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

The locker room was bustling with activity.

Haaland was applying an ice pack to his calf while bragging to Sancho about his hat trick.

The door opened, and head coach Favre and assistant coach Terčić walked in. Team doctor Schmidt followed behind, carrying a stack of data reports.

Everyone quieted down and waited for the head coach to speak.

Favre walked to the center and looked around.

"Well done, gentlemen." Favre clapped his hands. "You've shown the willpower that Bundesliga teams should have in such terrible weather conditions."

The players whistled.

Favre waved his hand to silence the noise, his expression turning serious.

"But the festivities end here. I need to talk to you about the upcoming match schedule."

Terčić pushed out a whiteboard with a tactical plan. The schedule for February was written on it in dense detail.

Favre pointed to several red circles on the whiteboard.

"The team doctor, Schmidt, just gave me the physical exertion report. Today's heavy rain has caused your muscle fatigue to be far greater than usual. We ran in the mud for ninety minutes, which was an extremely exhausting experience."

Schmidt adjusted his glasses and added, "I want to specifically point out a few players. Marco, your hamstrings are slightly tight. Erling, your knees have taken too many rough hits. Son, although you didn't sprint much tonight, you were fouled the most in the game; your ankle needs ice and rest."

Favre took over the conversation.

"We're going to play Werder Bremen away in the middle of the week; it's the third round of the German Cup."

There are young players eager to try their luck.

Favre abruptly shattered their illusions.

"Listen carefully. I don't plan to field my first-team players in that cup match. I'm going to make extensive rotations."

This statement caused quite a stir in the locker room. While the German Cup isn't as prestigious as the league title, it's still an important honor. For Dortmund, a powerhouse club, to announce a significant rotation is tantamount to strategically giving up.

Haaland threw the ice pack on the bench, glared, and yelled, "Boss, why? My stamina's fine, I can still run. I want to go to Werder Bremen and blast their goal!"

Favre looked at the goal-scoring machine and shook his head.

"Shut up, Erling. Save your energy for something more important."

Favre tapped his finger twice on the whiteboard, pointing to the match following the German Cup.

"This weekend, which is next Saturday, we're going to the BayArena to play Bayer Leverkusen away."

Mentioning this name, the veteran players' expressions turned serious. Leverkusen is in red-hot form this season, and Havertz is having a phenomenal season. This is a tough nut to crack.

Favre continued pointing backward, his finger landing on a huge Paris Saint-Germain crest at the end of the month.

"Look carefully. In twenty days, we will be playing Paris Saint-Germain at home. It's the first leg of the Champions League Round of 16."

The locker room was completely silent.

"Leverkusen is a tough match; it's crucial for us to stay close to Bayern in the league standings." Favreau paused, raising his voice. "And Paris Saint-Germain..."

"They have Neymar and Mbappe. They're a group of superstars who can change the game in any second. To beat an opponent of that caliber, we have to be 100% healthy and fit."

As captain, Reus immediately expressed his opinion.

"The coach is right, we have to make some sacrifices. The German Cup is very intense, and Werder Bremen will definitely try to stop us by fouling us when we play at home. At this critical juncture, we can't afford to have any more key players injured."

Favre nodded and turned to look at the core members.

"So this is the final decision. In the next few days of training, the youth academy will call up a few young guys to fill in. For the starting lineup in the German Cup midweek, I will choose from the fringe substitutes. We need to use our best players where they are most needed."

Favre glanced at Sun Yang.

"Sun, Erling, Jaden, and Marco. The four of you are the absolute core of the team going forward. I'm giving you two days off. From now until Tuesday morning, I don't want to see you at the training facility."

Haaland pursed his lips, clearly a little frustrated about not being able to play and score, but he accepted the arrangement.

Sun Yang leaned against the locker, silently processing his decision. He would forgo the German Cup to focus on the league and the Champions League.

Favre's thinking was very clear; this kind of strategic deployment was indeed the most rational. He had just received a new blind box, and these two days were perfect for locking himself in his dream world to fully extract the value from the next legendary figure.

After showering and changing into casual clothes, Sun Yang drove away from the stadium and returned to his villa in the southern suburbs of Cologne, going straight into the master bedroom on the second floor.

Sun Yang lay on the bed, closed his eyes, and his consciousness directly descended to connect with the system.

The dark space lit up again.

Ahead lay the enormous wooden treasure chest, radiating a deep blue light. The patterns of French irises flowed slowly within the glow.

Sun Yang took a deep breath, stepped forward, and placed one hand on the lock of the treasure chest.

The treasure chest lid made a dull, scraping sound as it automatically popped open.

A burst of dazzling golden light was so bright that it blinded people.

The melodious sound of an accordion drifted into my ears, adding an elegant touch to the otherwise quiet training space with its typical French romantic melody.

The light dissipated.

A tall figure stood in front of Sun Yang.

It was a solid blue French national team jersey, with the proud French rooster printed on the chest. The number on the back was the iconic number ten.

The man's head was bald, his deep-set eyes held a sharp gaze, and the stubble on his face exuded a sense of composure born of experience.

He stood there, without making any unnecessary movements, yet he exuded a breathtaking aura of a master.

Zinedine Zidane, a true master of midfield artistry in football.

Zidane stood with his hands behind his back, scrutinizing Sun Yang with extremely critical eyes.

"You look too thin, little one."

Zidane's opening remarks were quite blunt, delivered with a thick French accent.

"I watched your game tonight. That lob shot was creative; David really put a lot of effort into it. However, your playing style was very rough."

Sun Yang did not refute. Compared to these top superstars who had been deified by the system, his skills were indeed insignificant.

Zidane took two steps forward and circled Sun Yang halfway around him.

"You have an extremely wide field of vision and a decent passing touch. But you lack the most essential quality of a midfield playmaker."

That is composure.

Zidane stopped directly in front of Sun Yang.

"When the ball is at your feet, you are too eager to pass it. Once the opponent cuts off your passing lanes, once two or three defenders double-team you, you become flustered and even lose possession in a panic."

These words pinpointed Sun Yang's current weakness with remarkable accuracy. His dribbling attribute is only 65, meaning he relies entirely on his ability to force passes to hit specific targets in the Bundesliga. However, he's easily neutralized by top-tier, physically imposing defenses that deny him any space to shoot.

"Football is an art. It's not just about brute force and blindly kicking the ball long."

Zidane raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

A soccer ball rolled out of the darkness and came to a precise stop at his feet.

"A true midfield maestro should make time stand still the moment he receives the ball on the pitch. You should make the defenders dance to your rhythm, not the other way around."

The searchlights at both ends of the field suddenly turned on.

Two silhouettes of defensive players in yellow jerseys appeared in front of Zidane. Judging from the jersey design, it was the signature color scheme of the Brazilian national team.

"Watch closely, this is the first lesson!"

The two Brazilian defenders, like phantoms, rushed towards Zidane at incredible speed, forming a double-team.

If Sun Yang were facing this kind of double-team, his first reaction would definitely be to use his back to shield the ball, and then awkwardly pass it back or have it intercepted by the opponent.

But Zidane did not back down.

Just as the defender was about to close in, he lightly touched the ball with his right foot and smoothly turned his body in a half-turn. Immediately afterwards, he gently pulled the ball with the sole of his left foot.

The entire movement was fluid and seamless.

The two defenders' attempts to intercept the ball completely missed.

Zidane glided through the extremely narrow gap between the two with an elegant, waltz-like gait.

A signature skill.

Marseille turn.

In high-speed confrontations, by using both feet to pull the ball and rotating the body, not only was possession of the ball secured, but the defender's center of gravity was also perfectly shaken off.

"This is more than just a dribbling move." Zidane stopped and passed the ball back to Sun Yang. "It's a technique for controlling your center of gravity. Learn it, and even if you're surrounded by three players in midfield, you can leave as easily as if you were strolling in your own backyard."

Sun Yang was thrilled. This was exactly the skill he had been longing to improve.

Once he masters the ability to receive the ball and break free in chaotic situations, his core position at Dortmund will be completely unshakeable, and he may even be able to carry the ball forward and tear apart the opponent's entire defense.

Before Sun Yang could even ask to practice, the scene in the air changed again.

The surrounding area transformed into a huge stadium grandstand, a stadium with a distinctly Spanish flair.

A long pass soared high from the left flank, the ball arcing high through the air before landing at the edge of the penalty area.

Zidane was standing below the landing point.

His eyes were fixed on the falling ball.

There was no stopping the ball, no unnecessary adjustments.

Just as the ball was about to hit the ground, Zidane twisted his body completely, almost leaping into the air. His left foot, like a taut steel whip, lashed out at the very center of the ball.

Bang!

An extremely dull thud echoed through the space.

The ball became a blur, too fast for the naked eye to follow, and slammed straight into the top left corner of the goal. The immense impact caused the net to buckle into an exaggerated shape.

Sun Yang gasped.

This is one of the greatest goals in Champions League history.

A celestial being descends from the heavens.

This volley demands an abnormal level of flexibility, timing of the strike, and ankle strength. A slight miscalculation could result in either kicking the ball into the stands or straining a hamstring.

It perfectly blends French elegance with the ultimate violent aesthetics of football.

Zidane landed and brushed the grass clippings off his hands.

"Batistuta taught you strength. David taught you curves."

Zidane slowly walked towards Sun Yang.

"What I'm going to teach you is how to regain elegance in the most chaotic situations, and then finish off your opponent in the most lethal way."

Sun Yang clenched his fists, eager to start practicing.

He lifted the ball at his feet, preparing to try the same pull-back move he had just used on the Marseille turn.

Zidane walked right over and kicked the ball from Sun Yang's feet far away.

Sun Yang was stunned.

Zidane held up one finger and pointed at Sun Yang's foot.

"Don't rush to imitate those glamorous appearances. Your fundamentals are as bad as a piece of rusty scrap metal."

He pointed to the other end of the training field. There, hundreds of extremely thin plum blossom stakes had appeared out of nowhere, with only enough space between each stake to barely fit a football.

"From now on. Dribble the ball through those stakes," Zidane gave the devilish order. "You have to dribble through them 10,000 times in two days. The most crucial thing is that you are not allowed to look at the ball even once during the entire process."

Zidane's voice turned stern.

"To achieve elegance, you must develop muscle memory. If you can't, I will terminate the training at any time. Understand?"