So what if I'm just strolling around the field? My shots are guaranteed to go in.

Calderon exploded at that instant.

The shouts of 54,000 people rose into the sky like a volcanic eruption, shaking every corner of the stadium.

Savage sprinted toward the corner flag, where his teammates swarmed him and pinned him down.

Godin crawled out of the crowd and waved his fists at the south stand, letting out a roar with each punch.

The die-hard Atletico Madrid fans in the south stand responded to him wildly, with thunderous drumming and red and white flags surging in the stands, creating a sea of ​​blood.

The scoreboard reads: Atletico Madrid 1-1 Real Madrid. Goal scorer: Savic. Time: 25th minute.

"Atletico Madrid have equalized!"

The voice of CCTV sports commentator He Wei came through the microphone, his throat already a little hoarse after the intense commentary of the first twenty-five minutes: "Savić heads in from a corner! Calderón erupts! Simeone's team equalizes in their best way—from a set piece! This is Atlético Madrid, this is Simeone's Atlético Madrid! You can dominate them, you can take the lead, but they will never fall!"

His partner, Xu Yang, added: "Real Madrid's defense clearly missed their mark on that goal. Savic was completely unmarked when he jumped – Ramos was entangled with Godin, Varane was taken away by Torres, and Casemiro failed to cover in time. Ancelotti was very unhappy on the sidelines; he was gesturing to the defense."

The camera cuts to Ancelotti. The Italian stands in the away team's coaching area, hands in his pockets, chin slightly raised.

He didn't yell like Simone, but his eyebrows were raised high—his signature expression when he was nervous.

He turned around and said a few words to Zidane.

Zidane nodded, walked to the sidelines, and gestured to Casemiro to "drop back deeper".

But Ancelotti didn't make any tactical adjustments. Because he knew the problem wasn't tactics, but focus.

At the Calderón, amidst the immense noise generated by the Atlético Madrid fans, any moment of distraction could result in a goal conceded.

Just now, Real Madrid's defense lost focus for a fraction of a second during a corner kick defense.

That's Atletico Madrid for you. They don't need possession, shots, or dominance on the pitch.

All they needed was a corner kick, a header, or a momentary difference in focus to equalize the score.

After the match restarted, Atletico Madrid's momentum clearly picked up.

Their pressing became more aggressive, their running more proactive, and every 50/50 ball situation felt like a fight for the last bowl of rice.

In the 27th minute, Koke fouled Kroos in midfield and received the first yellow card of the match.

In the 29th minute, Filipe tackled Carvajal near the sideline, and the referee showed him another yellow card.

Within two minutes, two Atletico Madrid players received yellow cards, but they showed no signs of backing down.

Simeone clapped repeatedly on the sidelines, signaling to the team to maintain their high intensity.

In the 31st minute, Real Madrid won a free kick in a good position.

Kroos was pushed down by Gabi in the middle, and the referee called a foul.

The free kick location is directly in front of the goal, approximately 28 meters away. This is a very suitable position for Lin Fan.

Cristiano Ronaldo and Lin Fan stood at the penalty spot at the same time. Calderon's boos instantly rose, and someone in the south stand shouted something in Spanish, the sound as sharp as fingernails scratching a blackboard.

Cristiano Ronaldo glanced at Lin Fan and asked a question with his eyes.

Lin Fan shook his head slightly—it wasn't that he didn't want to punish him, but that this position was more suitable for Ronaldo.

Twenty-eight meters directly in front of the goal is the optimal distance for Ronaldo's "tomahawk" free kick.

Cristiano Ronaldo nodded. He took a few steps back, took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked.

His right foot struck the ball hard with the instep, sending it flying towards the goal like a cannonball with almost no spin.

The wall of players jumped up, the ball grazed Godin's scalp—and then plummeted downwards.

Oblak made a diving save, his fingertips touching the ball, but the ball was too powerful and continued its flight towards the goal. The ball bounced off the underside of the crossbar!

Benzema was the first to rush forward for a follow-up shot, but Savic was faster – the Atletico Madrid center-back kicked the ball out of bounds.

Calderon let out a sigh of relief.

Cristiano Ronaldo held his head in his hands, squatted on the ground, and couldn't believe the ball hadn't gone in.

Slow-motion replay showed that the ball hit the underside of the crossbar, then bounced off the goal line before being cleared by Savic.

In slow motion, the ball may have already crossed the goal line the moment it hit the ground.

But the referee did not receive a vibration alert from the goal-line technology—the ball was a few millimeters off target.

