…
In the 56th minute, with Su Hang's entry, everything changed. Unlike Owen, he didn't mind dropping back to get involved.
That's exactly what Su Hang did—created space, took Raúl's pass, held off Navarro, and fed it through to Zidane. Zidane faked a touch, then exploded forward, brushing past defenders with ease.
Bang! Zidane whipped in a skimming cross that curved past Pellegrino and dropped right to Ronaldo's feet. Ronaldo was there to meet it and coolly tapped it home.
"GOAL! One‑nil! Real Madrid finally breaks the deadlock!"
"Zidane and Ronaldo, the world's top pairing, making it count!"
"I've said it all along—Real Madrid can score at any moment. Once they find their rhythm, Valencia won't stand a chance!"
"Credit must go to Su Hang—his pass to Zidane was subtle yet brilliant, perfectly opening up the defense!"
"Su Hang's been on the pitch for less than ten minutes and he's already launched a killer attack!"
Su Hang was speechless. Setting up the attack? You're joking, right? Do you think Zidane's dribbling was fake? Zidane deserves all the credit! That slicing cross—that was the real masterpiece!
He glanced over at Morientes on the bench—Morientes's expression was darker than ever.
…
In the 63rd minute, Carlos and Zidane combined on an overlapping run. Carlos beat his marker and saw Ronaldo darting down the left wing. Bang. He clipped the ball toward him. Ronaldo cut inside, weaving past defenders—as if things like "inverted winger" or "cutting inside" were already part of the playbook. He just instinctively had it.
In this world, someone always has to walk the path first—then others follow and turn it into something formal.
Ronaldo skipped past two defenders and drove into the box, looking to keep dribbling. The Valencia keeper rushed out and crashed into him. The ref hovered with the whistle in his mouth—clear foul. Should've been a penalty. But no whistle came.
Instead, Real Madrid's No. 24 burst in and tucked it into the open net.
"GOAL! Two‑nil! This match is done!"
"It's Su Hang again—with an almost accidental assist from Ronaldo!"
"It looks simple, but it shows Su Hang's sense for space and attacking instinct. He and Ronaldo really click!"
"Think we'll see that special celebration of his?"
Nope. Because Su Hang noticed something off—Ronaldo's face was twisted, almost in pain.
No way! Ronaldo? Don't scare me like that! If you're injured, I might have to start the next game!
Su Hang rushed over to Ronaldo, visibly concerned. The team doctor entered the pitch.
"Oh—this is bad news. Ronaldo looks injured and can't continue."
"Real Madrid bring on Morientes for him. That's a big change."
"Morientes and Su Hang just don't have the same explosiveness—Madrid's attack might stall."
And sure enough, Valencia surged right back. In the 69th minute, Elma danced through several players and forced Beckham into a yellow card. Elma's biggest achievement wasn't shining for Valencia—it was being Messi's football idol.
Madrid had no choice but to sub Beckham out for Guti.
At the 73rd minute, Elma swung in a corner. Francisco scored—but the referee waved it off. He had pushed Su Hang before the header. Clear offensive foul.
Valencia swarmed the referee, and Elma picked up a yellow card.
…
By the 82nd minute, Madrid still couldn't move past midfield. With Valencia on the rise, they needed to cool things down. Zidane repeatedly cycled the ball back, keeping possession and draining their energy.
But Guti didn't get the memo—he sent a long ball flying forward, which left Zidane fuming.
Up front, Su Hang and Navarro were wrestling for position. As the ball came down, Su Hang timed his jump early and nodded it sideways. Morientes, taller at 1.88 meters, climbed up and flicked it along. Zidane, cutting in from the side, charged through and powered it into the goal.
Three headers in a row! Like an alley-oop! The stadium exploded.
"Three‑nil! Zidane seals it! That goal ends the game!"
"Su Hang, Morientes, and Zidane—three touches, all in the air. Pure magic!"
"Su Hang and Morientes are in sync too! He's the only player who's connected perfectly with every forward on the team!"
And of course, we've got to talk about Su Hang's Level 8 Vision. He sees teammates no one else can. It's infuriating.
Solari: Shit!
…
First minute of stoppage time. Everyone was just waiting for the final whistle. Real Madrid kept cycling passes around; Valencia wasn't pressing anymore.
But then Guti spotted a lane through the scattered formation—and unleashed a killer through-ball.
Bang! A surgical strike! Su Hang, who had been retreating, saw it, spun, and burst toward the box.
"Go!" he shouted at Morientes. Morientes was closer to goal, already facing it—but the call caught him off guard. The two center-backs closed in on him instantly. He was the more obvious threat.
That gave Su Hang the window he needed. Suddenly, he broke free from the crowd. Valencia's Albelda chased, starting at the same time—but within a second, Su Hang had left him in the dust.
His acceleration stunned the whole stadium. For a moment, it felt like watching Owen himself.
This was… the boy who runs with the wind! Wind Chaser mode: activated!
In the final five minutes, there's only one shot at fully unleashing that kind of speed—and he took it. Straight into a one-on-one break.
Next moment, the ball caught up to him from behind. Man and ball arrived together!
Bang! With the keeper charging out, Su Hang didn't bother with flair—just powered it through like it was a training drill.
Sometimes, the simplest strikes hit the hardest.