I revived the Demonic Sect in North America

Chapter 179: Tip-off Return Touchdown

Li Ang nodded, his eyes sharp: "Yes. Their special operations team is motivated, but their discipline is rubbish. The one on the left is too aggressive, the one on the right is always trying to take shortcuts, and the big guy in the middle is slow to turn around. They wanted to intimidate us at the start, but that will leave an opening."

He drew several lines on the ground with his finger.

"Forwards, I need you guys to create a gap for me in the first three seconds, slightly to the right of center. It doesn't need to be wide, just enough for me to turn sideways. Marcus, you're five yards to my left, make a receiving motion to draw their attention to the right wing. The rest of you, stick with me and block their hands from the side. But remember, don't foul. We need a clean drive through, from receiving the ball to the end zone, without stopping. The goal is to stun those guys in orange from the very first second. Got it?"

The veterans in the special operations team looked at each other and grinned.

A third-year defensive end with a full beard slammed his fist on his chestplate with a muffled thud: "Hey, Li Ang, you're the boss on the court. You tell us where to go, and we'll go where to go. High risk, high reward? I love this."

A short, stocky tee shotner next to him patted his helmet visor, his voice coming from behind his mouthguard: "Do it! Teach those arrogant Bronx kids a lesson! Let them know whose turf this is!"

Marcus rubbed his hands together, eager to show them what real speed is: "Let them see what real speed is!"

Li Ang clapped his hands: "Good. Remember the positions, trust the people around you. Win the opening."

On the other side, the atmosphere was completely different in the Lehman Academy Lions' half.

Eleven special operations team players wearing orange jerseys formed a tight circle.

Their arms were draped heavily over each other's shoulders, their helmets pressed together, like an orange fortress.

Sweat was already seeping from the foreheads of some people.

The senior linebacker Daniels, the leader of the special teams, has a neck thicker than his head.

He lowered his voice and let out a hissing growl from deep in his throat, like sandpaper scraping: "Listen up! Those young masters in the Valley wearing pretty blue jerseys definitely think we're slum losers and that tonight is going to be a relaxing stroll."

He looked into every pair of eyes, his gaze burning with anger and the humiliation of being looked down upon.

"We'll make them regret it from the very first second! Make them feel the pain from the very first second! With your helmets, with your shoulders, with everything you have, tell that bastard who caught the ball, welcome to the real world of football!"

He took a deep breath and continued to growl, "The ball will be high and far, pin them in the corner of the end zone! Then I want to see you pounce like ravenous lions! Whoever catches the ball, shove him into the grass! As deep as possible! I want them to start their attack from the ten-yard line, no, the five-yard line!"

"Make them gasp for breath! Make them remember the hardness of the Bronx!"

He raised his arm.

All the orange arms then went up.

"one two three!"

The eleven men simultaneously unleashed roars from their chests, instantly dispelling the pre-match tension: "Lions! Roar!"

The voice was full of the roughness, resilience, and fearlessness of a blue-collar team.

The referee's whistle blew throughout the stadium.

Lions kicker Kevin Wright took a deep breath, ran up, and swung his right leg with all his might.

boom.

The rugby ball was kicked hard, arcing high and far like an orange shooting star, spinning and falling deep into the River Valley Knights' end zone.

This was indeed a typical high opener, with a clear intention.

In the commentary booth, Tony Rossi immediately grabbed the microphone: "The ball has been kicked off! Look at that trajectory, so high and deep! Lehman Academy is trying to play mind games, trying to lock our returners in the end zone and start their attack from the worst possible position!"

Martin Clark adjusted his glasses, speaking steadily and clearly: "Typical aggressive initiation strategy. Testing the returner's judgment and courage. Leon was backing up, observing the landing point, he didn't raise his hand to signal a safe return! He caught it! About five yards from the end zone! He didn't kneel! He was going to return it!"

The stands erupted in chaos.

"My God, he didn't kneel down!" A boy wearing a blue scarf suddenly grabbed his friend's arm. "He's going to cross the five-yard line? Is he crazy?!"

"Li Ang never does anything he's not sure of!" His friend's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward. "Just watch, this is going to be good!"

'

"Go for it! Charge forward!" Several girls huddled together, hands clasped together, watching the field intently.

As soon as the ball entered his hands, Li Ang's body sprang into motion like a compressed spring.

Without the slightest hesitation, he lowered his head, bent over, and charged straight ahead.

At the same time, the eleven orange figures opposite, like an enraged swarm of bees, roared wildly and charged forward from forty yards away.

Their faces were contorted with rage, their eyes fixed on the ball in Li Ang's arms, as if they wanted nothing more than to tear him and the ball to pieces at the starting line.

The Cavaliers' forwards were already on high alert, bracing themselves against the first wave of orange.

The dull thud of muscles colliding, the click of helmets hitting each other, and the roars and curses instantly exploded near the teeing line.

"Block them! Block them!" In the stands, a chubby middle-aged man stood up, waving his fist, his face flushed red.

Li Ang's eyes flashed like lightning as he rapidly scanned the area while running at high speed.

On the left, Marcus Williams is moving laterally, waving his arms, successfully attracting the attention of the two Lions members on the right, causing them to hesitate for a moment in their pursuit.

Directly ahead, the two sides' forwards were locked in a fierce battle, with players and horses falling to the ground.

A Cavaliers guard managed to force his way through a narrow gap, but it did exist.

Right now.

Li Ang held the ball tightly in his arms, lowered his center of gravity, and instantly increased his speed, like a blue cannonball fired from a gun, piercing straight towards the gap in the human seam.

One of the Lions players broke free from the entanglement and saw Li Ang charging towards him, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes.

He howled and pounced from the side, arms outstretched, aiming for Li Ang's waist, intending to deliver a fierce grab.

Li Ang seemed to have a premonition.

Meteor Butterfly Step!

Just as his opponent was about to make contact, he made a light and precise lateral step while running at full speed.

The fingertips that made the lunge barely brushed against the fabric of his blue jersey, creating a slight breeze.

He narrowly escaped by brushing past the other person's body.

"Oh my God! He dodged it! He slipped away from the first tackle like an eel!"

Tony's roar echoed throughout the arena through the loudspeakers, filled with disbelief.

"Wow!!!"

A huge gasp and cheers erupted from the stands.

Many fans had already stood up and craned their necks.

"Did you see that? That change of direction! It's like she's doing ballet!" A young man wearing a number 21 jersey excitedly gestured to his girlfriend.

"He's too fast! Those people can't even touch him!" The girlfriend gripped her boyfriend's arm tightly.

After crossing the tee line and entering the 20-yard zone, Li Ang had fully picked up his speed.

His running form is smooth and powerful, with an extremely fast stride frequency.

But the crisis is not over.

Two Lions players simultaneously surrounded him from the front and side, blocking his path to continue straight forward.

They worked together seamlessly, one blocking the inside shot and the other controlling the outside shot.

"Watch out on the left!" someone shouted from the stands.

"Two people! They're about to double-team us!"

Li Ang neither slowed down nor panicked in the slightest.

Just before the two were about to form a closed trap, he suddenly pushed off the ground with his left foot and slashed his body to the right front.

This change of direction was swift and ruthless, without warning, taking advantage of the subtle time and space difference before the two surrounded each other.

He squeezed through the gap between the two of them.

In a panic, one of them slapped his arm, but the force of the impact and the angle of the movement made it impossible for him to grasp the blue number 21. He could only watch as it slipped through his fingers.

"He's past! Another one! A clean crossover! Center line! Forty yards! Now only one line of defense remains, the safety!"

Martin's commentary also quickened its pace, visibly tinged with excitement.

"My God—" a student wearing glasses exclaimed, mouth agape, "That dribbling—it's so clean!"

"Forty yards! Forty yards!" Several students nearby patted each other on the back. "A chance! A chance for a touchdown!"

The last defensive player, the Lions' opening safety, had retreated to the vicinity of the 35-yard line.

He spread his arms, lowered his center of gravity, and fixed his eyes on Li Ang.

He is the final gatekeeper.

Li Ang charged straight at him, his speed undiminished.

Ten yards.

Five digits.

"One-on-one! Leon against the security guard!" Tony's voice was almost hoarse.

Just as the two were about to collide violently, Li Ang suddenly made a feinting motion with his shoulder to the left, the movement small but extremely realistic.

The guard's center of gravity was instinctively pulled by this feint, shifting half an inch to the left.

It's just this half.

In a flash, Li Ang quickly passed the ball to his left hand and then explosively pushed off the ground with his right foot.

The body that was originally rushing forward seemed to be pulled by an invisible rope, instantly changing direction and sprang out with all its might towards the open space to the right front.

A swift, decisive, and deceptive change of direction.

The guard's center of gravity was completely misled, and it was too late to adjust. He could only reach out in vain, only to grab air and the gust of wind brought up by Li Ang.

