At this moment, Real Madrid had six players committed in attack.
The backline was dangerously exposed.
...
Zidane kept glancing at Su Hang while running, anxious about why he still hadn't released the ball.
He had deliberately dropped deeper, creating a clear outlet for Su Hang to pass.
Su Hang might not capitalize himself, but if the ball reached Zidane's feet, he could turn it into a chance with ease.
"Hm?" Zidane suddenly sensed something. "This kid… could it be…"
The next instant, Zidane darted left.
Zaragoza's defenders followed him immediately.
"Zidane's lost it!" Luxemburgo groaned on the touchline. "He's run into space, but from the far left, even if he gets the ball, he can't do much."
"A chance like this—what, he's going for a blind cross?"
"Stupid!"
"And without his support, if Su Hang gets closed down, he'll lose the ball for sure."
"Zidane's really lost his head!"
Thud!
A dull crack echoed around the stadium.
Luxemburgo looked up, his eyes narrowing sharply.
Center of the pitch.
Twenty-five meters from goal, Su Hang slowed, nudged the ball forward—
and lashed his right leg through it.
An absolute rocket!
This was…
a long-range effort?
Only now, as everyone watched, did they realize that with Real Madrid's stars pulling defenders around,
a pocket of space had opened around Su Hang.
Time. Space. Just enough to set up and strike.
The only Zaragoza midfielder who might have stopped him? Zidane had dragged him away seconds earlier.
Zidane turned back as Su Hang's shot rocketed off, a faint smile on his lips.
This kid… just as I thought!
A born striker, through and through.
Hot blood, unshakable instinct.
Even as a Defensive Midfielder, he never loses his killer instinct.
Back in defense, Villa slowed his tracking run, eyes fixed on the goal.
He wasn't worried.
Su Hang was too arrogant.
He should have pushed closer before pulling the trigger.
This was from at least twenty-seven meters.
That's wonder-goal territory.
Extremely difficult.
It demanded perfect technique, power, timing, touch, form—and plenty of luck.
Even Villa himself would expect a keeper to save it.
In fact, these were exactly the shots that made goalkeepers look like "divine guardians."
They looked spectacular, but with time to react, they were easier to stop.
Hence the saying: "Weak teams produce great goalkeepers."
Weaker sides sat deep, forcing opponents into long shots.
Keepers saved enough of them, fans raved, reputations soared.
But this time…
Whoosh!
The ball tore through the air.
The Zaragoza goalkeeper flung himself desperately.
No one could even tell if he touched it.
Only when the black-and-white sphere rippled the net did the crowd realize—
it had gone in!
The stadium erupted.
"GOAL!"
"Like a flashing blade cutting through the night—unstoppable brilliance!"
"Su Hang scores a wonder goal!"
"Four–nil! Real Madrid keep piling it on!"
"Unbelievable! Su Hang has gone berserk! A solo run for the ages!"
"From interception—to drive—to wonder strike! All in one motion!"
"Everyone thought he'd pass. Only Su Hang knew—from the moment he stole it off Villa, he knew he'd score!"
"This is Real Madrid's Crown Prince! The fourth captain! The superstar striker rising this season!"
"Barely twenty minutes on the pitch—already one assist, one goal, and a decisive play, clawing back three goals for Madrid!"
"Now only one goal separates Real Madrid and Barcelona in goal difference!"
"The road ahead is still brutal—but this season will live forever in the memories of Madridistas!"
"Because they've found their cornerstone for the next decade—the true leader of Real Madrid's next generation!"
Real Madrid's players rushed to Su Hang at once.
Soldado tried to grab the ball, but the others shoved him aside.
Everyone celebrated the thunderous strike.
Even Roberto Carlos had to admit it.
That shot was unreal.
On his own, Su Hang could never have pulled off such a strike.
But Makélélé's Moment Card had given him the extra edge.
The earlier collision with Zaragoza's midfielder had triggered Baptista's "Beast Body" and Drogba's "Long Shot Bonus" at once.
That was what gave Su Hang the confidence to shoot.
Otherwise… he would have taken a few more strides forward.
"Su Hang!"
"Su Hang!"
"Su Hang!"
His name thundered around the stands.
Time was slipping away, Madrid's title hopes dimming—
yet the fans believed more than ever Su Hang could lead them to victory.
It defied all logic.
But that's the seed of every miracle.
Miracles, by nature, defy logic.
And when enough miracles gather—
they become faith.
And in just eighteen months, Su Hang had already created plenty of miracles for Real Madrid.
The Merengues now trusted him unconditionally.
...
Back to the match. Zaragoza restarted.
But Madrid won the ball back immediately.
Zaragoza made no move to attack.
Hold the line.
They had already conceded four.
As long as it wasn't five, six—they weren't the biggest losers.
Because second place was worse than defeat.
"Push up! I've got you covered!" Su Hang shouted at Roberto Carlos, who carried the ball. "Go! All of you, get forward!"
Watching Su Hang wave both arms ahead,
Carlos felt something stir deep inside him—an unexpected conviction.
He surged forward with the ball.
On the opposite flank, Salgado bombed up as well.
Real Madrid's entire side poured forward.
Just as Su Hang had said: with him holding the back, they had the courage to risk everything.
Moments later, Carlos and Zidane linked up down the left, forcing a foul.
Madrid earned a dangerous free kick.
Even Samuel, the center-back, trotted forward.
Real Madrid packed the Zaragoza box, lining up for the header.
Carlos and Zidane stood over the ball.
Carlos faked a step-over, trying to deceive, but no one bought it.
Everyone knew Zidane would take it.
Thud!
Sure enough, Zidane struck the ball.
Both sets of players surged forward to contest it.
And then froze—
Because Zidane hadn't floated it into the area.
He'd played it across—
to Su Hang, waiting at the top of the box.
This was...