In the fifteenth minute, Auxerre finally put together a decent attack after their adjustments.
Grichting won the ball in the back and, instead of passing to Pedretti, sent a long ball straight toward Zhang Kuang up front.
The ball traveled nearly forty meters through the air and dropped near the center circle. Zhang Kuang held his position with his back to goal and brought it down on his chest.
Two Grenoble defenders immediately closed in from behind and the side, but Zhang Kuang gave them no chance to get close. He nudged the ball with his left foot, took one step sideways, then-
Passed.
Not to Jelen, but to Oliech advancing down the flank.
Oliech received the ball on the right, and Grenoble's fullback immediately pressed up against him. Rather than forcing his way through, Oliech knocked it square to Zhang Kuang, who had dropped back through the middle to offer support.
As Zhang Kuang received the ball, three Grenoble defenders converged on him at once-one confronted him head-on, another covered from the side, and the third provided cover behind them.
Four people.
Zhang Kuang glanced at them expressionlessly, then raised his right foot nearly forty meters from goal.
"From this distance-is he going to shoot?" Liu Jianhong's voice was full of doubt.
It was not just Liu Jianhong. Grenoble's players on the pitch had not expected it either.
Their tactical instructions were to "restrict Zhang Kuang's long-range shots within thirty meters." The area from the edge of the penalty arc out to thirty meters was their defensive priority. As for forty meters out-they had never even considered it.
"Bang-!"
The sound of that shot silenced the entire stadium for a second.
"He shoots! Chinese Zhang isn't waiting any longer. He wants to turn the tide..."
The ball flew like a shell leaving a cannon, barely spinning as it traced a straight line toward goal. This time, Grenoble's goalkeeper attempted a save-but he moved too late.
When the ball hit the net, his hands were only halfway up.
2-1.
"GOOOOOOOOOOAL-!!!" Bart's voice rang out once again over France 1's broadcast signal.
Liu Jianhong's voice exploded in the studio. "It's in, it's in, it's in! Zhang Kuang! Zhang Kuang! A thunderous long-range strike from nearly forty meters out! A worldie! An unstoppable worldie! No goalkeeper could save a shot like that!"
"Forty meters!" Xu Yang's voice also went out of control. "That's not a long shot, that's a missile! Zhang Kuang has stepped up in his team's darkest hour! This goal does more than narrow the deficit. More importantly, it steadies the troops! This is exactly what Auxerre need right now!"
Zhang Kuang did not celebrate.
He picked the ball out of the net, tucked it into his arms, and turned to run toward the center circle.
He did not do the "Siu."
He did not slide on his knees by the corner flag.
He did not even glance at Grenoble's players.
He placed the ball on the center spot, then spread his arms toward his teammates and gestured for them to push up.
"Don't celebrate!" he shouted at his teammates, who were still running toward him. "We're still behind! Hurry up and kick off!"
Grichting had already opened his arms to hug him, but that shout brought him to an abrupt halt.
Pedretti ran over and patted him on the back. "Nice goal."
Zhang Kuang did not answer, only nodded.
His gaze crossed the pitch and settled on Grenoble's head coach, Mohamed Bazdarevic.
The Bosnian stood on the touchline, the smugness gone from his face, replaced by a complicated expression-shock, wariness, and a trace of fear.
A shot from forty meters out.
This was a defensive blind spot he had never anticipated.
He had deployed five midfielders to strangle Auxerre's play through the middle, arranged double- and even triple-teams to restrict Zhang Kuang's possession in dangerous areas, and even organized special goalkeeper training, having the keeper practice anticipating the distinctive characteristics of Zhang Kuang's long-range shots.
But he had not arranged any defending forty meters out.
Because the players in all of Ligue 1 history who could score directly from that distance could be counted on one hand.
And this Chinese player had just done it.
"Keep going!" Bazdarevic shouted to his players on the pitch. "Don't panic! Stick to the tactics! Don't give him space to shoot-wherever he is!"
Even he felt a little helpless as he said it.
Deny him space to shoot? Even forty meters out?
How many players would he have to assign to mark Zhang Kuang?
After the score became 2-1, Auxerre's momentum visibly recovered.
But Grenoble soon adjusted.
Bazdarevic shouted several instructions from the touchline, and Grenoble's midfield formation changed-the five midfielders stood even closer together, blocking Auxerre's passing lanes out of the back more aggressively.
More importantly, they began restricting Auxerre's long balls from the back and advances down the flanks.
Grichting won the ball in defense again and looked up for Zhang Kuang-but this time, a Grenoble midfielder held firmly in the passing lane between them, denying him an easy long ball.
Grichting hesitated, then chose to pass to Oliech on the flank.
But the moment Oliech received the ball, two Grenoble players closed him down, one blocking his route inside and the other pressing him closely. Oliech barely managed to shield the ball, but under pressure, he could only pass backward.
The ball went back into defense, then back to the center circle, but simply could not reach the attacking third.
The twentieth minute, the twenty-fifth, the thirtieth.
Time ticked away, second by second. Although Auxerre had pulled a goal back, Grenoble still controlled the tempo of the match.
They did not play like a bottom-placed team.
Their running, tackling, and tactical execution all far exceeded the standard expected of a relegation-battling side.
"Grenoble's performance today looks nothing like that of the league's bottom team," Xu Yang analyzed in the studio. "Their tactical execution is outstanding. Every player knows what he should be doing. Their five-man midfield stranglehold has completely paralyzed Auxerre's attacks through the middle, and now even their long balls from the back and advances down the flanks have been restricted."
"Zhang Kuang can't get the ball again." Liu Jianhong's voice carried obvious anxiety. "In the full fifteen minutes since pulling that goal back, Zhang Kuang has touched the ball only twice. With so few touches, he can't score no matter how good he is."
The mood on Japan's internet changed again.
"That Chinese guy got lucky and fluked a long-range goal."
"Can you call a shot from forty meters a fluke? That's skill."
"What skill? It was a fluke. You'd be lucky to score one of those in a hundred attempts."
"Fluke or not, it's 2-1 now. Auxerre are still behind."
"Matsui has completely outperformed that Chinese guy today. One assist, several key passes, and three tackles in defense too. That's a complete midfielder."
"Just wait. Grenoble will score again."
The thirty-sixth minute.
Auxerre's nightmare descended once more.
Grenoble launched an attack down the right. After receiving the ball out wide, Daisuke Matsui did not rush to cross, but cut inside, carrying it toward the edge of the penalty arc.
Auxerre's midfield defense suffered a lapse in concentration-Pedretti and N'Dinga both rushed at Daisuke Matsui on the ball, leaving a vacuum at the edge of the penalty arc.
Daisuke Matsui did not try to take all the glory, instead passing to the unmarked Ljuboja on the left side of the penalty area.
Ljuboja did not shoot after receiving the ball, but played another square pass. The ball went between an Auxerre defender's legs and reached Akrour's feet near the penalty spot.
Akrour received it with his back to goal, held off Hengbart, and laid it back.
Daisuke Matsui came galloping up and side-footed the moving ball.
The ball passed through the crowd and headed straight for the bottom-left corner.
Sorin attempted a save this time-but the ball was too fast and too precisely placed. He could only watch it enter the net.
3-1.
"They've scored again!" A trace of despair crept into Liu Jianhong's voice. "The thirty-sixth minute, and Daisuke Matsui scores! Grenoble lead Auxerre 3-1!"
"That goal..." Xu Yang fell silent for two seconds. "Auxerre's midfield defense suffered a serious lapse in concentration. Pedretti and N'Dinga both rushed at the ball carrier, leaving the edge of the penalty arc completely empty. Daisuke Matsui's movement was very clever. Not a single player tracked his forward run."
The celebrations began on Japan's internet.
"Matsui scored! Did you see that? That's a Japanese international for you!"
"3-1! Grenoble are going to win!"
"Where's that Chinese guy? Disappeared after scoring one long shot?"
"Asia's number one? Ha."
"Matsui is Asia's number one midfielder! No, Asia's number one player!"
"Calm down. The match isn't over yet. That Chinese guy is dangerous. He could unleash another long shot at any moment."
"He can hit another shot from forty meters? Do you think he's a robot?"
The home fans at the Stade des Alpes went wild.
The singing, shouting, and applause of twenty thousand people merged into a wave of sound that swept through the entire stadium. Grenoble's players embraced in celebration, players from the bench rushed onto the pitch, and head coach Bazdarevic pumped his fists on the touchline.
3-1.
Bottom-placed Grenoble led fourth-placed Auxerre by two goals.
This might be the biggest upset of this round of Ligue 1 fixtures.
Zhang Kuang stood near the center circle, hands on his hips, watching Grenoble's players celebrate by the corner flag.
His expression was no longer calm, but filled with suppressed anger.
They're forcing my hand. He opened the system panel in his mind and looked at the Qi and Blood Points he had saved for over ten days. Only 225 points-the reward for grinding his needle relentlessly every night for all those days. He had been planning to save them until the end of the season.
Who could have imagined the team would drop the ball just a few matches in?
Fuck, you forced me into this!
"System, add points! Put them into dribbling!"
Zhang Kuang steeled himself. Since he could not count on his teammates, he would have to rely on himself.