Heavy Cannon in the Penalty Area!

After that goal, it wasn't long before the referee blew the whistle to end the first half.

Sheffield United went into halftime with a three-nil lead, the first time they had done so this season.

The players were all smiles, heading off the pitch in small groups, chatting and laughing.

"A goal and an assist. Best Player of this match has to be you."

Gilbert walked beside Maël, his face full of envy. "Tell me, how do you actually train every day? How do you improve so fast?"

In the eight-plus months he had known Maël, he had watched Maël go from not getting games in the youth setup, to suddenly finding his way and receiving a loan move to Sheffield United, and now to dazzling everyone by creating two goals in one half. Even though he trained with Maël every day, and even though his own improvement had been quick too, compared with Maël, they were worlds apart.

"I just train a bit." Maël laughed it off and brushed the question aside.

"What do you mean, Best Player has to be him?"

A voice came from behind them. It was Bologanovic, smiling broadly. Having scored, he seemed delighted and full of confidence. "Maybe I'll score two more and get a Hat-trick."

"Wouldn't you have to count on Maël's passes for that?"

Gilbert put one arm around Maël and the other around Bologanovic. "His crosses are top-class in the Championship."

"That makes sense." Bologanovic nodded. For a tall center forward like him, he really did have to rely on Maël.

He sidled up to Maël and fawned, "Let me wash your boots for you. I'm brilliant at it."

"No thanks." Maël smiled and shook his head. He preferred washing his own boots.

As the three of them talked, they arrived in front of the high-spirited Gareth Speed, who seemed to have been waiting there for them.

"One goal and three assists in two matches. You're heading straight for Monthly Best."

Gareth Speed came up and gripped Maël's hand tightly, then, glowing with delight, pulled him in for a hug. "It's my fortune to have young talents like you."

"It's still early to talk about Best." Maël waved a modest hand, though a trace of interest stirred in his heart.

For a young player just starting out like him, if he could win a monthly best award, it would count as a milestone in his career.

He set that goal for himself and decided to work toward it.

Gareth Speed went to greet the other players, while Maël entered the dressing room to rest properly. The match was not over yet, and he still wanted to chase even better achievements and an even better performance.

"OhleOhleOhle!"

Amid the fans' chants, the second half kicked off in full swing. The two sides switched ends and plunged into a new round of battle.

No one knew what kind of spell Landers had cast over the Preston players, but they produced a wave of consecutive attacks at the start of the half.

Bang!

First, their winger pulled off a classic cut-inside shot. After goalkeeper Robert parried the ball away, it fell once more to a Preston player.

The player did not hesitate, releasing the ball with one touch and sending in a direct cross.

The ball was just barely cleared by Steven with a sliding tackle, but to everyone's surprise, it still ended up at the feet of an opposing player.

Bang, bang!

Preston played a fine one-two down the flank, tearing open Sheffield United's back line, then sent in another high cross.

Preston's center forward got his head to it, and the ball whistled toward goal.

There was only a sharp "snap" as goalkeeper Robert heroically parried the ball away, saving the team.

Preston won a corner kick.

"Hey!"

Gareth Speed's anxious voice came from the touchline. He pointed both hands at his own head, signaling for the players to concentrate. "Second ball! Watch the second ball and cover!"

The defenders nodded and waved in silence, indicating that they had taken it in, but their minds were still groggy, somewhat stunned by Preston's opening blitz in the second half.

Preston quickly took the corner kick, and the ball spun at speed toward the far post at the back.

Robert still wanted to save the team. He chose to come out and claim the ball, but it was too high and spinning too fast, slipping over his fingertips.

Bang!

The Preston center back lurking at the far post leapt high and powered in a forceful header. The ball flew into the empty net without any suspense.

Goal! Three-one!

Preston pulled one back! "Oh!" The several thousand Preston fans who had traveled to Bramall Lane broke into a faint cheer. They saw a bit of hope again.

The Preston center back who had scored ran into the goal, picked up the ball, tucked it under his arm, and sprinted back.

There was still time. They could still fight for victory!

"Ah..." Gareth Speed sat back down in disappointment at the side of the pitch. They had still let the opposition score. He had thought they might have a chance to win with a clean sheet.

He had to accept it. There were far too many imperfections in life. Being ahead was enough.

Bang!

Evans kicked off from the center circle, and the match returned to its rhythm. The Sheffield United players charged into the opposition half.

This time, they chose a change of rhythm. Instead of blindly passing back and hitting it long, Janu Hans suddenly turned and carried the ball into the middle.

They wanted to use this method to catch their opponents off guard.

This wasn't something they had specially trained for. It had only come from the brief exchange between them just now.

That was football. You had to think of every possible way to find variation, even if it meant taking a few risks.

Janu Hans's change worked. Before the opponents could react, he carried the ball over the halfway line and kept driving forward at high speed.

Bang!

After reaching the front half, he passed the ball across to Ward on the other side, giving him a one-on-one chance against the opposing fullback.

"Come on, come on!"

"Cross it!"

Plenty of Sheffield United players surged into the box, waiting for his pass, and Maël was among them.

Ward did not let everyone down. He successfully shifted the angle and sent a ball into the middle.

But Preston's tall center-back held his position and hooked the ball out with the inside of his foot.

By sheer coincidence, the ball ended up glancing off the side of Evans's head at close range, changing trajectory and slipping toward the penalty area.

A player in a red-and-white striped shirt appeared in the ball's path, as if he had been waiting for this chance from the moment Preston's tall center-back swung his leg.

Bang!!

He opened up his stance, drew the bow and loosed the arrow, and blasted a Cannon Shot toward goal.

Even from such close range, he still used that utterly unreasonable Cannon Shot!

In an instant, the ball lifted off the ground and struck the net cleanly, giving off a crisp, beautiful sound. Swish!

The ball was in again!

Four-one!

Beep! The referee raised his right hand high and pointed toward the center circle arc, signaling that the goal stood.

"Yeah!" The home fans instantly emerged from the silence of having just conceded and plunged once more into a delirious celebration.

On the touchline, Gareth Speed, who had been sitting back down on the coaching bench in low spirits, had barely warmed his seat before he sprang up again and pumped his fist. "Ah!"

This time, his voice carried a feverish passion.