Portuguese U19 Youth League, Round 12.
Boavista B Team vs. Guimarães B Team.
The rain intensified, the winter rain in Porto falling like cold steel needles, densely piercing the muddy turf.
The red numbers on the scoreboard were eye-catching: 0:2.
The match had reached the 65th minute, and the home team, Boavista B, was being completely crushed. This was supposed to be an evenly matched "Minho Derby," but now it had turned into a one-man show for the visiting team.
On the field, wearing the Guimarães number 10 jersey, Joao Sousa was performing step-overs, toyed with Boavista's sluggish defenders.
He was the prodigy of the Guimarães youth academy, touted by the media as the "New Rui Costa."
"A bunch of wooden stakes."
Sousa gave a contemptuous smile, flicked his ankle, and performed a flashy nutmeg, drawing a burst of cheers from the away stand.
On the sidelines, Boavista B head coach Pacheco's face was livid as he fiercely kicked away a water bottle by his feet.
"Soft! You're all soft! That damn number 10 is about to take a shit on your necks!"
He spun around abruptly, his gaze sweeping across the bench like a hawk.
The substitutes, who had been chatting and laughing, fell silent instantly; no one wanted to go on and take the blame at a time like this.
Only one person in the corner was methodically adjusting his shin guards.
"Lin!"
Pacheco roared.
Lin Yuan looked up, his eyes as calm as a pool of stagnant water, completely out of place with the panicked atmosphere around him.
"Get out there. I don't expect you to score, and I don't expect you to organize." Pacheco grabbed Lin Yuan, pointed at Sousa, who was blowing kisses in celebration on the field, and said through gritted teeth, "Break him... I mean, make it so he doesn't dare touch the ball again! Even if it's a red card, I want to see Boavista's blood! Understand?"
Lin Yuan took off his substitute vest, revealing the tight-fitting number 16 jersey underneath.
He didn't speak, only nodded.
The fourth official raised the board.
Number 16 Lin Yuan in, number 6 out... When the yellow-skinned, black-haired youth ran onto the pitch, the commentator couldn't even find his name on the list immediately.
"Boavista has brought on a... trialist? At this time? It seems Coach Pacheco has given up the fight."
On the field.
Sousa saw a new defender in front of him, and a mocking curve rose at the corner of his mouth.
"Hey, Chinese kid."
Sousa deliberately slowed his pace, stopping the ball at his feet, looking at Lin Yuan with provocative eyes. "Are you here for an autograph? Beg me, and maybe I'll consider signing your jersey after the match."
Lin Yuan did not respond.
He arched his back slightly, lowered his center of gravity, and fixed his eyes on the ball at Sousa's feet.
After being tormented for a week in Roy Keane's "Legendary Training Ground," the movements of this so-called genius were full of flaws in his eyes.
Too slow.
Too soft.
Too many unnecessary flourishes.
[Host detected entering actual combat state.]
[S-rank passive skill "Savage Physique" has been automatically triggered.]
(Description: Adrenaline secretion accelerates, pain reduction by 30%, temporary boost in explosive power.)
"Boring mute."
Seeing Lin Yuan remain silent, Sousa snorted, feinted with his left shoulder, and quickly flicked the ball with his right foot, preparing to repeat his old trick and force his way past Lin Yuan's right side.
The ball rolled out.
Sousa accelerated.
But he didn't expect that the Easterner, who had been as still as a statue, would start even faster than him!
Without watching the replay, no one could see clearly what happened.
Lin Yuan didn't care about the ball's path at all; he was like an out-of-control heavy tank, charging in from the side and slamming into the sprinting Sousa without reservation!
This time, he used the power technique Keane had taught him—tightening his core, dropping his shoulder, and concentrating all his body's strength into one point.
Thud!!!
A dull thud that made one's scalp tingle rang out, even drowning out the sound of the rain.
It was the sound of bone hitting bone, muscle hitting muscle.
The previously invincible Sousa was like a leaf swept up by a gale, flying three meters sideways and slamming heavily into a waterlogged pit in the grass, kicking up a massive splash of mud.
As for Lin Yuan, he only stumbled two steps before standing firm, his foot stepping on the ball that had already come to a stop.
"Aaaargh!!!"
Two seconds later, Sousa's shrill scream pierced the night sky. He rolled frantically on the ground clutching his ribs, his face covered in painful mud and water.
The whistle blew sharply.
The referee blew his whistle while sprinting over from a distance, his hand already reaching for his breast pocket.
The Guimarães players instantly exploded, three or four of them rushing over to surround Lin Yuan.
"Are you a lunatic!"
"This is murder! Red card! Definitely a red card!"
Facing the siege, Lin Yuan remained expressionless. He casually kicked the ball away, puffed out his chest, and swept his cold gaze over the rushing opponents. The violent aura that erupted in that instant actually forced two six-foot-tall opponents to subconsciously stop in their tracks.
[Detected a "Devastating" tackle.]
[Target (Joao Sousa) is experiencing intense physical pain and psychological fear.]
[Obtained notoriety points: 120.]
The referee rushed to the front and separated the crowd.
He glanced at the still-rolling Sousa, then at the unrepentant Lin Yuan.
For this play, Lin Yuan had indeed used his shoulder for a legal challenge; although the action was extremely brutal and the power was astonishing, in the Premier League, it might not even be considered a foul.
But this was a Primeira Liga youth team.
The referee hesitated for a moment and finally pulled out a yellow card.
"Watch your actions! Number 16! This is a football pitch, not a boxing ring!" the referee warned sternly.
Lin Yuan didn't even look at the yellow card.
He walked over to the still-groaning Sousa and looked down at this so-called genius.
At this moment, where was the arrogance in Sousa's eyes? They were filled with panic and dread, as if he were looking at a demon.
Lin Yuan leaned down and spoke in a cold voice that only the two of them could hear:
"This is just the interest."
"If you dare to do step-overs in front of me again, I'll make sure you go home in a wheelchair."
Sousa trembled all over, unable to even utter a word of rebuttal.
[Detected the opponent's core player's mental state has shattered.]
[Obtained bonus notoriety points: 50.]
[Current mission progress updated: Establish a foothold in Boavista (Deterrence has been initially established).]
In the stands, the Boavista fans who were already prepared to leave early stopped in their tracks.
They looked at the demon-like figure on the field, fell silent for two seconds, and then erupted into the most enthusiastic cheers of the night.
"I don't know who he is..."
"But that move was damn satisfying!"
By the sidelines, Coach Pacheco looked at this scene, and a savage smile finally appeared at the corner of his mouth.
He knew that Boavista's midfield finally had a watchdog.
A man-eating dog.