Chapter 862: Ten Hag Watches Live On-Site; The Chinese Team With Nowhere to Run

"None of you brothers are asleep yet? Here to watch me, Tang Tang Qiuwang, get crushed, huh? You're truly wicked—ignoring matches where we hold a huge advantage, only to flock here now that we're playing Spain."

"How can watching my, Tang Tang Qiuwang's, match be called 'flocking to watch the fun'?"

"Damn it, why isn't Rodri Chinese? Today's clash is basically a Manchester United derby."

"Losing by one goal counts as a win; losing by two is still acceptable. Anyway, I've already given up and laid down flat; let's just see how my Tang Tang Qiuwang handles this."

Over 50 million live viewers at 3 a. m. is genuinely too exaggerated.

This figure is nearly three times higher than that of the previous World Cup final!

Judging from comments across major social media platforms, Chinese fans remain quite considerate; they know facing Spain is no easy task for the national team, so they haven't set overly strict expectations.

Losing by just one goal counts as a victory, since that alone would create the best-ever result for the national team in a World Cup knockout stage!

Since that's the case, we might as well just lie back and watch my Tang Tang Qiuwang perform.

As everyone knows, my, Ggbond's, tackling ability ranks among the top three globally; if the national team goes all-out on defense, we absolutely won't be weak!

"Tom!"

In the player tunnel, Rodri, wearing the captain's armband, shook hands with Tang Ye.

"How did you become captain?"

The armband on Rodri's arm surprised Tang Ye.

"I've been captain since early this year; didn't you watch our matches during the group stage?"

"During the group stage, I only paid attention to the scores..."

Tang Ye shrugged, mentioning the third round of the group stage, prompting Rodri to laugh heartily: "Sorry, Tom!"

"It doesn't matter; there's no other way—we just have to play and win."

Tang Ye embraced Gavi, standing beside Rodri, and agreed to the Spanish midfielder's request for his jersey.

"Um..."

Rodri followed behind Tang Ye: "If I eliminate your team, you... won't hold it against me, right?"

"..."

Tang Ye glanced back at Rodri: "Do I look like that kind of petty person to you?"

"OK, OK, my bad!"

Rodri raised both hands in surrender toward Tang Ye: "In that case, I'm relieved."

"..."

Stopping at the entrance of the player tunnel, Tang Ye placed his hand on his Manchester United teammate's shoulder: "Don't be overconfident, Rod."

Rodri said nothing, his eyebrows suddenly arching upward.

Whether Tang Ye was joking or not, the look in the national team captain's eyes gave Rodri a faint sense of dread.

Back at the club, Tang Ye often played the role of an anchor in crucial matches; now this guy has switched to the opposing side...

Hiss... Rodri felt an inexplicable nervousness creeping up.

"Good luck, Tom!"

Rodri slapped Tang Ye's shoulder forcefully.

"Of course; you good luck too, try not to lose too badly."

"Oh!"

"China Central Television..."

"Beep——!!!"

With a single whistle from the referee, the match began.

The 40,000-seat stadium was divided between home and away supporters; Chinese fans slightly outnumbered the Spanish, though not by much.

The camera panned to below the VIP box, bringing a familiar face into the viewers' sight.

The legendary child of destiny, the one blessed by the God of Gambling—the father of Ggbond, Ggbond Tang Zhengxiong!

Tang Tang Zhengxiong rarely wore such a serious expression; clearly, he too realized this match would be no simple affair.

The camera shifted left, and soon fans spotted another familiar face.

"Erik ten Hag, head coach of the English Premier League club Manchester United, and the club coach for both captains, Tang Ye and Rodri. Hmm... if I recall correctly, this should be Ten Hag's first Qatar World Cup match attended in person."

"Yes, this match certainly deserves being watched live, haha!"

"It's a marquee matchup, but the main spotlight rests on the two players, Tang Ye and Rodri. If comparing overall team strength, Spain's lineup is clearly superior to China's; however, the good news is Jiang Guangtai's recovery from injury, which provides a crucial boost to the national team's defense!"

