Carranza Stadium, a sacred ground that carries Cádiz's century of glory, still exuded a suffocating pressure even when empty.
The moment Lu Chuan stepped onto the grass, he felt the chilling aura of hostility wash over him.
The empty Carranza Stadium made one uneasy; the sun was bright, but it couldn't disperse the grim atmosphere on the pitch.
The warm-up movements of the Cádiz players were particularly striking. Each of their sprints carried a beastly ferocity, and every shot contained destructive power.
Among these beasts, the most intimidating was undoubtedly the burly center-back—Juan Cala.
Cala's eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, fixed intently on Lu Chuan, who was doing stretching exercises.
Cala didn't smile, but he bared his teeth in a grimace that was more provocative than any smile.
He deliberately exaggerated the intensity of his warm-up movements, each tackle carrying an over-the-top ferocity, as if proclaiming something to his opponent.
"See that?" Trejo leaned close to Lu Chuan, lowering his voice. "That bastard has already started psychological warfare."
Lu Chuan didn't respond, focusing only on completing his own warm-up routine.
But he could feel Cala's provocative gaze, and the sensation of being targeted by a beast was extremely uncomfortable.
The referee's whistle blew, and the match officially began.
Rayo Vallecano kicked off first, and Trejo passed the ball to Lu Chuan.
Just as Lu Chuan touched the ball, a dark figure came rushing from behind and to his side.
"Bang!"
Cala's slide tackle was both fast and brutal; his studs left a deep mark on the grass, and the ball was roughly cleared out of bounds.
What was worse, his studs scraped Lu Chuan's ankle during the tackle, sending a sharp pain through him.
"Whistle—" The referee's whistle blew, but he only gestured for a corner kick, giving Cala a mere verbal warning for his dangerous play.
Cala got up from the ground, brushed off the grass clippings, and a triumphant smile spread across his face. He slowly walked towards Lu Chuan, the distance between them shrinking.
"Kid, welcome to Carranza," Cala whispered close to Lu Chuan's ear, his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear. "Your flashy tricks are useless here. This is a man's battlefield, not a playground for you Asians."
Lu Chuan said nothing, only clenched his fists, restraining the urge to punch him.
Suárez's advice echoed in his mind: "No matter what he calls you, don't fall for it."
He took a deep breath, gave Cala a cold glance, and offered no response.
But a silent rage had already ignited in his heart, temporarily suppressed by reason.
Seeing Lu Chuan's lack of reaction, a flicker of disappointment crossed Cala's eyes, but he quickly regained his cat-and-mouse excitement.
The match continued, and Cádiz displayed the strength befitting a League leader.
Their defensive system was as solid as a fortress, and every Rayo Vallecano attack was met with multiple defenders.
On the counter-attack, the pivot role of former Spain international Álvaro Negredo was fully utilized; every time he received the ball, he created threats for his teammates.
Lu Chuan found himself in an unprecedented predicament.
Cala clung to him like a piece of sticky candy; no matter where he ran, his opponent followed him like a shadow.
Even worse, Cala's small fouls were endless—pulling his jersey, stepping on his foot, elbowing him—each move perfectly avoiding the referee's sight.
"This chinese kid doesn't look like much," Cala loudly mocked after a physical contact. "The media hyped him up so much, and this is all he's got?"
Fernando Palomo, the commentator for Spanish television, keenly observed the subtle changes on the field.
"Juan Cala is like a piece of sticky candy; he's using his rich 'experience' to teach this young chinese striker a lesson.
Lu Chuan must remain calm, otherwise, he will easily fall into his trap."
Palomo's partner nodded in agreement: "Cala is one of the most cunning defenders in the Segunda División; his specialty is provoking young players.
Once Lu Chuan loses his temper, this match is over."
Paco Jémez on the sidelines also sensed the danger brewing.
He constantly gestured to his players on the field, signaling them to remain calm and not be affected by the opponent's provocations.
In the 32nd minute, Cádiz earned a free-kick opportunity in the attacking third.
Central midfielder Álex Fernández stood over the ball, carefully observing Rayo Vallecano's wall setup.
Fernández took a run-up and struck the ball! The ball arced beautifully, curving around the wall and heading straight for the goal.
Álvaro Negredo leaped high, overpowering Savić, and with a powerful header, he slammed the ball towards the goal!
Dimitrievski dived to save, but the ball's angle was too tricky; his fingertips only slightly touched the ball, unable to change its trajectory.
"Goal!" The commentator's voice echoed throughout the stadium.
"Álvaro Negredo! The veteran opens the scoring for Cádiz with a magnificent header! 1-0!"
