Chapter 1 The Beginning

This match was broadcast live to all of Europe, to the entire world, and no one had expected, not even the most audacious Fiorentina fans, that their team would have such a smooth start.

Just seven minutes and twenty seconds into the match, Fiorentina took a 1-0 lead against Barcelona on their home turf.

As for those experts, they were probably busy looking for their glasses. Before the game, they confidently stated that Barcelona had all the advantages and a greater chance of winning, but what now? Barcelona, who had dominated Europe for the past two seasons, conceded a goal so quickly, leaving the entire Camp Nou in stunned silence.

"This is unbelievable! At Barcelona's home, at Camp Nou! Fiorentina leads 1-0! The entire Barcelona team is somewhat dazed! They were playing almost perfectly before, but were caught off guard by a brilliant counterattack by the Italians. I think that when Zhang Jun shook off Puyol, the deafening boos were not hateful, but despairing! Barcelona fans may have realized that nothing can stop that Chinese number 11!"

Barcelona was indeed dazed, the players standing on the field in bewilderment, watching the celebrating Fiorentina players.

After a brief silence, Camp Nou erupted in a massive chorus of boos, accompanied by lighters, coins, and other small objects raining down from the stands—unfortunately, no pig heads.

Fiorentina's celebration lasted a long time, until the referee intervened, and they restrained themselves slightly, returning to their positions to await Barcelona's kickoff.

Standing in the center circle, Eto'o placed his foot on the ball and spat disdainfully. "It's just one goal, look at how happy they are..."

Barcelona had seen all kinds of situations on their way to becoming the kings of Europe. So the team quickly regained their confidence, believing it was just a small interlude on their path to defending their title. As kings, they had to constantly accept challenges, and although the process might be thrilling, the ultimate victory would surely belong to the king. Because they were the protagonists, and the audience loved to watch.

Barcelona believed they were the protagonists of the Champions League, but Fiorentina did not see themselves as the supporting role destined to be defeated.

After the game restarted, both sides threw themselves back into it with all their might, vowing to fight to the death.

※※※

Rijkaard quickly noticed that Fiorentina was different from usual, because today their defensive intentions were too obvious. They often left only two or three players up front, while the rest retreated to defend in the penalty area. This was clearly not Fiorentina's usual tactic, or at least not the Fiorentina that Rijkaard was familiar with.

Playing a defensive counterattack?

Rijkaard knew Fiorentina's tactics, but what could he do? Just because Fiorentina was playing a defensive counterattack didn't mean Barcelona would stop attacking. He could only continue to stick to the previously arranged tactics—attack. He just kept an eye on the defense, arranging for several players to prevent Fiorentina's quick breaks.

Most importantly, if a player lost the ball, they had to immediately retreat and delay Fiorentina's attack in the middle and front fields, giving the players in the back line time to get into position.

The two sides temporarily entered a stalemate, vying for control in the midfield, front field, and back field, but neither side could find a way to shoot and score. Zhang Jun and Ke Lu, following Sabato's instructions, were also actively pressing in the front field, which surprised Rijkaard again. In his impression, Fiorentina's number 10 and 11 never participated in defense. Even in urgent situations, Sabato wouldn't let them defend, and would at most replace them with more defensive players.

But now, from the very beginning of the match, they had been constantly pressing in the front field, catching Barcelona's defenders off guard.

Since both sides were playing fiercely, and because of the pre-match rhetoric, the players' movements were a bit excessive, exceeding the intensity of ordinary matches.

Mascherano was knocked down from behind by Deco while trying to intercept the ball. On the other side, Xiang Tao immediately used a flying tackle to send Messi jumping into the air. Players were falling to the ground frequently. Only halfway through the first half, Fiorentina's white away jerseys were already covered with grass clippings, stained with the green of the grass and the black of the dirt. Barcelona wasn't in much better shape, but it was hard to tell because of their dark-colored jerseys.

