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

As soon as training ended, Sun Yang was carried into the ice bath area by Haaland.

Next to Dortmund's locker room is a huge professional recovery area.

A row of inflatable bathtubs with flowing water were placed on the ground, with large chunks of ice floating inside.

The water temperature is consistently between 10 and 15 degrees Celsius. When a player sits in the water, the icy water immediately reaches their waist and abdomen.

Sun Yang had just put one leg in when he was almost thrown out of the bucket as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Fuck!"

Sancho, who was standing next to him, burst out laughing.

"Bro, welcome to real adult football. You think playing in the Bundesliga is just about running around like crazy? You're so wrong. The real torture begins after the whistle blows."

Haaland was already sitting casually at the bottom of the bathtub. Most of his body was submerged in the ice water, and his face was full of comfort.

"Save your energy howling, Monkey King. Didn't you just kick the door frame apart in the training field? You're backing down after a little bit of ice water?"

Sun Yang gritted his teeth and forced himself into the water.

cold.

Bone-chilling cold.

This isn't the kind of coolness you get from a regular cold shower; it's an extremely penetrating cold that goes straight into the muscle fibers, relieving all the soreness and swelling from the workout.

He could clearly feel the fascia around his thighs, calves, and even knees tightening.

Haaland casually scooped a piece of ice from the bucket, arced it through the air, and smashed it into Sun Yang's bathtub.

"Soaking in the water for a while will do you good. High-intensity exercise can tear tiny wounds in your muscles, and cold water can cause blood vessels to constrict quickly, nipping any signs of inflammation and swelling in the bud."

The tall Norwegian man explained with great seriousness: "Once you come out, your body temperature will rise again, and your blood will flow back faster, flushing away all the lactic acid and waste in your body."

Sun Yang gasped in pain and glanced at him sideways.

"You seem to know quite a lot?"

Haaland spread his hands out seriously.

"Nonsense, I'm not just a machine that can only eat assists. Ronaldo and Messi's teams value this thing extremely much. For top players who want to cause more damage on the field, recovery is just as important as extra training."

Sancho nodded in agreement, adding, "That's right. If you don't go through this process, you'll be working like a bellows after just twenty minutes of running when we get to the away game this weekend."

Sun Yang's heart skipped a beat.

In the system's dream world, he had an unlimited stamina cheat, so he didn't need to worry about fatigue at all.

Reality is not a dream.

The intense high-pressing tactics Favre employed in the final five minutes had already caused him considerable trouble.

The system's "point and shoot" feature can indeed boost the passing stat to 99, but the stamina, physical toughness, and off-the-ball movement and turnovers required for this body all have to be built up bit by bit in real life.

This is a genuine top-five league.

There are no backdoors to take, and your opponents won't give you a chance to breathe just because you have a good overall perspective.

In the bathtub next door, Witsel had a towel draped over his shoulder, and his mouth was open against the edge:

"Sun, you did have some skill with the ball today. But you'd better remember, in the Bundesliga, nobody's going to make you a cup of coffee and wait for you to adjust your shooting form."

Veteran captain Hummels was also sitting nearby, speaking in a very pertinent tone:

"Especially for someone like you who's responsible for orchestrating the attack. The opponent will definitely cut off your receiving routes first, and then go straight for physical battles."

"If you don't look back and check the situation behind you before the ball leaves your foot, it's a dead end once you receive the ball."

Sun Yang put away his joking thoughts and nodded solemnly.

"I understand, Captain."

Goalkeeper Bürki wiped the ice water off his face and looked at Sun Yang with a deep gaze.

"You'd better also remember this: next time you want to try for a world-class goal, give me a signal beforehand. I almost thought my career was going to end with that kick."

Sancho laughed so hard his hand trembled, and he almost dropped his phone into the ice water.

"Roman, that's enough already. That flying pounce you made was so cool, wasn't it?"

Bürki rolled his eyes in response.

"Can being handsome put food on the table? My wrist is still throbbing."

The entire recovery area erupted in laughter.

Listening to the banter and jokes of these starting lineups from top teams, Sun Yang felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction.

The atmosphere here is completely different from that of Arsenal's youth team.

