Football: Messi, I am your wallbreaker!

Chapter 81 So you're just using those two positions as penalty kicks?

Simone had barely finished speaking.

The rectangular LCD TV hanging in the corner had just finished playing a live highlight reel of another Europa League match.

The scene then cuts to the San Mamés stadium in northern Spain.

Manchester United will play away against Athletic Bilbao.

On the big screen, it was raining heavily.

Wearing his red and white Manchester United jersey, Rooney stood on the right side of the penalty area, holding off the Athletic Bilbao center-back.

He receives the ball with his back to the goal.

The broadcast gave Rooney a close-up shot.

He took a half step out with his right foot.

There were no unnecessary pauses or tedious step adjustments.

In the instant of turning, the outside of his right foot slammed into the bottom of the ball.

The power of this shot was extremely well concealed.

The ball arced dramatically outwards in mid-air, bypassing the goalkeeper's fingertips and precisely nestling into the far corner of the goal.

A signature goal by Rooney!

The deafening boos from the home fans at San Mamés Stadium were abruptly silenced by Rooney in that instant.

Before the people in the locker room could even see the slow-motion replay...

A yellow score bar pops up at the bottom of the screen.

The scene quickly cuts to the Alvalade Stadium in Portugal.

Manchester City striker Sergio Aguero is facing a flying tackle from two Sporting Lisbon defenders.

They forcefully created a breakthrough path inside the penalty area.

A low, driven shot.

The ball slid into the net along with the splash of water.

Domestic broadcast room.

Commentator He Wei held a pen in his hand.

He watched as the director switched the camera to the latest battle report on the screen.

He Wei shook his head.

"Dear viewers, this might be the craziest Europa League quarter-final since the format change."

Right in the center of the screen.

The broadcast team created a very straightforward score comparison chart.

On the left, Manchester United defeated Athletic Bilbao twice, while Manchester City secured a strong away victory against Lisbon.

On the right, a line of red text with white lettering is prominently displayed: Atletico Madrid 11:1 Lazio.

"In previous years, many people felt that the Europa League was not very prestigious."

"But this year, the two Premier League giants were unexpectedly relegated to the Europa League due to their Champions League group stage failures."

He Wei tapped the screen with the tip of his pen.

"Manchester United and Manchester City swept their opponents with an absolute level of dominance."

"On the other hand, Atletico Madrid, led by Li Jing and Falcao, directly created the biggest humiliation in the history of the Europa League."

"This year's Europa League quarterfinals are incredibly competitive, reaching an unprecedented level!"

In the locker room of the Olympic Stadium.

Three days later.

"Only three days!"

"We're going to the Pizjuán Stadium to play Sevilla away."

Simeone turned around, his gaze sweeping over each player sitting on the bench.

"Four days from now. Back at the Calderón, home against Barcelona!"

He casually tossed the marker back into the pen holder.

"These two league matches are directly related to whether we can secure a Champions League spot next season."

Simone's voice turned somber.

"Who dares to make me weak in the knees and unable to run in these two games?"

Tell me tomorrow, and I'll be on the bench myself!

"You all need to get some rest these next few days!"

An extremely dense and grueling schedule.

The cheers that had erupted in the locker room because of the advancement instantly cooled down.

Falcao reached out and grabbed the white towel draped around his neck.

He vigorously wiped the sweat and rainwater from his forehead and tossed the towel onto his lap.

He muttered helplessly, "Damn it."

"Two tough matches in seven days, plus today's away knockout game."

Falcao spread his hands.

"This schedule... is the Spanish Football Federation trying to kill us on the pitch?"

The other key defenders next to him also looked miserable.

It has to be said that under the current competition format...

In addition, there's the time spent on national team matches.

They really don't treat the players like human beings at all; they treat them like cattle and horses!

Everyone had already played a full match of high-intensity European football, and their physical condition was already at its limit.

This completely paralyzes them!

Fortunately.

They won!

I can't even imagine it.

If we lose, the pressure will be immense!

Li Jing held an open bottle of mineral water in his left hand.

He tilted his head back and took a sip.

Fortunately, Li Jing possesses the "Iron Man" attribute.

The stronger the opponent, the more frequent the matches.

The worse the opponent's condition, the greater the advantage for him!

Half an hour later.

The mixed zone at the Olympic Stadium.

Red barriers were erected around the media area.

The area outside was packed with sports reporters from all over Europe.

The flash of light from the camera bounced incessantly on the wall.

After showering in the locker room, Li Jing changed into a red and white jersey, the same color scheme as Atlético Madrid's uniform.

He slung the black backpack over one shoulder.

Open the safety door and step out.

Its appearance immediately caused a great commotion.

Dozens of microphones bearing the logos of different TV stations crossed the barrier and were thrust directly at Li Jing's chin.

Several staff members carrying cameras even stepped on the cables in front of them.

A middle-aged Italian journalist wearing a dark blue name tag from the Gazzetta dello Sport.

With his strong physique, he pushed his way past his Spanish counterparts and stood at the very front.

He was holding a recording pen in his hand.

His tone was clearly hostile.

"plum!"

The reporter's voice sounded particularly jarring in the noisy corridor.

"With a commanding 4-0 lead from the first leg away from home."

"You continued to fight back on the field, leading the team to a 7-0 score in a single game."

The Italian journalist took a half-step closer.

"Don't you think this is an excessive insult to Lazio, a traditional powerhouse in Serie A?"

"Don't you think this violates the most basic sportsmanship in football?"

The surrounding reporters fell silent instantly.

All cameras were pointed directly at Li Jing's face, awaiting his potentially highly controversial answer.

Li Jing stopped in his tracks.

He turned his head to the side.

He stared directly at the Italian journalist whose face was contorted with rage.

Li Jing did not dodge the question.

He extended his left hand, his movements extremely steady, and gently deflected the recording pen that was about to poke his face with the back of his hand.

"My job as long as I start is to score goals."

Li Jing's voice was very steady, without any discernible fluctuations.

"A striker giving his all to score a goal is the greatest respect he can show to his opponent."

He glanced at the reporter's name tag.

"If you think a large score is an insult."

"Then you should buy a plane ticket now and fly back to the training base in Rome to ask Petkovic."

Li Jing put his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket.

"Go ask him why he didn't set up a defensive line in the penalty area to stop me from scoring."

Done.

Li Jing did not give the reporter any chance to continue asking questions.

He strode across the media area and headed straight for the team bus.

The Italian reporter behind him was left speechless.

The colleagues around him were frantically typing on their keyboards while inwardly gasping for breath.

That's fucking domineering.

That's truly cold-blooded.

That night.

The entire Atlético Madrid team returned to Spain on a chartered plane.

The cabin lights were all turned off, leaving only the faint yellow light from the floor lamps.

The vast majority of players were affected by a series of high-intensity matches.

I am extremely exhausted.

At this moment, they were all slumped over in their spacious airline seats, catching up on sleep.

Even Diego Costa, who is usually the most boisterous, was now wrapped in a blanket and snoring.

Li Jing leaned back in the leather seat, wearing a black sleep mask.

They are in a light sleep state.

He could feel it clearly.

The "Iron Man" attribute within the body is rapidly influencing bodily functions.

The tiny tears and lactic acid buildup deep within the thigh muscles are being rapidly smoothed and repaired by a strange flow of heat.

The fatigue was gradually removed.

Two and a half hours later.

The plane landed smoothly at Madrid-Barajas Airport.

The airport's navigation lights shone through the terminal's massive glass curtain wall.

Simone stood at the cabin door, his hands in his trouser pockets.

He watched the team members, their eyes dark, lining up to walk down the gangway.

"Listen carefully, everyone."

The old man opened his mouth at a high pitch.

"You only have one day off tomorrow! Everyone get back to your apartments and get some sleep."

Simeone pointed to several South American players who liked to run around.

"Everyone, assemble at the base at 10:00 AM tomorrow."

"Anyone who dares to go to a nightclub in downtown Madrid to pick up girls today will be caught by me."

"Go to the training ground tomorrow and do 50 extra sets of shuttle runs!"

Li Jing pulled a black suitcase as she walked out of the airport exit.

The black van arranged by Yang Fengying was parked on the side of the road on time.

The car door slid open automatically.

Li Jing pushed the suitcase directly into the luggage compartment.

I bent down and sat in the spacious back seat, placing my backpack at my feet.

"Go home."

Li Jing leaned back in his chair. "I'm going to sleep until I naturally wake up."

"He won't answer anyone's calls."

The van slowly drove out of the airport.

Use a full night of deep sleep to fully activate your Ironman attributes.

This is the best preparation for the grueling schedule ahead.

Two o'clock in the afternoon of the second day.

Inside a luxury apartment in downtown Madrid.

The heavy blackout curtains completely blocked out the light from the room.

Li Jing rolled over on the two-meter-wide bed.

The abundant energy emanating from within completely relieved him of the soreness he felt when he got out of bed.

He sat up and reached out to rub his slightly messy hair.

Ah, so refreshing!

Li Jing was tired and restless yesterday.

They had all disappeared by then.

All I felt was a sense of complete comfort.

Li Jing touched all the muscles in his body and felt no lactic acid buildup.

As Li Jing was thinking, he suddenly realized another problem.

My recovery ability is already like having a cheat code.

So for those players who consistently play 60+ games a year...

Is it possible that his own recovery ability is similar to his "Iron Man" attribute?

Their self-healing and recovery abilities are beyond the level of ordinary people.

For example, Messi and Ronaldo —

Thinking of this, Li Jing's lips twitched in the room where the curtains were not yet drawn.

They're a bunch of incredible monsters.

Luckily, I had a cheat code.

Li Jingang was about to get out of bed to pour himself a glass of water.

But I was interrupted when the phone screen on the bedside table suddenly lit up.

Li Jing glanced at the caller ID.

Courtois.

He pressed the answer button, turned on speakerphone, and tossed the phone directly onto the white down comforter.

"Li! Are you awake?"

Courtois's loud voice immediately came from the other end of the phone.

The background noise includes the whistling sound of the wind blowing through the open grass.

"I didn't disturb your sleep, did I?"

Li Jing yawned.

"Let's get down to business."

"Hurry to the base!"

Courtois exclaimed excitedly, "I can't sleep tonight. All I can think about is that damn long-range shot you took yesterday!"

"I want to try out your absolutely unstoppable straight free kicks! Come practice with me for half an hour!"

Li Jing curled his lip.

"I'm not going!"

"Rest! Do you even know what rest is?!"

Courtois: "Hey! How can you rest at your age!"

"The match after that will be against Barcelona."

"You want me to concede two goals in the first half and three in the second half?"

"That's Messi, that's the world team, that's the treble winner from two years ago, and the double winner from last year."

"If it weren't for this afternoon's practice, I would definitely have gotten thrashed by a bunch of balls someday, Lee. You don't want to lose a big game and then be humiliated by Marca's media after the match, do you?"

Li Jing drew back the curtains, and sunlight immediately streamed in.

His expression was one of utter bewilderment.

"Tibor, where the hell did you learn this kind of tea talk?"

Half an hour later.

The open-air training ground at the Mahadawunda training base.

The team has a day off today, and there's no one around.

Li Jing changed into a gray Nike tracksuit.

He strode onto the grass where the first team usually trained.

Pick out a fully inflated soccer ball from the net on the sidelines.

He skillfully bounced the ball twice with the instep of his foot and then stepped on it.

He looked at the tall goalkeeper who was walking towards him and had been practicing extra on his own for a long time.

Speaking of which—

This guy is really hardworking.

Are you sure you want to try?

Li Jing looked at him.

"The last free kick was actually influenced by many factors, including the positioning of the wall and the goalkeeper."

Moreover, the characteristic of the straight set pieces I take is that their flight trajectory is extremely short, which minimizes the goalkeeper's reaction time.

"but----"

Li Jing pointed to the area outside the penalty area's arc.

"To play this kind of shot, the wall of players must not completely block out the space in that straight line."

Courtois was holding a heavy latex glove.

"I know."

"So I want to give it a try!"

The Belgian goalkeeper's face was full of defiance.

"That day is too far away."

"I wasn't even on the field to experience firsthand how monstrous your shot was."

"I refuse to believe that even if I stood firmly on the goal line and anticipated the move, I wouldn't be able to touch it!"

Courtois turned around.

Four red tactical inflatable dummies were dragged over from the equipment area on the sidelines.

He gestured to indicate the location.

It's on the left side outside the penalty area, about 25 meters from the goal.

The dummy bases were firmly inserted into the grass, forming a standard human wall.

After arranging them.

The big guy ran back to the center of the goal line.

Spread your legs apart and squat down.

He opened his astonishingly large arms.

"bring it on!"

Courtois patted his gloves. "I'm ready! Kick me as hard as you can!"

"Just like in a game, don't hold back."

Li Jing stepped forward.

Place the ball in your hand on the designated penalty spot.

He bent down and pressed the ball firmly into the grass with both hands to ensure a stable point of force.

He stood up.

They took a full five steps back.

Stop.

There was none of Cristiano Ronaldo's complicated compass stance, nor any small, quick adjustments.

Li Jing stared at the narrow gap between the top of the human wall and the pillar in front of him.

He took a large step forward with his left leg and planted it firmly into the grass.

The right leg straightened instantly.

The instep is like a heavy warhammer.

It slammed hard into the center of the ball, the point of impact.

"Bang!"

The extremely dull thud echoed across the empty training field.

coming.

It was just like that day when they faced Lazio.

A trajectory that defies all common sense in football.

We don't pursue extreme ball speeds that result in falling leaves.

There is no curved blade.

It's a perfectly straight line!

