Lin Feng's Backup, Modric!?

"How could you call it faking an injury? Is there a possibility that I'm actually injured?"

As he spoke, Lin Feng took out the medical report issued by the hospital and handed it to Chen Tao.

Gao Lin leaned over curiously. "Moderate ligament tear? Is it really that serious? How can you not tell at all?"

"Of course you can't tell when I'm not playing football. I didn't have surgery, and the swelling from before has long gone down. Naturally, you can't see anything from the outside!"

Lin Feng replied irritably.

Chen Tao looked worried. "It seems the rumors weren't baseless. A ligament tear is a very serious injury. If it isn't handled properly, it really could affect your career going forward."

Gao Lin suddenly thought of another issue.

"So, does that mean you'll miss the National Football Team's two World Cup Qualifiers?"

"At a time like this, you're still thinking about the World Cup Qualifiers? If Lin Feng's situation isn't handled properly, it's hard to say whether he'll even be able to play football in the future."

Chen Tao shot Gao Lin an annoyed glare. When he had first heard that Lin Feng was injured, he had already been worried sick. Now that the news had been confirmed, Chen Tao felt as if the sky were falling.

People said Real Madrid relied on Lin Feng, but wasn't the National Football Team the same?

In fact, the National Football Team relied on him even more heavily. Without him, the Chinese team's strength would undoubtedly plummet. They might even fall from Asia's first tier to the second tier.

Gao Lin scratched his head. Only then did he realize the severity of the situation: without Lin Feng anchoring the midfield, who would feed him passes?

Without Lin Feng serving him those chances,