No one had expected the league leaders to draw 2–2 against a team that had still been in the relegation zone the previous round.
Even less expected was that Bisceglie's star player, Arnold, would have to leave the game injured.
The home fans were deeply unhappy.
Bisceglie's players, meanwhile, launched a furious assault, determined to bring the fans a victory.
The onslaught continued for a full seven minutes, all the way into the first minute of stoppage time.
With Arnold injured and four goals scored in the second half, the referee added a full six minutes.
With five minutes left in the game, Lu Yang used the Ibrahimovic Moment Card.
This Ibrahimovic Moment Card lasted five minutes.
For those five minutes, it would let Lu Yang experience "Ibrahimovic's football" and give him the best possible chance to recreate one of Ibrahimovic's classic moments.
The card's time setting was November 14, 2012: an international friendly between Sweden and England.
Thump!
Once the referee signaled that Bisceglie could take the corner, their number ten swung in the ball.
Bisceglie's burly number nine shoved San Remo's center-back aside in the box and leaped high.
There!
Watching the ball's trajectory, he was certain it would land right on his head.
As a target man, he was good at holding up play, and he'd worked on his heading, too.
Thud!
A figure rose before the number nine could reach it. Battling against the striker, he managed to head the ball clear of the penalty area.
That figure was Lu Yang.
"He's even tougher than we thought!" Soto exclaimed as he watched Lu Yang clear the ball.
Lu Yang had jumped higher than he ever had before.
How could that be?
It could only mean the kid wanted to win more than ever.
Until the final second, he would never accept giving up in any form.
Just like in the Celebrity Match, he always managed to surprise everyone.
"Oh, Lu Yang gets to the ball first and heads it clear. That was Bisceglie's closest chance to score in a while. If Lu Yang hadn't been there, perhaps..."
"There's so much energy in this player. His determination is incredible. We've just received the statistics: San Remo have been completely dominated by Bisceglie in the battles for aerial balls today."
"Lu Yang had barely won a single aerial duel against their number nine, and San Remo's other center-back, who's also 1.9 meters tall, has been dominated as well."
"And yet Lu Yang wins this last, crucial aerial battle. Especially with all that physical contact—it's remarkable."
"Congratulations to San Remo. They've earned respect by taking a point from Bisceglie, and we must also..."
"Wait! Moric has the ball outside the box. He launches a long pass. This is... a counterattack! San Remo are counterattacking? The match isn't over! The referee hasn't blown the final whistle!"
The game changed in an instant.
After using the Ibrahimovic Moment Card, Lu Yang felt terrifyingly strong.
In that aerial duel, he hadn't just jumped higher and held off the opposing 1.88-meter striker—he'd even had enough control to direct the ball where he wanted.
That was no easy feat in a heading duel.
So Lu Yang had headed it to Moric.
And Moric didn't let him down. He sent a long pass upfield.
Vedian was exhausted, but he still accelerated, racing past the opposing midfielder, the center-back, and the right-back!
He got the ball under control!
The only problem was that his tank was empty.
He didn't have the strength to keep running with the ball.
The opposing right-back had come on as a substitute in the second half and still had plenty of energy. Though Vedian had overtaken him, he'd stayed right on his heels.
Relying on instinct, Vedian swung his left foot and lofted the ball toward the center.
He hoped a teammate would be there!
The ball sailed high and awkwardly into the right side of Bisceglie's half, outside the penalty area.
Bisceglie's goalkeeper charged out at once.
All he had to do was kick the dropping ball upfield, and the match would be over.
They had only earned a point.
But just now... that point had nearly turned into nothing.
Why take chances?
Then the Bisceglie goalkeeper spotted a red-and-white figure.
A red-and-white kit?
That was San Remo's away kit!
The goalkeeper broke into a sprint.
The figure in red and white was accelerating, too, actually overtaking Bisceglie's center-back and left-back as they raced back.
"Lu! It's Lu!"
"My God, why does he always manage to be everywhere?"
"He'd just cleared the ball from his own box, and now he's outside the other team's box. It's incredible!"
"The ball is outside the penalty area. Bisceglie's goalkeeper can't use his hands."