But the colors on their faces weren't so clean. They had all been摔的 (shuāi de - thrown or fallen).

The referee's performance today was a bit weak. Perhaps he hadn't expected two teams with no previous animosity to play so fiercely, almost like a Century Derby.

The players on the field were playing intensely, and the fans in the stands were constantly booing. Coupled with the rapid transitions between offense and defense, the game looked thrilling, and even the commentators couldn't control their emotions and volume.

"Fiorentina counterattacks! Their attack is very fast! Barca is retreating, but the defenders are a step too slow! A diagonal pass to Joaquin, Joaquin breaks through! Very fast! Spanish media once thought Joaquin was destined to waste away in Italy, but look at Joaquin now, I personally think he is even better and faster than he was at Betis! He crosses! Morientes! Header—! Beautiful! Valdes catches the ball firmly in his hands!"

"Barca immediately launched an attack. Valdes throws the ball towards the front field. Ronaldinho cleverly uses his chest to pass the ball to Xavi, who is rushing forward. Xavi passes the ball to Deco... Ah! Unexpectedly, Eto'o suddenly rushed out and intercepted the ball, putting Fiorentina's defense at a disadvantage! Kehl rushes out fiercely, oh! He knocks Eto'o flying! The ball falls at his feet! But the referee signals play on. Kehl's collision was fair! A deafening boo rises again from Camp Nou!"

"Kehl passes the ball to Mascherano, and the Argentinian passes it to Ke Lu. Ke Lu dribbles forward, but just after crossing the midfield line, he is pushed down from behind by Ronaldinho. The referee whistles and awards Fiorentina an indirect free kick in the front field, but he doesn't show Ronaldinho a yellow card. The home fans are very dissatisfied, and the boos rise again. Perhaps they think that this should be a foul no matter what. And I think the audience far away in Florence will definitely not be satisfied, because the referee only awarded a free kick and nothing else!"

Inside a tavern in Florence…

"Nonsense! Such an obvious foul! And a malicious foul! If that Brazilian hadn't pushed, our Ke Lu would have been able to advance to the opponent's penalty area at least! He only gave a free kick and no yellow card! A black whistle! It really is a black whistle!" A drunk shouted loudly.

Immediately attracting the support of many others.

※※※

Although Fiorentina's defense was under pressure throughout the game, it didn't prevent Barca from showcasing their outstanding attacking prowess. Ronaldinho was the core of Barca's attack, and almost every ball he passed was a dangerous one.

When he used the "cow tail" to shake off Bonera, the entire Camp Nou erupted in huge cheers. For Fiorentina players, this cheer was undoubtedly an insult and a boo to them.

Ujfalusi rushed up to stop Ronaldinho's further breakthrough, but he was faked out by a half-body feint from Ronaldinho, losing his balance. Frey decisively attacked, and Ronaldinho decisively lobbed the ball. All the Barca fans cheered and waited to celebrate the goal, but the ball was kicked out on the goal line by Kehl, who had rushed back in time!

Ronaldinho seemed a little unable to believe that his shot had been kicked out. Kehl smiled at Frey, who was still shaken, and said, "Don't worry, I said we wouldn't let them score, and we won't! Isn't this giving you more opportunities to show off?"

Frey glared at him: "Better not show off like that. I'd rather have fewer chances to show off. You defenders must mark him tightly and not let him break through so easily again!"

Eto'o really wanted to score, because he had been humiliated before the match, and he intended to use goals to humiliate his opponents. But today, Fiorentina's defense took special care of him, making it impossible for him to get the ball properly. Even if he succeeded in getting the ball, he would be greeted with fouls. In short, he wasn't given any chance to approach the goal and shoot.

All Fiorentina players had this consensus: anyone on Barcelona could score, but Eto'o couldn't. He was so arrogant before the game, if he scored, wouldn't they be slapping themselves in the face?