Cádiz players celebrated wildly, while Rayo Vallecano's players looked somewhat dejected.
The deficit subtly changed their mentality, and their attacks became more frantic.
Lu Chuan tried to turn the tide with his individual skill, but Cala's defense was relentless.
In one challenge, Cala once again displayed his "art."
He lightly pushed Lu Chuan from behind, not with great force, but enough to make Lu Chuan lose his balance.
The moment Lu Chuan fell, Cala deliberately stepped over him, a gesture full of insult.
"You bastard!" Lu Chuan could no longer stand it, he sprang up from the ground and pushed Cala away.
Cala was prepared; he fell to the ground, rolling a few times on the grass, clutching his chest in pain as if severely injured.
"He hit me! He hit me!" Cala pointed at Lu Chuan and shouted loudly, his expression as painful as could be.
Players from both sides quickly gathered, and the scene descended into chaos for a moment.
Trejo and Suárez desperately held back an enraged Lu Chuan, while Cádiz players surrounded the referee in protest.
The referee hurried over, trying to maintain order amidst the confusion. He first checked on the "injured" Cala, then walked towards Lu Chuan.
Yellow card!
Two yellow cards were simultaneously raised, Lu Chuan and Cala each receiving one.
"Lu! Calm down! Don't let him provoke you! Play with your brain!"
Paco Jémez shouted at Lu Chuan from the sideline, his voice filled with obvious anxiety.
Cala got up from the ground, brushed off the grass clippings, and that triumphant smile reappeared on his face.
As he walked past Lu Chuan, he whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"Kid, this is just the beginning. In the second half, I'll show you what despair is."
Lu Chuan no longer looked at Cala, but lowered his eyes, yet the suppressed anger made his entire aura turn cold.
One yellow card already put him on the brink of danger; another would mean he would be sent off.
The match continued, but Lu Chuan's form was clearly affected.
His passes started to go astray, and his shots became rushed. Cala's psychological tactics were working.
"It looks like the chinese kid has been provoked," the commentator observed the changes on the field. "This is exactly what Cala wants. An angry striker is the easiest to deal with."
Time ticked by, and the first half was about to end.
Rayo Vallecano's attack still showed no improvement, while Cádiz firmly controlled the pace of the match.
The referee checked his watch and raised his hand, indicating two minutes of added time.
Just then, Lu Chuan got the ball again. Cala immediately closed in, and the two made physical contact once more.
This time, Cala's movement was more subtle; he lightly nudged Lu Chuan's waist with his knee, while continuing his barrage of trash talk in his ear.
"Does your mother know you're embarrassing yourself here? Yellow-skinned monkey, go back to your country!"
Lu Chuan's body trembled, not from fear, but from rage. His fists were clenched tight, his fingernails digging deep into his palms.
But just as he was about to explode, Trejo's voice came through: "Lu! Pass the ball!"
Lu Chuan forced himself to calm down and passed the ball to his captain. Trejo immediately took a long shot after receiving the ball, which went slightly wide of the goal.
The half-time whistle blew, and Lu Chuan walked off the pitch with a yellow card and a heart full of anger.
His jersey was soaked with sweat, and his expression was terrifyingly grim.
Trejo put an arm around his shoulder and patted him hard: "Kid, don't get into a fight with him in the second half.
Shut him up with a goal; that's the best revenge."
Lu Chuan nodded, but the anger in his eyes still burned. He knew Trejo was right, but it wouldn't be easy to do.
Every piece of Cala's trash talk stung his nerves like a needle.
As he walked towards the players' tunnel, Lu Chuan looked back at Cala, who was still on the field. The bastard was laughing and chatting with his teammates, his face full of triumph.
"See you in the second half, you bastard," Lu Chuan secretly swore in his heart. "I'll make you pay."
The locker room was dead silent. Down by a goal, with their key player being targeted and booked, everyone knew the second half would be tough.
Paco Jémez walked into the locker room, his expression terrifyingly serious. All the players lowered their heads, awaiting their coach's lecture.
"gentlemen, I know you are angry." Paco's voice was low and powerful, "But anger won't solve the problem. Cala wants to provoke you, to make you lose your temper."
He walked in front of Lu Chuan, knelt down to meet his gaze: "Kid, I know this is hard for you. But you have to remember, you are Rayo Vallecano's number 10, the team's hope. Don't let a clown ruin your game."
Lu Chuan looked up, met his coach's eyes, and his voice was not loud, but every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth: "Coach, I won't be impulsive again. In the second half, I'll make him regret it."
Paco nodded with satisfaction: "That's the Lu Chuan I know. Remember, the best revenge is victory."