Chapter 214: He Conquered France

Will Giroud prematurely create the embarrassing record of zero touches in 90 minutes?

No, he won't.

Because it's the French team that he kicks off.

He misses Griezmann and Payet, because they can jump-start France's front-line attack; look at Martial and Mbappé... it's not that the two little black eggs are so bad, it's just that their chemistry with him isn't deep enough.

From halftime to this concession, after several rounds of careful communication...

Giroud decided to let himself adapt to the two of them.

Although he's called a big flop, he's a hardworking old ox in any team.

Whether playing as a traditional or modern striker, he's willing to follow the team's tactical needs.

There's nothing we can do.

As fellow French players, Arsenal fans often compare him to Henry.

At the age Henry scored his first goal in the top five leagues, Giroud was still in the Ligue 2 reserve team.

At the age Henry won the World Cup and European Cup, Giroud was still playing in Ligue 2.

The only thing they have in common is good looks.

Facing Spain's invincible armada, whether the striker drops back, moves wide, acts as the offensive hub, or serves as a tactical anchor... none will work well, but we have to try.

Beep!

After hearing the whistle,

Giroud laid the ball off to Mbappé, then surged forward.

He then passed it to Matuidi.

France's formation quickly advanced.

"Spain's defensive line hasn't dropped deep this time."

"Let's see what changes Koke's introduction will bring."

"Oh! He took off David Silva, but he's doing Cazorla's work."

The forty-meter zone.

Pogba received Kanté's pass.

Turn and accelerate!

Suddenly feeling something off... Arsenal's little guy disappeared, replaced by Atlético's fierce little fatty.

And what about Saul, why is he pumped up like he's been injected with chicken blood?

During the Champions League semi-final, those two don't have that much freedom to press high, aren't they afraid of losing position? What about the backline's protection?

Koke is about to close in from the flank.

Pogba made a sudden stop, flicked the ball back with his left foot, then pushed it sideways with his right!

The ball rolled backward and sideways on its own.

The French black player made a change of direction to shake off the entanglement!

Ordinary people can hardly keep up with this rhythm.

Ke Pang is a normal person.

"Lovely!"

"Innate talent!"

"Koke's form is a bit off!"

"Well..."

"Wow! A back‑pull nutmeg!"

Pogba was a bit carried away, the sea breeze blowing the French fans' cheers into his ears,

facing Saul's head‑on tackle.

He ignored Matuidi's gesture, barely controlled the ball, then pulled it back slightly with his left foot to lure a tackle, and easily slipped it through Saul's legs.

Nutmeg successful!

Now is my moment.

Isn't a string of classic take‑ons worthy of going into the European Cup's history?

Years later, fans will still admire my highlights!

"Pogba! He is the true midfield core of the French team!"

"Even two goals down, they didn't give up!"

"He tore open the left half of the..."

Smack!

Saul flicked the ball out with the heel of his foot after it had gone through his shorts.

Pogba was still halfway through his dribble...

The cheers died abruptly, and boos began to rise.

Atlético's pressing always makes one plus one greater than two in numbers.

Simeone demands high defensive coordination from his players, cutting passing lanes while focusing on breaking the opponent's linking moves during successive dribbles... there's no way around it, forced out by Messi.

Koke is the presser.

Saul is the tackler.

"Koke's form is great!"

"He timely blocked Matuidi and steadied the ball!"

"Wow!"

A long pass from the back!

This route... the quality is too high!

Koke was called 'Xavi's successor' as a child; his talent in ball control and passing was explosive, but like a game character Simeone likes to play, all his attribute points during leveling went into defense, tackling, stamina, and physical confrontation.

The ball skimmed over the midfield circle.

Morata and Umtiti both rushed toward the landing point.

The two went at it again!

The young central defender, not yet having been coached by Enrique, lost again!

Evra couldn't get back to help in defense!

Morata leapt high and headed the ball back!

The French defense was a bit puzzled: why not push forward? Why are they passing it back?

Suddenly they saw a familiar figure.

Li Kang!

After landing, Morata immediately turned and surged forward.

And Diego Costa, who was chatting warmly with Koscielny, was like a tractor, slamming the accelerator!

Li Kang met the ball, his feint before a through pass extremely obvious.

As if telling the world: he could tear through France's defense with one kick.

From the God's perspective, Kanté's aggression from the flank had already been sensed.

Just as his left foot was about to touch the ball, his foot shape changed!

The tackle king of the five major leagues lunged in vain again.

"Slot it through!"

"Fake pass, real slot!"

"His golden left foot, so elegant it brings to mind Baggio's fragrance!"

"He passed it out!"

"How could he, in this disturbed situation, still find the most reasonable and perfect passing lane!"

France's defense is too young.

Not every French central defender has Varane's talent.

Where did Varane go?

His injury hasn't healed yet; he's stuck at home watching the match.

Deschamps' prized Real Madrid prodigy defender is destined to miss this European Championship.

At this moment, France's defense is like an oak barrel storing wine.

Li Kang's pass was like a knife, slicing through the gap in the planks, the wine aroma wafting out.

At the Vélodrome Stadium, cheers rang out incessantly.

"Lee!"

"!"

"Lee!"

"!"

"Lee!"

"!"

Even neutral fans were shouting his name.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on that pass, sharp as a blade.

The thirty-meter zone!

Morata received the ball, and his heart warmed involuntarily.

Clearly Diego Costa's run was better.

Li, he really is...

