Kevin of Samba, King of Ball Kings (Please Subscribe)

Brazil and Saudi Arabia were six hours apart.

When the match began, it was only a little past 2 p.m. in Brazil.

Brazil's BVSP stock index had always been high. After all, it was a resource-exporting country and had consistently attracted foreign investment.

Even if it was merely the Americans' backyard, the investments were real.

Its stock market had remained fairly resilient.

But when trading opened today, Brazilian stocks behaved rather strangely.

They had fluctuated throughout the morning, and the overall market had even dropped considerably.

Once the match began in the afternoon, every stock turned red and plunged all the way down.

This was Brazil.

This was football's influence in Brazil.

Though it was only a short-term effect, it was still astonishing enough.

The China National Team was already two goals ahead.

Yet there were actually people in Brazil cheering.

Even Huang Kaiwen fans would not behave like that at a time like this.

After all, it was their own national team playing.

Every one of those cheering people was reserve material for the rooftops, waiting to make a killing off this opportunity.

All they hoped for was a lopsided scoreline.

"Luciano, didn't you say you supported the national team?"

At the bar counter of a Sao Paulo pub, someone mocked the customer beside him.

"I support the national team, but I'm not an idiot."

Luciano dos Santos da Silva waved a hand and took a savage gulp of beer.

Being born in a Brazilian slum with no talent for football was enough to drive anyone to despair.

Under such circumstances, there was simply no room to climb any higher.

If you were ruthless enough, you went out and joined the streets. Otherwise, you obediently let others bully you.

Luciano had finally escaped the slums, yet he still could