"Eto'o doesn't seem to be in good form today..." the commentator said. It wasn't that he was really in bad form, but he hadn't shot for a long time, so it was impossible to tell if he was in good form... As for getting the ball and breaking free, Xiang Tao wasn't slow either. One ran with the ball, the other ran without the ball, plus Xiang Tao's constant small movements with his hands, made Eto'o suffer unspeakably. He had finally learned how "hooligan teams" could be.

Several times when he was about to jump up to compete for a header, Xiang Tao followed him in jumping, but his hand was placed below, using his thumb to gently poke Eto'o in the waist. Eto'o, who was in the air, immediately lost his balance and fell directly from the air. Not only did he not get the header, but the referee didn't see it either. Because Xiang Tao's poke wasn't hard, it only made him fall back to the ground, but didn't make him fall down.

Small movements are actions where the amplitude and strength are just right, achieving the intended effect without being excessive and noticed by the referee. If it's noticed, it's a foul, not a small movement. Xiang Tao, as a defender, knew this well. Sabato didn't criticize this, but praised it greatly, believing that a qualified and excellent defender should have many tricks. It wasn't Baresi's era anymore, where you could intimidate forwards with elegance. Now you needed to be unscrupulous.

What forwards hate most isn't you fouling them, because fouls have referees. It's your endless small movements, making it impossible for them to perform comfortably. Eto'o's temper gradually rose because of these small movements. But Xiang Tao didn't know this and continued to use small movements to defend against Eto'o.

※※※

Although Messi hated Ke Lu in his heart and wanted revenge, he still reflexively chose to walk around him when facing Ke Lu on the field. The psychological shadow of that foul was too deep in his heart, afraid of getting injured again. The doctor had already said that his body wasn't as good as before the injury and could easily get injured again. And he had indeed been injured a lot in the last two seasons, although it wasn't enough to affect the entire season, it still depressed him to miss one or two games.

And all of this was thanks to Ke Lu.

Ke Lu's mind wasn't on Messi either, maybe he had already forgotten that he had unnecessarily stepped on the guy's knee.

He was now fully focused on competing with Ronaldinho. He had finally met an opponent who could make him put forth all his effort, yet he still might not be able to defeat.

Yes, the entire Serie A couldn't find a player who could surpass his, Ke Lu Li's, in midfield skill. Even Kaka, in terms of pure skill, wasn't a match for Ke Lu. Because Kaka was more practical, while Ke Lu was now both practical and flashy.

Deco was responsible for defending Ke Lu, and Xavi had to support him when necessary. Even so, Ke Lu was still comfortably directing and commanding the midfield, dribbling and breaking through.

Just now, Ronaldinho had performed a "cow tail" dribble in the front field, and now Ke Lu was also using the same technique in the midfield to get past Xavi!

Even Camp Nou was amazed. Barca fans loved artistic football, loved beautiful football. They had always arrogantly believed that only their Ronaldinho had the ability to turn the impossible into reality. But now, this Ke Lu let everyone know that there wasn't only one Ronaldinho in the world.

Seemingly not having enough of dribbling past Xavi with the cow tail, Ke Lu then used Zidane's signature Marseille turn to get past Deco!

These two moves were very coherent and done in one go. Even the ESPN commentators exclaimed how wonderful and great they were.

"One person broke through Barcelona's midfield defense! Rijkaard's only mistake was not arranging a purely defensive player in the midfield! Ke Lu dribbles straight into Barca's penalty area!"

Facing Marquez's frontal interception, Ke Lu's whole body moved as if he had no bones, making Marquez's eyes blur. Marquez kept backing away, following Ke Lu. In order to not let his defense be disturbed, he could only stabilize his emotions and focus on the ball, but suddenly realized that there was no ball under Ke Lu's constantly crossing feet!

"Watch him!" Suddenly hearing Xavi's loud shout, he realized that Zhang Jun had rushed towards the ball! When did he appear there? Marquez didn't have time to think about this question carefully and accelerated to destroy the ball. Because it looked like Zhang Jun was going to shoot directly, so there was a good chance he could clear it out.

