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

In a villa in the southern suburbs of Cologne, the sound of suitcase wheels scraping against the floor came from the living room downstairs.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains and fell onto the bed.

"Hey, nephew, are you still alive?" Uncle Henry walked in carrying several bags and placed an elegant food box on the coffee table. "Diana specially asked me to bring you this London roast beef."

Sun Yang forced himself to sit up. His muscles ached all over, as if he had been run over by a truck. Dreams do not consume physical energy, but two full days of deep sleep had left his body stiff in reality.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was already 8 a.m. on Tuesday.

He has spent the last forty-eight hours on Zidane's damn slalom.

Sun Yang took the food box, grabbed a piece of beef with his hand, and stuffed it into his mouth: "This is just the beginning. Uncle, thank you so much for running around these past few days and helping me with all those tedious household chores."

"Don't be so polite with me, I'm getting paid the top salary you're offering." Henry patted Sun Yang on the shoulder, looked him up and down, "But you look a bit intimidating. Did you secretly train extra at home these past two days off? Favre is a strict coach, he's about to test you guys who have been strategically rotated out."

Sun Yang swallowed the beef, his eyes filled with eager anticipation: "Test my form? I can't wait to show him what I can actually do on the court now."

Henry straddled a chair backwards and banged his tablet computer on the floor.

"The football world has been in turmoil these past few days; old man Favre has been put on the hot seat by the media."

Henry scrolled through the screen.

"You guys had a disastrous German Cup match last night. Playing Werder Bremen away, the old man actually sent a bunch of kids to play. You were eliminated 2-3."

This was within Sun Yang's expectations. Playing against such a reckless opponent away from home, Favre's willingness to make significant rotations made a loss almost inevitable.

"That Haaland kid is even crazier," Henry chuckled. "He posted a picture on social media of a smashed LCD TV. That Norwegian is definitely seething with rage."

Sun Yang could imagine the scene: that Norwegian maestro, whose mind was only focused on scoring goals, absolutely couldn't stand sitting in front of the TV watching his team lose.

"But here's some fantastic news." Henry pushed the tablet in front of Sun Yang, grinning like a cunning fox.

Arsenal were held to a draw at home by Burnley. They conceded two goals in the second half. They have now dropped to eleventh place in the league.

"The London media are like sharks smelling blood. Arsenal fans have blocked the Emirates Stadium gates, holding banners demanding the management get out, and some are even holding up your posters to protest their decision to kick you out."

Henry's fingers tapped rapidly.

"On English social media right now, it's all about using you to criticize Arsenal's midfield. Your 130km/h blast and your Beckham-esque half-court lob have completely humiliated Arsenal's management. Watching them break down their defense is pure bliss!"

Sun Yang took a tissue and wiped the black pepper sauce from the corner of his mouth.

This is exactly what he wanted. His long-term goal of slapping Arsenal in the face is progressing steadily.

But if you want to completely crush these arrogant guys, you have to put up dominant statistics in the Bundesliga.

He threw off the covers, jumped out of bed, and stretched his ankles.

The lightness honed through countless plum blossom stakes was perfectly replicated in my real body.

He didn't need to look down, he didn't need to think. He subconsciously made several feinting movements, alternating between his left and right feet to pull the ball.

The movements were smooth and fluid, without any lag.

"I'm going to take a shower." Sun Yang picked up a towel from the back of the chair and patted it on his shoulder. "Get the car keys ready, we're going back to base."

Two hours later.

Borussia Dortmund's Blakel training ground.

The days of rain have finally stopped, and the grass is filled with the fresh scent of earth.

The air pressure in the training ground was frighteningly low. The gloom of being eliminated from the German Cup hadn't yet dissipated. Several young substitutes who started yesterday were jogging around in circles, heads down, looking dejected.

The key players are conducting recovery drills at the other end of the field.

Haaland charged headlong down the front line, constantly shouting for the ball.

"Pass it! Pass it forward! Are you trying to get the ball back into your own goal?"

Head coach Lucien Favre stood on the sidelines, his brow furrowed as he stared at the fitness report in his hand. The team had just been eliminated from the German Cup due to a strategic concesion, and he was now under considerable public pressure.

With the weekend's away game against the tough Bayer Leverkusen, he urgently needs to see if his key players can immediately get into top form and boost the team's morale.

Sun Yang put on his training uniform, tightened his shin guards, and stepped onto the familiar grass.

Captain Reus was the first to spot him and came up to give him a high five.

"Kid, how was your holiday? We need your strategic vision for the league match this weekend." Reus was well aware of Sun Yang's tactical value.

"Full charge, Captain." Sun Yang grinned.

Assistant coach Terčić walked over and threw a yellow vest, representing the starting lineup, into Sun Yang's arms.

