Valdes also realized this point, as Kaka’s speed raced like the wind towards the ball. He quickly moved back, back, barely retreating into the penalty area, when he saw Kaka, close at hand, unleash a volley shot.
"Boom!"
The ball surged towards the goal like a cannonball out of the barrel.
Valdes instinctively reacted, sohow managing to punch the ball away.
The distance here!
Must be 30 yards away!
Watching the ball fly far away, Valdes felt relieved, and even the Barcelona fans watching the match felt a great sense of relief, with so even showing smiles, wanting to say a few words to ease the atmosphere to those beside them, only to see their friends’ faces rigid and filled with terror.
Turning his head, he only saw on the TV, at the landing point of the ball, that familiar, nightmarish figure appeared once again.
At this mont, Valdes was at the edge of the penalty area.
The noisy sounds around him faded away, the cheering of Real Madrid fans, the fearful voices of Barcelona fans, the wind, breathing, heartbeat.
None of this constituted interference for Chen Zhong.
Over 90 in composure provided him trendous aid in this mont, his muscles transitioning from relaxed to tense, with various thods flashing in his mind.
Chen Zhong sensed the approach of the Barcelona players.
"Valdes with a brilliant save!"
"The ball has been blocked out!"
"It’s not over yet!"
"How did Chen Zhong appear in that position?"
"What choice will he make?"
"30 yards away."
"Taking the shot directly?"
Around Chen Zhong were Negredo, C. Ronaldo, and even the trailing Baptista, Alonso.
If he passed the ball, they would be in a better position to bypass the goalkeeper.
Even if it doesn’t go in, it wouldn’t be Chen Zhong’s problem.
But...
Stand up, raise his leg, shoot!
"Boom"
A dull sound, a volley.
Before the ball had a close encounter with the soft grass, it was sent skyward again by Chen Zhong.
Like a dragon erging from the sea, like a fish leaping over the dragon gate.
The ball quickly soared, surpassing Busquets, Ziglinsky, and goalkeeper Valdes.
Barcelona fans murmured prayers, hoping Chen Zhong’s shot would go over the crossbar, over the crossbar!
But under Valdes’ despairing gaze, the ball that plunged into the goal shattered their fantasy.
2:3
Real Madrid regained one goal!
"Ahhhhh!"
"A direct volley!"
"The ball surpasses the defense wall, Ziglinsky even wanted to use his hand to block the ball!"
"But it was useless! All useless!"
"The ball traced a perfect arc, precisely falling into the goal."
"Chen’s Arc, Chen Zhong’s Arc!"
"This shot had a hint of Wayne Rooney."
"Beautiful, a beautiful goal!"
"Chen Zhong scored a brace, a header, and a long shot."
"There’s still ti left in the match!"
Guardiola helplessly patted his bald head at the sidelines, while Pellegrini felt himself shiver all over. Although it’s not the first ti, in modern soccer, even superstars start to "team" up, yet every ti witnessing such performance, he realizes the difference between magnates and ordinary teams.
Magnates have these superstars capable of changing the course of the match single-handedly.
After the celebration, Chen Zhong ran towards the goal but seeing the sowhat disoriented expressions of the Barcelona players, hearing the fervent cheers from the spectators, and noting that there were still twenty to thirty minutes left.
He hesitated for a mont, then rushed towards the corner flag.
A knee slide, standing up, powerfully swinging his fist, hitting his chest, and then roaring in celebration amidst the cheering crowds.
At that mont, many felt the atmosphere at the stadium had reached its peak, yet it escalated to another level, as if it would crack the entire stadium wide open.
Originally ready to return to their positions to prepare for battle, the Real Madrid players were stunned for a mont, then suddenly their faces turned red.
They howled as they charged toward the corner flag, and at that instant, their combat will heightened to an all-ti high, with morale soaring!
This scene also made so yet-to-leave Real Madrid fans turn back abruptly.
"Did the ball go in?"
"This sound is, Chen!"
"Chen scored again! Damn, why did I leave early, why!"
The white mass began to flow back, and the cara focused on the figure waving his fist, screaming loudly, stirring both fans and players into excitent.
"Chen Zhong! Chen Zhong!"
"Usually when he’s trailing or leveling."
"He would choose to directly run to the goal, retrieve the ball, and swiftly return to the center circle awaiting the restart."
"Not saying that this is not good, but sotis, scoring, especially when there’s ample ti."
"Celebration is not only to express the joy of scoring but also to boost the team’s morale and demoralize the opponent."
"When I saw Chen Zhong score, run to the corner flag, slide-knee, fist swing, and roar."
"I can only say Real Madrid indeed has their leader, a still sowhat immature leader."
"He still needs to grow."
"But considering he’s only 18 years old."
"We can give him more ti and opportunities."
The atmosphere at Santiago Bernabeu Stadium has thoroughly risen, with Barcelona fans feeling a sense of dread, while Santiago Bernabeu seed like a beast awakening from a dream at this mont.
Their invigorating cheers resembled soaring waves of fury.
The bold can’t help but glance sideways, while the timid only feel as if walking on thin ice.
Ziglinsky couldn’t help swallowing a mouthful of saliva, again casting his gaze toward that 18-year-old.
Why was he so inflated back then, thinking he could beco the next Chen Zhong, even surpass him.
Look at his montum, look at his actions, look at the people surrounding him, Ziglinsky only felt his heart trembling.
And when Chen Zhong returned to his half after celebrating, he gave Ziglinsky a look, to which Ziglinsky, already under imnse pressure at Barcelona, being affected by the pressure, the "greenhouse flower," couldn’t help but shiver.
To put it bluntly, at that mont, he even had the urge to pee.
Back at Miner, he was the prodigious player being well-protected by the club.
Like Bojan now sitting on Barcelona’s bench.
Bojan no longer held the glory he once had at his first sight, having beco marginalized at Barcelona, even the dia hardly compared him with Chen Zhong anymore.
He had tried hard before.
But even when compared to ssi, he felt enormous pressure.
And he.
The forr rival.
The forr "lower class."
Now looked up to his "junior."
Now he had beco the sole representative of Real Madrid, surrounded by Ballon d’Or winners like Kaka, C. Ronaldo.
Bojan’s expression grew increasingly dim, with many who had high hopes expressing disappointnt, but he had to face rivals like ssi...
"The atmosphere at the scene has been completely ignited by the goal."
"We can clearly feel the excitent from the fans on the stands."
"Also see the completely different morale of the players from both teams now."
"Barcelona players seem to be slightly affected."
"Real Madrid players are full of high morale."
"Chen Zhong’s celebration this ti caught them by surprise."
"And also gave them trendous encouragent."
"Fans are still supporting them, they still have ti, and still have opportunities!"
"The spirit and attitude are completely different now."
Both teams returned to the kickoff point, and the Barcelona players no longer bore relaxed expressions on their faces, while when they looked toward Real Madrid’s direction.
On that side, there was nothing but fighting spirit.
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