But what if it wasn't a direct shot?

Then leave it to fate…

Zhang Jun swung his right leg, no matter what, it looked like a standard long-range shooting posture, right? But Zhang Jun didn't do that. He swung out fiercely, but kicked air, then swung back to knock the ball towards his rear. Who would be behind him at this time?

Mascherano unhesitatingly passed the ball that Zhang Jun had knocked to him to the left, where Gasbarroni received the ball!

A beautiful pass! Fiorentina was playing the opponent at Barcelona's home, and that back-heel pass and Ke Lu's deceptive feints were like slaps, hitting the faces of their fans squarely. Only Real Madrid had ever dared to play like this in front of them, but now a team from a conservative and declining league dared to play such flashy football in front of them.

Gasbarroni quickly kicked the ball into the penalty area while Barca's defense was not in place.

Morientes jumped high in front of the goal and powerfully headed the ball, but Valdes caught it again. But this attack made Barcelona's heart pound.

A defensive counterattack, but not just aimlessly passing the ball long! As long as the ball reached the front field, then Fiorentina's several attacking players had the ability to turn a monotonous long pass into a screaming passing combination.

Gasbarroni spat. It was a pity that the ball didn't go in. Because of sticking to the defensive counterattack tactic, Fiorentina didn't have many opportunities to attack the opponent's goal in one breath like this.

※※※

Time passed by minute by minute, and the match continued intensely. Although both sides were currently playing fiercely, they were still somewhat restrained, only making slightly larger movements when defending and attacking, and there weren't many direct physical and verbal conflicts yet.

But just as the first half was about to end, the scene took an unexpected turn.

Eto'o was dribbling the ball, and Ke Lu was faithfully fulfilling the coach's tactical requirement—to actively press back in the midfield. He was closest to Eto'o, who was dribbling, so he went up to defend as a matter of course.

Seeing that it wasn't Xiang Tao who was defending him this time, but a midfielder, Eto'o thought he finally had a chance. Watch me break through you with speed!

But just as he was about to accelerate, he felt something catch his heel, and then he stumbled, not controlling the ball well.

This was of course Ke Lu running behind him, using his body to block the referee's view, and then using his cleats to lightly hook Eto'o's shoe. Just this light hook made Eto'o lose his balance. He took the opportunity to get ahead and steal the ball.

However, as the African Footballer of the Year, Eto'o wasn't going to give up control of the ball so easily. He reached out to block Ke Lu, then cut across, attempting to block Ke Lu and protect the ball.

Seeing that there was no opportunity, Ke Lu used his despicable and shameless small movements again. In the process of continuing to run, he kneed Eto'o's thigh, making it impossible for him to run with force, and at the same time, his rhythm was completely disrupted. Ke Lu took this opportunity to completely knock the ball out of Eto'o's control range.

Eto'o angrily waved to the referee, signaling that Ke Lu had fouled, but unfortunately, neither the referee nor the linesman saw what happened when the two bodies were close together, so they didn't indicate anything, only signaling play on.

Ke Lu turned his head and looked at Eto'o, a mocking smile on his lips. This completely infuriated Eto'o.

His mood was already very bad under the entanglement of Xiang Tao's small movements, and now he had been dispossessed by someone using small movements and even mocked in return. This was something that the proud Eto'o couldn't accept.

Eto'o's anger flared at Ke Lu's shameless face. He frowned, then pursed his lips and suddenly spat at Ke Lu!

The spit hit Ke Lu's face squarely.

Ke Lu's eyes changed at that moment.

Unfortunately, the referee's back was to them at this time, and he didn't know about this sudden scene in the corner of the field. However, Xiang Tao, who was closest, saw everything clearly. He rushed up suddenly, and without saying a word, raised his left foot and stomped hard on Eto'o's stomach!