In London, it was a place of factionalism and exclusion, of prejudiced cold stares, of dark corners where local players could be protected and escape unscathed even after breaking someone's leg.

But in Dortmund.

This group of people will laugh at you without reservation, and they will tackle you extremely viciously on the field.

But when it comes to anything within the realm of football, nobody plays dirty tricks.

If you get knocked down, they yell at you to get up; if you make a spectacular pass, they cheer loudly; if you choose the wrong route, the big brother will start cursing at you to your face.

Innocent and pure.

Just then, Sang Qiao, who was scrolling through his phone, suddenly stopped smiling and his expression became somewhat strange.

He looked up at Sun Yang, then glanced at Haaland.

"Hey guys, we're famous online."

Haaland closed his eyes to rest, his tone arrogant: "Normal, making sports headlines is as easy for me as drinking water."

Sancho clicked his tongue twice: "This isn't official news. It's a thread on a Dortmund die-hard fan forum where someone created a winter transfer window new signing evaluation thread. Erling, you're number one in terms of popularity. Emre Can is second."

"Sun, you're third, and the comments on your thread are going crazy."

Sun Yang raised an eyebrow.

"You complimented me on my passing skills and good looks?"

Sancho was so angry he laughed.

"You have a good mental fortitude. Do you really want to hear it?"

"Read it." Sun Yang leaned against the edge of the bathtub, his eyes calm.

Haaland opened his eyes too: "Speak louder, let's hear what these football experts have to say."

Sancho cleared his throat and adopted a sarcastic and exaggerated tone.

"Haaland, the 'Magic Buu,' is a goal-scoring machine in Salzburg. This deal is a steal, and the management did a great job."

Haaland nodded in satisfaction after listening.

"This guy has a good eye."

Sancho continued scrolling down.

"Emre Can, a veteran of the top five leagues. He can play as a defensive midfielder and also fill in at center-back. He's the perfect addition to the team right away, a very reliable player."

Witsel chimed in, "That's a fair assessment."

At this point, Sang Qiao suddenly stopped, his finger hovering in mid-air as he scrolled down the screen, and glanced at Sun Yang.

Sun Yang tapped the surface of the water.

"Stop dawdling and read it quickly."

Sancho sighed and read it aloud:

"As for the mixed-race Asian player they finally signed, Sun Yang? I completely don't understand this move. Arsenal would rather terminate his contract than keep him, so why would Dortmund pick him up? He's never even played a single second in a competitive senior team match!"

Harland frowned in the bathtub.

Sancho sped up his speech: "I heard this kid just had a horrific leg-breaking accident recently! How can someone with such fragile medical reports pass a physical exam? Has Zorc lost his mind?!"

Bürki whistled a long, drawn-out whistle from the side.

"That's some serious keyboard typing."

Sancho clicked on another highly-rated comment highlighted in red.

"This post has over a thousand likes." He looked at Sun Yang, a hint of worry in his eyes.

"I'm done reading. The fans won't stop greeting me just because you shut up." Sun Yang's voice was extremely steady.

Sancho gritted his teeth and read it out crisply.

"Dortmund has certainly liked to gamble on young talents in recent years, but Asian injury-prone players, outcasts from top clubs, plus a youth team substitute record! These three buffs combined offer me no tactical value other than attracting attention!"

"What we need are championship-contending pieces who can actually score points, not some inspirational supporting character from a soap opera!"

Haaland wiped the water droplets from his face, his expression darkening completely, and he swore.

"These idiots are spewing filth."

Sancho swallowed hard and added in a low voice, "Some people even posted sarcastic comments, saying that Dortmund bought Haaland to strengthen their title aspirations, and bought Emre Can to double their insurance..."

"Buying Sun Yang is purely a form of charity in European football."

After listening, Sun Yang didn't say anything, but just quietly looked at the overhead light.

Are you angry?

Somewhat. But he also understands that in competitive sports, being bad is the original sin. Without results and statistics, why should anyone treat you like a superstar?

It's an undeniable fact that Arsenal treated him like trash and kicked him out.

Moreover, if the system hadn't awakened its god-like vision and maxed-out passing ability, it wouldn't have been able to achieve such incredible accuracy.

With his current overall rating of a mere 60, he wouldn't even be able to get into Dortmund's youth team.