Chapter 1 Rainbow Old Lady

London Bridge at night was radiant with shimmering colors.

The Thames seemed draped in a colorful skirt belonging to the Queen of England.

"Rainbow Old Lady."

"The Other Side of the Coin."

People on the riverbank slowed their pace, listening intently, vaguely sensing the surging passion erupting from Stamford Bridge in the distance.

"Now, let me introduce the starting lineups for both sides."

"Chelsea's formation is 4-2-3-1."

"Goalkeeper: Buffon."

"Defenders: Azpilicueta, David Luiz, Cahill, Rudiger."

"Defensive midfielders: Kante, Fabregas."

"Attacking midfielders: Hazard, Li Kang, William."

"Forward: Morata."

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[Is 4231 the most balanced, attack-and-defense-integrated formation?]

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[No, it depends on the individual's style and characteristics. For example, this starting lineup is definitely not a traditional balanced formation.]

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[Just took a look at the Premier League scorer list, Salah, Li Kang, and Kane are in a league of their own.]

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[Provisional Champions League scorer list... Salah, Firmino, and Li Kang are also in a league of their own.]

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[Really? Is Liverpool that awesome now? I thought the main striker was Benteke!]

"Paris Saint-Germain's formation is 4-2-3-1!"

"Goalkeeper: Areola."

"Defenders: Alves, Thiago Silva, Kimpembe, Kurzawa."

"Defensive midfielders: Motta, Verratti."

"Attacking midfielders: Mbappe, Neymar, Di Maria."

"Forward: Cavani."

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[Does Paris have no one else? Letting 35-year-old Motta start.]

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[He's been in good form this year. Besides the decline in physical confrontation, he's getting more and more crafty in other aspects. Even the young guns can't compete with him.]

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[Who is Motta?]

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[The originator of the Barcelona contract-breaking trend.]

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[The male lead of the Busquets face-covering incident.]

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[Male lead template, young Motta vs. Zidane.]

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[Spent his childhood in the Juventus youth academy, a substitute student at La Masia, Barcelona's main midfielder at 18, seriously injured at 20, returned at 23 and won the Champions League as a main player, seriously injured at 24, sold to Atletico Madrid for 1.5 million euros due to severe injuries at 25, later became a free agent... Joined Inter Milan at 27, orchestrated two counter-attacks in the semi-finals, defeated Barcelona, and was the core midfielder of Inter's treble-winning team.]

Accompanied by the referee's whistle.

The match officially began.

Possession for Paris Saint-Germain.

Cavani passed the ball back to Motta from the kickoff.

Motta is a "Van Gaal's improved version of the No. 4 position," with attribute points leaning towards individual attributes, becoming a super support pivot.

Van Gaal improved the La Masia No. 4 position twice, and one version of the finished product was the "decentralized" Motta.

He believed that few players in later generations could have Cruyff's brain, and this change could greatly improve players' compatibility in different frameworks, allowing them to thrive even after leaving the Barcelona system.

A king-level midfielder who can adapt to any team and excel in the "transition to attack" phase.

However, it indirectly led to Motta's ability to launch "independent attacks" in the "defensive zone" being the most mediocre in "data" among all generations of No. 4 players.

Xavi's career path was different.

He played the "orthodox La Masia No. 4 position" in the youth team and the early stages of the first team.

Old Van couldn't perform major surgery on him.

No matter how he changed it, it wouldn't be suitable.

Later, Inaki Saez, the coach of the Spanish national youth team, had Xavi try a more advanced playing style in the 1999 World Youth Championship and the 2000 Sydney Olympics.

Many years later, came the story of Guardiola and "Xaviesta."

"Paris Saint-Germain is playing very smoothly tonight."

"The passing routes are very reasonable."

"They've advanced to Chelsea's half."

"The ball is lost."

"They've won it back again."

Time ticked away, minute by minute.

The scene was slightly dull.

Motta patiently organized Paris Saint-Germain's advance.

But the football was constantly being kicked out of bounds by Chelsea players.

Paris Saint-Germain, actively counterattacking and determined to reverse the situation, seemed to be punching the Thames.

Tuchel's right hand pressed down from time to time, signaling his players to suppress the opponent's rhythm.

VIP box.

Abramovich anxiously scratched the back of his hand.

"Why do we always let the other side control the ball? Why do we keep kicking the ball out of bounds?"

Technical Director Petr Cech quickly explained, "The strategic inclinations of the two coaches are different at the beginning of the game... We are leading by three goals from the first leg, there's no need to rush..."

Abramovich interrupted, "Of course, I know that!"

Chelsea's rate of changing coaches is very fast.