In Courtois's retina.

That yellow and white patterned soccer ball.

They instantly emerged from the gap between the top of the inflatable human wall and the pillar.

There was no fall.

It lacks the outward spin of a banana kick.

There is only the purest and most extreme violence.

The football produced an extremely piercing whistling sound, which rapidly magnified in my pupils.

Courtois's central nervous system had just sent the command to jump to his calf muscles.

His heels were just about to push off the ground.

The ball, carrying tremendous force, grazed past his ear.

It slammed into the net behind him.

"Whoosh!"

too fast.

It was so fast that it completely exceeded the limits of neural response.

Courtois stood on the goal line, maintaining a half-squatting posture.

He didn't even have time to raise his arms.

Looking back at the ball spinning wildly in the net.

He swallowed.

Grass.

The Lazio goalkeeper's perspective that day.

Is that scary?

For the next half hour...

The open-air training ground turned into a one-sided slaughterground.

Li Jing took the penalty more than ten times in a row.

Of course, it won't have the same effect every time.

But seven or eight out of ten times.

That's already incredibly efficient.

The football kept hitting the net, making a deafening, dull thud.

Even if Courtois changes his strategy.

Try shifting your weight in advance to gamble on the direction of the defense the moment Li Jing makes his move.

They were still bombarded and completely disoriented.

Because it was just too fast.

The football is at its maximum speed and will not drop.

The difference is that the optimal straight-line trajectory.

This leaves the goalkeeper with almost no time to react.

More than ten shots on goal.

On three occasions, Courtois didn't even touch the ball, watching helplessly as it went into the corner of the net.

On several other occasions, even when his fingers barely touched the edge of the football.

It was completely ignored by that enormous force, and even his fingers were snapped and hurt.

Courtois got up from the grass, panting.

His thighs were covered in mud and grass from his leaping.

He gave up completely.

The big guy walked to the sidelines.

He roughly ripped off the Velcro straps securing his wrist and removed the top-of-the-line latex gloves.

He casually tossed it on the ground.

He plopped down on a bench.

"I'm not practicing anymore!"

Courtois complained, panting heavily.

"There's no way to defend against that! Your ball is too fast, and its trajectory is a completely straight line."

"If I don't move in advance, I won't be able to react in time."

"I even moved ahead to anticipate their movements, but it still didn't help!"

"I can't possibly stand right under your shooting position and wait there; that's simply not possible in a match!"

Li Jing walked over.

He took a bottle of mineral water from the box on the ground, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to him.

"It's not as exaggerated as you say."

Li Jing sat down at the other end of the bench and began to explain. Through practice, Li Jing had gained a deeper understanding of the underlying logic.

"As I just said, this kind of ball is extremely demanding in terms of positioning."

"If the distance is too far, say 35 meters, I have to increase the force in order to maintain the ball speed."

"That would cause the ball to drop sharply, eventually becoming a 'kick ball,' and the straight trajectory would disappear, giving you time to react."

Li Jing pointed to the two areas where the free throws had just been taken.

"If the distance is too close, the area around the edge of the penalty area arc."

"If the human wall is arranged densely enough, it can completely block off all straight-line spaces."

"I kicked the dummy."

"In short, although it worked very well, I can't take most free kicks from regular positions like that."

"It was discovered by chance during the last competition."

Courtois took the water bottle.

He tilted his head back and gulped down two mouthfuls of water, his chest heaving violently.

He froze in place.

His mind raced as he processed Li Jing's tactical breakdown.

Suddenly.

The big man's eyes widened little by little.

He turned his head and stared intently at Li Jing, who was wiping sweat beside him.

His eyes looked as if he had seen a ghost.

"plum--

—”

Courtois squeezed the water bottle in his hand so tightly it made a cracking sound.

He stretched out his long arms.

He pointed to two specific positions outside the penalty area, on the left and right, where Li Jing had just taken the free kick.

That is, the location of districts 13 and 15.

"Even so you say that—this ball requires extremely precise positioning for the shot."

Courtois paused for a moment, and even his breathing stopped.

"But don't you understand what tactical value this actually means?"

Courtois stood up abruptly.

His voice carried an extremely obvious tremor and disbelief.

"Sectors 13 and 15 on the tactics board!"

"As long as you get a free kick in the area outside these two penalty areas."

"According to you, the distance is just right, and because it's on the side, the wall can't possibly completely block the straight line leading to the goal!"

Courtois gasped.

He looked at Li Jing as if he were looking at a monster who had completely shattered the balance of football.

"In other words, as long as the other party fouls you in these two specific areas."

"Then just kick it—"

"Isn't this practically like kicking a penalty kick?!"