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

The team doctor, Schmidt, who had been standing by for a while, stepped forward and pulled out the IV needle that was almost finished dripping.

Schmidt pressed a medical cotton swab firmly against the needle mark on the back of his hand and issued his ultimatum.

"From now on, you're to rest in bed. Don't talk to me about rehabilitation training, and don't touch the grass. You'll need help even to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. If I find out you're secretly training behind my back again, I'll lock you in the medical room."

"clear."

Sun Yang took a deep breath and tried to sit up straight by supporting himself on the mattress with both hands.

This simple act of getting up made his vision blur and his mind feel like it had been hit by a heavy hammer. He quickly leaned back against the headboard.

Favre, who had been standing silently at the foot of the bed, came over.

The head coach, with his full head of silver hair, stared at Sun Yang's bandaged right leg and pale face for a long time.

"How long will it take for this child to recover?" Favre asked Schmidt, turning to him.

Schmidt frowned and glanced at the data panel.

"As I just said, this is severe glycogen depletion. For an ordinary player, this might affect their performance for half a month. But I'm very confused about the mechanism of this overdraft in him. It's not a slow loss, it's like a bathtub with the plug pulled. In all my years of practice, I haven't been able to find a reasonable medical explanation."

Favre nodded, having already made up his mind.

He turned around to face the group of people in the room.

"This weekend, we're going back to our home ground to play Frankfurt," Favre said calmly.

This mid-table Bundesliga team is currently ninth in the standings. They have no hope of qualifying for next season's Europa League, nor do they need to worry about relegation to the 2. Bundesliga. They are a typical retired team with nothing to play for.

Favre glanced at Sun Yang on the hospital bed, then at Haaland in the wheelchair.

"Neither of you needs to be on the roster for the next league match. You don't need to come to the stands or the bench either."

Upon hearing this, Haaland's eyes widened immediately.

"Coach! I only have a superficial muscle contusion! As long as I get a painkiller injection and some pain spray before the game, I can still knock down those Frankfurt defenders in the penalty area! I don't need rest!"

"Shut up, big guy!"

Assistant coach Terzic gave Haaland a slap on the back of the head without hesitation.

"Just stay put and rest as instructed. The coach has his own plans."

Favre had his hands behind his back.

"A team like Frankfurt doesn't need to field their full strength. The attacking line led by Reus and Sancho is enough to deal with them. We need to conserve all our resources and energy."

Favre's gaze passed through the window of the ward and looked out at the sky.

"Next Wednesday. First leg of the Champions League Round of 16."

The moment this competition was mentioned, the atmosphere in the hospital room changed instantly. The Bundesliga is important, but the UEFA Champions League is the true test of a powerhouse's mettle.

"Our opponent is the French champions, Paris Saint-Germain."

When Favre announced the name, several young Dortmund players unconsciously swallowed.

Greater Paris.

Those were golden warships built with Middle Eastern oil capital.

"They have Neymar, Mbappe, and Di Maria. They are a super team armed to the teeth. Their coach, Tuchel, used to manage our Dortmund, and he knows every inch of this pitch very well."

Favre looked back at Sun Yang and Haaland.

"Frankfurt doesn't need you. But against Paris Saint-Germain, you two are my trump cards. Son, you must get your physical functions at full strength in the next few days."

"We're going to nail those pampered billionaires of Paris to the grass in Westphalia."

Favre's pre-war mobilization was always brief and powerful.

Sun Yang, lying on the hospital bed, gripped the white sheet covering his legs tightly.

Champions League.

This is the true pinnacle of football.

Neymar's flashy Samba dribbling, and Mbappe's incredible speed that can outpace any defender.

The greatest joy for him in this second life is to compete against those who stand at the very top of the football pyramid.

After Favre left the ward with a large group of people, the room became quiet again.

Sun Wu went to the window to open it and let some fresh air in. Diana sat on the edge of the bed, peeling an apple.

"I just checked the news about Paris Saint-Germain."

Diana used the fruit knife in her hand to slice out a long, continuous strip of fruit peel.

"The French media's attitude was very unpleasant. PSG coach Tuchel gave an interview to L'Équipe this morning."

Diana stopped what she was doing and looked up at Sun Yang.

A French journalist asked Tuchel what he thought of Borussia Dortmund's rising Asian midfield star.

Sun Yang raised his eyelids slightly. "What did he say?"

"Tuchel said that the pace of the Bundesliga and the Champions League are two different things. A young player from the academy who has only played a few games in the first team doesn't need PSG to set up special defensive tactics for him. Neymar will give him a good lesson in top-level European defense."

Diana placed the chopped apple pieces on a plate.

"Even a Paris Saint-Germain legend posted a sarcastic comment on Twitter, saying that Sun Yang is only fit to shine Mbappe's shoes in Ligue 1."

Sun Yang leaned against the soft pillows, listening to his mother relay the news report.

Her fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the bed sheet.

That fighting spirit, which had been suppressed by exhaustion, was suddenly doused with boiling oil.

Champions League debut.

Mbappe. Neymar.

There was also Tuchel's disdain.

Sun Yang looked at the clouds drifting by outside the window and made up his mind.

"Mom, can you do me a favor?"

Sun Yang closed his eyes. "Have Uncle Henry buy me a set of resistance training belts, the strongest kind. Have them delivered to the villa tomorrow."

Even if the body is confined to the bed.

Zidane is still in the Dream Training Camp; you can even practice football in the dream.

Didn't Tuchel say that there was no need to devise defensive tactics?

Let's see when a replica of a legendary football player's signature move hurtles towards the PSG goal.

Will those billionaires still be able to laugh?

Meanwhile, at the training base in Paris, France.

Neymar, sporting curly hair, was twirling the ball with incredible agility, his flashy rainbow flick eliciting cheers from his teammates. He clearly didn't consider Borussia Dortmund, far away in Germany, a real threat.

Outside the locker room, in front of the tactics board, Paris Saint-Germain coach Thomas Tuchel was marking Dortmund's starting lineup with a red cross on a marker. The pen tip traced directly across Sun Yang's name without any pause.

A storm is about to ignite across the European continent.