Chapter 173: What? T9V7 is coming back? (There's a drama with toxic romance, you need to be careful)

November 23, 2002, the Spanish national derby.

Camp Nou.

Former Barcelona captain, Portuguese superstar Figo, stood in the corner flag area.

Coins, underwear, cans, and lighters poured down like rain.

When a pig's head hit the ground.

It became one of the most iconic shots in La Liga history.

Pig's head.

In Yin Biliya peninsula culture, the meaning is: traitor.

The hallucination faded.

Li Kang shook his head, not understanding why the fragment of being hit by a pig's head surfaced.

The TV suddenly replayed Ligue 1 highlights.

"New Henry? Monaco's 17‑year‑old super monster star!"

On the screen.

A small marinated egg that looked like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, with arms crossed over its chest, struck a unique celebration pose.

On his naive face hung an innocent smile.

The next day.

The club bus slowly entered the Lewokusen training base.

Many fervent fans gathered along the roadsides.

They couldn't afford Bernabeu tickets, but they could buy mini illumination bombs.

Thus, one illumination bomb after another was lit, trailing thick smoke as they fell near the bus, erupting in red fireworks.

Li Kang's poster and cheering banner were held high.

The fans let out hysterical roars.

"Lee!!!"

It had come to this point.

Who still cares about winning or losing?

Tuopu Laotou gave all the players a day off.

The intensity of the Bernabeu match was too high; three days later they still had to face a Bundesliga game.

He noticed the players were on the verge of collapse, worried that any accident would cause Lewokusen to lose its championship contention.

"Boss, nothing unexpected will happen; our Saturday opponent is Schalke 04!"

"Damn it, they're a tough bone to chew."

After the dismissal whistle, the players didn't all scatter; instead, many stayed for extra training.

Although it's probably useless, at least they needed to show a positive attitude.

In the second leg, we can't let Zidane's running‑passing tactic wear us out again.

Two hours later.

The first to leave was actually Li Kang.

He needed to go to Gelsenkirchen.

Charge.

Felttins headquarters building.

Claudia held a sculpted model of a "Bear and Wild Strawberry Tree".

After examining it closely, she asked: "Is it a male bear or a female bear?"

Li Kang laughed and shook his head.

He didn't know either.

The totem of the Madrid region is the bear.

The mainstream view is that it's a female bear, but some historians believe it's a male bear.

So is Madrid's symbol male or female?

Experts have debated for decades without reaching a conclusion.

He continued to take out several handicrafts bought in Paris from the box.

They were very cheap.

Claudia, due to health reasons, has hardly ever left Bei lai yin.

At this moment, seeing the dazzling array of small handicrafts symbolizing various regional cultures, her pale cheeks gradually flushed.

"Is this a spice candle?"

"Is this an obelisk crystal?"

"This is the Baccarat craft from the documentary!"

"I really like..."

Li Kang quietly gazed at her; the shadow in his brain sometimes contracted, sometimes expanded.

Claudia's cheeks grew redder.

In the spacious room, although only two people were present, neither overstepped.

"You will surely meet other girls in the future..."

Li Kang was stunned.

How does this sentence sound somewhat familiar?

If you treat other girls like that, I'll shoot you dead.

After a long while.

Li Kang left Gelsenkirchen.

Charging ended, next round confident to defend within 90 minutes against the biscuit Luo.

As for dating and such, it's too far away for him.

Still have homework to do.

Still have exams to take.

Still have training to do.

Still have...

Turin Allianz Stadium.

Pogba accepted the reporters' interview.

"I watched yesterday's Champions League semifinal; frankly, there was hardly any tactical substance!"

"If Li Kang had faced me, he wouldn't have been able to score those two goals."

"You can't judge a player's ability by highlights; a true genius midfielder should snuff out the opponent's attacks in the cradle."

"He has no chance to face me!"

"Tonight, Atlético will taste bitterness!"

"Who is Saul?"

That night.

Li Kang returned to the first-team dormitory, gathering with Brandt and Havertz in front of the TV.

The screen was live-broadcasting another Champions League semifinal.

Juventus vs. Atlético Madrid.

Buffon vs. Oblak.

The clash of the Zebras and the Sheets, a dialogue of extreme defenses.

"Whoever attacks fiercely is the grandson."

Simeone roared angrily.

Allegri's face twisted into an embarrassed expression.

Just looking at the play, Atlético's midfield defensive line... firmly suppressed Juventus's front.

Super-talent midfielder Pogba was turned into a 'transparent man' by Saul—he loses the ball at the slightest touch, let alone any organizing or fast advances!

Marchisio had to shift attacking resources to the flanks.

Unfortunately, Atlético were prepared; Gabi and Coke could always give Juanfran and Luis safe cover and block Juventus's forward passes.

Allegri's gestures flew about.

Juventus tried to create a local numerical advantage in midfield around the thirty-meter zone.

It was useless.

As long as they don't meet Messi, peak-era Godín can snuff out all attacking combinations in dangerous zones.

Of course.

Atlético's counter-attack after winning the ball couldn't get past Juventus's "heavenly back‑line"!

The combination of Bonucci, Chiellini, and Buffon was like an iron fortress.

Plus an old warhorse, Barzali.

The aging Torres and his little pals could only sigh in admiration.

Havertz couldn't help but remark: "Lucky we drew Real Madrid—at least we can fight back."

Brandt nodded desperately like a chick pecking at grain: "These two teams' defensive lines are too coordinated, too beautiful!"

"Pressing and counter-pressing... flawless defensive spacing, overall movement."

"If we meet them, we can only be slaughtered."

Li Kang quite agreed with his two teammates' view.

Lewokusen drawing any team would yield about the same result.

The tactical and overall player level gap is too huge.

Not mentioning the famous veterans.

Atlético's twin stars—Saul and Coke—could press Lewokusen's mid-forward into the ground.

Under Simeone's coaching, even the Sheets' cleaning ladies are adept at pressing.

The final moments.

Morata missed an open goal.

Turin Allianz Stadium fell into dead silence.

The referee, following the flow, blew the whistle for the end of the match.

Juventus 0:0 Atlético Madrid!

At the same time.

Distant Madrid.

Bosque's beard twitched; he was annoyed.

"Everyone plays so well, but the Euro squad can only take so few people!"

"I wish Coke and Saul were the same person!"

Mi Ni Ya Nuo said seriously: "We have Li, so we don't need to bring so many midfielders. On the other hand, Torres' condition is not bad; he is still a Champions League-level striker! Biliya's performance in the US is also excellent. My suggestion is..."

"The Brazilian team is still calling up Chinese Super League players; why can't we call up a super striker from Major League Soccer?"

In the Spanish assistant coach's eyes... a fervent light glimmered.

T9V7, the most terrifying forward twin stars of the former Yin Biliya Peninsula!

This suggestion sounds a bit like a PE teacher teaching you to do math problems...

Bo Si Ke patted his big belly, not immediately denying.

"Let's talk about it later."