Boom!
Su Hang met the ball in stride and blasted a shot without hesitation!
Another long-range strike!
But Zaragoza's players weren't fools.
They wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
The center back stepped up, throwing his body in the way of the shot before collapsing inside the box.
Yet the danger wasn't over.
The ball rolled to Zaragoza's defensive midfielder.
He shoved Owen aside and swung his leg for a clearance.
A miss!
Instead, the ball spun awkwardly off his boot and flew toward his own goal.
It wasn't quick.
But it was sudden.
By the time Zaragoza's goalkeeper reacted, the ball had already crossed the line.
Thud!
The furious keeper smashed the ball out of the net.
Too late.
This...
"GOAL! That's the fifth!"
"The fifth came out of nothing!"
"Real Madrid score again!"
"What just happened?"
"Su Hang! It's Su Hang!"
"Su Hang has a brace! Real Madrid hit five!"
"After unleashing that long-range shot, Su Hang sprinted into the box and slid in before the Zaragoza midfielder could clear!"
"It looked just like his earlier block on Villa!"
"Oh! And the Zaragoza midfielder's kick caught Su Hang! He shielded his face with his arms and took the full force!"
"If that kick had hit his head cleanly, Su Hang could've been finished! That clearance was struck with real power!"
"With this, Real Madrid are level with Barcelona on goal difference!"
"Barcelona stay ahead only thanks to their head-to-head record!"
"With no more meetings between them, that edge can't change."
"But in the standings, total goal difference ranks higher than head-to-head!"
"So if Real Madrid score once more, they'll leapfrog Barcelona into first!"
"Five minutes to play! Anything can happen!"
All across Spain, chaos erupted.
At Camp Nou, Barcelona hadn't scored in the second half but were still playing comfortably.
After all, Madrid needed a five-goal win just to catch up.
That couldn't really happen… could it?
But suddenly, noise rippled across the stands.
The crowd buzzed nervously.
Panic was setting in.
"What's happening?" Eto'o asked Ronaldinho.
Ronaldinho shook his head, just as baffled.
They turned toward the bench.
Young substitute Lionel Messi leapt from his seat and ran to the touchline: "It's in! Real Madrid scored again! Five-nil!"
"We have to score!"
"Madrid are closing in!"
"Danger!"
"Madrid are coming for the title!"
Messi's panic was real.
This was his first chance to touch the league trophy with Barcelona's first team.
The most important prize of his career so far.
It was within reach—yet Madrid kept piling on goals like they were unstoppable.
It made no sense!
Barcelona's players were clearly rattled.
Not that they were making constant mistakes, but their play became rushed.
And the more you force something, the harder it becomes.
Ronaldinho's failed dribble earlier hadn't mattered, but now it felt crushing.
Eto'o's missed shot earlier hadn't mattered, but now it felt cursed.
Their mindset had shifted.
The match took on a tense, uneasy atmosphere.
Valencia, who had been pinned back, suddenly seized their chance to counter.
Danger loomed over Barça's goal.
At this point, just keeping the ball out of their own net would be enough—scoring seemed unlikely.
Still, if they held this score, Barcelona would remain La Liga champions.
As long as Madrid didn't score again.
...
Meanwhile, Zaragoza had lost their heads.
A disaster.
Five-nil!
This humiliation wiped away all the joy of their ninth-place league finish.
As last season's promoted side, they had nearly won the Copa del Rey.
This season, they had fought their way to ninth in La Liga.
Next year, they even dreamed of breaking into the top three—maybe even challenging for the title!
That had been their ambition.
But this 5-0 collapse shattered it completely.
Was the gap between them and a championship team really this wide?
This...
Driven mad, the players no longer cared about the consequences.
They had given up on stopping Madrid—it was pointless anyway.
Now they just wanted to score one.
To prove they could still be a threat.
That they weren't complete pushovers against champions.
They weren't!
88th minute: Zaragoza's number 10 slipped a through ball.
Su Hang intercepted.
90th minute: Zaragoza's number 7 delivered a cross.
Su Hang outjumped Villa to clear with a header.
92nd minute.
Zaragoza strung together their best move of the match.
They poured forward with everything they had, showing the fight of La Liga's ninth-place side.
Their number 10 threaded a perfect ball through Madrid's backline.
Su Hang, pulled back by an opponent, missed the interception.
He lunged forward again.
At the same time, Villa charged in.
The two collided fiercely.
But this time, Su Hang lost.
That earlier tug had thrown him off balance.
And now Villa returned the favor—just like the challenge Su Hang had used on him earlier.
Thud!
Su Hang went down.
Villa wound up to strike.
But even falling, Su Hang braced himself with both hands, thrust his head forward, and somehow nodded the ball out for a corner.
Villa's shot whistled past Su Hang's head by inches.
"Are you fucking insane?" Villa roared, furious at the missed chance. "That shot could've blown your head clean off!"
"Fuck you!"
"You fucking bitch!"
"You sick freak!"
"You lunatic!"
"I'll fucking kill you!"
Facing Villa's outburst, Su Hang just lay there smiling.
He stretched out his hand toward him and said, "Give me a hand."
Villa froze.
His breakdown had a reason.
He was leaving.
Leaving Zaragoza.
In truth, he should have gone after last season.
Top clubs wanted him—he had no reason to stay in a place this small.
But Villa couldn't let go.
He wanted to bring Zaragoza something.
And this season, they really had performed well.
But this was their ceiling.
They couldn't go further.
Villa had taken them as far as he could.
But he had hoped his farewell to Zaragoza would come with a victory.
...
(35 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser