Just a few minutes earlier, Su Hang had received a prompt.
"Ding! You led the Spanish players to their first World Cup final in sixty-six years, earning the deep respect of the Portuguese. Figo has gifted you his Captain's Armband (item)."
"Figo's Captain's Armband (item): No wear slot available, currently unusable."
"Cristiano Ronaldo has sent you a GG."
"In return, he gives you a football technique he spent a long time mastering: Rabona Mastery. He also believes your bicycle technique needs improvement."
"Rabona Mastery: Player-level skill. The non-supporting foot loops behind the supporting foot to make contact with the ball, enabling surprise shots or passes."
Uh…
WTF?
What are these Portuguese guys thinking?
Figo gives you something—but you can't use it?
But since it's an item, it's different from skills and Moment Cards. Looks like something new that needs a matching slot to activate.
Compared to that, Ronaldo feels more practical, but…
Even though Ronaldo willingly gave something, and Su Hang appreciates it…
But just mastering one rabona move took you that long?
Ronaldo, man!
Shouldn't you just drop a Moment Card instead?
"Ding! Youth's Chain Stepover detected. Synergy activated with Cristiano Ronaldo's 改良建议 (improvement suggestion), upgrading to Electro-Shock Step-over."
"Electro-Shock Step-over: In pursuit of extreme speed, Cristiano Ronaldo's movements became mechanical and stiff. Outsiders mocked him for looking like he'd been electrocuted, but only his opponents understood how dangerous he was."
"Your Explosiveness has greatly increased."
"You have a high chance to activate the 'Ankle Terminator' effect, dropping opponents with your feints."
Tsk tsk tsk!
Now that sounds more like it.
Yeah, people like to hate, but the Electro-Shock Step-over really is insanely fast.
Fast enough that even Ronaldo himself sometimes can't react in time.
Because of this, plus the gift from Figo's Moment Card, Su Hang's personal stats all received a boost:
Attacking Awareness 86+1
Ball Control 81+1
Dribbling 81+1
Shooting 88+1
Defensive Awareness 71+1
Speed 75+1
Explosiveness 86+1
Agility 76+1
But none of that actually mattered. What mattered was the next system prompt.
"Ding! Your injury has entered its final recovery phase. Full recovery expected in three hours."
"Note: You cannot use your right foot in this period, or the recovery time will be extended."
It was five o'clock now.
Three hours later would be eight.
Precisely the kickoff time of the World Cup final.
This was the message Su Hang had been waiting for.
Last time, after Senna used the Black Medicine Spray, there was a similar notification.
So the moment he got the message, Su Hang rushed over and blocked Aragonés.
"Coach, I want to play!"
Aragonés looked confused. "Su, no, you can't. I understand how you feel, but forgive me—whether for your future or the team's strength, you can't go on the pitch."
"Believe me, even if Ronaldo played under a painkiller injection, he wouldn't be better than Villa or Torres."
Villa: Is… is that praise?
Torres: This feels kind of weird.
Su Hang looked the old coach straight in the eye. "I promise you—when the match begins, you'll see a Su Hang who's 100% healthy."
"If that happens, will you consider putting me in the starting XI?"
Aragonés clearly hesitated. "I don't know where you get this confidence, Su. Even if you can perform at 100% after an injection, what about your future?"
"Two years from now, four years, six years… there are still so many major tournaments, so many titles waiting for you."
"To hell with 'so many'!" Su Hang cut him off. "I know you're a meticulous coach who aims for one perfect kill."
"You know how much damage it causes if you reveal your intention but fail to achieve your goal."
"You excel in management, planning, tactics. You can control the locker room and every player. But you have one fatal flaw—you're always preparing."
"Coach, life never waits until you're fully prepared."
"Your ideal scenario will never appear."
"Two years from now, maybe I'll already be gone."
"Maybe Alonso will leave Liverpool. Maybe Torres will transfer. Maybe Puyol will retire. Maybe Sergio Ramos won't play wide anymore…"
Aragonés froze.
Because that was his secret.
Everyone thought he refused Su Hang the injection for Su Hang's sake. But in truth, Aragonés didn't want anything derailing the future he had arranged.
In his mind:
2008 — Spain would be ready to challenge for major titles.
2010 — The team would reach its peak.
2012 — Their momentum would be unstoppable.
If they gambled early at this World Cup, failed, and Su Hang got hurt, his plans would collapse.
He wasn't a gambler.
He was the ultimate conservative.
Taking advantage of Aragonés's daze, Su Hang grabbed the lineup sheet, quickly wrote his name into the starting list, and handed it to Simon.
"Coach, ten thousand years is too long… we must seize the moment!"
Simon held the sheet and looked at Aragonés.
After a long moment, Aragonés nodded.
Simon immediately bolted away, terrified the coach might change his mind.
He didn't know if Su Hang could really do it, but if Su Hang wanted it, Simon would support him completely.
That was the secret behind his Champions League success.
Aragonés looked back at Su Hang. "Now I'll have to redo the pre-match talk. But I'm sure, when they see you stand up from that wheelchair, they'll believe in the light!"
Su Hang forced a smile. "Well… that part's not happening yet."
Aragonés: ???
Su Hang: "Until kickoff, I need every second of rest. But don't worry—when the whistle blows, the 'siu' won't be far behind!"
…
Simon then attended the pre-match press conference.
France's head coach Domenech was beaming.
Because he was about to drop a bombshell.
Earlier, when Zidane told the media he'd be cheering from the stands, the eight percent of die-hard Spain supporters around the world still had a faint glimmer of hope.
But what Domenech was about to announce would destroy that eight percent—
and crush the entire Spanish camp.
Because the man who shouldn't be anywhere near the pitch would—
"Uh, I have something urgent. Can I go first?" Simon suddenly stepped up before Domenech.
The latter nodded.
Whatever Simon said wouldn't compare to the shock he was about to deliver.
Definitely not.
"Hello? Hello? Hello—can you hear me?" Simon tapped the mic, then addressed the hundreds of reporters. "Time's tight, and we have urgent adjustments. I need to return to the locker room to assist Mr. Aragonés. Thanks for understanding."
"The starting lineup for Spain is: Casillas, Mariano, Puyol, Machena, Sergio Ramos, Xavi, Senna, Alonso, Raúl, Villa…"
"Su Hang!"
Torres froze. Raúl with Villa, and Villa with Torres, and—
Wait.
What did Simon just say?
"Su?" a reporter blurted out.
"Yes," Simon replied, standing up.
"You're sure it's Su Hang?" More reporters stared, stunned.
"Sure!"
"That's impossible! Are you absolutely sure you didn't misspeak? Su Hang is playing in the final?" Reporters went crazy, reaching for their phones.
"Of course!"
Simon wrapped up quickly and rushed off.
The press room exploded into chaos the next second.
Even Domenech stood there, frozen, completely at a loss.
...
(35 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser