Seventh minute.
Boom!
Roberto Carlos launched a long over-the-top pass down the left flank.
Bad boy Cassano drifted wide, brought the ball down, and boldly cut inside, beating his marker.
Su Hang burst into the penalty area, calling for the ball.
The Athletic Bilbao defenders knew all too well what he could do.
Even though Su Hang's form had dipped lately, they still had to stay alert.
Bang!
But Cassano had no intention of passing.
He blasted a shot himself—pure lone-wolf style, full of predator's instinct.
The Bilbao keeper stayed sharp.
From such a tight angle, the strike looked fierce but carried little real threat. He punched it away.
The ball spilled out behind Su Hang.
Boom!
Baptista stormed in and unleashed a thunderous long-range effort—
a stunning world-class strike.
"GOAL! He scores!"
"What a relief—Real Madrid's goal drought doesn't stretch past 100 minutes!"
"Baptista timed his run perfectly. His power and stamina allow him to cover from deep midfield all the way into attack."
"Bilbao's players never saw it coming. But remember, this is a player capable of scoring twenty goals in a single La Liga season!"
"And Cassano's movement and individual skill are equally dangerous—his shooting always a threat."
"In this area, Su Hang could learn from Cassano. He seems to have lost the courage to take defenders on!"
...
Sixteenth minute.
Real Madrid put together another flowing move.
As Cassano settled into the side, his explosiveness gave them a spark they badly needed.
He wasn't on Ronaldo's level yet, but he was clearly offering more than Su Hang or Raúl.
Cassano took possession and shifted play wide to Beckham.
Beckham pushed forward too.
His alternating runs with Baptista injected fresh energy into the attack.
Whip!
Beckham delivered a trademark cross.
Su Hang climbed highest, towering over his marker.
A powerful header thundered toward Bilbao's goal.
But the keeper once again came up big, palming it away.
...
Twenty-fourth minute.
Bilbao countered quickly.
But Ramos wouldn't let them shoot.
He slid in cleanly, snuffing out the attack with a fearless, perfectly timed tackle.
...
Thirty-ninth minute.
The Beast Baptista muscled his way into a midfield steal.
He immediately fed Zidane.
Two touches later, Zidane spotted Su Hang and clipped a delicate chip toward him.
With his back to goal, Su Hang held off his defender, rose, and flicked a header sideways to Cassano on the left.
Cassano pounced, drove into the box, and slotted home coolly one-on-one.
"GOAL! Two-nil! Cassano's in rhythm—it's like he's back in Rome!"
"That Heading from Su Hang, though executed differently, felt remarkably similar to Il Capitano Totti's One-Touch Pass. Both prioritize rapid combinations—which is precisely why Cassano could control the ball so perfectly."
"Any hesitation, and Bilbao's defense would've shut him down. That chance would've been gone."
"Seems the media were right—Su Hang is better at finishing off plays created by others than at creating danger himself."
"This is the first time in five matches Real Madrid have scored twice. Their attack has looked dreadful lately!"
Bilbao seemed to agree. They began swarming Cassano, treating him as Madrid's main threat.
With heavy pressure on him, Real's attack stalled for the rest of the half.
Halftime.
When it comes to Real Madrid matches, besides their own fans, nobody pays closer attention than Barcelona supporters.
They had tuned in today hoping to see Madrid collapse.
But now it looked like Madrid were set to win.
Still, Barça fans didn't care.
Madrid could win—so long as Su Hang didn't.
On social media, they stirred the pot:
"Seriously? One assist and people are hyping him up?"
"Yeah, wasn't that all Cassano's doing? What's it got to do with Su Hang?"
"Madrid's lucky—the real Ronaldo is injured, but this Cassano looks like the next Ronaldo!"
"Cassano's a real striker. Su Hang's just a wooden post, a pass-back machine!"
"And with that level, he dares say he's better than Ronaldinho? Please. Shameless!"
"His skills aren't even one percent of Ronaldinho's!"
"He can't even beat a man!"
...
Second half.
Fifty-first minute.
Bilbao earned a corner.
It was swung in, their center back rose first and powered a header on target.
But Casillas reacted instantly. With his wingspan, there was no keeping it out of reach. He made the save.
...
Fifty-eighth minute.
Real Madrid tried to build again.
Zidane was surrounded by Bilbao shirts, unable to get on the ball.
Su Hang dropped deeper, taking up a position near Zidane—almost like a second attacking midfielder—to give his teammates another option.
Baptista played the ball into Su Hang.
But instead of dropping back, Baptista surged forward down the left, looking to create something.
As Bilbao closed in, Su Hang passed to Zidane and then drifted back centrally.
Zidane one-touched it straight back to him and launched a forward run.
With Su Hang pulling defenders in two directions, much of Zidane's pressure had eased.
That gave him room to break forward.
Bilbao's players saw both Baptista and Zidane charging ahead, so they split—
some dropping back to defend, others closing in on Su Hang.
Everyone knew Su Hang's ball control was his weakness.
If they stripped him, they'd have a dangerous counter.
He looked rattled, rooted to the spot with the ball at his feet.
Teammates shouted warnings, but he didn't move.
Two Bilbao players lunged in, forming a pincer.
Tap! Tap!
Su Hang nudged the ball left with his right foot.
The defenders read it and stretched to block.
But in the same motion, he slid his foot underneath, snapping the ball sharply back to the right.
Mid-air, the ball switched direction at blistering speed.
To the eye, it looked like a move left—
but the ball darted right instead.
This was… the Elastico!
Both defenders froze, tricked by the feint.
Su Hang spun through the gap between them, quick as a hare.
He caught up with the ball, adjusted slightly...
Bang!
He unleashed a cannon of a shot—Gerrard's Heavy Cannon!
The ball tore through the air like lightning, dipping viciously just before goal.
A spectacular wonder goal.
...
(35 Chapters Ahead)
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