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

The broadcast signal was switched to high-definition slow-motion playback.

Tens of millions of fans across the country who were watching on their screens all saw that scene.

First replay. Guvelliu slid in from behind Sun Yang, his right leg fully extended with the sole of his shoe facing upwards, clearly not aiming for the ball.

On the second playback, the camera zooms in.

Sun Yang controlled the ball with his back to the goal, then jabbed the turf with his toe and twisted his waist and abdomen forcefully, flipping himself over the flying tackle.

This is not a normal football evasive maneuver at all.

It's more like the acrobatic flip and release of force in a Peking Opera monkey play.

It's fast and strange, wildly unbelievable.

Duan Xuan gasped, his voice rising sharply.

"That was terrifying! A sliding tackle from behind with the sole of his boot showing. If Sun Yang had been even a fraction of a second slower, his professional career could have been over!"

Tao Wei stared intently at the screen, his brows furrowed in worry.

"The key is the way Sun Yang dodged; most players simply couldn't do that. Forcibly retracting his supporting leg shows incredible core strength. This childhood training is no joke."

The camera then freezes on the moment the two landed.

Guveliu's flying tackle missed, and his studs caught on Sun Yang's sock, causing Sun Yang to veer off course.

Sun Yang lost his balance and crashed down, his entire body weight landing on Guveliu's calves.

In the next frame, Guvelliu's lower leg is bent at a chilling angle.

The chat paused for half a second, and the live streaming platform's servers almost crashed on the spot.

"Holy crap! That scared me half to death. I thought Yang-ge had been crippled again!"

"Trying to cripple someone but ending up with a broken bone yourself? What goes around comes around; no one escapes the judgment of Heaven!"

"What's this called? This is called the Thornmail passive trigger! Karma hits you instantly!"

"Yang-ge, that wasn't a football move, it was Chinese Kung Fu!"

"Augsburg fans, keep pulling out those posters to mock us! Let's see how your butcher gets carried off the field!"

In an apartment in London.

Sun Wu braced himself on the edge of the coffee table with both hands, his chest heaving violently as if he had just been pulled out of the water.

Diana sat beside her, covering her mouth.

She didn't dare look at all just now.

Only when Sun Yang stood up, brushed off the grass clippings, and lay on the ground screaming as Guweiliwu appeared in the shot did she finally exhale a long breath.

Sun Tzu was far from able to sit still at this moment.

He slammed his hand heavily on the coffee table, making the teacups jump.

"Great! That was a beautiful leg pull-back!"

He pointed at the television, his eyes wide open.

"See that? That's what you call having a strong foundation! When we were kids, I used to whip him to practice his flips, and he'd complain I was too harsh. If it weren't for this childhood skill, those scoundrels would have really succeeded!"

Diana rolled her eyes at him, her voice a little hoarse.

"Don't brag about your childhood skills yet. After the game, I need to check his leg with the Dortmund team doctor, inch by inch."

Sun Tzu was stubborn and held his neck in the air.

"Investigate, we must investigate. But our son didn't back down at all on this ball."

After saying this, he looked at Sun Yang on the TV screen, and his eyes even reddened.

Inside the WWK Arena.

The team doctor sprinted into the field with a first aid kit on his back, followed closely by stretcher bearers.

Guvelliu was in so much pain that his face turned pale, and he kept spewing out broken curses.

Augsburg's team doctor knelt on one knee, stabbing the man's broken leg while shouting loudly.

"Don't move! Listen to me, stay calm, look at me and take a deep breath!"

Guvelliu was covered in cold sweat and couldn't listen to anything.

"My leg! Damn it, my leg is broken!"

Augsburg coach Mason, standing on the sidelines, looked livid and protested to the fourth official.

"He injured my player! You have eyes, right? You saw it, didn't you!"

The fourth official, expressionless, simply pointed to the technical area, signaling him to retreat immediately.

The referee was completely unaffected by the farce on the sidelines.

He pressed his earpiece, listening carefully to the voice prompts from the video assistant referee.

A few seconds later, he raised his hand to push aside the players who were chattering around him, and then shoved away the Augsburg captain who was crowding around him.