"My God! It was just millimeters off!" He Wei's voice was filled with regret. "Ronaldo's free kick hit the underside of the crossbar and bounced off the goal line. Goal-line technology showed the ball was less than a centimeter off! Real Madrid almost regained the lead!"

In the 34th minute, the goal that was just a centimeter off finally came in a more beautiful way.

Atletico Madrid won a free kick just outside Real Madrid's penalty area. Koke's free kick was blocked by the wall, and the ball bounced outside the penalty area. Modric was the first to react - he turned and poked the ball to Carvajal on the right wing.

Carvajal looked up and saw Lin Fan starting his run on the right side of the center line. Behind him, Gabi was desperately trying to catch up, but Lin Fan had already gained full speed.

Carvajal delivered a long pass. The ball traveled over forty meters in the air before starting to dip near the right touchline.

Lin Fan controlled the ball with his chest while running at high speed—the stop was almost perfect, the ball seemed to be glued to his chest, rolling down his body to his feet.

Gabi had caught up to within a meter of Lin Fan, and Saul cut in from the middle, trying to force Lin Fan to the sideline before he entered the penalty area.

But Lin Fan didn't give them that chance.

As he controlled the ball, he had already observed the situation in the penalty area—Cristiano Ronaldo was making a diagonal run into the penalty area from the left, and his movement drew Godin's attention.

Benzema drew Savic's attention in the middle.

A gap of less than two meters appeared between Godin and Savage.

And Ronaldo's running direction was exactly in the direction of that gap.

Lin Fan delivered a cross with the outside of his right foot.

This wasn't a typical high-arcing cross—the ball flew almost flat on the ground, with a strong external spin, bypassing Godin's outstretched left foot and slipping through the gap between Godin and Savic.

The ball was so fast that Oblak dared not come out – he couldn't judge where the cross would land.

Cristiano Ronaldo won the ball at the edge of the six-yard box.

He didn't need to adjust because the power, angle, and spin of that cross perfectly matched his running rhythm.

With just a gentle push from his left foot, the ball nestled into the net from near the corner of Oblak's goal.

1-2. Real Madrid are in the lead again.

Goal scorer: Cristiano Ronaldo. Assist: Lin Fan. Time: 34th minute.

Cristiano Ronaldo did not celebrate immediately after scoring.

He turned and ran towards Lin Fan, pointing at Lin Fan with his finger as he ran, his mouth wide open as if he were shouting something.

He rushed to Lin Fan, grabbed Lin Fan's head, and kissed Lin Fan's forehead hard.

Then he turned to the south stand of Calderon and made his signature celebration move—jumping up, spinning in the air, and swinging his arms back sharply upon landing.

"Siuuuu—!"

The shouts of four thousand Real Madrid fans from a corner of the stadium pierced the silence of fifty-four thousand people.

After celebrating, Ronaldo turned around again, put his arm around Lin Fan's shoulder, pointed at Lin Fan, and shouted into the camera lens.

Lip-reading experts later deciphered his words as: "It's him! This ball is his! It's all his!"

The slow-motion replay showed Lin Fan's assist. From controlling the ball to observing and then crossing, the entire process took less than three seconds.

The arc of that cross, delivered with the outside of the foot, was slowed down infinitely in slow motion, making the ball's spin trajectory clearly visible—

It flew out from the outside of Lin Fan's right foot, with a strong external spin, first gliding past Felipe's toes, then around Godin's outstretched left foot, and finally squeezing into the gap of less than two meters between Godin and Savage.

Ball speed, angle, spin—everything is precise down to the millimeter level.

"What kind of pass was that?!" He Wei's voice was completely out of control. "An outside-of-the-foot curling shot! A 40-meter long pass, controlled and then crossed without stopping! This pass slipped through three Atletico Madrid defenders! Each of their toes was just centimeters away from the ball! This isn't a pass, it's a scalpel! It's laser-guided!"

ESPN's English commentators were equally frenzied: "Look at that pass! Look at that curve! Lin Fan just delivered a pass that defies geometry! The ball flew around Godin's outstretched leg like it was on remote control! This isn't football, it's witchcraft!"

On the sidelines, Ancelotti did not throw a punch this time.

He simply stood there, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The Italians were used to it. Zidane stood behind him, mouth agape, slowly shaking his head.

The Frenchmen's expressions weren't excitement, but rather a deep, almost unbelievable shock.

He played professional football for twenty years and coached in the top league for three years, but he had never seen a player pass the ball like that with the outside of his non-dominant foot while running at high speed.

On the other side, Simone had stopped roaring.

He stood in the coaching area, his hands hanging at his sides, his face displaying a complex expression—not anger, not frustration, but a resigned bewilderment.

