Hiss, hiss!
The team doctor continuously sprayed ethyl chloride aerosol on Julien's shoulder to numb the pain.
This scene, broadcast to Bastia, provoked fury and countless curses from the Bastia people.
"Fils de pute! They did it on purpose! They saw Julien score and were afraid of being beaten by him, so they wanted to take him out!"
"Putain de merde! How despicable! When they can't win through football, they resort to this. Damn it, if we hadn't just fought a full match against Paris three days ago, we wouldn't fear their level of play at all!"
"I hope Julien is okay. His left shoulder injury hadn't healed properly, and now it's injured again."
Martin slammed his palm on the table and shouted, "Damn! Rothen was too gentle. If it were me, I'd have kicked the bastard directly! That old guy was definitely trying to cripple Julien!"
The entire tavern was extremely agitated.
Any Bastia person seeing Julien injured couldn't remain calm. The last time Julien was injured by Silva, his social media was stormed by Bastia fans, forcing Silva to close his comments. But in his teammates' comment sections, there were still countless abusive comments from Bastia fans.
At the Doosan Arena, with the situation under control, the referee distributed yellow cards one by one.
At this moment in the stands, Viktoria Plzen fans were furious, almost wanting to storm the pitch to help their team fight.
Hadzibegic watched Julien with worried eyes, only relaxing slightly when the team doctor gave him a thumbs-up gesture.
Julien grasped De Bruyne's hand and stood up.
De Bruyne frowned. "Can you really still play?"
He knew Julien had received two to three times the usual amount of ethyl chloride spray—clearly the situation wasn't as easy as Julien was making it appear.
Julien patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, there is absolutely no problem. Let's make the most of our time."
After the chaotic scene ended, Rothen and others came to check on Julien. Seeing he seemed okay, they walked toward the penalty area with relief.
Bastia's free kick.
After all this chaos, it was already the 85th minute. At this stage, any set piece was an opportunity, especially with both teams' players suffering from declining fitness.
Most matches saw a high probability of set-piece goals in these final moments, including plenty of last-gasp winners and equalizers.
Players from both sides positioned themselves around the penalty area. The ball sat just outside the penalty area on the right side, less than two meters from the line.
This had originally been an excellent opportunity created by Julien's individual dribbling ability, unfortunately destroyed by Horvath's challenge.
Standing outside the penalty area, Julien's shoulder pain was temporarily suppressed. He kept looking around, calculating whether he had any opportunities.
De Bruyne and Rothen stood on either side of the ball.
Tweet!
The referee's whistle sounded.
Rothen started his run first, running over the ball without touching it.
Bang!
The next moment, De Bruyne opened up his body and curled a shot toward goal. The ball flew high into the air, clearing the nearest part of the wall and heading straight for the near post.
Goalkeeper Kozacik had positioned a five-man wall at the near post, while he stood at the far post. He thought this ball, from such close range, couldn't clear the wall.
However, De Bruyne's curled shot managed to arc perfectly over the wall and into the net.
Swoosh!
As the ball nestled in the net, Kozacik hadn't even attempted a save.
Goal!
The previously noisy Doosan Arena suddenly fell silent.
It went in?
They stared at the ball in disbelief.
The moment De Bruyne saw the ball hit the net, he let out a roar, his face instantly flushing red with excitement!
He ran toward Julien, shouting, "Julien! C'est pour toi!!"
This goal is for you.
Julien laughed and embraced De Bruyne.
He hadn't actually expected De Bruyne to score directly from the free kick. This was De Bruyne's Europa League debut and his first Europa League goal.
Of course, this wasn't De Bruyne's European debut. He had already played Champions League matches while at Belgian club Genk—it was actually his Champions League performances against Chelsea that had caught their attention.
These thoughts were instantly scattered by his teammates' enthusiasm. Everyone rushed toward Julien.
They all gathered together, with De Bruyne and Julien at the center, still embracing.
An 85th-minute free-kick goal.
Bastia had overturned Viktoria Plzen.
This moment made the silent Doosan Arena echo with Bastia cheers:
"Bastia!!"
"Bastia!!!"
Modoso had already removed his shirt, waving it in his hands. Standing on his seat, he shouted with all his might, using every ounce of strength to cry out "Bastia."
The other fans were the same. Though few in number at the venue, at this moment, their voices could be heard throughout the stadium.
Some fans were shouting so hard that tears began falling.
It had been over forty years since their last European victory—an entire generation had passed!
"Bastia!"
The TF1 commentator was equally excited: "Bastia have overturned the score! De Bruyne! This young talent on loan from Chelsea to Bastia has shown his ability with a direct free-kick goal!
Look—this is Bastia's youth storm! No matter when, there's always a player who steps up: De Rocca, Lukaku, Clauss, and now De Bruyne. They've proven through their actions that youth is never a problem!"
Far away in the Mediterranean, the sea seemed to boil and surge from the Bastia people's cheers and excitement.
The night could not contain their elation.
On the sideline, Hadzibegic, the substitute players, and coaching staff all embraced each other in celebration, excitement was flooding across every face.
Only they knew how difficult this match had been for Bastia.
Chataigner even charged down from the stands behind the bench to join the celebration.
The Viktoria Plzen players looked dejected as they watched the goal go in.
Vrba's brow furrowed deeply.
For them, the course of this match felt like heaven was playing a cruel joke—giving them hope, then gradually taking it away until they were left in despair.
Looking at the scoreboard, Vrba could see time ticking away.
There was still time, but did they still have a chance?
Seeing this unfold, the Bastia players felt as though fresh energy had surged through their bodies.
With just a few minutes remaining, they had one belief—
Hold on!
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