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

On the pitch, head coach Favre was already waiting there.

The main field of the training base has a grass surface as smooth as a tabletop.

The edges were brushed straight.

Behind the goal was a row of small training goals.

The physical trainer is adjusting the speed measuring equipment.

The data analyst stood on the sidelines with a tablet in his hand.

Another assistant coach distributed GPS vests to the players.

Sun Yang put on a vest with sensors attached to his back.

He had seen these devices before when he was in Arsenal's youth team.

However, the level of detail in Borussia Dortmund's first team is clearly much more stringent.

The peak of each sprint.

Coverage heatmap for each running segment.

Every heart rate fluctuation.

Everything will be meticulously recorded.

You want to slack off during training?

It simply doesn't exist; cold, hard data will directly provide that information for you.

The turf maintenance vehicle slowly drove past from the other side. The staff got out of the vehicle to inspect a small piece of loose turf, squatted down, and used tools to compact it.

As Sun Yang watched this scene, only one thought remained in his mind.

That's what you call professional.

Warm-up begins.

Dynamic stretching.

Hip activation.

Small step frequency.

High knee raises.

Acceleration over short distances.

The strength and conditioning coach was calling out the rhythm.

"Move, move! Keep your hips open!"

Sun Yang moved with the group.

He performed every movement with utmost precision, to the point of being demanding.

The seasoned veterans next to them were just going through the motions.

Sun Yang, however, seemed to be taking an exam.

Because he knew it very well.

Others are maintaining their competitive edge.

He is desperately trying to catch up with the gap.

Just as I finished a set of exercises and stepped back to catch my breath, Haaland's imposing size strolled over.

"Hey, Monkey King."

Sun Yang raised his head helplessly.

"Can we discuss changing the way we call it?"

Haaland grinned widely, his blond hair as messy as a golden lion king who had just woken up.

"No, this nickname is so catchy and easy to remember."

He sat down directly on the grass.

"Come on, partner, do some leg stretches."

Sun Yang sat down, and the two stretched each other.

Haaland's strength was incredible; with just a little effort, he almost pulled Sun Yang's leg over his head.

Sun Yang gasped, then quickly retorted, "Are you stretching my legs or preparing to disassemble me into parts and ship me back to London?"

Haaland laughed even more heartily after hearing this.

"Aren't you supposed to have iron legs?"

Sun Yang paused.

"Who told you that?"

"I guessed."

Haaland leaned closer, lowering his previously loud voice.

"You were hit several times yesterday, but your movements didn't seem like you were injured. Someone who has actually broken a leg would instinctively protect that leg, but you didn't at all."

Sun Yang gave him a deep look.

This guy looks like a big Scandinavian dog, but he's quite thoughtful.

Haaland continued, "Don't pay attention to what those guys in the locker room are saying. This is what a top club's first team is like. Newcomers are scrutinized under a magnifying glass, young players are looked at, and players with Asian features get even more stares."

Sun Yang retorted, "What, have you ever been looked down upon too?"

Haaland shrugged nonchalantly.

"Of course. Some people say I just charge forward like a bull, some laugh at my Austrian league stats as being inflated, and others say my footwork is rough."

"and then?"

Haaland turned his head, his aggressive eyes fixed on the distant goal.

"Goal!"

He spoke casually, as if he were talking about what to have for lunch.

"Smash the ball into the net until they shut up. Smash it again until they can't help but start praising me. Keep shooting until they completely pretend they never insulted me."

Sun Yang smiled.

"Your reasoning is simple and crude enough."

Haaland nodded.

"Football is that simple. If they don't like you, just pass the ball well. If they keep nagging, keep passing. If someone gets angry and tries to tackle you dirty, just pass the ball to me."

He patted his chest.

"I'm going to run them all over."

Sun Yang looked at the nineteen-year-old Norwegian center.

Suddenly I realized that Dortmund is a nice place.

At least on this pitch, there are people willing to speak in the purest football logic.

After warming up, the group competitions began.

Favre held the tactical board, and the whole team fell silent.

"Today we'll focus on frontcourt offensive and defensive transitions."

"Team B, practice the three-center-back passing system."

"Team A, execute high-pressing."

He looked at Sun Yang.

"Sun, you're going to the B team. Your position will be between the right midfielder and the attacking midfielder. You'll be responsible for receiving passes and also for making the first pass forward."

Sun Yang nodded vigorously.

"clear."

Favre then looked at Haaland.

"Erling, you're going to Team A."

Haaland was stunned.

"Coach, I can't be on his team? I just had some food yesterday, and now I'm out of food?"

Someone in the team burst out laughing.

Favre remained expressionless.

"If you want to eat pancakes, you have to learn how to snatch them from the other side's mouth first."

Sancho chuckled to himself.

"Big man, you'll have to do it yourself today."

Haaland sighed and stood at the front of Team A.

"Alright, Monkey King, I'm getting serious now. Don't blame me for being too cruel later."

Sun Yang stretched his ankle.

"Enough talk, let's get started."

Sun Yang moved to the middle lane of Team B.

The defensive stalwart Witsel stood guard behind him.

On the left is the agile Brandt, and on the right is the single-minded Sancho.

Veteran captain Mats Hummels was responsible for orchestrating the ball's trajectory in the final stages of the game.

Team A presses forward.

Haaland stood at the front, staring at Sun Yang.

His body was so imposing.

Like a moving wall.

The whistle blew.

