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"Rey Lance, Rey Lance, Rey Lance, Rey Lance..."
"Goooooooal—"
The Spanish comntator's machine-gun-like speed repeatedly chanted Lance's nickna.
King Lance dominates the Calderón Stadium!
Atlético Madrid and Barcelona battled fiercely for 90 minutes, and it seed they were about to enter injury ti.
Lance's first touch and dribble in the box incredibly bypassed four world-class central midfielders and defenders.
Astounding!
He actually pulled it off!
From 0-1 down to equalise at 1-1!
From 1-2 down, he equalised again!
At this very mont, in Catalonia, in the various pubs of Barcelona, all the Barcelona fans were dumbfounded.
As the bartender poured beer, foam continuously overflowed from the full glasses, but no one cared!
Everyone's eyes were fixed in disbelief on Lance's goal on the screen!
"How... is that possible?"
The first volley was a feint, and he sohow managed to pull it back for a rabona, finally delivering a fatal blow with his left foot!
Is there no law?
Is there no justice?
Newton's coffin lid must be about to burst open!
Twitter exploded even more, countless Atlético Madrid fans furiously spamd their celebrations, with GIFs flying everywhere.
The originally arrogant Barcelona fans were completely deflated, and began to question life.
"We... can't even win this?"
Lance once again beca Barcelona's nightmare!
...
"Don't relax your guard yet, we still have a chance!"
The ga officially entered injury ti, four minutes!
Whether it was Barcelona or Atlético Madrid, both had a theoretical chance of winning.
Lance's greatest strength was his groundedness, always maintaining a clear head.
"Brothers, let's push hard and win this!"
"Vamos!!!"
"Aputa Atléti!"
The situation on the pitch reversed dramatically.
During injury ti, Barcelona no longer had the stamina to organise high-pressing.
They could only try to retreat to their own half, letting the MSN trio look for counter-attacking opportunities.
As for Lance, Barcelona was like a startled bird.
Any touch from Lance could cause a huge reaction.
"Over a minute of injury ti has passed, Barcelona's previous attack didn't yield results."
"Neymar's breakthrough on the left failed, and the second ball didn't reach ssi."
"Atlético Madrid's counter-attack!! Very fast!! Distributed to the front!"
"Oh oh oh oh—Rakitić's tackle!! He brought Lance down directly!!"
WTF? Man!
The comntator even wanted to call the police.
The main referee rely gave a mild warning, awarding a free-kick about 36 tres from goal.
The distance was quite far, making it seem difficult to threaten Barcelona's goal.
How many rough fouls had Rakitić committed today?
Lance was pulled, tackled, pushed, and tripped so many tis, yet he didn't receive a single card?
The only two yellow cards on the pitch were given in the second half, a fifty-fifty split after a verbal altercation.
Considering the "Camp Nou incident" last season, to say there was nothing fishy going on would be truly insane!
But as a CCTV comntator, due to disciplinary rules, he couldn't ntion such things, and could only maintain a so-called "fair and objective attitude," forcefully suppressing his anger to comntate the final monts of injury ti.
"Lance, standing in front of the ball. He seems to be preparing to take the kick."
"Usually, Koke is responsible for indirect free-kicks, but Lance also has a record of scoring powerful free-kicks."
"Will he be able to unleash a powerful free-kick in such a crucial battle today?"
The comntator quickly thought of Lance's previous free-kick worldie.
Could it be?
"Lance, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I'll take this one!"
"Alright!"
Atlético Madrid teammates ca over to high-five and encourage him.
Koke, Griezmann, and captain Godín, none of them had any objections.
If Lance wanted to take the kick, let him take it.
In critical monts, whether it's a penalty or a free-kick, it requires an incredibly strong heart.
This wasn't showing off, but stepping up to take responsibility!
Among the entire team, perhaps only Lance could unhesitatingly bear the pressure of the whole team.
"Relax, I'm going up front to challenge for the ball, God bless you."
Griezmann made the sign of the cross, patted Lance's shoulder, and ran into the box.
Barcelona was also on high alert.
36 tres was quite far, not an effective threatening distance.
Yet Barcelona still refused to relax their guard, forming a five-man wall!
Goalkeeper Ter Stegen leant against the post, closing one eye to direct the positioning of the wall.
The young German goalkeeper's legs were already trembling. Who could understand the oppressive feeling of facing Lance?
Piqué, Busquets, Mascherano, Neymar, Rakitić, all of them stood ready, attempting to block Lance's shooting angle.
Seeing Lance retreat for an almost 10-tre run-up, Piqué couldn't help but swallow hard.
Hitting a vital spot could be fatal!
