Football: Messi, I am your wallbreaker!

Chapter 60, 2:0!

A 30-meter-long extreme sprint!

A tailwind is howling above the El Sadar Stadium.

At the highest point of the away stand, the three thousand shirtless Atletico Madrid die-hards, whose cheers had become hoarse and suppressed due to extreme fatigue and the close match.

But in this very second.

When they clearly saw the mud-covered figure of number 13, he rolled across the midfield line like a completely out-of-control heavy tank.

The suppressed roar, in an instant, was like a powder keg ignited, shooting straight into the sky!

"Li! Charge!"

"Crush them!"

This sudden, explosive shout tore a gaping hole in the boos from the home crowd.

On the field.

The edge of Atletico Madrid's penalty area in their half.

-

Kirk rested his hands on his knees, exhaling large breaths of white air, on the verge of fainting.

The substitute striker next to him, Asadi, simply knelt on one knee in the mud, completely drained of the strength to stand up straight.

But Kirk heard the explosion from the stands and struggled to lift his head.

At the edge of the line of sight, number 13, wearing the captain's armband, was charging alone into the enemy ranks.

An extremely unreasonable surge of courage suddenly erupted from the young general's withered chest.

"Grass----"

Kirk forced out a hoarse curse and punched his muddy thigh hard.

"Asadi! Get the hell up! Follow him!" Kirk roared, panting heavily, his eyes bloodshot.

The two of them dragged their leaden steps, stumbling and falling behind Li Jing as they moved towards the front of the field.

All the fans on the sidelines, including even the die-hard Osasuna supporters, clearly felt this extremely resolute momentum.

Atletico Madrid's depleted reserve squad, which was originally only capable of cowering and taking hits.

In those 75 minutes when everyone was physically exhausted, it was all thanks to one person's unwavering determination.

They artificially created this kind of aura!

The cheers from the stands completely drowned out the boos from the home fans.

All Atletico Madrid fans saw a word that hadn't appeared in this Atletico Madrid team for a long time.

Team spirit!

The ball was still gliding through the night sky over Pamplona, ​​and its speed increased as the wind shifted in the second half.

Osasuna's half.

The center-back, Flaño, was backing away while tilting his head back, his neck taut from excessive tension.

"That ball went too deep; I'll head it back to midfield as it lands."

Flaño was mentally calculating, adjusting his footwork.

But at that moment...

His peripheral vision suddenly swept across what was directly in front of him.

-

Flaño's gaze involuntarily drifted downwards.

He clearly saw the tall figure wearing a white number 13 jersey, covered in mud, sprinting towards him at a terrifying speed!

Can it still be rinsed?!

Flaño's heart skipped a beat.

Flaño swore it was scarier than watching The Shining with his brother in the middle of the night!

Why is he here?

"Wasn't he supposed to be holed up in the backcourt like a bodyguard? How does he still have the energy to sprint?"

Flaño's mind was instantly filled with fear, confusion, and extreme chaos.

The ball in the air was still falling with the wind.

However, his carefully calculated defensive steps were completely disrupted by this sudden psychological panic.

Flaño froze, his retreating movement a beat too slow.

And it was this fatal half-beat.

Li Jing's brain was racing, and he didn't need to look up at the ball at all.

ten meters.

five meters.

Li Jing did not jump directly to contest the header, knowing that his opponent had a positional advantage.

He chose to charge furiously in front of Flaño in the last second before the ball fell, then his feet dug into the grass like nails, and he stopped abruptly.

Next, there's the roundabout, disguised approach!

m

The mud and water kicked up by the sudden stop even splashed onto Flaño's shorts.

In this critical moment of disruption.

Flaño panicked.

He hesitated for a moment between jumping to contest the header and positioning himself in the box.

He was afraid that Li Jing would run into him, and he was also afraid that he would jump too early and be taken advantage of by the other party.

But football waits for no one.

Having lost his optimal position and predictable vision, Flaño had no choice but to bite the bullet and jump hastily in a state of extreme panic.

His bald head gleamed under the searchlight as he strained to reach the white ball.

"Bang!"

There was no solid sound of the ball being struck.

The ball, propelled by a strong tailwind, grazed Flaño's bald head and flew with a "whoosh" towards the vast open space behind him!

It's overhanging!

In professional sports, this is the most fatal and foolish mistake a defender can make!

The home team fans in the stands didn't even have time to gasp.

At the exact same instant the ball grazed Flaño's scalp, Li Jing used his core strength to instantly complete an extremely smooth turn.

His speed did not falter at all, and he smoothly swept past Flaño, who had completely lost his balance in mid-air.

Flaño fell into the mud and looked back in despair.

All I could see was the back of number 13.

They secured a clear one-on-one opportunity!

The restricted area is a completely open area.

After their relentless attack, Osasuna's backfield is now more open than a street at four in the morning.

Li Jing dribbled the ball into the penalty area.

In front of.

Osasuna goalkeeper Andres Fernandez, like a cornered dog, stormed out of his goal with bloodshot eyes.

He spread his arms, trying to expand his defensive area as much as possible, and fell to the ground to block Li Jing's feet with the maximum defensive coverage!

But Li Jing did not slow down at all.

Facing the goalkeeper's fierce save.

Li Jing's right foot subtly slipped under the ball while he was running.

The brutal, aggressive forward thrusts transformed into exquisitely delicate footwork at this moment.

-

He flicked his ankle upwards with incredible dexterity!

The ball came off the muddy grass.

It passed over Fernandez's desperately waving hands.

In mid-air, it drew an extremely tiny, yet incredibly expressive, rainbow arc.

There was no loud, explosive sound.

The only sound is the faint scraping sound when the soccer ball swirls into the white net.