Even if you win the championship and meet the club's objective needs, you must also meet the boss's spiritual needs... For example, during Mourinho's first tenure, even after the youthful Robben recovered, they still had to play beautiful, coordinated, and fluid attacking football.

16 minutes into the match.

Paris Saint-Germain finally got a chance to speed up.

"Alves passes the ball to Neymar."

"The tempo suddenly picks up!"

Chelsea's midfield barrier formed a four-man defensive matrix.

Neymar, who has gained weight, never plays fancy tricks in unfavorable situations.

Shielding the ball and turning around.

Forcefully bumping Fabregas away.

Dribbling diagonally to the left!

Then a sudden stop, a stride to twist his waist, bending his knees and lowering his shoulders, and then breaking through in the opposite direction, accelerating to get rid of him!

"The footwork is too gorgeous, everything happened too fast."

"Gorgeous yet concise."

"There are many support points around him."

"Kante's frontal interception!"

Neymar didn't entangle with the French shorty, nor did he pass a safe ball to the back, transferring the pressure to his teammates.

He joined Paris Saint-Germain to be the team's core!

He must shoulder the responsibility of breaking the deadlock.

Snap!

Neymar flashed and maneuvered, carving out a passing angle.

The football lightly arched over Chelsea's defense!

Falling straight to the left side of the penalty area.

"Mbappe, it's Mbappe on the left!"

Paris Saint-Germain's "reckless spending of 400 million" is actually a bit contradictory.

Neymar and Mbappe are both left-wing players.

In ordinary matches, the young Mbappe has to play on the right, after all, it is too cumbersome to cross and switch to the other wing during the formation of the "autonomous attack chain."

After losing the first leg, Emery reflected deeply and redeployed the forward formation.

The comments flew across the screen.

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[If Neymar transferred to an upper-tier Premier League team, wouldn't he be a greater threat as an attacking core?]

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[His dad wouldn't agree, Paris Saint-Germain pays more.]

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[Neymar has the most endorsements this year, 38, but the endorsement fees are only one-third of Messi and Ronaldo's. It's all his dad's haphazard deals, infuriating the NR agency team.]

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[His dad took an underwear advertisement and wanted Neymar to show his underwear during the match.]

Mbappe controlled the football.

For a moment, he couldn't adjust his body posture.

Because Azpilicueta's reaction was equally quick, quickly putting pressure on the talented kid.

"Kurzawa's insertion is very timely."

"Mbappe pushes the ball over."

"The Paris full-back smoothly makes a horizontal pass!"

"The football sweeps to the center."

"The space for attack is open."

"Cavani holds the ball with his back to the goal!"

"Neymar's forward insertion..."

Paris Saint-Germain, on the edge of the cliff, had their morale soaring.

Bang!

Neymar shot!

The football howled and hit Cahill's butt!

A cheer erupted from Stamford Bridge.

Paris had a top-notch attacking group, but Chelsea's defense was not to be underestimated.

The football lost control.

Bouncing towards the right half.

Fabregas and Motta seemed to have predicted the trajectory of its rolling in advance.

The masterpieces of two generations of La Masia youth training unfolded their first head-on confrontation tonight.

The result...

Neither of them touched the ball.

The former deliberately missed the ball, the latter waited for the opportunity to shoot.

The football recklessly bounced past Fabregas's crotch.

A black shadow with an afro streaked across the right half.

"William!"

"Galloping at full speed!"

"Paris Saint-Germain needs to organize their defensive positions as soon as possible!"

William dribbled the ball past the center circle.

Slowing his pace, leaning his body.

Snap!

The football skimmed the grass, leaping towards the left half.

Li Kang sprinted forward.

Unloading the football with his left foot while running.

"No extra adjustments."

"One stop, one unload, smooth."

"The football seems to be a part of his body."

At Stamford Bridge, the home fans erupted in deafening cheers.

In the God's-eye view.

Countless blue stars rose from the four stands, converging into blue rivers in the air.

Power of faith.

"Paris fans don't need to worry too much."

"Thiago Silva learned from the first leg and intercepted head-on."

"Teammates are assisting in place, blocking the connection between Li Kang, Hazard, and Morata."

"Verratti is about to catch up."

"The overall defensive efficiency of the formation is too high."

Li Kang slowed his pace.

Adjusting his steps.

[Blue Angel (Legend Module) triggered.]

[All faith power has been consumed.]

[Energy is being substantially enhanced]

Accompanied by a cub's roar.

In Li Kang's vision, a blue phantom was condensing.

Number 10 jersey.

Messi.

"Here's two for ya!"