"He's faked out! He's faked out the safety!" The stands went completely crazy.

Suddenly, everything became clear.

All that remained was the open green field and the clear white end line in the distance.

Goodbye.

Li Ang silently chanted in his heart, channeling all his strength into his legs.

His speed increased even further on top of his already extremely fast pace, like a blue lightning bolt tearing through the night sky, sprinting towards the finish line with all his might.

"Charge, Li Ang! Charge!"

In the stands, all the Valley fans stood up, shouting at the top of their lungs, waving their arms, scarves, and anything else they could wave.

The sound waves merged into a boiling ocean.

"Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!" The rhythmic shouts began to rise, growing louder and louder until they finally turned into a roar from the entire stadium.

"Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!"

He crossed the 30-yard line.

"thirty!"

Twenty yards.

"Twenty! Almost there!" A father hoisted his child onto his shoulders, and the child excitedly waved a small flag.

Ten-yard line.

"Ten yards! It's going to work! It's going to work!"

There were no orange figures chasing after them anymore.

The most recent defenders were also left at least five yards behind.

Five-digit line.

The terminal line is just around the corner.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Li Ang strode forward, his right foot firmly landing on the white scoring line in the end zone, followed immediately by his left foot, his entire body charging into the end zone.

He lowered his center of gravity and gently placed the rugby ball in his arms onto the green grass behind him.

"Touchdown!!!!"

The announcer's drawn-out shout, like a victory horn, instantly ignited all the pent-up emotions.

The referee raised both arms straight up, clearly indicating that the score was valid.

! ! ! ! ! !

The entire Cavaliers Stadium exploded.

Cheers, screams, whistles, and stomping blended into an almost tangible sound wave that assaulted everyone's eardrums.

Blue ribbons were thrown down from some of the stands.

The students hugged and jumped around, their faces flushed red.

"95 yards! A touchdown on the return of the first pitch! What the hell did I just see?!" A senior boy in a school uniform grabbed his hair, almost unable to believe it.

"Li Ang! Li Ang! Li Ang!" The unified chants echoed throughout the stadium.

"This opening—I've never seen such a crazy opening in my life!" An alumnus wiped his eyes, his voice choked with emotion.

Tony Rossi went completely crazy in the commentary booth.

He jumped up, oblivious to his Cavaliers cap flying off his head, gripping the microphone and spitting as he yelled: "My God! My God! My God! Did you see that, Martin! Did you fucking see that! Kick-off! 95!"

Wow! From receiving the ball to the finish line, it was all done in one smooth motion! Li Ang! Number 21! Li Ang, the lightning-fast runner! First touch of the ball at the start of the race! First

He tore the Lehman Academy Special Operations Team to pieces! Welcome to the Valley Lions! Welcome to Hell! This is our welcome gift to you!

Martin Clark nodded vigorously, his pen moving rapidly as he jotted down notes, his voice rising with excitement: "Unbelievable! An absolutely perfect individual performance! The precise judgment of the ball's trajectory, the decisive start after receiving the ball, the use of teammates' screens, the series of crucial decisions and changes of direction at high speed, and that final fake that shook down the safety was simply a work of art. Lehman Academy's disciplinary problems were magnified to an extreme, while Li Ang, with his unparalleled speed and basketball IQ, gave them the cruelest lesson. 7-0. Just over ten seconds into the game, the River Valley Knights were already in the lead."

On the court, the Cavaliers' bench and players went wild.

They roared as they rushed into the arena, lunging at Li Ang, who had just stood up in the end zone, and one after another they jumped on top of him to form a human pyramid.

Li Ang, who was at the bottom, was bent over by the weight, but a slight smile finally appeared on the corner of his mouth under the mask.

On the other side, the Lions players were stunned.

The players on the tee-off team stood with their hands on their hips, heads down, looking at the grass, somewhat bewildered.

The security guard who was finally knocked down slammed his fist into his helmet with a frustrated thud.

The cold 7-0 score on the scoreboard was like a thorn, piercing into all their pre-match fighting spirit and passion.

On the sidelines, Lehman Academy head coach Carl Benson looked ashen-faced, with veins bulging on his forehead.

He slammed the tactical board in his hand to the ground, the sound of the plastic board cracking being drowned out by cheers.

He roared at the dejected orange-clad figures on the field, his neck veins bulging, "Are you fucking sleepwalking?! Where are your eyes?! Are you marking him?! Are you grappling?! Take him down like men! Wake up! The game isn't over yet!"

But his roar sounded so powerless amidst the deafening cheers of the home crowd.