Ibrahimovic Moment Card, Fatal Weakness

"Ding! You have obtained the player skill, Starting Player. When you start in the team's lineup, you gain a 5% all-around boost."

"Ding! You have obtained a one-time Moment Card, Zlatan Ibrahimovic!"

"Damn! Damn, damn, damn!"

Lu Yang stopped opening packs. He had been holding onto a random gift pack, and it seemed he could keep this one in reserve as well.

It was actually Zlatan Ibrahimovic!

With him, what was there to worry about in the next match?

This was the Zlatan who only scored god-tier goals!

This was the Zlatan who declared, "God is first, I am second!"

This was the Zlatan who was the Red Hare among horses, the Zlatan among men!

In all fairness, Zlatan's life was full of controversy. His arrogance was world-class, but his ability was still below Messi-Ronaldo, and even later talents could contend with him. Yet, his goals could always make everyone shut up.

When it came to the spectacular nature of goals, who could compare to Zlatan?

This was clearly the system giving Lu Yang a hint: in the next match, not only must you win, but you must also win beautifully!

"Hey!" Moric hooked his arm around Lu Yang's neck. "Do you really think we can beat Bisceglie? They are currently first in the league!"

"And Arnold, he is really fast. It feels like he's on par with Vedian, both are black whirlwinds. How are you going to defend against him? He isn't as frail as Vedian, who loses the ball at the slightest touch."

Vedian stood to the side with black lines on his forehead: "Um... isn't that kind of evaluation and comparison a bit disrespectful to me?"

Moric laughed: "Pointing out your shortcomings to your face is respect, Vedian. You really need to train your body properly so that when you go to... you can truly shine."

Moric didn't mention sensitive words like Benevento or Serie B; the fact that Vedian was leaving next season was a little secret only the three of them knew.

"Don't worry. I've watched Arnold's matches. His speed isn't faster than Vedian's; he's just much stronger physically. The fact that he caught the eye of a Serie B team has to do with Bisceglie's excellent overall performance. He isn't as strong as everyone thinks."

"You can see this from the goal tally. In the environment of a top-of-the-table team, his goal count is only two more than Vedian's, which actually says a lot."

"It's true that Arnold is Bisceglie's star player, but his actual impact on the team is far less than people think. Come to think of it, that's what we should really be worried about."

"Even if I freeze Arnold, Bisceglie could still score!"

After Lu Yang finished speaking, Moric and Vedian's expressions turned grave.

This meant they had to create opportunities on the offensive end in their next match.

Only by scoring could they win the game.

"Don't worry, Vedian and I have already developed a certain chemistry. We've been putting in extra training these past few days, and I'm adapting to his style." Moric made an OK gesture.

Match day arrived quickly.

This time, San Remo was playing away.

When they arrived at Bisceglie's home stadium, they were greeted by a sky-filling roar.

There were at least over two thousand people in the Bisceglie home stadium.

In Serie D, this was an absolutely explosive attendance rate.

This had to do with Bisceglie currently sitting in first place in the league; no matter the level, promotion was always a highly attractive topic.

Of course, among these two thousand people, there were also many fans who loved gossip, drawn in by the conflict between Lu Yang and Arnold.

"Is that Arnold? He looks like he runs really fast?"

"Of course he's fast. He's the second fastest horse in Serie D. His absolute speed is only a tiny bit slower than San Remo's Vedian. But the opportunities he can create are more than double that of the latter!"

"This is the importance of core strength, physical confrontation, and balance." Hans was chatting with the fans on the side. He sat in the stands, wanting to witness with his own eyes what Lu Yang had promised him.

In fact, two seasons ago, Arnold was exactly like Vedian was now—very thin and with extremely poor physical confrontation ability.

It was Hans's suggestion that made him take this aspect seriously.

But after he became famous, he actually did that for three hundred euros... oh, forget it, let's not mention him, otherwise Hans would be depressed.

"Who is that? So young, he looks like a child who hasn't even reached adulthood!"

"He indeed hasn't reached adulthood." In an era where information was relatively closed off and there were no national broadcasts, very few people knew Lu Yang. So, Hans began to educate the crowd: "His name is Lu Yang, he's sixteen this year. In the last match, he just broke Italy's youngest appearance and goal-scoring records."

"You must know him, because at the Italian Celebrity Match earlier this year, he scored a goal that stunned everyone. He nutmegged The Butcher Soto, toyed with three Serie A-level defenders, deceived a Serie A-level goalkeeper with his eyes, and scored! A shot like a lumberjack, ever heard of it?"