"Whoosh."

Goal!

The scoreboard jumped up suddenly, turning into a glaring 2:0!

The instant the ball went into the net.

The 30,000 home fans in the stadium were completely silenced at that moment.

The massive El Sadar Stadium was utterly silent.

-

There were no unnecessary movements.

Li Jing didn't even glance at the football that was still spinning in the net.

He strode past the goalkeeper who was slumped on the ground, turned around, and rushed towards the corner flag area of ​​the away team's stand.

While running.

Li Jing grabbed the hem of his blackened No. 13 jersey with both hands and pulled it up forcefully!

The sound of fabric tearing through the air.

He roughly ripped off that heavy jersey, which was covered in mud and soaked with sweat!

moment.

The cheers of the three thousand Atletico Madrid die-hards in the stands paused for a moment.

On his bulging latissimus dorsi muscles, a terrifying purplish-red bruise, caused by the impact of his desperate clearance against the solid iron goalpost, was exposed without reservation to the cold air of early spring in Madrid.

Half of his back was covered in those shocking blood stasis marks.

The muscles were still twitching slightly in a state of extreme excitement, and coupled with that scar, the visual impact was off the charts.

"boom!"

Atletico Madrid's die-hard fans in the stands went completely crazy.

They pounded on the barbed wire, tears mingling with saliva streaming down their faces.

Li Jing ran to the corner flag area and placed one foot on the base of the corner flag pole.

He clutched the number 13 jersey he had taken off tightly in his right hand and waved it wildly at the three thousand Atletico Madrid die-hards.

He pointed his left index finger with extreme force at the bright red captain's armband on his left arm.

Tilt your head back.

The veins in his neck were bulging.

It let out an extremely wild and arrogant roar.

This is a completely undisguised emotional outburst.

The ignition point and the torture point are simultaneously triggered in this instant.

The entire broadcast camera was fixed on this half-naked, scarred, yet wildly untamed man.

"Ironman!!!!"

"ironman! ironman! ironman!"

A frenzy of mixed emotions!

A celebration for Atletico Madrid!

The BJ studio, thousands of miles away.

"Snapped!"

He Wei slammed his hand heavily on the broadcasting table and stood up uncontrollably.

The immense force caused the fixed microphone on the table to emit a piercing "buzz" sound.

The director didn't even have time to mute the audio.

He Wei's face was flushed, and the veins on his neck were clearly visible.

This usually well-read and composed commentator's voice completely cracked at this moment.

"Goal! Goal!! 2-0!"

"Li Jing's one-on-one chip shot!"

He Wei stared intently at the figure waving a jersey on the monitor, completely losing control of his emotions.

"That's terrifying! Luck always rewards those who work hard!"

"Osasuna's defense made a fatal mistake at this moment! In the 75th minute, when everyone was exhausted, Li Jing pressed forward relentlessly!"

"His luck finally came. A defender misjudged the header, and he scored a fatal goal!"

He Wei paced back and forth in the studio, his voice trembling with excitement.

"The outcome of the match is basically over!"

"Ladies and gentlemen! Do you know what this means?"

"An eighteen-year-old prodigy!"

"A single star player leading the team, dragging along a depleted squad of substitutes that's even worse than the second team."

"They utterly smashed the home stadium of this giant-killer team that had just upset Barcelona!"

"There's no room for compromise or appeasement in Baoping!"

"He completely ended the game today!"

The broadcast interface of a domestic live streaming platform.

For about ten seconds, during He Wei's off-key commentary, the comment section fell into an eerie silence.

Followed by.

The data deluge caused the broadcast server to freeze for a full three seconds! Li Jing even froze in mid-air for a moment on screen.

The moment the network was restored.

The dense barrage of comments covered the entire screen like an avalanche, making even the scoreboard invisible.

"Holy crap! God-like prediction! He even anticipated that the opposing center-back would misjudge his header? What kind of superhuman brain is that?!"

"Is this guy playing soccer or doing advanced math?! This prediction is absolutely outrageous!"

"The highlight was that one-on-one chip shot, it was so cool! He sliced ​​through the defense like a wild boar from the front, and then suddenly... well, you know!"

A pinpoint shot as precise as an embroidery needle! Who said he could only do dirty and tiring work!

While the technical discussions in the comments section were still scrolling by, the camera cut to the large bruise on Li Jing's back.

The tone of the comments shifted instantly.

"Damn it—but those bruises on his back are terrifying!"

"It looks painful! That's from hitting a solid iron pillar!"

"I really cried. He's truly carrying this lousy team single-handedly. He's cleaning up the messes for the substitutes on defense, and then he's sprinting to score goals himself!"

"I've become a fan! A true fan!"

"This kind of wild, clever, and incredibly reliable style of play is amazing! It's enough to make men weep and women drool!"

Sidelines of the El Sadar Stadium.

Away team's command area.

Simeone did not run and celebrate like he did when he scored the goal.

-

The old Argentinian man stood at the edge of the white line, his eagle-like eyes fixed on the half-naked 13 celebrating in the corner flag area.

number.

The old man's eyes turned red at a visible speed.

He knew all too well how painful the bruises on his back were, and he knew all too well the terrifying willpower required to run more than 10,000 meters in 75 minutes and then sprint for a one-on-one attack.

"Oh shit----"

Simone sniffed.

He turned his head sharply, like a protective old wolf, and roared at the bench.

"Gabbie! Miranda! Falcao!"

"Everyone go change your clothes!"

The starting players on the bench, all wearing yellow vests, jumped up and frantically started hydrating and putting on shin guards.

Simone paced excitedly back and forth in the command area, kicking a nearby water bottle away.

"Substitute!"