I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

Chapter 162 Trinity College

Li Ang's voice rose slightly, carrying an undeniable force: "Bruce is very important. He is our brother, our sharpest knife on offense, and our strongest shield on defense."

But the River Valley Knights have never been, and will never be, a team that wins by relying on one person!

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He took a small step forward, his eyes gleaming: "How did we win? Because of those five big, clumsy guys on our offensive line, who used every ounce of strength to smash through even the smallest gap in our defense!"

"Relying on wide receivers and tight ends, they ran like crazy to the designated positions every time, stretching their gloves to the maximum!"

"Rely on every crazy guy on the defense, from the first second of the game to the last second, use your shoulders, your helmets, everything you have to bite, to tackle, to bring down the opposing running back and quarterback!"

"Every kickoff, every punt, every counter-attack by the special operations team was like a cheetah pouncing on its prey, charging forward relentlessly!"

His speech quickened, his voice echoing through the locker room: "Today, we're missing a brother. But we still have dozens more who will step onto that field! Trinity has money, nationally ranked stars, and a fucking 15,000 fans in red screaming at them, so what?!"

'

He abruptly raised his arm, pointing towards the locker room door, as if it could pierce through the walls and reach the roaring stadium. "Rugby isn't about the numbers in your bank account! It's not about those bullshit rankings and stars! It's about sweat, it's about blood, it's about the fucking courage to crawl forward even if you break a bone!"

"Do they think we're finished now? Do they think that without Bruce, we Knights of the Valley are just a bunch of toothless tigers, meat on a chopping block, waiting to be easily cut up by them?!"

The corners of Li Ang's mouth slowly curved into a smile.

The smile was faint and devoid of warmth.

It is like a cold glint when a blade is drawn from its sheath, carrying a naked, almost cruel, aggressiveness.

He surveyed the entire arena, each word seeming to burst forth from the depths of his chest: "Then let us go up there, and in the way we know best, and in the way that hurts them most, let us tell these pampered young masters! You want to steal a victory from us, the Knights of the Valley? Fine! Trade your pride for it! Trade your pain for it! Trade your lives for it!!"

'

He took a deep breath, and with all his might, uttered his last words into the silent air.

Roar!

Long-suppressed emotions, like a powder keg ignited, suddenly erupted!

The locker room was instantly filled with deafening roars!

The previous feelings of dejection, confusion, and fear were shattered by this brutal and direct battle cry!

Their eyes turned bloodshot, bursting with the rage ignited by humiliation and a desperate, madness!

The team members jumped up and pounded their fists on the metal cabinet next to them, making a loud clanging sound.

They rammed their helmets against each other.

He screamed at the top of his lungs, using all his strength!

"Damn those red-clothed bastards!"

'

"For River Valley Academy! For the Knights!"

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"For Bruce! Crush them!"

'

The sound was so loud it almost lifted the roof off.

Coach Duke stood at the edge of the crowd, watching these kids who had instantly transformed from listless to berserkers.

On his face, which was as taut as a stone statue, the muscles finally twitched almost imperceptibly.

He raised his hand and vigorously wiped his face, his fingers trembling slightly.

Looking at Li Ang, who was surrounded by people and whose eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, his expression was extremely complicated.

This kid's talent for uniting people and igniting passion is simply made for this battlefield.

Amidst the bustling crowd, only one figure remained relatively still.

Jack Davis remained with his arms crossed, leaning against the cold brick wall.

He looked at Li Ang, who was surrounded by his passionate teammates, with no obvious expression on his face.

Only the corners of his mouth turned down slightly, and his eyes held a deep, unfathomable emotion.

After being released from the juvenile detention center, he played a scrimmage with Li Ang under the guidance of the Duke coach to compete for the starting quarterback position.

The result was undoubtedly a disaster.

Throughout the match, he was constantly outpaced by Li Ang's speed, outmaneuvered by Li Ang's accurate passes, and even appeared clumsy and powerless under Li Ang's aggressive runs.

Although Jack felt a sense of frustration and disappointment that he couldn't vent, and a hint of jealousy that he didn't even want to admit to himself.

But he had nothing to say.

That's how naked and cruel rugby is.

The winner takes all; the victor takes everything.

Including glory, including trust, including this commanding presence of a leader.

He forced himself to look away, pursed his lips tightly, and suppressed all distracting thoughts deep in his heart.

Two hours later.

The old school bus, bearing the emblem of the River Valley Academy Knights, slowly drove into the Trinity College campus, located in the North District of Brooks, surrounded by towering wrought iron fences and dense trees.

The scenery outside the car window changed rapidly.

It is completely different from the style of middle-class communities in River Valley, which features simple lines and practical color schemes.

The buildings here are all in a uniform dark gray Gothic stone style.

Its sharp peak pierces the vast blue sky of autumn.

The arched windows are inlaid with intricate stained glass.

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Every lawn looks like it's been measured with a ruler and trimmed with the most precise lawnmower.

The green is uniform and luxurious, like a huge velvet carpet spread out.

The air is no longer filled with the faint industrial scent of the town's outskirts.

Instead, it evokes the fragrance of grass and trees, expensive paint, and a sense of weightiness that comes from a certain history.

Of course, all of this requires a huge amount of money to build and maintain.

Trinity College is a renowned private elite school on the East Coast, with its alumni list filled with political and business luminaries.

It is said that the tuition and miscellaneous fees for a year are enough to equal more than half a year's after-tax income of a typical middle-class family in the River Valley community.

Their football stadium, Falcon Stadium, is situated on a meticulously manicured slope deep within the campus.

Half-hidden by dense ancient trees, only a corner of its magnificent structure is visible.

The River Valley College bus swayed and stopped in front of the narrow entrance marked with the away team sign.

It stands in stark contrast to the grand, red-carpeted entrance of the main team next door.

The team members filed down the stairs carrying their equipment bags, immediately feeling the overwhelming aura of money all around them.

They were naturally not entitled to use the home team's locker room, which looked like a small castle.

Their destination was the ground floor of a low-rise annex building next door, which looked like a converted tool shed or warehouse.

The away team's locker room was dark and low-ceilinged.

There was a faint smell of mildew mixed with the odor of disinfectant.

The metal lockers were rusty, and the wooden planks of the bench were cracked.

The facilities were simple and outdated, silently highlighting the difference between the host and the guest.

But all of this pales in comparison to the overwhelming sensory impact of actually stepping inside the stadium.

After passing through the dimly lit passage, the view suddenly opened up.

The enormous oval stadium was fully revealed in the afternoon sun.

The multi-tiered grandstand, with its deep red and gold accents, is magnificent and brand new.

At this moment, the square was filled with a dense crowd of people.

The estimated capacity is well over 15,000 people.

It was completely different from the community gathering atmosphere at the River Valley Community Anvil Court, where casual clothes, children playing, and acquaintances greeting each other were mixed together.

In the stands here, over 90% of the spectators are wearing Trinity's signature crimson T-shirts, hoodies, or polo shirts.

In good order.

When silent, it is a deep, oppressive red.

When agitated, it is like a boiling sea of ​​blood.

At the edge of the venue, the Trinity College student orchestra, dressed in neat uniforms, was playing a stirring march.

The bright sounds of brass instruments and the dense drumbeats merged into a wave of sound.

It repeatedly surges and overlaps within the enormous bowl-shaped structure.

The shock made people's chests go numb.

The most eye-catching feature is the luxurious commentary booth, high above the center of the main grandstand, with transparent glass on all four sides.

It resembles a floating fortress, overlooking the entire stadium.

The room was brightly lit, and two figures were sitting inside.

In front of me were countless buttons, a flashing screen, and a professional microphone.

One of them was a Latino man in his forties with dark skin and slicked-back hair.

It was none other than Mike Morales, Trinity College's infamous home-field commentator.

Morales spoke into the microphone, his spittle seemingly about to spray onto the glass from a distance.

Speaking at an astonishingly fast pace: "Ladies and gentlemen, the most loyal members of the Falcon family! The afternoon sun is just right, isn't it? Welcome back to our beautiful Falcon Stadium!"

'

His voice was amplified and transmitted through the top-of-the-line sound system that was present in every corner of the venue.

With a deliberately over-the-top enthusiasm: "Now, let us turn our gaze to that entrance over there—and see who has the honor of challenging our invincible falcon on this fine afternoon? Oh, it's the knights from across the river, our dear, unassuming neighbors, the Valley Community College."

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He deliberately dragged out the knights' tones.

The contempt, mockery, and undisguised sense of superiority in his tone were like cold needles, piercing every River Valley player who had just stepped onto the sidelines and was doing their warm-up exercises.