Then, he drew a square in the air with both hands.

We're going to watch VAR!

The crowd erupted in deafening boos once again.

The Augsburg fans in the stands were absolutely furious. In their view, their own player had broken his leg, and the referee still insisted on reviewing the replay; it was blatant bullying of the home team.

On the away side of the stands, the die-hard Dortmund fans were even less tolerant of them.

"Watch the replay! Let all of Germany see how dirty your kick was!"

"Stop playing the victim! The one who showed his shoe soles first was your family's butcher!"

The referee ran to the monitor on the sidelines, put his hands on his knees, and stared at several different angles to confirm repeatedly.

From the first angle, Guvelliu accelerated from the side and rear.

From the second angle, the sole of the shoe was raised directly, heading straight for Sun Yang's supporting leg ankle.

From the third angle, the ball had already passed, but his foot was completely aimed at the person.

This wasn't a tackling error at all. It was a serious foul aimed at injuring someone.

After watching the replay one last time, the referee's face turned completely cold.

He turned and strode back onto the field, heading straight for Guvelliu, who was about to be carried off the field.

Tens of thousands of eyes followed his every step.

Some people on the Augsburg bench couldn't help but start swearing.

"Please! He already has a broken bone!"

The referee didn't stop, but rushed to the stretcher and reached his right hand into his breast pocket.

A bright red card was held high above his head.

He was facing Guveliu, who was lying on a stretcher and wailing.

Wow.

The entire WWK Arena erupted in cheers.

Augsburg players swarmed around like wildcats whose tails had been stepped on.

Max was at the front, veins bulging on his neck.

"Are you kidding me? His leg is broken! You're giving the victim a red card?"

Augsburg's captain also roared at the referee.

"You can't make that judgment! He's already paid the price!"

The referee raised his hands and forcefully pushed the group out, speaking with exceptional clarity.

"Number six made a dangerous tackle from the side and behind, his boots were showing, and he had no control over his body at all. This is a serious foul, and there is no room for discussion."

Max wanted to argue back.

The referee pointed directly to the deep, visible mud track on the turf.

"An injury does not mean there was no foul. VAR confirms that number 29 did not commit any additional injuring action. The penalty is over, everyone step back."

Max let out a cold laugh in exasperation, spreading his hands as he looked at his teammates beside him.

"Fantastic, absolutely fantastic. We've lost a center-back, and the culprit is just standing there like nothing happened."

Hummels, who was standing nearby, heard this and stepped forward, speaking coldly.

"Your people targeted the incapacitated first. Why are you pretending to be a vulnerable group now?"

Haaland stood in front of Sun Yang like an iron tower, his nostrils flaring violently.

He looked down at Max, his voice like a beast's growl.

"Try touching him again. I guarantee the next few minutes will be a nightmare for you."

Sancho also strode over arrogantly, his words utterly merciless.

"Dude, save your acting skills. With that dirty tackle you just made, you'd not only get a shower in the Premier League, you'd also get a suspension."

Sun Yang reached out and tugged at the back of Haaland and Sancho's jerseys.

"Don't get carried away, they're just hoping to provoke you into losing."

Haaland looked back at him, his eyes still filled with lingering hostility.

"They want to cripple you."

Sun Yang patted the Norwegian Viking's thick arm.

"So we need to beat them. Putting the ball in their net is a hundred times more effective than just spitting here."

Haaland stared into Sun Yang's eyes for two seconds, then nodded vigorously.

"Fine. Pass the damn ball to me."

Sun Yang burst out laughing.

"Don't worry, it'll be all you can eat, until you're sick of it."

On the away side of the stands, Borussia Dortmund fans were already celebrating wildly.

"Red card! Get out!"

"He tried to steal a chicken but lost the bait instead! Serves him right!"

"This is an absolute steal! They're missing a key center-back, and their defense is a complete sieve!"

The VAR ruling was simultaneously displayed on the large screen at the scene.

The moment Guveliu revealed the sole of his shoe was magnified clearly by four cameras.

The entire process of Sun Yang losing his balance after his sock was caught and crushing his opponent's calf is entirely plausible.

