[ Hello fellas, hope you guys are enjoying the fic.
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Hamburg, Volksparkstadion.
The locker room was filled with the pungent smell of antiseptic and the sound of tape tearing. The team doctor was changing the dressing on Lin Yuan's brow bone. The stitches had just been removed, and the wound was still red and swollen, looking like a dark red centipede crawling across the corner of his eye.
"If you don't want the wound to rip open again, you'd better not hit anything with your head this match," the team doctor warned while wrapping a flesh-colored protective bandage, his heart fluttering with anxiety. "That includes the ball, and it definitely includes the Frenchmen's heads."
Lin Yuan looked at himself in the mirrorâgauze on his face and a stabilizing patch on the bridge of his nose. He twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a trace of a disdainful sneer.
"That depends on how fast Mbappé runs."
Today, the European Cup Quarter-finals: Portugal vs. France.
This was a heavyweight showdown that the entire European media called a "Final Played Early." The France Team possessed the world's most terrifying attacking line: MbappĂ©, DembĂ©lĂ©, and Muani. But what interested Lin Yuan more was the small man standing in the French midfieldâEnzo FernĂĄndez.
The man once known as the "Impassable Kante."
Cristiano Ronaldo walked over. His expression was a bit more relaxed than in the last match against Slovenia, but his eyes were still as serious as if he were facing life or death.
"NGolo is back," Cristiano Ronaldo said in a low voice while adjusting his shin guards. "Even though he went to Saudi Arabia, he was still the MVP in the last match against Belgium. That little guy never stops running; he's like a monster with a perpetual motion machine installed. Lin, your task today is heavy."
"I know."
Lin Yuan stood up and moved his shoulders, his joints making a crisp "crackling" sound that was exceptionally clear in the quiet locker room.
"He's the sweeping robot with the largest coverage area on Earth," Lin Yuan said, adjusting the collar of his red jersey, his tone flat. "But I'm not here to clean up; I'm here to tear the house down."
...The player tunnel.
The two teams lined up.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive hair gel and tense sweat. Lin Yuan stood in the line, his heightâa head taller than those around himâmaking him stand out like a crane among chickens. His gaze swept past the tall French center-backs, Upamecano and Saliba, and landed on the small man who was only 168cm tall.
Kante seemed to sense the gaze and looked up at Lin Yuan. That face, which always wore a simple and honest smile, still held a harmless expression.
But Lin Yuan knew it was a disguise. Inside that small man was a nuclear-powered engine.
"Beepâ"
With a blast of the whistle from referee Michael Oliver, the battle erupted.
Just as everyone expected, this was not just a battle between the old and new kings of football, Cristiano Ronaldo and Mbappé, but also a brutal war of attrition in the midfield.
In the first twenty minutes of the match, both sides engaged in suffocating high-press tactics.
The 15th minute.
Griezmann had the ball in the center and tried to turn. Lin Yuan stuck to him like a moving city wall, using his physical advantage to block his position and prepare to steal the ball.
But just as Lin Yuan was about to extend his foot, a short blue shadow suddenly "slid" in from the side.
It was Kante.
He was like a ghost, poking the ball away 0.1 seconds before Lin Yuan could make the steal.
Lin Yuan kicked air, his brow furrowing slightly.
So fast. It wasn't absolute speed, but his stride frequency and anticipation were startlingly quick.
This scene played out multiple times in the following minutes. Kante was like omnipresent mercury, filling every gap in the French defense. The passing lanes of Bruno and Bernardo Silva were cut off time and again by this small man.
The French fans in the stands sang the famous "NGolo Kanté Song," the sound waves deafening.
"That little guy is really annoying," Bruno complained as he ran past Lin Yuan, panting heavily.
Lin Yuan didn't speak, just stared at Kante's back, a cold light flashing in his eyes.
The 32nd minute.
Lin Yuan had the ball at the center circle. Kante immediately stuck to him.
This was a head-on clash between two generations of top defensive midfielders.
Kante lowered his center of gravity, trying to cut off Lin Yuan's passing lane while reaching out to interfere. If it were an ordinary player facing Kante's sticky-candy-like pestering, they would have panicked and passed the ball away long ago.
But Lin Yuan didn't.
He used the ball-shielding ability of the Yaya Touré Drive, leaning his back against Kante. Although Kante's core strength was very strong, he still seemed to struggle against a heavy tank like Lin Yuan, who weighed nearly 90 kilograms.
Lin Yuan felt the push from behind, and a cold smile curled on his lips.
"You're good at running?"
Lin Yuan suddenly exerted force, leaning back to bump Kante half a body length away, then forcibly turned and drove forward with the ball!
Kante stumbled, but he didn't give up, quickly adjusting his center of gravity like a spring to chase again.
"Then let's see how far you can chase."
Lin Yuan strode forward, directly charging into the heart of the French defense. Tchouaméni had to abandon his marking of Bruno to come over and cover.
The moment Tchouaméni moved, Lin Yuan sent out a scalpel-like through ball.
Bruno received the ballâlong shot!
The ball was heroically parried away by Maignan.
Although it didn't go in, this attack greatly boosted Portugal's morale. Lin Yuan proved with his actions: Kante can defend, but I can drive forward.
In the second half, the real crisis arrived.