Lance stepped back and stood firm, waiting for the referee's whistle.
The whole world seed to hold its breath simultaneously, their feelings were different, but their apprehension was unified. Everyone's breathing seed to form a single rhythm.
Hiss—
Exhale—
Lance also took a deep breath, slowly exhaling.
"I feel like I might have overestimated myself."
Very little ti remained in the match. He instinctively volunteered to take the kick.
But then he suddenly realised, the system was banned today!
He couldn't trigger the 2.5-second charge of the Fierce Tiger Shot!
Who knew if it would go in!
Although theoretically, Lance practised every day on the training ground, staying until dark, and his free-kick accuracy without pressure was already very high.
But as everyone knew, the performance in training and in actual combat was vastly different.
A 100% hit rate in training, if he could achieve 10% in a real match, it would be a blessing.
"Who cares, I'm already here!"
The referee's whistle had already blown!
Injury ti entered its final minute, Lance had no ti for hesitation. It was all or nothing!
Just give it a mighty kick and be done with it!
Power creates miracles!
The more important the situation, the calr Lance beca.
Every step of his run-up, every foot placent, was like a drumbeat in his heart, allowing Lance to gradually enter a state of selflessness. His only targets were the ball and the distant goal!
In the unseen, the muscle mory of the Fierce Tiger Shot seed to resurface!
A domineering feeling of "my fate is my own, not heaven's" surged in his heart. Lance's lips curved into Hyuga Kojiro's iconic proud smile!
His waist rotated, driving the power from his thigh, then his calf, straightening his instep... like the whip of God. He struck the ball fiercely!
Bang—
"Lance—run-up!!"
"Shot!!!!"
With the comntator's loud shout!
The eyes of the world followed the ball, hearts in their throats!
Only to see the white football cut through the Madrid night sky, like a white rainbow piercing the sun, instantly soaring into the top corner of the goal!
Passing the tip of Ter Stegen's gloves, and into the net!!
Instant! Explosion!
"Winner!!! Winner!!"
The comntator's roar, accompanied by the dawn in the East, spread across the land!
Fans who stayed up until the middle of the night, completely disregarding disturbing their neighbours, erupted in hysterical cheers!
In countless university halls, excited screams rose and fell!
"Aweso!!!"
"God Lance is aweso!!!"
"Oh oh oh oh oh—"
At the Calderón, the Wanda tropolitano stadium, passion ignited for the third ti!
"Rey Lance!!!"
"Rey Lance!!!"
"Rey Lance!!!"
King Lance!
The true master of the Calderón!
Successfully defended this stadium! Defended Madrid!
Especially the Madrid TV comntator, who was almost in tears.
"Lance!! He saved Madrid, resisted the invasion of Barcelona!!"
"Today, Atlético Madrid was truly incredibly resilient, falling behind twice in an unfavourable situation, equalising twice, and finally scoring a winner!!"
"Hat-trick!! King Lance's hat-trick, every goal was a masterpiece of God!"
"He is the legendary saviour sent by God!"
"20 La Liga goals in 15 rounds!"
"The man who broke the Bundesliga scoring record for two consecutive years, can he challenge the La Liga scoring record this season?"
...
This night was destined to be a sleepless night for all of Madrid.
Half the people went crazy because Atlético Madrid scored a last-minute winner against Barcelona. The other half tossed and turned because Atlético Madrid scored a last-minute winner against Barcelona.
Real Madrid fans following the match were furious.
"WTF? This is possible?"
They originally thought Atlético Madrid would be unlucky, both teams would suffer heavy losses, and Real Madrid would reap the benefits.
But Atlético Madrid overtook Barcelona, successfully climbing to the top of La Liga.
Both of them were thorns in their side!
Damn it!
In a luxurious mansion in Madrid, Cristiano Ronaldo angrily turned off the TV, throwing the remote control onto the sofa.
As for inside the stadium, it had completely turned into a sea of celebration.
Seeing this, the main referee simply didn't bother to add more ti, blowing the final whistle directly.
The score was finally set at 3-2!
Lance turned the tide, valiantly defending his ho ground!
"Let's go, we still have a chance."
"Damn it!"
Suárez looked at the celebrating Atlético Madrid players with resentnt, shaking his head as he walked towards the changing room.
ssi also just quietly glanced at that man. Feeling ssi's gaze, Lance looked back, only to see the back of Barcelona's number 10, gradually disappearing into the shadows of the tunnel entrance.
The first clash of the number 10s in La Liga, Lance was slightly better!
"Next ti, see you at Camp Nou."
Oh, I forgot sothing.
What was that system's "Ding—" all about?
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