He made every possible preparation before the game. He studied every video of Lin Fan's games, devised targeted defensive tactics, and used two players to mark Lin Fan.

Then Lin Fan used a 32-meter world-class shot and a curved shot with the outside of his foot to turn all of that into waste paper.

The assistant coach walked over to Simeone and whispered a few words to him.

Simone took a deep breath, slapped his cheeks hard, and straightened up again.

The match isn't over yet. There's still time. Calderon is still playing.

He walked to the sidelines and shouted at the players on the field, "Keep it on! Keep the pressure on! Don't let them pass the ball comfortably! Kirk! Gabby! Push the midfield line forward another five meters!"

After the match restarted, Atletico Madrid raised their pressing intensity to another level.

In the 37th minute, Gabi fouled Modric in midfield and received a yellow card – Atletico Madrid's third yellow card of the match.

In the 39th minute, Carrasco broke through Carvajal's defense on the left wing and delivered a cross near the byline.

Torres won the header at the near post in the penalty area, but his attempt was brilliantly saved by Navas. Corner kick.

In the 41st minute, Koke took a corner kick, and Godin once again won the first ball – his header hit the crossbar and bounced back, Griezmann followed up with a shot, but Ramos blocked the ball off the goal line with his foot.

Calderon let out a huge sigh, followed by even louder applause.

Real Madrid escaped a close call, but Atletico Madrid's offensive is coming in waves.

In the 43rd minute, Saul attempted a long-range shot from outside the penalty area, but the ball deflected off Casemiro and went out of play. Another corner kick.

Koke walked towards the corner flag again. The noise at Calderón had reached an almost insane level—the shouts of 54,000 people vibrated the grass, the goal, and the eardrums of every single person. Koke took a deep breath, ran up, and shot.

The ball flew towards the penalty area. This time, Koke chose a near post.

Torres burst out from near the near post and flicked the ball with his heel—changing its direction and sending it flying towards the near post. Navas reacted quickly and blocked the ball with his foot.

But the ball didn't fly far—it landed in the six-yard box, where Casemiro and Griezmann both scrambled for it. Their feet collided, and the ball bounced up.

Amid the chaos, Gabi burst in from outside the penalty area.

He controlled the ball with his chest, and before it hit the ground, he fired a shot—the ball flew through the crowd and slipped into the net through the gap between Navas's fingertips and the near post.

2-2.

Calderon went mad in that instant.

Gabi sprinted towards the corner flag, the Atlético Madrid captain tearing at his team badge and letting out a hoarse roar towards the south stand. His teammates swarmed him, pinning him to the ground.

Simeone sprinted along the sidelines, jumped up and punched the air, then turned around and pounded his chest against the fans in the stands, letting out a roar with each punch.

"Atletico Madrid equalizes again! Gabi!" He Wei's voice was hoarse to the extreme. "In first-half stoppage time! Atletico Madrid captain Gabi volleys home from a corner kick scramble! Calderón is crazy! This stadium is crazy! 2-2! What a Madrid derby this is!"

Slow-motion replays showed that Gabi's shot was very lucky—the ball went between the legs of at least five players, completely obstructing Navas's view.

But luck is also a factor in performance. Atletico Madrid's commitment and intensity in set pieces far exceeded Real Madrid's defensive focus in this match.

Three corner kicks, two goals. This is a victory for Simeone's tactics, and a victory for Atlético Madrid's spirit.

The referee blew the whistle to end the first half.

Calderón's cheers continued for a long time.

The players from both sides walked toward the players' tunnel. The Atletico Madrid players walked with their heads held high, while the Real Madrid players walked quickly with their heads down.

Ramos's face was ashen. He said a few words to Varane, whose expression was equally grim.

Lin Fan walked in the middle of the Real Madrid squad. His jersey was soaked with sweat, and there was a red mark on the outside of his right leg from being rubbed by the grass.

His expression remained calm—neither the elation of scoring a goal nor the frustration of being tied.

He was simply walking, at a moderate pace, breathing neither too fast nor too slow.

The player tunnel at Calderon was narrow, and players from both teams were crammed together.

Gabi glanced at Lin Fan as he walked past him.

There was a complex emotion in the Atlético Madrid captain's eyes—not hostility, but more like an assessment. A warrior assessing the strength of his opponent.

Lin Fan glanced back at him and nodded slightly.

It's not a provocation. It's an endorsement.

In the Real Madrid locker room, Ancelotti closed the door.

The hissing and singing outside the door were mostly shut out, leaving only a faint buzzing sound.