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May 5, 2016.
Camp Nou.
UEFA Champions League semi-final second leg. The last chance to book a place in the final.
The day before, Real Madrid and Bayern had completed their tie at the Allianz Arena. Bayern could not contain Cristiano Ronaldo, who curled a trademark free kick past Neuer.
Bayern Munich 0–1 Real Madrid.
Real Madrid eliminated Bayern on a 2–0 aggregate, becoming the first side through to the Champions League Final. Just as in the years before, after the pain of the 2014/15 season, Real Madrid had returned to the summit of Europe.
Zidane's reputation reached new heights, and the Galácticos squad was fully loaded. No suspensions, no injuries. Even the backup center-back Pepe and reserve goalkeeper Casillas were ready. Zidane could sit back and wait, welcoming whoever came next with his strongest available side.
"Will it be a Spanish National Derby against traditional arch-rivals Barcelona? Or will it be Atlético Madrid, staging a Madrid Derby in the Champions League Final for the second time? Tonight, we get our answer!"
Gold-medal commentator for Spanish national television, José Ángel, was barely containing his excitement.
Whatever the result, the 2015/16 season already belonged to La Liga. Three of its clubs had reached the Champions League semi-finals and locked up both final spots. The Bundesliga, Serie A, Premier League and Ligue 1 had all been swept aside.
José Ángel believed the era of La Liga had truly arrived. If nothing unexpected happened, it could dominate the football world for the next five years at least — provided the three best players on the planet, Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Lance, all stayed.
...
The match had drawn countless eyes from across the globe. According to estimates from several Spanish outlets, the semi-final between Barcelona and Atlético Madrid was watched live by close to 160 million people, with the broader figure potentially exceeding 400 million and the number following updates approaching one billion. It was, by any measure, the most watched sporting event in the world.
With Lance's popularity at its peak, the CCTV broadcast and online streams combined drew close to 100 million viewers, generating a level of anticipation comparable to the World Cup.
LeTV president Jia had not anticipated that signing Lance and Jian Jun would prove to be his best decision, propelling the newly launched platform to become the country's leading online video service overnight. On match day, as he looked at the backend data, he was already thinking bigger thoughts — car manufacturing, perhaps...
Back to the match. Tens of millions of fans in the live stream were deep in discussion.
"What is Griezmann doing?"
"That was such a good chance just now. He couldn't control it."
"You can't blame Griezmann. God Lance's pass was too clever."
"When did he learn to do that? It looked exactly like Beckham."
"Yeah, that arm swing when he played the pass. Pure Beckham."
"Did that Crescent Blade free kick look like one earlier?"
At the Camp Nou, Barcelona and Atlético Madrid were locked in a fierce contest.
Barcelona had been forced to dig deep. Lance had the sense that even the Barcelona side that won the Champions League in 2014/15 hadn't looked this dangerous. Messi, Suárez and Neymar were constantly rotating positions across the front line, putting the goal under threat repeatedly.
Barcelona's possession had peaked at 91%. Atlético Madrid could barely touch the ball.
When they finally did win it back, Lance dropped almost to the edge of his own penalty area, played a quick one-two with Koke, and found space to take control.
Now.
The Space Perception that came with the Isagi Yoichi template didn't just sharpen his movement off the ball — it made him acutely aware of where the danger zones on the field were at any given moment.
In an instant, Lance spotted a wide gap opening on the left and, without hesitation, played a long diagonal ball to the flank.
The trajectory left commentator Jian Jun barely holding it together.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! That long pass from Lance!! Found Griezmann right on the money!"
If Griezmann had been fully expecting it, one touch in behind would have created a one-on-one.
But he hadn't anticipated that Lance could bend a ball like that over such a distance. It curved through the air like it was guided, dropping precisely over his head. Griezmann's first movement was a fraction late, and stretching to reach it produced a heavy touch. By the time he recovered and gave chase, Ter Stegen had already sprinted off his line and booted it clear.
Ter Stegen was already on his last legs after just 30 minutes. That sprint had nearly finished him off. He took a breath, steadied himself, and looked across at Lance in the distance.
"Is he a monster? A devil?"
How do you even play a pass like that?
Lance returned to his defensive shape with a blank expression, as if nothing had happened.
"Can you hold on, brother?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine..."
Ter Stegen was still rattled.
Beside him, Piqué had had enough. He needed to find a way to knock Lance off his stride, or Barcelona were going to exit the semi-finals for a second consecutive year. Getting knocked out at this stage two years running with the MSN trio would make them the laughingstock of European football. Even for Messi's sake, he had to do something.
Piqué fixed his eyes on Lance and waited for his moment.
Ten minutes later, it came.
43rd minute of the first half. Atlético Madrid broke forward on the counter. Lance flicked the ball with his heel to draw Busquets tight, then — before Busquets could react — dragged the ball back, turned, and left him behind in a single movement.
He burst forward through the centre with a bold, explosive touch.
"Beautiful!!! Lance is on the move! He's strolling through Barcelona's half!"
Jian Jun threw his arms up. Watching Lance play was simply something else.
Instructor Zhang was laughing wildly beside him.
"Ayy, hehe!! What a ball!! So delicate!"
Lance was enjoying himself. This was what it was supposed to feel like.
He shifted through gears, swaying left and right before nutmegging Rakitić and driving on. The alarm bells were already ringing in the Barcelona penalty area. Lance was within range to shoot at any second.
Barcelona fans couldn't watch. Across the Camp Nou, people shut their eyes and prayed.
Inside the 30-meter zone, Lance's long-range shooting was like artillery.
Seeing Lance shape to shoot, Piqué could no longer wait. He lunged in with a sliding tackle, timing it to catch Lance exactly at the peak of his backswing — making any continuation almost impossible.
"That idiot!!" Luis Enrique was furious on the touchline.
It was a deliberate foul, aimed at the standing leg. A card was inevitable.
Everything happened in a split second. A shape flashed, and Lance went down under the challenge.
The whole stadium erupted.
Atlético fans feared the worst. If Lance was injured, it would be catastrophic. He had missed the previous year's final through suspension. Two years without being on the biggest stage would be unbearable.
Piqué didn't regret it, even knowing he'd get a card. He just needed to stop him.
But lying on the ground, he felt his pupils shrink.
Lance was getting up.
Acting like absolutely nothing had happened.
Bro. Is your leg made of titanium?
Piqué had caught his standing ankle cleanly. That was a proper challenge.
Referee Clattenburg, under fierce media scrutiny heading into the match, showed no hesitation — a yellow card, and a free kick for Atlético Madrid 25 metres from goal.
The silver lining for Piqué was that, even without injuring Lance, he had at least halted what was shaping up to be a dangerous attack. As long as Atlético didn't score the free kick, possession would return to Barcelona.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine. Nothing to worry about."
Lance brushed the grass off his kit and played it cool in front of his teammates.
Fortunately he had stocked up on [Substitute Paper Figurines] beforehand. As more opponents began targeting him with the cynical foul, Lance knew that if he ever chose to go down theatrically, he would make Neymar look restrained.
When Lance picked up the ball and stood over the free kick, the Barcelona players had not yet grasped what was coming.
Messi was puzzled. Why were all the Atlético Madrid players grinning?
Was there something special about this free kick?
Lance's knuckleball was well known and genuinely dangerous, but his free-kick conversion rate had only ever been average. He tended to hit them straight rather than with curl. Barcelona's wall had already covered the direct route. The only remaining option was a curve over the top — and at 25 metres, conventional wisdom said the ball wouldn't have enough distance to drop in time.
This shouldn't be dangerous.
Messi told himself that. His instincts told him otherwise.
"Lance is taking the free kick himself. He doesn't look injured — that tackle from Piqué was genuinely frightening."
Jian Jun let out a breath. As long as Lance was fine, everything else could wait.
He watched Lance nudge the ball slightly to the left and settle into his stance.
The referee's whistle sounded.
Under the gaze of the world, Lance took a short run-up.
"Lance—"
Hold on.
Jian Jun's eyes narrowed. Something about the movement triggered a memory. The left arm extending to shape an arc. The twist of the left ankle. The way the right leg loaded to generate power.
He had seen this before.
Could it be?
It was identical.
Before Jian Jun could finish the thought, the ball was already in flight.
It drew a rainbow above the Camp Nou, an arc of pure geometry, bending over the top of the wall and dropping out of the reach of every defender.
"Crescent Blade!!! It's in!!!!"
"Stunning!! After Beckham retired, the Beckham-style curve is back!"
"No — this is the Lance-style curve now."
"At the Camp Nou, Lance puts Atlético ahead! 1–0 on the night!"
"4–1 on aggregate!!!"
Crescent Blade.
A strike to the throat.