Chapter 193: Saint Denis Rain Battle

Legend has it that a long, long time ago.

A believer named Saint Denis preached in Paris.

Religious conflicts never ceased.

After he was beheaded, he could still hold his own head and walked six miles while preaching, and the place where he finally breathed his last was called Saint Denis Town.

The powerful lights high above the stadium gathered thousands upon thousands of moths.

The camera lens was covered with dense swarms of tiny insects.

The yellow cloth on the corner flagpole became a habitat for insects.

The stadium maintenance staff were annoyed; they could find no way to drive away these damned insects.

If this problem is not solved.

The Saint Denis Stadium, only eight years old, will forever be unable to surpass the 95-year-old Old Trafford, the 58-year-old Bernabéu, and the 79-year-old San Siro.

Yes.

The Saint Denis Stadium also has a very loud name: the Stade de France!

The originally scheduled venue for the final!

It has become the stage for Spain and Italy!

Thousands upon thousands of security personnel are distributed throughout Saint Denis Town.

This place is a hotspot for bomb attacks.

Near the stadium.

Brightly lit.

Filled with shouts and curses in Spanish and Italian.

Tourists, if not careful, will have their wallets and phones disappear without a trace.

Flirtatiously and enthusiastically, they rub against passersby's arms while making professional gestures.

From time to time, several groups of people chase and fight each other on the road.

The illumination lights above Saint Denis give the dagger a cold, icy gleam.

Under the plane trees on the street, piles of filthy things are accumulated.

The town's summer night, radiant and colorful, holds the romance of tens of thousands of people.

At the passage.

At this moment, Miniaño's mood is like the dark clouds over Paris.

"Boss, damn it, this formation is very likely to bring rain!"

"Relax your mind, we won't stick to possession play."

Bosque, smiling, strode into the pre-match press conference venue.

The silent stadium suddenly erupted in exclamations.

Everyone stood up in unison to pay tribute.

Conti hesitated for a moment, then slowly stepped forward to shake hands with the veteran Spanish coach.

The reporters began to ask questions enthusiastically.

"Mr. Conti, I am a reporter from Marca, congratulations on your acquittal! May I ask how you view the upcoming match?"

Conti suppressed his anger.

He could not discuss the past match-fixing scandal in his capacity as national team head coach.

"Spain's midfield and forward line are not lacking in excellent passers, and Italy's defense is quite good."

His light and casual reply left the reporters somewhat disappointed.

The crowd's attention quickly shifted to Bosque.

"The match will become very difficult, especially in rainy weather, as the football cannot roll smoothly on the grass, which is a major trouble for Spain; I hope it does not rain during the match against Germany."

The reporters all sighed at the veteran coach's humility.

It will take half a day to come to one's senses...

Germany?

Can Spain really be confident enough to eliminate Italy?

The passage at the Stade de France.

Unlike elsewhere, the ground is covered with Dutch grass.

The walls on both sides are printed with Coca-Cola advertisements.

Buffon is very depressed; as the "Buffett of Serie A," he has recently led his old friends to lose a lot of money.

De Rossi simply greeted Li Kang.

The Roma veteran wanted to chat about something... but didn't know what to say.

The system notification sound softly rang.

【Ding, mission triggered: Kill the person of "Italian football tradition"!】

【Mission brief: Conti is the true killer of classic chain defense; he is about to lead a tactical frenzy across the entire European continent!】

【Mission reward: European Tour · Platinum Treasure Chest!】

Li Kang felt little pressure.

During national team matches, he does not need to overthink.

The bullfighter coaching staff and technical team are very professional.

"Li, good luck!"

Buffon re-entered the preparation state, patting Li Kang on the shoulder.

Pa pa pa.

Morata lightly bumped fists with his Juventus teammates to greet them.

"You kid are starting? Then we might as well take a nap."

"Damn it, the opponent put out their fiercest forward, we can't even tell which foot he favors! One-on-one defense has become a major problem!"

Chiellini and Bonucci's teasing eased the atmosphere in the lineup considerably.

Morata's face flushed red, and he kept arguing.

Yin Si Ke hurriedly grabbed his hem.

A moment later.

When the lineup was neat and orderly.

Both sides put away their jokes.

The hostility between these two countries is quite subtle, especially the grudges from the last century being overly complex.

The relationship among the new generation of players hasn't reached the point of being in dire straits.

They met in the quarter-finals of the 2008 European Cup.

They met again in the final of the 2012 European Cup.

They have also kicked out some feelings, more or less.

"CTV5! CTV5! Good evening, viewers."

"Now broadcasting live to you is the 2016 European Cup Round of 16 knockout match."

"Spain versus Italy!"

"The champions and runners-up of the previous European Cup, meeting again in France!"

"Each side also carries another identity, respectively the 2006 World Cup champions and the 2010 World Cup champions!"

"The lineup's gold content may not be as high as before, but two European giants with deep foundations will surely bring us the ultimate visual enjoyment!"

"This is a world-observed heavyweight showdown, and in the hearts of some fans, their dialogue is a premature staging of the European Cup final!"

"Since the 1920 Olympics, when the two teams' players first met, over nearly a century they have staged several classic encounters!"

"I am the commentator for this match, Duan Xuan."

"I am He Wei!"

Stade de France.

The stands, capable of holding 80,000 spectators, were divided into blue and red.

It seemed as if ice and fire were smiling at each other.

Under the light pillars of the lighting fixtures, a drizzling rain curtain was reflected.

The European Cup theme song reached its climax.

The referee team led both teams' players out of the tunnel.

In an instant.

Two sound waves with extremely similar pronunciations, like rainwater falling from the sky, flooded every corner of the stadium.

【Ding! "B-rank Environment Adaptation" module activated.】

【The current match environment is comprehensively assessed as: light rain.】

【This factor will not cause any negative impact on your performance in the match!】

"Now introducing the starting lineups for both sides!"

"Spain has rarely fielded a 4-4-2 formation!"

"Goalkeeper: De Gea!"

"Defenders: Carvajal, Ramos, San Jose, Juanfran!"

"Double defensive midfielders: Li Kang, Saul!"

"Central midfielders: Yin Si Ke, Cazorla!"

"Forwards: Morata, Diego Costa!"

Live broadcast room.

Viewership surged.

-【What the hell? Bosque actually didn't use a single Barcelona player?】

-【It's a targeted setup; maybe he'll use Barcelona players when facing Germany, you say to play Italy and still use the "Barcelona gang"... you'll get killed by the opponent's counter in minutes.】

-【Double ghosts knocking on the door? When did Spain's front line become so luxurious? Two big center forwards!】

-【Bosque definitely won't play "asymmetrical wing attack" in this match; Carvajal and Juanfran will both push forward, giving Li Mingdeng more passing options, suppressing Conti's two wing midfielders】

-【With Li Mingdeng in the match, no analysis needed, surrounded by a group of T0 teammates, no one can stop him in this European Cup.】

"Italy's side is fielding a 3-5-2 formation!"

"Goalkeeper: Buffon!"

"Defenders: Barzagli, Bonucci, Chiellini!"

"Midfielders: Florenzi, Parolo, De Rossi, Giaccherini, Candreva!"

"Forwards: Pelle, Eder!"

-【I haven't watched football in years; back in school I remember De Rossi and Buffon were still youngsters...】

-【Besides those two, I don't recognize any of the other players—where's Pirlo? Balotelli? At least bring a Cassano?】

-【Why don't you ask about Cannavaro, Materazzi, Gattuso, Grosso, Toni, Totti... the once-glittering blue-shirted army, now the midfield and forward lines are left with just a bunch of second-rate players!】

-【Don't underestimate this Italy; even Belgium ran into trouble against them!】

-【Be confident; when has Italy ever needed to rely on forwards and midfielders to score?】

Both teams' players took their positions.

The match was about to begin.

Miniaño worried: "Boss, if this rain keeps getting heavier..."

Bosque looked confident, smiling: "Don't catch a cold from the rain, sit down quickly, we have confidence in our players... Li... our team members."

On the other side.

Conti wore a black suit, letting the rain soak his hair ends.

Half an hour before the match, after seeing Spain's starting lineup, he was stunned.

4-4-2? Two big centre-forwards?

The Italian coaching staff's setup targeting the opponent's possession system all came to nothing.

Not afraid.

Give him a little more time, and he might come up with a solution.

Conti's in-game adaptability is slow.

But if the Italian team can withstand the pressure, he will surely break through.

Beep!

Accompanied by the referee's whistle.

The match officially began!

Spanish possession.

Diego Costa kicked off and passed back to Li Kang.

The Italian team launched a frantic press.

Yes.

They didn't adopt a defensive stance, but wanted to win back possession in the front!

Clap.

Li Kang touched the ball with one foot, passing it to Carvajal making an overlapping run down the flank.

He then charged straight into the Italian half.

Carvajal was a bit dazed, facing the oncoming Pelle, and actually found himself without a nearby short-pass receiving option.

Oh, now we're not playing tiki-taka!

Since the news of his transfer to the Chinese Super League was confirmed, Pelle's wife - Valga's social media accounts have been flooded.

"No surprise at all, Real Madrid's full-back got eaten by a Chinese Super League striker!"

"One burst of acceleration, and he shook off Jarikeni's interception!"

"In the face of absolute strength difference, all tactics are just clouds!"

"Beyond the thirty-meter zone, that's when the real test begins."

Carvajal was about to dribble the ball into the thirty-meter zone.

No choice but to avoid a direct confrontation with De Rossi and Parolo.

He played a diagonal through ball.

The football kicked up spray, finding Yin Si Ke making a forward run into the opponent's central defensive line!

Bonucci rushed in to challenge.

At this time, he still hadn't completely corrected his bad habit of impulsive aggression.

Parolo also came over to double-team at this moment.

"Now it's Yin Si Ke's turn to shine!"

"Oh no, he's going to pass?"

With a clap!

Yin Si Ke lightly tapped the ball with his heel.

Li Kang moved toward the football, making the motion for a long-range shot.

Conti angrily roared.

De Rossi and Zakharini quickly retreated to block.

Chiellini flew like a madman toward the center!

Even fools know: how terrifying the long-range cannon of Spain's number six is!

In God's perspective.

Buffon's positioning happened to be exactly the exposed gap in Juventus' defensive backline.

No expected long-range shot.

Li Kang's foot shape changed.

The football traced an arc in mid-air, steadily falling toward the right side of the penalty area!

Exactly the space left by Chiellini!

A perfect landing spot!

Cazorla kicked up rainwater, his timing for the run-in equally exquisite.

"Exquisite pass, perfect run!"

"In the face of overwhelming strength... cross!"

The words weren't finished.

The Stade de France erupted in gasps of astonishment.

Arsenal's midfield maestro swept his right foot in a flying volley!

The football spun at high speed, rushing toward the small penalty area!

Morata and Diego Costa surged forward with force, a double ghost knocking at the door.

Barzagli pursued relentlessly.

He was old.

No amount of rich defensive experience could have predicted that Spain would execute such a complex aerial passing combination in such a short time.

How could a Juventus veteran possibly defend against two big centre-forwards?

Thud!

When it was seen that Diego Costa's right foot touched the ball first.

Bosque and Miniano breathed a sigh of relief!

The football whistled as it thundered toward the top of the goal!

It looked as if Spain were about to pry open Italy's goal.

A towering figure appeared in the frame.

Buffon!

His body leaned back slightly, both palms pushing upward.

It seemed he had already anticipated the opponent's shot direction, as he forcefully blocked the close-range blast out of the penalty area!

The crowd erupted in an uproar!

"God save!"

"What a pity, a sure goal!"

"Buffon's heroic performance doesn't look like that of a 38-year-old veteran at all"

"Spain needs to reorganize their attack!"

Diego Costa had no time to regret.

He immediately turned his head to observe the ball's landing point, and upon seeing his teammate about to gain control, he continued to pull at the opponent's defensive line!

Juanfran's judgment of the landing point was very accurate.

He easily shoved aside Florenzi and firmly trapped the ball!

From a bird's-eye view.

Spain nearly pressed forward with their entire force.

Only San Jose remained in the back line.

Even Ramos lurked inside Italy's penalty area.

"Too overconfident!"

"If Italy were to win back possession now and launch a counterattack, the consequences would be unimaginable!"

No chance was given for Italy to counterattack.

Spain's overwhelming numerical advantage in the front opened up the width and depth of their attack.

Conti's three-centre-back system had very little overall movement space, being flattened.

The strength gap between the matched players was enormous.

After abandoning the possession-based system.

It was simply a matter of bringing the fighting power of Real Madrid and Atlético Madrid in the Champions League final to suppress Serie A's second-tier midfield and Juventus' backline.

Li Kang quite enjoyed this brainless feeling; if he encountered Conti at Leverkusen, he might still have to spend a lot of time probing, exploring, and deconstructing...

Juanfran ignored Morata, who was calling for the ball.

He carried the ball down to probe near the baseline.

No one interfered.

Italy's defensive backline was busy contracting the distances between the three lines.

He was waiting.

Waiting for Koke, Ramos, Saul, and Diego Costa to pull and create a gap.

"Is he going to take it himself?"

"Ah! Why did he pass it back!"

"A beautiful inverted triangle pass, finding Li Kang!"

"The lead was very large."

Atlético's full-back constantly observed Li Kang's movement.

An excellent auxiliary plug-in cannot merely know how to constantly demand; it must also understand how to create good attacking space.

Li Kang turned and shook off the past-prime De Rossi.

In God's perspective.

He had already found the perfect long-range shooting angle.

The phantom of Barak's heavy cannon lay dormant, not emerging.

Three-step run-up.

Moving toward the football.

Body slightly tilted.

Blue football boots kicked up spray.

A flawless shooting motion, like a killing god!

Under the spotlight, tens of thousands of moths accompanied by the huge ball-touching sound scattered like a rain curtain.

Stade de France.

Eighty thousand fans forgot to breathe.

All eyes were fixed on the Spanish number 6, whose jersey fluttered wildly!

Miniano's legs went weak.

Bosque trembled all over.

Conte stared in shock.

The ball clung to the turf, turning into a dark streak.

At an unimaginable ball speed.

Howling.

Spinning.

It shot straight toward the lower left corner of the goal.

Its momentum was like a rainbow!

Fierce and sharp!

Buffon moved.

He had forgotten when it started, but the men standing before him were no longer Cannavaro, Nesta, or Maldini.

His body could no longer keep up with his reactions.

He relied entirely on anticipation and directing the defensive line's positioning to neutralize the opponent's attacks.

This long-range shot.

He anticipated correctly.

The scene seemed to freeze.

The purple glove, facing Shi Potian's terrifying cannon-shot long-range strike, appeared so fragile.

Accompanied by the Italian goalkeeper's collapse.

The violent shaking of the Italian goalframe sounded like a mournful howl!

The ball had lost its last trace of ferocity.

It bounced softly.

And fell across the goal line.

1:0!!!

Buffon could no longer rise, painfully drawing his hands to his chest.

Li Kang supported himself with his right foot, staggered a few steps, then collapsed heavily onto the grass, clutching his groin.

Ninety-nine points of foot strength.

The load was too great.

The head referee immediately signaled for both team doctors to enter the field!

Bosque, forgetting to celebrate, sucked in his belly and ran to the sideline of Italy's half.

Conte clutched his forehead, quickly ordering the substitute Sicuri to warm up.

Yes.

Paris Saint-Germain's starting goalkeeper—Sicuri!

No matter how Italy's talent pipeline ebbs and flows, it will never lack top-tier goalkeepers.

VIP box.

King Felipe VI sucked in a breath of cold air.

He quickly covered the eyes of his two little princesses.

CTV5 live broadcast room.

Duan Xuan and He Wei were stunned.

"An epic-level... showdown..."

"Violent aesthetics and ultimate saves..."

The comment section exploded.

-【Li Mingdeng is awesome! Buffon is awesome!】

-【What should we do? The core starters of both teams are injured—Little Li Zi hasn't even married, hasn't had kids, hasn't even got a girlfriend!】

-【Won't it be like that Scott Dane from the Premier League, where his testicles got torn apart after a cannon-shot long-range strike?】

-【Just a few stitches for a tear—it's fine, why panic?】

-【Don't worry, Li Mingdeng only has some pain near his testicles—a normal reaction from overexertion.】

-【As for Buffon... since childhood, he's been able to catch Batistuta's cannon shots with his palms—a genius goalkeeper with rich experience.】

-【The ball speed from the shooting training machine has long surpassed human limits.】

-【Strictly speaking, Buffon could be Li Mingdeng's father!】

-【Bosque has found a way out—every match revolves around Li Kang, with tailored tactics deployed! This Spanish team is truly fierce.】

Moments later.

The team doctors from both sides quickly left the field.

Li Kang and Buffon rose to their feet again.

The rain, falling harder and harder.