His train of thought was interrupted by Lloris charging forward!

Once again facing the French goalkeeper.

Morata did not back down this time; he wanted to prove to the world that he deserved the legacy of Spain's number 7 jersey.

Smack!

He chose to pass the ball to Diego Costa, who had run into space!

A short diagonal pass with just the right power and perfect trajectory.

Chelsea's frontman did not waste his teammates' good intention, scoring in one touch.

In a flash, the coordination flowed like clouds and water.

Leaving Koscielny and Umtiti helpless!

Making the French net ripple once more!

4-1!

!

"Beautiful!"

"This ball went in!"

"Diego Costa killed the match!"

"Li Kang launched a long pass to tear open the defense, Morata's exquisite short pass assisted! Who could still stop this invincible armada!"

This is an unfamiliar Spain!

This is a terrifying Spain!

After three years of silence, the Bullfighter Legion announced to the world tonight that they have found the sword-bearer!

A three-goal lead advantage!

France's hope... grows ever slimmer!

Superstar Li Kang leads Spain towards victory!

The live broadcast room.

Bullet comments fly everywhere.

- 【Finally, it's not Xiao Li Zi scoring.】

- 【What the hell is France doing? Is their defense shit? In the second half, does Spain get a shot on target once and they have?】

- 【Not shit, these players are too young, they still need time to gel... Iceland could score two against them, in the opener they almost let Romania equalize...】

- 【Compared to Belgium, the situation is still much better; hope the black lads keep it up and revive Africa's glory at the 2018 World Cup!】

- 【With Li Mingdeng, Spain can execute many tactics; Koke's entrance leaves Deschamps a bit dazed; club-wise it's fine, but the national team coaching staff struggles to recover.】

- 【Watch the replay; Cazorla's shielding and pulling this time are also crucial.】

- 【Does France still have a chance for a miracle? Can they score three goals in the final moments?】

- 【Just wait, Li Mingdeng has Koke and Saúl beside him; there's no way they'll crash.】

- 【It's a pity Li Mingdeng can't team up with Atletico Madrid's twin stars at club level; Simeone would turn him into a combat engineer, or even a defender or center forward.】

At the Stade Vélodrome, Diego Costa didn't celebrate alone; he took Morata's hand and they ran together toward Li Kang.

Li Kang realized that while standing still, he couldn't withstand the physical confrontation of those two big guys.

He was shoved to the ground in an instant.

Grass clippings, mud, and sweat covered him from head to toe.

Moreover, Saúl and Koke, the two Atletico Madrid youngsters, showed no weakness, heavily pressing down on him.

"Li, I want to play alongside you for many more years! We want to win the European Cup and the World Cup!"

"If we could also be teammates at the club, how great would that be!"

"What about Cazorla? That guy cramped up!"

The teammates erupted and scattered, all running toward Arsenal's senior big brother.

Despair spread among French fans, the coaching staff, and the players.

It seemed two people were unaffected.

Mbappé and Pogba.

One ran to the net to pick up the ball, his silhouette lonely.

One tidied his hair, flicked away grass clippings, and expressed his displeasure.

Mignanò couldn't help but remark: "Boss, you say in two years, if these two little guys develop chemistry, won't they become our strongest opponent..."

Bosque shook his head and spoke softly:

"You should ask Deschamps about this question."

"The match is over."

"The midfield annihilation line formed by Li Kang, Saúl, and Koke... leaves the exhausted French with no chance, while Deschamps has only one substitution left."

That day.

For Spanish fans, it was a grand festival.

They saw the dawn of a dynasty's revival.

For French fans, it was a day of suffering.

They witnessed a genius midfielder put on a spectacular offensive and defensive display.

The land of France seemed to be weeping.

Gradually, amidst the sorrow, a strange emotion surfaced.

Match time passed second by second.

Deschamps went all out.

He brought on Xisuoke to replace Kanté.

The hard-hitting midfielder from Tottenham, whose dribbling and progression are just as formidable in Europe.

Adding Pogba's playmaking, Mbappé's shielding and pulling, theoretically they could threaten Spain's attacking third.

Only in theory.

Pogba, whose ball share was split, was dissatisfied.

The unstoppable Xisuoke in the Premier League was repeatedly dispossessed.

It wasn't Koke who dispossessed him.

It was Saúl who dispossessed him.

The two Atletico Madrid youngsters aren't afraid of losing position, because behind them lies a solid backing.

Furthermore, the 'forward-defender' Diego Costa, who naturally fits the pressing system...

France's midfield advance was stirred into a pile of shit.

Li Kang sat in front of the back line, running to fill gaps while directing his teammates' defensive positioning.

Once France increased their forward numbers.

What awaited them was... a terrifying annihilation.

All of France.

Countless citizens watching the match were dazed and stunned.

The Spanish number 6 on the screen was so despair-inducing.

The 94th minute of the match.

The final moment of injury time.

Spain's counterattack effortlessly ripped open France's high defensive line.

Li Kang received Carvajal's cross at the top of the penalty arc.

Again came the booming sound echoing through the night sky.

The heavy cannon roared!

5:1!

!

Great four joys!

The great four joys of the Euro Cup semi-final!

It shattered not only France's goal but also the last dignity of France!

The Spanish number 6, raising his right fist, bathed in the gentle sea breeze.

Velodrome Stadium, suffocated for a full two seconds.

Finally.

The head referee blew the whistle signaling the end of the match.

Spain 5:1 France.