Football: He suffered a broken leg at the start of the game, but partnered with Haaland!

The dormitory rooms are not big.

A bed.

A table.

A wardrobe.

The Borussia Dortmund team crest is displayed on the wall.

Yellow black.

It's very eye-catching.

Sun Yang put down his backpack.

He took out the shin guards his father had given him from his bag.

The Golden Monkey King.

The painting is indeed exquisite.

His eyes were bright, especially that rebellious look.

But Sun Yang stared at it for a long time.

He thought of the grass on Arsenal's training ground.

I remember when Lant slid in from the side and behind.

I think of those people standing beside me.

Some people remained silent.

Some people sneered.

Some people pretended not to see it.

I also remembered the casual remark my father made when he handed me the shin guards.

Don't embarrass yourself.

Sun Yang put the shin guards into the outermost layer of his training bag.

Place it where you can easily reach it.

After taking a shower, he lay down on the bed.

The dormitory is very quiet.

There's a breeze outside the window.

The lights from the training base shone through the gaps in the curtains, falling on the team emblem on the wall.

The next moment, a system notification popped up.

[Main quest phase complete: Leave Arsenal and join the Bundesliga.]

[Rewards have been distributed: The Football Hall of Fame Dream Training Ground is now open.]

Current mentor: Gabriel Batistuta.

[Current Skill: Barty GO.]

[Proficiency: 3/100]

[Current Reality Replication Rate: Initial prototype; success rate is affected by physical attributes, posture, and combat effectiveness.]

Sun Yang looked at those words.

The fire in my chest ignited again.

Passing the ball is definitely fun.

It feels so satisfying to tear apart the defense with one kick, allowing your teammate to go one-on-one and leaving the opposing defenders to suffer the consequences.

But that's not enough.

He'd rather hear the net trembling from the impact.

I want to hear the goalkeeper curse after landing.

I want to see the football smash into the net, silencing all those who doubt him.

He wanted to score.

I want to use my own feet to kick back those cold shoulders from Arsenal, one kick at a time.

Sun Yang closed his eyes.

"Initiate training."

The darkness receded.

The stadium lights up.

In the dream training ground, the lights were blindingly white.

The turf was so smooth it didn't look real.

The air smelled of sweat, earth, and a sense of oppression typical of the period before a major battle.

Batistuta stood at the top of the penalty area.

He had the ball under his feet.

Her long hair fell over her shoulders.

He looked like a lion that had just stepped off the battlefield.

Not a coach.

He looks more like an old soldier carrying a knife.

He glanced at Sun Yang.

"Has the contract been signed?"

Sun Yang was taken aback.

"You know about this too?"

Batistuta passed the ball to him in a lazy tone.

"I have no idea."

He raised his chin.

All I know is that your shooting is still terrible, boy.

Sun Yang's face darkened.

"I got one today."

Barty smiled.

His smile was smug.

It's also very realistic.

"Training match."

"The goalkeeper wasn't ready."

"No one's blocking your legs on defense."

"If that were in Serie A, the defensive midfielder would bump into your waist first, the center-back would take up your space, and the goalkeeper would be in position beforehand."

He stared at Sun Yang.

His eyes were like knives.

"Then, that ball of yours will most likely fly into the stands."

Sun Yang gritted his teeth.

"Then keep practicing."

Barty nodded.

"Very good. Being stubborn with words is useless; being tough with your legs is useful."

He didn't rush to start training.

Instead, he sat down on the grass and bent down to untie his sneakers.

Sun Yang frowned.

"What are you doing?"

Barty took off his shoes and tossed them aside.

Then, he stretched his foot out in front of Sun Yang.

Sun Yang's breath hitched when he saw it clearly.

Those weren't pretty feet.

Toe deformity.

Large joints.

There are traces of an old injury on the instep.

Some areas look as if they've been forcibly smoothed out.

In some places, it protrudes.

These feet are completely different from the god of war who smashed the goal in the TV highlights. They seem to belong to a completely different world.

Barty patted the back of his foot.

"Did you see that?"

Sun Yang remained silent.

Barty grinned.

"Many people only see my violent goals."

"They saw me rush to the corner flag to celebrate, saw the fans chanting my name, and saw me kicking the net like crazy."

His tone turned somber as he said this.

But they can't see this.

"You can't see how swollen my toes are after every training session, making it impossible to fit them into my shoes."

"Even when you can't see the defender kick you so hard you can't get up, you still have to grit your teeth, get up, and shoot again."

"You can't see how I trained my ankles to be as hard as stone in order to increase the ball speed by one kilometer."

Batistuta put his shoes back on.

The movements are very slow.

But each strike felt like a lesson for Sun Yang.

"Success is not a fairy tale."

He stood up, his eyes turning fierce again.

"Archers are not princes."

"The archer is the butcher."

"The goal is there. What you need to do is not pray, but fire."

Sun Yang felt a tightness in his chest.

It's not fear.

It was set on fire.

Batistuta pointed towards the penalty area.

"Today we practiced shooting under pressure."

Two shadowy guards appeared beside Sun Yang.

One shoulder.

One blocked the right foot.

Batistuta points to the goal.

"Receive the ball, turn, and shoot."

The ball is passed to them.

Sun Yang had just stopped when his shoulder was knocked away.

The ball was lost.

Batistuta remained expressionless.

"Again."

the second time.

Sun Yang blocked the way in advance.

The ball is flicked with the right foot.

He wanted to create an angle.

Another shadowy defender immediately closed in, blocking his leg swing.

The ball is gone again.

Batistuta didn't even flinch.

"Again."

the third time.

the fourth time.

tenth time.

The twentieth time.

The fiftieth time.

Sun Yang got up from the grass; his training clothes were completely soaked.

The dream wouldn't really hurt him.

But the pain is real.

I am really tired.

The frustration of being hit so hard that your movements become distorted and you can't even swing your leg is real.

This is not training.

This is being beaten.

It's still being beaten with teaching objectives in mind.

Sun Yang lay on the grass, panting heavily.

"Are you sure this is shooting practice?"

Barty looked at him with his arms crossed.

"certainly."

Sun Yang looked up.

"Why do I feel like you're practicing how to beat me up?"

Barty smiled.

"If you can't even handle this, you'll find that they beat you even more legally when you get to the Bundesliga."

Sun Yang was momentarily speechless.

That's an unpleasant thing to say.

But there's no way to refute it.

Batistuta walked to the top of the penalty area, like a cold, imposing statue of a war god.

"If you want to learn my shooting technique, first learn to maintain your position after physical contact."

"Just swinging your leg when there's no space isn't Batistuta GO."

Sun Yang, panting, asked, "What's it called?"

Batistuta stopped the ball with his foot.

"luck."

Sun Yang was so angry he laughed.

really do.

That old guy has a really sharp tongue.

But he's right.

Everyone dreams of hitting a shot from an open position.

In a real competition, no one will lay out a red carpet for him.

No one will say, "Mr. Sun, please get up comfortably."

His lower back will bump into him.

The center-back will squeeze him.

The goalkeeper will guess him.

The sports field is not a stage.

But Sun Yang just happened to roll out of the training room.

He is not strong.

But he can twist it.

He's not hard.

But he is flexible.

Arsenal only saw that he wasn't physically strong enough.

But what we didn't see was that even after being knocked off course, he could still deliver the ball right to the point of danger.

What if we applied that body control to shooting?

Sun Yang gritted his teeth and stood up.

"Again."

Barty looked at him.

There was something more in his eyes.

This is not a compliment.

It's more like a warrior seeing another warrior who hasn't knelt yet.

"Good."

He kicked the ball over.

"Let me see if you're just all talk and no action."

This time, Sun Yang didn't rush to turn around.

Before the ball came, he used his shoulder to block the shadowy defender behind him.

Step on the grass with your left foot.

Knees slightly bent.

Tighten your waist and abdomen.

The ball came to my feet.

Sun Yang took a half-step forward with his right foot to guide the ball.

Another shadowy guard closed in.

In the past, he would have hidden.

They will try to avoid contact.

But this time, he didn't dodge.

He used the impact to twist his body open.

Like the moment before a character makes a dramatic entrance on a Peking Opera stage.

It's not about toughing it out.

It's about leveraging external resources.

He swung his right leg up.

boom!

The football hurtled towards the goal like a cannonball.

The goalkeeper made the save.

I didn't encounter it.

The football hit the underside of the crossbar and bounced into the net.

The net shook violently.

That sound was amazing.

It felt like someone had struck a drum on Sun Yang's chest.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

The system prompts an error.

[Barty's GO proficiency: 4/100.]

[Shooting attribute increased: 53 → 54.]

Sun Yang sat on the grass, panting heavily.

It felt like my lungs were on fire.

My legs are also sore.

But he smiled.

He laughed heartily.

That's right.

This is the sound he wanted.

It wasn't applause after an assist.

It wasn't the coach who nodded.

The net conceded defeat.

The goalkeeper remained silent.

It's that "how did that go in?" look on the opponent's face when they look back at the ball.

This was a good deal.

Barty finally nodded.

"This kick can barely be considered a shot."

Sun Yang looked up at him.

"It takes you a lot of effort to compliment someone."

Batistuta kicked the ball back to him.

"Praise is for those who know how to be satisfied."

He raised his chin, his eyes blazing with arrogance.

"A marksman doesn't need to be satisfied."

"A striker only needs to score goals."

Sun Yang's smile slowly faded.

Barty took two steps forward.

"Remember, boy."

"When you're standing in front of the goal, don't try to prove how pathetic you are."

Nobody cares who dumped you.

"Nobody cares whether you've ever broken a leg or not."

"Nobody cares what Arsenal did to you."

He pointed to the goal.

"You kick the ball in."

"Only then will they listen to you."

Sun Yang looked down at the ball that had rolled to his feet.

At that moment, he thought of Lant.

I'm reminded of Buck.

I remember the looks of amusement in Arsenal's training ground, like they were watching a monkey show.

He slowly stood up.

My feet were on the grass.

The fire in my heart burned ever brighter.

Barty's voice rang out again.

"Have you rested enough?"

Sun Yang looked up.

That's enough.

Barty smiled.

That smile was like licking blood from a knife's edge.

"very good."

"One hundred more kicks."

Sun Yang bent down and flicked the ball in front of him.

He knew that the old man had no intention of letting him off easy.

But he didn't intend to run away.

The goal is right in front of us.

He wants to train this kick until he can shut everyone up.