Eto'o immediately clutched his stomach and knelt down!

※※※

Camp Nou erupted in a huge boo again. This time, it was accompanied by all kinds of curses, and along with the boos and curses came all kinds of coins, lighters, and small hard objects.

Xiang Tao, however, ignored these external threats. After stomping Eto'o to his knees, he wanted to chase after him to slap him. Fortunately, Ke Lu stopped him.

"Let go of me! Let me go beat that bitch! Spitting, he's a woman! A shrew! A hag! A son of a bitch!" Xiang Tao shouted. He had actually wanted to beat Eto'o for a long time. Ever since he heard the crap that Eto'o had said, he had wanted to use his fists or cleats to teach the African what politeness was.

While he was shouting and yelling, Eto'o lay on the ground clutching his abdomen, unsure if Xiang Tao's kick had hit his vitals.

The whistle finally blew. The referee rushed over, and at the same time, players from both sides quickly surrounded them, separating the two and naturally not forgetting to push and shove, making the situation even more chaotic.

Zhang Jun naturally rushed to the front, grabbing Ke Lu and Xiang Tao, and asking repeatedly, "What's going on? How did this fight start?"

Xiang Tao pointed at Eto'o on the ground and shouted, "This son of a bitch spit on Ke Lu!"

Zhang Jun turned to look at Eto'o lying on the ground in pain. Of course, he wouldn't think that Xiang Tao would hit the other guy for no reason, but now Eto'o was lying on the ground, obviously a victim. The referee, like him, hadn't seen what happened earlier. He only knew that Xiang Tao had hit someone. This was very unfavorable for them.

"Damn it! He spat, you report it! Why did you rush up and hit him?!" Zhang Jun cursed, but he left the two and squeezed towards the referee. He wanted to explain the situation to the referee.

On the other side, Barca's players were pulling the referee to look at Eto'o's miserable state on the ground, complaining about Xiang Tao's obvious injury-causing actions. They hoped the referee would give him a straight red card and send him off.

Zhang Jun complained to the referee that Eto'o had spat on Ke Lu. The referee looked at Ke Lu's face, but the spit had already been wiped away by Ke Lu, leaving his face clean except for sweat.

This complaint was obviously not very convincing, at least not compared to Eto'o rolling back and forth on the ground.

So he turned to ask the linesman. When the referee couldn't make a decision, he always needed to repeatedly consult the linesman.

But the place where the incident happened was very bad, because there was no linesman near this sideline. The linesman was at the other end of the field. The linesman's answer to the referee was to shake his head: "I didn't see if Eto'o spat on Ke Lu, and I can't be sure that he really did it, but Xiang's injury-causing actions are clear and beyond doubt."

What was there to say now? The linesman was the biggest reference before the referee made a decision. He said that Xiang Tao was guilty, so Xiang Tao couldn't escape death.

The referee whistled and dispersed the players from both sides who were still standing together and looking at each other with hostility, then waved for Xiang Tao to come over.

Since that flying kick landed on Eto'o's stomach, Xiang Tao had been aware of this. He didn't go towards the referee, but turned around and walked directly off the field.

Sure enough, the referee raised the red card high behind him.

Camp Nou applauded thunderously. Of course, their applause was dedicated to the "fair and selfless" referee.

Fiorentina's players weren't happy. Eto'o had provoked them first and spat on Ke Lu. He should be banned from competition for a year just for spitting on him. Why was Xiang Tao sent off and Eto'o just carried to the sidelines for treatment? They protested non-stop to the referee.

After the referee showed Mascherano and Gasbarroni yellow cards respectively, he managed to calm the situation down, and no Fiorentina players dared to act rashly anymore.

"You can't fight the inevitable, what are you guys making a fuss about? The referee has made a ruling, can we still make him change it?" Zhang Jun scolded the players who received cards. The start had been very smooth, but unexpectedly this happened near the end of the first half. The numerical disadvantage would last for a whole half of the match, nearly fifty minutes. Facing the powerful Barcelona, how long could Fiorentina, playing with ten men, hold on? And there were two idiots who actively applied for yellow cards.