"It's him? I know him! That goal was beautiful! By the way, is he a forward? He doesn't look very tall."

"Um... he's a center-back?"

"What? Hahaha, a center-back? Not even one meter eighty, is he here to give us points?"

"His defensive ability is very strong, and he has brought a brand-new change to San Remo's backfield."

"Don't brag, brother. They conceded 46 goals in the first half of the season. What kind of change could save San Remo's defensive line?"

Hans didn't argue with the other person because the match had begun.

Unlike the last game, both Lu Yang and Moric had earned the chance to start this match.

Even though they were underage players whose bodies hadn't fully matured, San Remo's situation simply didn't allow them to keep their talents on the bench.

With San Remo's backline as it was, if they didn't field Lu Yang, Soto might as well have just conceded the match.

Then there was San Remo's midfield; Moric was the only player on the entire team with genuine playmaking ability. Without his orchestration and control, San Remo couldn't even manage the simplest long-ball tactics—it would just be nothing but desperate hoofing to clear the lines.

On the pitch.

Arnold, playing as the team's right forward, was positioned directly opposite Lu Yang.

He stood beside Lu Yang and said, "You're that Lu Yang? I heard you're going to freeze me out?"

Lu Yang shook his head.

Arnold laughed, "It's too late to lose your nerve now. I'm going to teach you a real lesson."

Lu Yang spoke up, "My head shake didn't mean that. I meant it's not just a rumor—I am going to freeze you out!"

Arnold's face darkened.

Damn it!

Bisceglie's number 7 was Arnold, but the true core of their team was actually their number 10, a midfielder capable of launching lethal through-balls.

Likewise, their number 9 striker was a target man, primarily responsible for holding up the ball and creating opportunities for Arnold.

From this, one could discern Arnold's true level.

With the team's core and the front-line target man both feeding him, and playing for the league leaders with an abundance of attacking chances, he had only scored fourteen goals in twenty matches.

Looking at the environment Vedian had to survive in previously, you would realize that Vedian was actually quite strong.

Bang!

The opposing number 10 quickly launched a precise through-ball, and Arnold was already making his run.

But Lu Yang extended a foot, disrupting the pass and making a successful interception.

On the sidelines, Soto raised his arms and cheered, his heart finally settling.

He knew that kid could do it.

Lu Yang's defensive positioning and interception skills were truly outstanding for the Serie D level.

Without Lu Yang, San Remo would likely have already conceded a goal.

A few minutes later, an even more dangerous situation arose.

The opposing number 9 successfully received and shielded the ball; he was quite strong, and San Remo's midfield and the other center-back couldn't do anything about him.

He shielded the ball for a moment, waited for the right opportunity, and then lofted a long ball over the top, kicking it toward the right side of San Remo's half before he could be double-teamed.

There was a massive gap there.

Arnold sprinted forward, successfully collected the ball, and charged straight toward the San Remo goal.

San Remo's right-back was chasing Arnold, but the distance between them was only growing.

"It's on, it's on! Arnold's fast break is here!"

"Wow! San Remo's right-back can't catch Arnold at all. Now, there's only a sixteen-year-old youth player between Arnold and the goalkeeper. He can't possibly stop Arnold!"

"A goal is imminent."

"Oh, we can see that this center-back named Lu Yang is retreating rapidly, attempting to block Arnold's path. This is a battle of wits between defender and forward."

"Lu Yang's idea is good, but he's too young. While retreating at high speed, it's very easy for a player to trip over their own feet."

"Arnold has started his Stepover, yet his speed hasn't diminished much. Such feints are enough to make any center-back lose their judgment, or even be sent stumbling to the ground."

No sooner said than done.

Just as Arnold's feet were flashing over the ball in a Stepover, Lu Yang, who had been retreating the entire time, suddenly stepped forward and poked the ball away.

The ball was cleared, and then Arnold collided with Lu Yang.

Arnold fell to the ground, putting on a pained expression.

But the referee shook his head, signaling that it was not a foul.

Lu Yang quickly passed the ball to Moric, then said to Arnold on the ground, "Your dribbling rhythm isn't good. Such poor tricks probably won't get you past any professional footballer."

Arnold felt humiliated and immediately sprang up from the ground, charging toward Lu Yang.

Lu Yang showed no fear, puffing out his chest to brace against Arnold.

Arnold was bounced back, stumbling slightly.

After all, Lu Yang was a center-back, and Arnold wasn't particularly strong for a forward; there was still a gap in their physical prowess.

The referee immediately came over to separate them and warned Arnold not to cause trouble.

Arnold looked thoroughly displeased.

On the sidelines, Soto was very satisfied with this scene, gesturing excitedly as he said to Tom, "Did you see that, Tom? That's the kind of defense I want! Stopping the opponent is a must, but you have to be tough enough, too!"

"Think about San Remo's matches—how long has it been since our players got into a heated confrontation with anyone? Weak players might steal some glory, but a weak team will never achieve anything!"

Tom's face darkened; could he interpret that comment as a jab at Maniero?

"Yes, Lu's Defensive Retreat Footwork is excellent. It's the most important fundamental skill for defending against pacey players," Tom conceded reluctantly.

Deep down, however, he truly agreed with the "toughness" Soto spoke of.

You don't have to play dirty, but you cannot be soft!

Over the next half hour, Lu Yang fully demonstrated his dominance over the defensive line.

Whether it was ground-level through balls, aerial chips, or long-range switches, he rendered Arnold completely ineffective. Most of the time, Arnold couldn't even touch the ball before Lu Yang intercepted it.

Bisceglie's standard tactics had failed; their blade had gone dull.

Both sides ended the first half at zero-zero.

But Soto was far from optimistic, as he believed the opposition would likely make targeted adjustments in the second half to change their approach. For instance, having their number nine center-forward step up, no longer acting as a pivot, but trying to become a finisher.

After all, the center-back the number nine would face was far easier to deal with than Lu Yang.

And as for Soto... it wasn't that he didn't want to adjust, but that he couldn't.

Should he have Lu Yang mark that number nine center-forward?

Wouldn't that just set Arnold free again?

The opposition had two, perhaps even three blades, but Soto only had one shield; he was bound to be stretched thin.

"Attack, we must find a way to attack!" This was the only message Soto could convey to his team.

The second half kicked off.

Three minutes later, the cheers of the fans erupted in Bisceglie's home stadium.

"GOAL!"

Their number nine center-forward, shouldering aside San Remo's right center-back, charged into the penalty area and scored.

Meanwhile, Lu Yang was forced to stand near the edge of the penalty area to lock down Arnold and prevent the number nine from distributing the ball.

"See that? This is the price you pay for following me around. We are invincible! We are first in the league standings!" Arnold tried to use words to rattle Lu Yang.

But he underestimated Lu Yang's mental fortitude.

"Yet you haven't recorded a single stat!" Lu Yang retorted.

Arnold froze, absolutely livid.

In the fifty-ninth minute of the match.

Bisceglie repeated their trick: Arnold drew Lu Yang away, leaving the number nine center-forward to challenge San Remo's right center-back one-on-one.

But the difference this time was that Moric stepped up. He was already in the defensive midfield position and had shifted backward earlier, giving him the opportunity to double-team the opposition's number nine.

However, the number nine center-forward's role as a pivot shone through once again; leaning on the center-back, he reached out to pin Moric before laying the ball back to the edge of the penalty arc.

There, Bisceglie's number ten core player arrived in a flash and unleashed a powerful strike.

The ball tore through the net, leaving the goalkeeper helpless and unable to make the save.

"GOAL! The match is effectively over; San Remo simply cannot stop Bisceglie's attack!"

"Bisceglie always has one more key player than San Remo; this is the gap in overall team strength."

"Lu Yang did indeed freeze Arnold, but looking at it the other way, hasn't he also been shackled by Arnold?"

"I have a feeling there are more goals to come in this match; San Remo might lose by more than two!"

"This is absolutely a resounding, dominant victory!"

"The remaining thirty minutes will be a form of torture for San Remo."

The commentators voiced their opinions, most of them quite professional.

Even Hans furrowed his brows.

Lu Yang had done what he said he would, but unfortunately, San Remo and Bisceglie were simply not teams of the same caliber.

This was a gap that no individual could bridge.

What a pity.

"Hey, has San Remo's center-back even played in this match? Why is our team scoring so easily?" Arnold whispered in Lu Yang's ear, mocking him once again.

Lu Yang remained calm. If not for the time limit on the Ibrahimovic Moment Card, which he intended to save for the final moments, he could have shown Arnold the brilliance of God right now.

However, even without using the Moment Card, Lu Yang had already figured out how to break the deadlock.

This Bisceglie side was not as formidable as they appeared.

They had at least two fatal weaknesses!