.

Pain, excruciating pain.

But inside the unseen body, the recovery mechanism inherent in the [Iron Leg Talent] was already at full power. Warm currents were continuously enveloping the wound, repairing the damaged capillaries and muscle fibers at an inhuman speed.

He could clearly feel that as long as he didn't suffer a second serious injury that broke his bones, the foundation of his leg was definitely strong enough to withstand high-intensity competition.

"I'll say it again, I can still play, coach. The Russians think that by taking me down, they can take over the midfield."

Sun Yang looked around, his voice ringing out in the quiet locker room: "If I back down now, they'll just think Dortmund's captain is a coward who cries at the slightest challenge. As long as I have a breath left, I have to play the full ninety minutes."

Haaland grinned widely, his eyes gleaming with fervor, and strode over to put his arm around Sun Yang's shoulder.

"Coach, let him stay on the field. We brothers will fight tooth and nail up front and nail the Russians' meat grinder to scrap metal."

Terzic stood with his hands on his hips, staring at Sun Yang for a full ten seconds.

In the end, he gave in and rubbed his face hard.

"Damn it. I must be crazy to let you be so stubborn. Listen to Sun, if I see your steps start to falter in the second half, I'm taking you off immediately, no questions asked."