Hummels calmly received the ball in his own half and delivered a low pass to Witsel.

Witsel didn't hold onto the ball for long, and smoothly passed it straight to Sun Yang in front.

The ball had just rolled close to his feet along the grass when Haaland had already rushed up to him like a gust of wind!

This kind of pressure is incomparable to the soft, weak pressing of the youth team.

Haaland was very smart; instead of blindly sticking out to steal the ball, he positioned himself to block Sun Yang's path to turn and move forward.

The opposing winger also quickly retreated, like a pair of pincers, directly cutting off Sun Yang's passing line to Sancho on the right wing.

In just three seconds, the space around Sun Yang was compressed to the extreme, filled with human legs!

Favre, standing on the sidelines, showed no intention of stopping the game.

This is exactly the scene he wanted to see.

This is the first lesson any newcomer, hailed as a prodigy from the youth team, must learn when they arrive at the first team.

It's not a performance.

Instead, it was a suffocating high-pressure strangulation.

Sun Yang stepped on the ball with his right foot and swayed his shoulder.

Haaland didn't fall for the feint and closed in directly.

Sun Yang was jostled and almost lost the ball.

Someone on the sidelines whispered, "See? The first team isn't the youth team."

"What good was his amazing long pass yesterday if he couldn't hold onto the ball? It was all for nothing."

Sun Yang heard it.

He didn't panic.

The next second, he raised his left hand.

It doesn't refer to the frontcourt.

Instead, it pointed to the diagonal gap behind it!

Witsel understood immediately and quickly stepped back half a step to create space.

Without even turning his head, Sun Yang deftly flicked his right foot backward with the outside of his foot.

The football skimmed along the grass, rolled past Haaland's feet, and landed precisely at Witsel's feet.

Witsel received the ball and immediately switched it to the left wing.

Brandt made a full-speed forward run.

Guerrero made a high-speed run to the wing to receive the pass.

Team B used this subtle and effective approach to smoothly dominate the halfway line.

Favre tapped a pen on the sidelines.

They did not risk turning back when faced with the threat of being strangled.

He didn't show off his skills recklessly in an eagerness to prove himself.

This is a mature choice.

Hummels also glanced at Sun Yang.

Although the old captain didn't offer any praise, the stern look in his eyes had lost some of its previous scrutiny.

Round two.

Sun Yang made another run deep into the middle to ask for the ball.

Sancho started from the right wing.

As soon as Sun Yang raised his left hand, the full-back from Team A, who was responsible for marking him, turned around and chased back to defend as if by reflex.

It is clear.

They studied him.

Someone shouted, "Stop pointing in the direction he's pointing! Don't let this kid be a traffic cop directing traffic here!"

Sancho sprinted wildly while turning back and laughing.

"Hey, Sun! They're treating you like an airport control tower!"

Sun Yang's lips twitched.

Control tower?

Row.

Then let me show you what it means to change the flight path.

Haaland pushed even harder this time.

As he charged, he shouted, "Monkey King, the same trick won't work anymore! This time, I absolutely won't let you use the same route back!"

Sun Yang stepped on the ball with his right foot.

Sink your left shoulder to the right.

Sancho's lane was blocked.

There was an extra defender in front of Witsel.

Everyone thought he would be forced to pass the ball back to Hummels.

The substitute defender on the sidelines was already smiling.

"There's no space left."

Sun Yang didn't look at him.

His eyes swept across the field.

The right flank is blocked.

The middle road is blocked.

There was someone pressing down on me from behind.

Haaland was already in front of him.

This is the level of a first-team team.

If you hesitate, the ball is gone.

If you feel even the slightest bit of fear, you will be crushed.

Sun Yang gently pulled with the sole of his foot.

Twist your body to the left.

That move wasn't like a typical turn by a traditional player.

It's more like the powerful twist of the waist of a martial arts performer before a somersault on a Peking Opera stage.

So gentle!

So fast!

It also carries a slightly illogical and eerie feeling!

Haaland instinctively stretched out his long leg to try and intercept the ball.

Sun Yang did not pass the ball in the direction he was pointing.

He pointed to the right with his left hand.

Look to the right.

But with his feet, he subtly and forcefully slapped his right foot with the inside of his foot!

The ball slipped through the narrow gap between Haaland and the defensive midfielder, drawing an extremely counterintuitive inward-spinning arc, flying straight and diagonally towards the huge space behind him on the left side of the field!

This was a perfect prediction, completely anticipating all of the opponent's predictions!

Brandt just started up.

Guerrero has already rushed up from the outside of the sideline.

Team A's entire defense was completely fooled by this ghostly kick, and they all stiffly turned their heads to look at the left flank.

The person who had just shouted "Stop pointing in the direction of the finger" suddenly changed his expression.

Sancho was completely dumbfounded on the right wing, slamming on the brakes and yelling loudly.

"Holy shit! This ball wasn't for me? You even fooled me?!"

Brandt controlled the ball with ease, dribbled forward, and with Guerrero's overlapping run and cover, Team B, like a sharp knife, instantly brought the battle to the heart of the penalty area.

Although the final shot was tipped over the crossbar by the in-form goalkeeper with one hand.

But the once noisy sidelines have now fallen into an eerie silence.

A glint of wild joy flashed in Favre's eyes, and he quickly bent down and wrote two extremely professional phrases heavily in his tactics notebook.

[Disguised as pointing.]

[A fatal transfer to the weak side.]