Thiago Silva, Verratti, and Kimpembe formed a three-man encirclement.

About to shrink the defensive spacing and complete the kill.

Li Kang's movements completely overlapped with Messi's phantom.

The next moment.

Everyone was stunned.

Thirty meters from the goal.

Under the premise of three-man interference.

Li Kang, on the left half, wound up his left foot.

Hazard looked astonished.

Morata's eyes were dull.

The Paris defenders were clueless.

Bang!

Accompanied by a crisp sound.

A black shadow, like a sharp blade, pierced through Paris Saint-Germain's defense.

The football skimmed the grass, heading towards the right side of the goal.

Areola quickly made a save... to no avail.

The Filipino goalkeeper looked at the trajectory of the football, doubting his life: Why did it bounce twice after rolling into the penalty area?

The net was lifted from bottom to top by the rolling football.

1:0!!!

Stamford Bridge immediately erupted in a landslide-like cheer.

"Beautiful!"

"Goal!"

"Reverse ground shot!"

"Broadcast technology animation... gives the distance between him and the goal, 31.85 meters!"

"Left half, left foot, far post, 31.85 meters, ground shot, bounce... these words combined together are too contrary to the common sense of fans."

"Incredible."

"Shocking."

"Inconceivable."

"The aggregate score has reached 4:0, the suspense of advancement is getting smaller and smaller, but there is still a lot of time left for Paris Saint-Germain in the match..."

Live broadcast room.

The big screen replayed Li Kang's goal from various angles.

Comments flew across the screen.

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[Terrifying!]

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[I thought this ball was going to be passed to Morata.]

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[The shooting posture is so handsome.]

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[Reverse ground shot! The Paris defenders would never have thought of playing it like that even with their butts!]

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[I originally thought that Messi's ground shot highlights were already invincible, but I didn't expect someone to be as brave as him!]

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[Cahill blocked Neymar's shot with his butt, and used the rebound of the football to forcibly create this transition attack, Fabregas leaked the ball, William made a wide-range transfer, Morata and Hazard opened up the offensive angle, Li Kang made a fatal blow!]

Li Kang spread his arms in place.

Teammates rushed up one after another, excitedly ruffling his black hair.

Teacher Berenta once said: "If you don't know what celebration to use, let your teammates celebrate."

The entire Stamford Bridge was echoing with the hero's name.

This time, there was no vast blue galaxy emerging.

Only a few stars slowly drifted over.

Gradually.

Not a single drop was left.

The home fans' power of faith had been drained again this week...

Hunger.

Chelsea, from top to bottom, were hungry for European honors.

They didn't have Champions League to play last season, and now they've almost stepped into the quarter-finals.

"Li, I knew you could kick it in."

"Yeah, I guessed you were going to shoot just now, so I ran to drag Alves away!"

Some were happy, some were sad.

Areola supported the goalpost, gently pounding it. The Filipino youngster already sensed that after playing two legs against Chelsea, his position as the main goalkeeper at Paris Saint-Germain... God couldn't save it.

Kimpembe scratched his crotch and said, "Alphonse, as a yellow man, you should be proud of Li, which goalkeeper hasn't had his goal broken by him?"

While comforting him, the kid also reached out and touched Areola's head.

Thiago Silva sadly tugged at the grass.

Neymar stared gloomily at Cahill's butt... How could someone use their butt to complete such a smooth "transition from defense to offense"?

Mbappe picked up the football from the net, silently ran back to the center circle, his expression calm.

Sideline.

Tuchel excitedly took off his baseball cap, the bare top of his head reflected the spotlights.

Dino breathed rapidly:

"Boss, Li is amazing, who would have thought he'd shoot in that environment... Um, your offensive design is also great!"

"We're leading by 4 goals on aggregate! We can advance even if we just sit on the coaching bench and do nothing!"

On the other side.

Emery's expression was helpless.

He rubbed his face vigorously, quickly adjusted his mentality, and continued to direct his players.

Even if they lost, they had to leave Stamford Bridge with their heads held high.

VIP box.

Bang, bang, bang!

Abramovich excitedly pounded the table.

Cech, wearing a suit and leather shoes, quickly bent down to catch the glass that fell from the table.

"This is what you call football!"

"Quickly build a statue of Li outside Stamford Bridge!"

The staff looked helpless.

Build a statue? In theory, they would have to wait for Li to play for Chelsea for a few more seasons.

Anfield Stadium.

More than an hour away from the start of the match.

Messi, who had finished warming up, held a tablet, his expression astonished.

On the screen, slow motion replayed Li Kang's shooting action frame by frame...