Football: Start with the Kaka template, dominate the football field!

On the night of the victory against Bayern Munich, the entire city of Dortmund was engulfed in a sea of ​​alcohol and revelry.

The next morning, when Qin Feng woke up from his hangover, it was already ten o'clock. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the floor, and a faint, sweet smell of fermenting beer lingered in the air.

He rubbed his throbbing temples and struggled to sit up in bed. Just as he was about to go get some water, he heard a loud commotion coming from the living room.

"Pass the ball! Marco! Are you taking a stroll?! Give the ball to Ronaldo!"

Qin Feng walked out barefoot and immediately spotted the culprit.

Big Cross, shirtless and clutching a game controller, roared at the TV screen. Across from him, Royce lay sprawled on the sofa, looking utterly dejected, his character still spinning in place on the controller.

On the television screen, Real Madrid's number 7 player is raising his hands to call for the ball, while Dortmund's number 11 is leisurely dribbling the ball and being dispossessed.

"Kevin, I don't want to play anymore." Reus rubbed his eyes listlessly. "I feel like my head is going to explode. And why did you insist on making me play Dortmund while you chose Real Madrid?"

"Because beating you is what makes it fun!" Grand Cross tossed the controller onto the sofa, stood up smugly, and said, "Besides, who was it last night who claimed to be the prince of Westphalia, capable of leading the team to victory?"

Qin Feng couldn't help but laugh as he looked at the two clowns. He walked to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of ice water, and gulped down half of it in one go. The refreshing feeling of coolness running from his throat all the way to his stomach finally brought him back to life.

"Qin! You're awake!" Grand Cross's eyes lit up, as if he had discovered a new continent. He picked up another handle and shoved it into Qin Feng's hand. "Come on! King of Asia! Let him see what the real 'Dortmund' is all about!"

"Me?" Qin Feng glanced at the golden Real Madrid logo on the screen, then at Reus's "get revenge for me" expression, and a wicked smile crept onto his lips. "Sure, but... I choose Barcelona."

"What?!" Grand Cross was stunned.

"What, scared?" Qin Feng shook the controller in his hand and raised his eyebrows like Cristiano Ronaldo.

"Afraid? I, Kevin Grosskreutz, am afraid of Barcelona?!" Grand Cross's face flushed red as he gripped the controller again. "Come on! Let me show you what a Galactic Battleship is all about!"

……

Fifteen minutes later.

"Messi...it's Messi again! What else can you do besides pass the ball to Messi?!" Grand Cross roared angrily, looking at the 3-0 score on the screen.

"We'll win." Qin Feng, controlling the diminutive Argentinian in the game, easily evaded Ramos, curled a shot into the top corner, then put down the controller, shrugged, and said, "See? I can beat you without even needing Suarez or Neymar."

Reus was laughing so hard he rolled around on the sofa.

Amidst the lighthearted and cheerful playful banter, the immense pressure from the thrilling battle at Tianwang Mountain finally dissipated completely.

……

Friday, Nyon, Switzerland, UEFA headquarters.

The draw for the Champions League quarter-finals is being broadcast live worldwide.

The atmosphere in the cafeteria at Borussia Dortmund's training ground was more confident than during the last draw. Players ate lunch and joked around in front of a giant television screen.

When the guest of honor, Cafu, took out a gashapon capsule toy with the Borussia Dortmund logo, the entire restaurant fell silent instantly.

All eyes were fixed on Cafu's other hand.

That hand slowly twisted open the second gashapon capsule.

"Borussia Dortmund...VS..."

Cafort paused for a moment, then gave a meaningful smile.

"...FC Barcelona!"

Om-!

A deathly silence fell over the restaurant for three seconds.

Immediately afterwards...

"Holy shit!!!"

Someone uttered a curse word, instantly igniting the entire restaurant!

"It's Barcelona! It's Messi!"

"MSN! My God!"

"Oh no... this fortune is just too bad!"

"What are you afraid of! Just do it! We're the defending champions!"

Shock, excitement, solemnity, fervor... all these complex emotions intertwined at this moment, converging into a soaring fighting spirit!

Amidst the clamor of discussion, Qin Feng slowly put down his knife and fork. His face showed no sign of tension or fear; instead, it radiated an unprecedented surge of excitement and pride!

Lionel Messi.

Finally, it's time to meet them in person.

……

When the draw results were announced, the entire world of football went completely crazy!

The topic of "Barcelona vs. Dortmund" instantly topped the trending charts on major social media platforms around the world!

The French newspaper L'Équipe used a huge headline: "The Ultimate Art of Attack! Klopp's Heavy Metal Rock VS Enrique's Cosmic Tiki-Taka!"

The Spanish newspaper Marca went even further, defining this match as a premature coronation of the throne: "Qin Feng VS Messi! The Ballon d'Or battle is about to begin!"

Just as football fans around the world were going crazy over the upcoming big battle.

The noise in the Dortmund restaurant suddenly subsided.

Klopp, somehow, had already taken up a position in the center of the restaurant.

He didn't speak, but simply watched his disciples, who were discussing the results of the draw.

Until all eyes were on him.

He slowly broke into a wild, battle-ready grin.

He didn't pick up the tactics board, nor did he give any lengthy mobilization speech.

He simply raised his right hand and, facing everyone, forcefully clenched his fist.

Then, in a hoarse voice suppressing boundless excitement, he roared out two words:

"Fuck you!"