The camera thoughtfully gave a close-up of the away team's entrance.

Capture the somewhat tense and slightly anxious faces of the river valley team members.

Morales's voice continued to spew venom: "Wow, wow, look at them, all of them looking so dejected. Did they get carsick after a two-hour bus ride? Or did they foresee their tragic end this afternoon the moment they stepped into the Falcon's lair? Did they feel the warm greetings from 15,000 Falcon supporters?"

'

The fans in the stands immediately responded.

"Well said, Mike!"

"Go home, you hillbilly knight!"

"Welcome to hell, you little brats!"

Among the sea of ​​red-clad people in the stands, one figure appeared somewhat distracted.

Detective Miller's daughter, Eve Miller, was wearing a dark red college hoodie.

Her long, golden hair was tied in a ponytail, and her expression showed a hint of impatience.

She had no interest in rugby at all, thinking it was just a bunch of sweaty, muscular men bumping into each other on the grass.

But at lunch today, my best friend Sarah was excitedly chattering away.

They say that the River Valley Academy team that's challenging us today has a new core player named Li Ang, who is of Chinese descent and incredibly fast. Last week, he single-handedly crushed the entire Lumberjacks team in the match.

"Li Ang?"

Eve's heart skipped a beat.

Could it be such a coincidence?

Could it be the Chinese boy who saved my father?

Does he also play rugby?

Despite her deep suspicions, the urge to see Li Ang gnawed at her heart like a kitten's claws.

Ultimately, driven by curiosity, she reluctantly followed her best friend Sarah to Falcon Stadium.

"Eve, look! That's the River Valley Academy rugby team!"

Eve looked in the direction her best friend pointed.

My eyes searched through a group of players wearing blue tracksuits.

Then, she saw Li Ang.

Li Ang hadn't put on his helmet yet, and his profile was clearly outlined in the evening sunlight.

That calm demeanor made her heart skip a beat for no apparent reason.

"Wow, look at that! That must be Li Ang, right? This Chinese-American kid is pretty handsome!"

Sarah, his best friend, commented.

"Um."

Eve gave a vague reply, but her gaze involuntarily followed the blue figure.

She, who originally disliked rugby, suddenly felt a sense of anticipation and nervousness she had never experienced before.

On the River Valley team's side, many of the young players' faces instantly turned grim.

My warm-up movements were a bit stiff.

His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Morales' partner, Kevin Harper, a former NFL defensive back and now a television analyst, is a middle-aged white man who appears much more composed and refined.

He gave a helpless smile to the camera.

Skillfully smoothing things over, he tried to steer the conversation back to a more professional level: "Alright, calm down, Mike. The game hasn't even started yet, don't scare the visiting team. Let's take a look at the starting lineup River Valley Academy submitted today—well, there's a very crucial piece of information: one of their key players, Bruce, isn't on the list, apparently out due to injury. This will definitely have a significant impact on River Valley Academy's offensive and defensive systems."

.

Morales immediately overpowered his partner with an even louder voice, his tone filled with undisguised schadenfreude: "It's more than just an impact, my dear Kevin! This is simply the best gift God, no, the Falcon God, has given us! That Bruce, I've seen the tapes, he charges like a mad bull, he's the toughest nut to crack on both ends of the court!"

He paused dramatically, then screamed, "Camera! Quick! Focus on the away team's bench! Right! That corner! See that? Our poor little knight Bruce, sitting in that corner like a baby needing his mother's comfort, with a ridiculous bandage wrapped around his arm! Look at that expression, so dejected!"

The huge high-definition screen at the stadium immediately switched to the corner of the River Valley substitute bench.

Close-up shots of Bruce with bandages, his arm in a sling, and his face ashen were magnified and presented to the 15,000 audience members.

A loud, unified, and malicious whistle, laughter, and boos erupted from the main stands.

Morales continued his mental assault with his machine-gun-like speech and exaggerated metaphors: "Without their sharpest battle cry, the River Valley Academy's attack is like an old cat whose teeth have been pulled out and claws clipped!"

"And look at our falcon lads! They're already itching for a fight, their wings are flapping, their talons are sharpening, they're just waiting to commemorate this beautiful autumn afternoon with a bloody hunt! Now, it's time for the true owners of this stadium to receive the most fervent cheers from their people! Music! Lights!"