Barcelona now had the capital to dream of their victory.

Even more displeasing to Fiorentina fans was that Eto'o, who had been kicked in the stomach like something out of Chinese kung fu, actually returned to the field after receiving simple treatment!

Just as Eto'o returned to the field and hadn't had time to touch the ball, the referee blew the whistle to end the first half. Fiorentina led 1-0, but the outlook was not optimistic.

※※※

"Idiot! Moron!" Sabato roared at Xiang Tao in the locker room. Everyone else was silent, afraid of drawing the coach's anger onto themselves at this time.

Xiang Tao, who was being scolded, shrank his neck and honestly let the coach vent. He also knew that he had been too impulsive. Seeing Ke Lu's face being spat on, he had rushed over in a fit of rage, and he wouldn't feel comfortable until he knocked that bastard down. At the time, he didn't consider the consequences of his actions and the impact it would have on the team.

"Incompetent! Too incompetent!" Sabato continued to scold. "Look at you! One meter eighty-three, seventy-six kilograms! A hundred meters in eleven point seven seconds, and you only made that black monkey rest outside the field for three minutes with that flying kick! Incompetent! Waste! Why did you kick his stomach, which has the most meat? Why didn't you kick his knee? Ankle? Shin? This is the Champions League! Either don't foul! If you're going to foul, give me a big one! Why didn't you just cripple him for the rest of the season?!"

Not to mention Xiang Tao, even the other players and Di Livio were surprised and raised their heads, seemingly unable to believe what they had just heard.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? Haven't seen this face before? Do you have any objections? Xiang Tao!"

Xiang Tao felt a little relieved that the boss wasn't blaming him for the foul. "No...doesn't the boss blame me for actively applying for a red card and leaving the field early?"

Sabato's face darkened: "Blame! Of course I blame you! But you're already off the field, what's the use of me blaming you? Damn it, Eto'o only rested for three minutes! Xiang Tao, I want you to remember, this is your mistake, your disgrace! Aren't you known as the black-footed king? Didn't you say that your defense is fierce? Why were you helpless against that African black devil?"

Xiang Tao muttered, "I was too anxious...I originally wanted to kick him there..."

"Then you should have gone from the bottom up, kicking between his legs!"

"I didn't think it through carefully..."

"Your IQ must be negative!" Sabato finished scolding Xiang Tao, then paused slightly. He had to rearrange the tactics for the second half. With one less player on the field, and the one sent off being a defender, the only way for Fiorentina to stick to their defensive counterattack was to sacrifice their attack.

"Morientes, this game will have to be tough on you. We need defenders now, losing one forward is okay. Second half..." Sabato looked at the players in the locker room. "Andrella, you're coming on in the second half. Ujfalusi will switch to left back."

He was talking about Andrella Svensson, the young defender who transferred from the Swedish Super League this season. Since Ujfalusi was in good shape, he hadn't had many opportunities to play. He didn't expect that his rare chance to play would be in such an important Champions League match.

Svensson nodded vigorously. This big defender's personality was like his appearance, very honest. The people in the team actually liked this honest man a lot - actually Xiang Tao and Gasbarroni liked to bully him. Svensson had always been silent, and no one in the lively Fiorentina team treated him as an outsider.

Xiang Tao quickly said: "That's right! Svensson (Xiang Tao's nickname for Svensson, because of the Chinese homophone. And also because this monster, who is one meter ninety-five tall and weighs eighty-eight kilograms, is very polite, humble and cautious off the field. Teammates always used Svensson to mock Xiang Tao's rudeness, so Xiang Tao simply called Svensson - Svensson.), you're replacing me on the field, don't embarrass me! This is the Champions League, you're not nervous, are you? Huh? Why are your legs shaking?" Svensson's legs were of course not shaking. He was twenty-five years old, and he had been with Fiorentina for most of the season. What kind of situation hadn't he seen before? Xiang Tao was bullying an honest man again.