"Put it on, go to midfield. Play ten minutes of scrimmage to get a feel for it."

Sun Yang put on a yellow vest and ran towards the middle.

After two days of being brutally assaulted by virtual strongmen in his dreams, he now felt a strange excitement welling up in his blood as he faced his real teammates.

The competition has resumed.

Full-back Guerrero received the ball on the left wing. Seeing Sun Yang reach out for the ball, he immediately sent it towards the center with a low, flat shot.

The ball flew like lightning, skimming the grass towards the center. Sun Yang stopped to meet the incoming ball, turning to face Delaney's defense.

"Sun, you're having a great vacation, aren't you?" Delaney lowered his center of gravity, his thick thigh muscles taut, like a hunting dog eyeing its prey.

"Today I won't give you the same leeway as those softies from the youth team. I know your right-footed long passes are incredibly accurate, but I'll make sure you don't even have a chance to kick the ball."

Delaney is right. After these few rounds of the league, the entire Bundesliga knows that this young Asian player's right-footed passing is extremely deadly, but his dribbling is weak, and he relies heavily on his right foot. As long as you use strong physical confrontation to block his right side and force him to use his non-dominant foot to handle the ball, his error rate will rise sharply.

Faced with such close marking, he either had to rely on his not-so-strong body to tough it out, or he had to use his godlike right foot technique to force the ball out before he even touched it.

"Don't even think about seeing people!"

Delaney lunged forward. He didn't care where the ball was; he was like a moving wall of muscle, blocking Sun Yang's path to cut the ball inward with his right foot.

This was a textbook example of devastating defense. In the past, when faced with such an unreasonable high-post pressure, Sun Yang could only fall to the ground in a sorry state or hurriedly pass the ball back.

Favre involuntarily took a step forward on the sidelines, his heart pounding in his chest. He was very worried that Sun Yang might get injured.

But what happened next made everyone present gasp.

Sun Yang didn't even lower his head.

His eyes remained fixed on the passing lane ahead. In that split second, his right foot gently touched the ball just above the ball. Just as Delaney's massive frame was about to exert significant pressure...

Sun Yang suddenly extended his left foot with precision, stepped on the top of the ball with the sole of his foot, and pulled it forcefully towards the inside of his body.

This single move completely shattered Delaney's preconceived notion that Sun Yang could only kick with his right foot. Delaney's aggressive right leg, aimed at blocking the inside cut, missed its target entirely, and his heavy body, propelled by immense inertia, irreversibly lurched forward and to the left.

Then, an incredible scene unfolded.

Following the momentum of the ball's pull, Sun Yang spun half a circle with his left foot as the pivot, like a highly precise machine operating at high speed. His right foot caught the rolling ball perfectly and deftly flicked it in the opposite direction of Delaney's body weight.

Pull the ball with your left foot, turn your body halfway, and use your right foot to brush the ball out of the encirclement.

Without any unnecessary pauses, the entire movement was fluid and fast, leaving only a blurry yellow afterimage.

A textbook Marseille turn!

In this intense physical confrontation, in an extremely confined and oppressive space, he used an almost dance-like, silky motion of his left and right feet to dodge past right under Draenei's nose.

Delaney's hands, which were trying to grab him, missed their mark, and he fell face-first onto the grass, losing his balance.

Sun Yang, with the ultimate elegance inherent in French midfielders, forcefully tore apart Delaney's storm-like defense.

He looked up at the current formation, then with a light flick of his left instep, delivered a highly concealed through ball with the outside of his foot, tearing through the Red Team's defense like a sharp scalpel and precisely finding the advancing Haaland.

boom!

Haaland unleashed an unstoppable, powerful shot at the ball, which bounced off the underside of the crossbar and into the net, creating a white wave.

The entire training ground fell into a deathly silence.

Only the sound of the ball rolling in the net was exceptionally clear.

Favre's tactical clip fell to the ground with a thud. The old man, who had weathered countless storms, stared wide-eyed, his lips trembling slightly as he muttered to himself, "My God... when did this kid's clumsy left foot become so obedient? That rhythm of ball control under pressure... it's like he's been reborn as a completely different person."

Delaney scrambled to his feet, staring at Sun Yang's retreating figure with a look of utter disbelief, muttering incredulously, "Damn it, he just toyed with me like a wooden stake?"

Haaland retrieved the ball from the goal, and the pent-up frustration from missing out on the German Cup was finally released. He was as excited as a raging Viking beast, rushing over and grabbing Sun Yang by the neck.

"I knew it! I knew you'd secretly evolved again!" Haaland's thick arms were so tight that Sun Yang could hardly breathe, his eyes filled with the desire to score a goal.

"With those two spun turns you just made fools of the defenders, this weekend at Leverkusen, I'm going to make you assist me for three goals! No, I'm going to make you score four!"