"The goalkeeper came out earlier. He'll reach the ball before Lu Yang. Can he bring it under control?"
"Control it? No, that's far too risky. It's hard to bring down a high ball like that. He should head it away."
Bisceglie's goalkeeper was cautious. He took the commentators' advice and headed the ball away.
But he didn't get much distance on it.
The ball went high, but it traveled only about three meters from where it had been.
The instant the goalkeeper headed it, Lu Yang turned, took a step, and fixed his eyes on the ball.
The two defenders couldn't turn quickly enough. They weren't as agile as Lu Yang, so they charged toward the goal in case they were needed.
The next moment, the whole stadium gasped.
Lu Yang didn't try to control the ball.
After turning and taking two steps, he threw himself into the air, leaned his head back, and swung his right leg upward toward the goal—a stunning overhead kick!
Thump!
Lu Yang struck the ball hard, sending it on a huge arc toward Bisceglie's goal.
The goalkeeper was stunned. He couldn't get anywhere near it.
Bisceglie's left-back couldn't catch up either.
The center-back threw himself into the air on the goal line, desperately trying to block the unbelievable shot.
But...
A white wave rolled onward.
The entire stadium fell into deathly silence.
Three seconds later, the commentator went wild!
"GOAL! GOAL! GOAL!"
"It's in! Lu Yang has scored again!"
"An overhead kick! It's the first overhead-kick goal in Serie D in the past five seasons!"
"But I'm certain this is the longest-range overhead kick in Italian football—no, in world football!"
"Thirty-three meters! My God, that overhead kick came from thirty-three meters!"
"You'd never believe a human being could do something like that!"
"Look at Lu Yang's form! How beautifully he stretched out before the leap. That's the most beautiful goal of the year!"
"Sorry, I forgot about his Lumberjack Shot. But no matter which one was more beautiful, every other player can only fight for third place!"
"That goal was worth its weight in gold. Lu Yang has won the match!"
"This was a match that belonged to Lu Yang. He dominated from start to finish!"
"He shut down their star player, even forcing him off injured. When his team was 2–0 down, he bravely stepped up and sparked the comeback with an assist! Then he smashed in the equalizer! And now he's killed off Bisceglie with an unbelievable long-range overhead kick!"
"The Serie D giants Bisceglie have crumbled! San Remo take all three points and head home victorious!"
"That was absolutely the best goal of the round, if not the best goal in Serie D this season!"
If the referee hadn't blown the final whistle, the commentator might never have stopped his excited rambling.
He still hadn't had his fill.
Neither had anyone else.
Especially the spectators who'd come to watch Lu Yang clash with Arnold.
Sometimes, all it took to become someone's fan was one match.
Everyone in the stadium was doomed today. One glimpse of Lu Yang, and they'd be fans for life!
After the match, Lu Yang was an obvious choice for Man of the Match. He'd scored twice and assisted once.
He also received a staggering rating of 10.
Perfect scores were rare in the lower leagues. No matter how you looked at it, they were still lower leagues.
But this was different.
Even a superstar in a top league might never score a goal that iconic in his entire career.
A thirty-meter overhead kick? It was unthinkable!
Lu Yang became the center of attention during the post-match interviews.
Reporter: "This was your first start. Before the match, did you expect to play so brilliantly?"
Lu Yang: "No. I didn't expect Bisceglie's star player, Arnold, to be so easy to defend. He put far less pressure on me than Vedian did."
Reporter: "But Arnold is currently the league's top scorer."
Lu Yang: "Now he's only one goal ahead of Vedian. I think Vedian will soon overtake him."
Reporter: "Are you saying that because you know about Arnold's injury? He's suffered a thigh muscle strain and is expected to miss four to six matches, or about a month and a half. Do you feel guilty? He was injured because of you!"
Lu Yang: "Sorry, I have to correct you. He was injured without any physical contact. In a situation like that, we usually can't blame the player he was marking. Besides, I haven't learned my coach's secrets yet, so I don't have the skill to take out opposing players. You're giving me too much credit."
Soto was stunned on the spot.
What the hell, he was getting thrown under the bus too?
Was Lu Yang saying he was good at taking players out?
He played clean, aggressive football—aggressive but not dirty. Did the kid not understand?
Wasn't he on the same team?
That was a rotten thing to do!
Meanwhile, Vedian, who'd scored and assisted in the match, was also grateful to Lu Yang for speaking up for him and building him up.
Arnold was far more famous than he was, after all.
The reporter was clearly from Bisceglie. He said indignantly, "Even if Vedian scores more than Arnold, he still won't be better than him. Arnold is more mature in physical battles, shooting, passing, and everything else."
Lu Yang smiled. "So what? Do you know the biggest difference between a talented player and a fake talent?"
The reporter was taken aback.
What?
Lu Yang continued, "A talented player has a gift that sets him apart. Take Vedian: he's the fastest player in Serie D. Arnold may not be much slower, but that tiny difference is what sets them apart."
"Arnold's speed wouldn't stand out in Serie B. You can look up the speed of the league's fastest players. But Vedian's speed would earn him a place even in Serie A. That's what talent is!"
"Physical battles, shooting, and passing can all be trained. We can't say anyone can definitely master them, but there's no reason they can't get reasonably good. Besides, Vedian already shows signs that he can improve. His shooting and passing aren't bad to begin with."
"But speed can't be trained!"
"So the Arnold you see now is pretty much the same Arnold you'll get in the future. What potential is there to talk about? Vedian, on the other hand, still has endless possibilities. He's the one better suited to Serie B!"
Lu Yang's statement left many of the reporters gaping.
On one hand, they were very interested in his theory of talent.
It was a fresh way of looking at things.
But it was also a kind of sophistry. Lu Yang knew that himself. Some players really couldn't improve their shooting, could they, Sterling?
On the other hand, hearing Lu Yang say that "Vedian is better suited to Serie B" made the reporters' hearts race. It was practically heresy.
Was Lu Yang sure Soto wouldn't ban him indefinitely?
At the very least, Soto probably wouldn't bring him to another interview.
Saying the team's leading scorer was suited to Serie B would undermine the team's morale and ruin its momentum!
Lu Yang was still too young!
The reporters all smiled. They could look forward to a future clash between the brilliant young talent Lu Yang and the legendary coach Soto.
Soto wouldn't tolerate such a disruptive player in his team.
They shouldn't forget his nickname: The Butcher!
Vedian, meanwhile, was moved to tears.
Lu was truly a good brother!
He'd even risked offending the coach and the team just to build him up.
There was... no way to repay him except with his performances on the field!
From now on, Lu was his big brother!
"Lu, you owe me an explanation."
On the bus back to San Remo, Soto calmly took Lu Yang to the back row and sent the other players away.
Everyone knew The Butcher was about to lose his temper.
This tough guy had immediately dropped two starters, then put two young academy players in their place. He was ruthless.
This time, Lu Yang...
"No need to thank me." Lu Yang looked at Soto without a trace of fear.
In fact, he had never thought this man called The Butcher was scary.
Perhaps that was something he'd picked up on the pitch.
As long as he was on the field, Lu Yang feared no one—not Milan's Butcher, Soto, nor Juventus's brains, Maniero.
Besides, he'd drawn a yellow card and won a free kick off The Butcher, and that free kick had turned into a goal.
After that, he'd nutmegged The Butcher and scored a spectacular goal right in front of him—one worthy of competing for this year's Puskas Award.
What did he have to fear?
Likewise, Lu Yang could tell that Soto treated him differently.
Soto wasn't tough or fierce with him. Instead, there was a faint trace of... concern.
Heh. That was human nature.
The fiercer someone was, the more they tended to be a masochist.
The more brutally you treated them, the better they treated you.
At its core, it was still a mindset that worshipped the strong.
And all of it stemmed from that Celebrity Match.
The Butcher had been beaten into submission by Lu Yang!
Lu Yang could only say... thanks, Sisi.
"You mean I should thank you?" Soto laughed in disbelief, then sighed. "The young really are something. Hans was right—you're not like ordinary players!"
Lu Yang's pupils contracted.
Hans?
Sure enough, that guy and Soto had one hell of a relationship!
Those two crafty bastards!