The home team's stands, which had been shouting and cursing just moments before, suddenly fell silent, as if the noise had been abruptly cut off.

Even if a few extreme fans are still stubbornly insisting, the irrefutable evidence on the big screen leaves no room for argument.

CCTV host Duan Xuan hit the nail on the head.

"This red card was absolutely indisputable. A serious foul is judged based on the action itself, not on who is injured. If Sun Yang hadn't dodged that blow, the consequences would have been unimaginable."

Tao Wei nodded in agreement.

"Augsburg is in big trouble right now. They're missing a center-back, so their defense has to be completely reshuffled immediately. Dortmund has Haaland, a behemoth, to draw attention away from them, Sancho is attacking down the weak side, and Sun Yang has an incredible long pass. Eleven against ten, they simply can't stop them."

The on-site director is very good at managing the audience's emotions.

As soon as the farce subsided, the telephoto lens immediately focused on Sun Yang, the center of the storm.

Sun Yang was looking down, adjusting his basketball socks.

Although he dodged Gubelius's deadly flying tackle, the sharp studs still tore a very long gash in his black and yellow socks.

He tried to straighten it by pulling it a couple of times but couldn't, so he simply folded the torn edge upwards.

The close-up shot was incredibly precise.

Through his torn socks, tens of millions of fans across Europe and even domestically could clearly see the shin guards on his calves.

That's not a mass-produced product from a major brand at all.

It was a pair of imposing shin guards, hand-painted.

Authentic Peking Opera bright red and gold paint, with sharp and angular lines.

Wearing a phoenix-winged purple-gold crown, with an angry expression on his face, a golden cudgel is stuck diagonally in the blazing cloud pattern.

The Monkey King.

Under the blinding spotlights of the stadium, the monkey king's eyes, painted with gold, seemed alive, radiating a terrifying, ferocious light that seemed to kill gods and Buddhas alike, staring at the world through the screen.

At this moment, domestic live streaming platforms once again went viral.

"Great Sage!!!"

"The Great Sage Returns!!!"

"Thank goodness! These shin guards are absolutely awesome!"

"This is what you call cultural export! Sun Wukong truly lives up to his name!"

"Who understands, brothers? I was terrified watching that! All I want to shout now is, 'Monkey King, charge!'"

"Are the Yiwu bosses asleep yet? Hurry up and put the same product on the shelves, don't make me have to go through the internet to beg you!"

In that apartment in London.

Diana looked at the imposing shin guards on the screen and asked softly.

"Did you draw this yourself?"

Sun Tzu unconsciously straightened his chest, his tone feigning utmost nonchalance.

"Just some random drawing. The kid's going to Germany alone, so he should bring back some things from our ancestors to bolster his image."

Diana glanced at him sideways.

"You stayed up until 3 a.m. that night just to draw whatever you wanted."

Sun Wu coughed lightly, grabbed his teacup to cover his embarrassment, and immediately changed the subject.

"The game is about to start, let's watch the game!"

The camera pans back to the stadium.

Sun Yang straightened his socks, too lazy to look at Augsburg's furious players anymore.

He stomped his feet on the grass twice to make sure that there were no problems with the power and support from his legs.

He then walked straight up to the referee.

"Sir, may we resume the match?"

The referee looked him up and down.

"Are you sure you don't want the team doctor to check on the injury? Do you need a new pair of socks?"

Sun Yang shook his head and refused.

"No need. I'm perfectly fine. The hole doesn't affect my running, much less my ability to tear through their defenses."

After speaking, he slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping across most of Augsburg like a radar.

After Gubelius was substituted, the four-defender system was forced to widen laterally. The left and right flanks were leaky, creating deadly gaps everywhere.

To Sun Yang, who had a god-like perspective, this incomplete defensive formation looked like he was deliberately opening the door to a massacre.

Haaland had already drifted to the center, his massive frame beginning to overpower the last center-back. Sancho was close to the left sideline, his feet poised to cut inside at any moment.

Dortmund has revealed its sharpest fangs.

Sun Yang gently licked his dry lips.

"They're short one person."

He glanced at the referee, then fixed his gaze on the crumbling penalty area.

"We're in a hurry to score a goal."