The 60th minute.
Portugal's corner kick attack failed and was cleared by the France Team.
The ball fell to Mbappé's feet near the center circle.
That was the scene every defender in the world least wanted to seeâMbappĂ© facing a large expanse of open space, starting to accelerate.
At this moment, even the air seemed to freeze.
Dalot tried to chase back, but Mbappé left him three body lengths behind with a single burst of acceleration. It was like an F1 car overtaking a horse-drawn carriage.
Pepe was retreating while defending at the edge of the penalty area, but his 41-year-old legs were already trembling.
If Mbappé was allowed to build up speed and enter the box, it would be a death sentence.
At this time, behind and to the side of Mbappé, only one dark shadow was sprinting.
Lin Yuan.
He gritted his teeth, the air in his lungs feeling like it was burning. He unlocked all the potential of Savage Physique, but it still wasn't enough. Mbappé was too fast, desperately fast.
Seeing Mbappé about to bypass Pepe for a one-on-one with the keeper.
Lin Yuan made a decision.
When he was still two body lengths away from MbappĂ©, he didn't blindly go for a sliding tackleâthat would have resulted in being completely bypassed.
Utilizing the advantage of his long legs, he suddenly changed direction at full sprint, not to chase the ball, but to cut diagonally into Mbappé's running path.
This was a tactic taught by Shadow of the Special One: When you lose on speed, you must win on the route.
"Bam!"
The two collided at high speed.
Lin Yuan slammed his shoulder hard into Mbappé's shoulder.
Mbappé lost his balance, stumbling but still trying to control the ball.
Lin Yuan didn't give him the chance. He extended his long, scar-covered leg and, regardless of whether it would be a foul, swept it across, taking both the man and the ball!
Mbappé fell, rolling three meters away.
The whistle blew.
The French fans in the stadium let out angry boos, demanding a red card.
Referee Oliver ran over, his hand reaching into his pocket.
Pepe and Dias immediately surrounded the referee to explain. Lin Yuan climbed up from the ground, looking at the referee expressionlessly.
Yellow card.
Fortunately, because Pepe was nearby to cover, it wasn't a Denial of an Obvious Goal-Scoring Opportunity (DOGSO).
Lin Yuan accepted the yellow card without any argument. He knew this yellow card was necessary.
"Run slower next time," Lin Yuan coldly dropped a line as he passed Mbappé, who was getting up and rubbing his shoulder.
Mbappé glared at Lin Yuan, a hint of wariness appearing in his eyes for the first time. He felt like what had just hit him wasn't a human, but a block of granite.
The match entered its final, intense stage.
The 88th minute.
The France Team's stamina began to drop; even Kante's running was no longer so light.
But Lin Yuan still stood tall in the midfield like a monster. Iron Lungs (S-rank) allowed him to maintain abundant energy.
He intercepted Camavinga's pass again at the center circle.
This time, the French midfield was empty.
Kante wanted to come over and cover, but his legs felt like they were filled with lead. With just a simple acceleration and change of direction, Lin Yuan completely shook off the never-tiring Frenchman.
"Stop him!" Deschamps roared from the sidelines.
Lin Yuan didn't pass; he sprinted thirty meters with the ball, drawing the defensive attention of Saliba and Upamecano.
Just when everyone thought he was going for a long shot, he used the outside of his foot to send an extremely hidden diagonal pass.
Left side!
JoĂŁo FĂ©lix, who had just come on as a substitute, arrived at full speed and, unmarked, calmly slotted the ball into the far corner.
Goal!
1-0!
A late winner!
In the 90th minute, Portugal killed the game.
The final whistle blew.
Mbappé stood with his hands on his hips, looking helplessly at the sky. Kante sat on the grass, gasping for air.
Lin Yuan walked up to Kante and extended his hand.
Kante looked up at the opponent who had made him feel suffocated for 90 minutes and showed his trademark simple smile. He gripped Lin Yuan's hand and used the leverage to stand up.
"You are very strong," Kante said in broken English. "Harder than I imagined."
"You've grown old, NGolo," Lin Yuan didn't use pleasantries, but his tone carried a trace of respect for a strong opponent. "If it were you five years ago, I wouldn't have been able to make that steal."
The two exchanged jerseys.
Cristiano Ronaldo walked over, hooked his arm around Lin Yuan's neck, and pointed at the French No. 13 jersey (Kante) in his hand: "That's one of the best defensive midfielders in the world."
Then, Cristiano Ronaldo pointed at Lin Yuan's chest: "But starting from today, the best one is you."
The camera captured this scene: Lin Yuan was shirtless, with Kante's jersey draped over his shoulder, gauze on his face, looking at the stands with a cold gaze.
He had just outrun Kante and collided Mbappé to a halt in direct confrontations.
[System Prompt]
[Mission Accomplished: Cross That Mountain]
[Completely suppressed NGolo Kanté in direct confrontation statistics.]
[Reward: Defensive Anticipation +5; Acquired Title 'New Midfield Gatekeeper'.]
Lin Yuan looked at the score on the big screen.
The final four.
Next stop, Munich.
Opponent: Spain.
That would be the pinnacle of technical football.
"Two more matches," Lin Yuan whispered to himself, tightly clutching the jersey in his hand.