"Shut up! A loser has no right to speak!" Sabato scolded Xiang Tao until he didn't dare to say anything.

Svensson stammered a bit: "I...I am, replacing, replacing Morientes on the field, not you..."

The locker room burst into laughter. It was rare to see Svensson refute Xiang Tao, perhaps because Sabato had scolded Xiang Tao into losing all his momentum, that Svensson dared to say that.

Kehl laughed and said to Svensson: "Don't listen to that rude Xiang, I think this is a very good opportunity. We defenders promised before the match that we wouldn't let Barcelona score, I hope you can do it too. Work hard, cheer up, and completely squeeze Xiang onto the bench!"

Xiang Tao snorted and said nothing. He was a sinner now, it was better to speak less.

Ke Lu changed seats, sat next to Xiang Tao, and then said softly: "Don't expect me to be grateful to you for sticking up for me, idiot."

Xiang Tao's eyes widened: "Damn, I didn't stick up for you, I was saving Eto'o's life. If I hadn't acted, I think you would have wanted to kill him, right?"

Ke Lu also snorted.

"I'm saying, this is a football match, don't cause any bloodshed, okay?"

"Don't make excuses for your stupidity, impulsiveness is impulsiveness. Being sent off or staying on the field, the choice is yours, but only by staying on the field can you more effectively retaliate against your opponent. That's why I said you're an idiot. I also agree with what the boss said, either you and Eto'o go off together, you get sent off, and he gets carried into the hospital. Or you and him stay on the field together, and then torture him for a full forty-five minutes. But you, with your negative IQ, chose the third option, so stupid."

Xiang Tao shrugged and spread his hands: "I'm an action guy, and you're a schemer, we just have different personalities, it's not about being stupid or not. Besides, I just lost my footing for a moment. With so many years of experience watching porn, I know the human body like the back of my hand, it's just because of a slight deviation that I stomped the wrong target."

Ke Lu ignored Xiang Tao's incessant chatter, he switched back to his original seat and sat back next to Zhang Jun.

"Why did you change seats?" Zhang Jun asked Ke Lu next to him.

"To thank some idiot, otherwise I would be the one leaving now." Ke Lu said, staring at the ceiling.

※※※

Meanwhile, in the Barcelona locker room, everyone was concerned about Eto'o's condition, because he was the team's top scorer, and they relied on him to score goals.

"Samuel, are you okay? I thought that Chinese kid kicked pretty hard," Ronaldinho asked caringly.

Eto'o shook his head, his face looking very unhappy. "I'm fine, that weakling couldn't hurt me."

"That's right, that's right, our Samuel's body is really strong. That Chinese guy must not have expected that being sent off wouldn't even hurt Samuel," someone echoed.

"Damn it! Those two Chinese guys have so many small movements! I always thought that only South Americans had so many annoying small movements, I didn't expect the Chinese to be like that too!" Eto'o, a simple-minded person with well-developed limbs, only cared about complaining about his opponents, but didn't consider that there were also many South Americans on his team, and some people's expressions immediately changed.

Messi was also a person with a few screws loose, and he also complained about the Chinese players' small movements. Of course, he was also a little disappointed, because it was Xiang Tao who hit him, not Ke Lu. He would have been happy to see Ke Lu sent off.

Rijkaard was still studying tactical arrangements and had no intention of paying attention to the players' comments.

Fiorentina unexpectedly adopted a defensive counterattack tactic, which he hadn't expected at the beginning. Barcelona's first goal was conceded for this reason, and Rijkaard admitted that it was his mistake. So now, during halftime, he had plenty of time to prepare countermeasures.

