The Ultimate One-Man Carry, Injury Is Your Thorn

"Holy shit! My God!"

"What did I just hear?!"

Luo Cheng went crazy. As a twenty-year San Remo supporter, he knew all too well what those words meant.

"Many fans may not understand the meaning behind those words."

"Coming from anyone else, they might mean many different things."

"But coming from Lu Yang, coming from a San Remo man, they are a declaration of intent to win the title!"

"Newcastle aren't fighting relegation! Newcastle aren't fighting for the top four!"

"Newcastle want the Premier League title!"

"The title!"

It took several dozen seconds before Luo Cheng's emotions settled somewhat.

Miao Jikun took over the commentary. "Let's look back at that brilliant goal just now."

"Earlier, Lu Yang scored Newcastle's first goal in the most number-seven way possible."

"Then, in a very number-ten fashion, he assisted Chiesa's goal."

"And just now, Lu Yang used the most classic number-nine method to score a Tomahawk missile of a goal while dragging three defenders with him!"

"God Number Ten, God Number Nine, God Number Seven—it doesn't matter. In my eyes, there has only ever been one ideal player."

"Lu Yang! Lu Yang! Still Lu Yang!"

Lu Yang had set the Premier League ablaze.

The Premier League's sixth-placed side had officially entered the title race!

Not long after that goal, the first half came to an end.

After returning to the dressing room, Flick made a rousing declaration of intent to win the title, hoping to ignite the players' fighting spirit.

The players responded well.

At the same time, Lu Yang also offered some encouragement to the younger players.

He hoped they could let themselves go and not worry about making mistakes.

"We need to dare to push forward and find ways to get the ball into their half."

"Don't be afraid of conceding, but