"Gavi, oh, beautiful!"

Gavi lifted his right leg high, successfully blocking Zhang Zhang Xizhe's pass.

"Holy crap!"

Through the broadcast, Zhang Zhang Xizhe's exclamation could be heard clearly, since Chinese fans are extremely sensitive to the term "holy crap."

Zhang Zhang Xizhe rushed forward, attempting to steal the ball back.

"Don't go!"

Tang Ye shouted, but it was already too late.

Gavi pulled the ball beneath his body, turned sideways, and passed back to Busquets.

Busquets stepped forward; at this moment, the gap left by Zhang Zhang Xizhe's high press became the key to breaking the deadlock.

Seizing this opportunity, Busquets delivered a low, driven through-pass.

Llorente, making a forward run down the right flank, took control of the ball!

"Vamos!"

From the substitutes' bench, Morata shouted it out directly.

"Cover! Cover!"

Enrique directed his teammates to provide support, while Llorente continued his dribbling run forward.

Zhang Zhang Xizhe was on his way back to the team, but it looked like he wouldn't make it in time.

Llorente began to slow down, and just a second before Zhang Zhang Xizhe could close in, Llorente played a through ball forward; Asensio, arriving from the wing to support, took control of the ball.

Almost simultaneously, Ferran Torres, originally positioned on the right wing, cut inside toward the center, completing a crossing run with Asensio.

"Wow!!!"

Asensio reached the byline, going one-on-one against Wang Wang Shenchao!

A change of direction!

The change of direction was a bit slow; he didn't shake off Wang Wang Shenchao immediately, but Asensio didn't care, driving forward with the ball and using his body to shield the position while making the pass.

In the center, Torres!

Torres was surrounded entirely by defenders, yet this Spaniard was indeed very clever; he simply lifted his foot and let the ball roll past him.

Now Olmo has the ball!

He ran past Zhang Zhang Linpeng's face.

Olmo!

Slap!

The shot was taken; the ball struck the edge of the six-yard box, bounced once.

!!

Wang Wang Dalei dove out sideways, but Olmo's pushed shot ultimately hit the right post; after the rebound, Gavi, rushing in for the follow-up, blasted the ball sky-high.

"Damn!"

Gavi threw out his right hand, clenched into a fist.

"Oh!!!!"

"Beep beep beep beep!!!"

Less than three minutes into the first half, the scene had already become somewhat chaotic; Spain's rapid counterattack had directly taught the Chinese team a lesson.

It was truly fast and accurate, though Gavi's follow-up shot was indeed a bit abstract.

"It's fine!"

Gavi, having failed to capitalize on the chance, received encouragement from Busquets and Asensio.

In stark contrast to Spain was the situation on the Chinese team's side.

"Why did you push up!"

Tang Ye shouted at Zhang Zhang Xizhe: "If you lose the ball, retreat! If you push forward, our formation shatters instantly, and I can't cover your position!"

It wasn't just Tang Ye; off the field, Escrivá was also emphasizing the matter of formation.

"Be careful!"

Pressing his hands downward, Escrivá was extremely tense: "Careful!"

"..."

"Eh, hehe, Spain's attack is being executed quite aggressively; it seems they have no intention of giving their opponent any chances, hehe."

Zhang Lu remarked with a sigh; this commentator seemed to already be counting out the national football team.

Seeing things going awry, Huang Huang Jianxiang beside him quickly stepped in to speak up for the national team.

"Although the attack flowed very smoothly, we must say that the condition of these Spanish wingers and midfielders leaves something to be desired."

"Mm, this can be seen from the group stage statistics; the form of Gavi, Torres, and Busquets isn't very good, whereas the players on the Chinese team's side are in relatively good form."

The 8th minute.

Bang!

Tang Ye collided with Pedri; the captain of the national team successfully won this aerial duel, but the reaction of the surrounding teammates was indeed a bit slow, resulting in Busquets ultimately gaining possession of the ball.