Obviously, if Fiorentina played a defensive counterattack, he couldn't follow suit. He still had to choose to attack, and attacking meant taking the risk of gaps appearing in the back that the opponent could exploit to launch a counterattack. At the same time, there was still a variable with Fiorentina that he had to guard against - Fiorentina was now short a defender, would they still insist on playing a defensive counterattack?

Rijkaard considered for a long time and decided to bet that the crazy coach would stick to the defensive counterattack. The remaining issue was how to allow his team to both maintain pressure on Fiorentina with their attack, while also allowing their already not very strong defense to resist Fiorentina's sharp counterattacks.

This was a somewhat difficult choice. Perhaps the only way was to require the players to give more effort. While attacking, at least three players in the backfield were not allowed to participate in the attack. In addition, Deco and Xavi would form a double defensive midfielder. Also, they would learn from Fiorentina and require the forwards to press on the spot after losing the ball in the front field, not allowing Fiorentina to easily launch a quick attack.

As long as they could turn the fast counterattack into positional offense and defense, then Barcelona would have won half the battle.

※※※

Just before going on the field, Eto'o felt a faint pain in the root of his thigh, but he didn't take it to heart, because the pain only lasted for a short second and then disappeared.

Xiang Tao, on the other hand, sat gloomily in the locker room, watching the situation on the field through the television broadcast.

Barcelona fans were as enthusiastic as ever. When the home team took the field, there was thunderous applause, while when Fiorentina took the field, they were greeted only with piercing boos.

Svensson's height of one meter ninety-five was very conspicuous in the crowd, and the commentator spotted him at a glance.

"Fiorentina has made personnel adjustments. Sabato has replaced forward Morientes with Andrella Svensson. It looks like he still plans to defend steadily first, and then look for opportunities to counterattack. Andrella Svensson is twenty-five years old this year, from the Swedish Super League team Malmö FF, he is one meter ninety-five tall, and is a defender with outstanding aerial ability. Before he went to Fiorentina, many big European teams were after him. Now at Fiorentina, he doesn't get many opportunities to play, but his performances every time he plays are remarkable."

Rijkaard also noticed this substitution, and he smiled smugly in his heart. It seemed that he had bet correctly during the halftime break, so Barcelona, who had one more player than their opponent in the second half, had an even better chance of winning.

As long as they could contain Fiorentina's counterattack, the numerical advantage would eventually be fully realized, and then Camp Nou would be Barcelona's world.

In the press box, Li Yan was arguing with a domestic colleague, his face red. Because the other party was a reporter stationed in Barcelona for a large domestic sports media outlet, he was naturally a Barcelona supporter. Li Yan, on the other hand, definitely represented the interests of Fiorentina, so the two had been arguing throughout the halftime break about which side had a better chance of winning this match.

The other party insisted that it was Barcelona. If it had been the first twenty minutes before the game, he might not have been so sure, but it was different now. Fiorentina had been sent off early with a red card, and Barcelona was at home, with great strength. It would be unreasonable if they didn't win. Li Yan, on the other hand, had the most contact with and knowledge of the Fiorentina team, and although he couldn't say the specific reasons, he believed that Sabato, that slippery guy, wouldn't be willing to let Barcelona take the numerical advantage so easily. He must have a way, and Zhang Jun's condition was also not to be ignored.

※※※

Sure enough, Sabato didn't take the opponent's numerical advantage to heart, because before the second half started, he had said this to his men: "Although we have one less player than our opponents, I don't think this is a factor that will affect the final result. As for how to play with one less player, how to control the game, I would like to recommend a match to everyone, you should carefully recall it, and then you will know how we should play in the second half."

"What match?" someone asked impatiently.

"The quarter-final match between Brazil and England at the 2002 World Cup. Think carefully about why Brazil had a higher ball possession rate than England when they had one less player, not only successfully defending their one-goal lead, but also threatening England's goal several times, not giving them any chance to equalize."

In that match, Ronaldinho's accidental dismissal didn't sound the horn for England to counterattack, but on the contrary