Soccer: If they're using these kinds of cheats, what's the point of training?

After scoring, Yellen slipped on the grass and slid into the goal, crashing into the net along with the ball.

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!" Bate roared, venting his joy after scoring the goal!

"Goal! Yellen! Yellen has tied the score!" Liu Jianhong's voice boomed in the studio. "A wild assist! This is his first assist of the game—"

No, wasn't the first assist a pass to Yellen in the first half? Did Zhang Kuang have any assists in the first half? Of the three goals in the first half, one was Zhang Kuang's long-range shot, one was his solo run, and the other was his assist—all three goals came from Zhang Kuang!

Xu Yang added from the side, his voice carrying an almost devout solemnity: "Three goals, Zhang Kuang scored two himself and assisted one."

All of Auxerre's threatening attacks in the first half came from Zhang Kuang alone. This statistic is terrifying—when your team is in trouble, there's one person who can step up and single-handedly pull the team back from the brink. That's the value of a world-class star.

Yellen crawled out of the net and sprinted towards the corner flag like a madman. His face wore an almost ecstatic expression—not because he had scored, but because he had not let down Zhang Kuang's trust at the most crucial moment.

He ran halfway, then suddenly stopped, turned around, and ran towards Zhang Kuang.

The two met near the center circle. Yellen grabbed Zhang Kuang's shoulders with both hands, her eyes reddening, and said, "Thank you."

Zhang Kuang patted his face: "Don't cry. The competition isn't over yet."

However, at that moment, Grenoble's head coach, Mohammed, slammed down a bottle of water and left the stadium before the game was over, heading into the locker room.

He must be utterly exhausted by now, right? Resentful of the extreme unfairness of fate, perhaps even starting to doubt himself?

Anyone in this situation would likely feel disappointed, despondent, blame others, and give up on themselves...

Two minutes of added time in the first half ended, and the referee blew the whistle for halftime.

3:3.

On the scoreboard at Stade Storr, the number left all neutral spectators in disbelief. Grenoble, bottom of the league, had breached the defense of Ligue 1's best team three times in the first half and had even taken a two-goal lead at one point.

But even more incredibly, Auxerre, trailing 3-1, pulled off a spectacular solo performance to tie the score at 3-3.

As Zhang Kuang walked arrogantly toward the players' tunnel, the entire Auxerre fan in the away stands stood up and chanted his name.

"Zhang! Zhang! Zhang!"

The sound was exceptionally clear in the night breeze at the foot of the Alps.

Upon entering the locker room, it's easy to see that both teams were extremely dissatisfied with the current score.

Fernandez slammed the door to the away team's locker room shut from the inside with a dull thud.

That wasn't a normal door closing sound; it was a forceful, emotional slam, the kind of slam that seemed to shake the door frame apart.

"Bang!"

Everyone in the locker room fell silent.

No one spoke, no one looked at each other. Some people were looking down to untie their shoelaces, some were wiping their faces with towels, and some were leaning back in their chairs, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Grihidin placed an ice pack on his knees and looked at the ground.

Pedretti sat on a bench in the corner, his hands crossed on his knees, his expression blank.

Fernandez stood in the center of the locker room, neither sitting down nor taking out his tactical board, nor even removing his work badge from around his neck. He just stood there, his gaze sweeping over the faces of every player.

The silence lasted for nearly ten seconds.

"What did you play in the first half?" Fernandez finally spoke, his voice not loud, but every word pierced everyone's ears like nails.

No one answered.

"I'm asking you guys. What were you playing in the first half?"

Silence remained.

Grihidin's lips moved slightly, but he ultimately said nothing.

"Three goals conceded." Fernandez held up three fingers. "The first was a defensive lapse in midfield and backfield, and Sorin's save went awry."

Secondly, the defense made another lapse, and Sorin fumbled the save. Thirdly, the midfield defense collectively lost focus, allowing Matsui Daisuke to shoot inside the penalty area.

"What are you trying to do? Collude with the enemy? Did you bet a lot of money on the high-odds over and under and expect it to lose? Is this still the best defensive team in Ligue 1 this season? What, don't you want the championship...?"

Sorin lowered his head and covered his face with a towel. Fernandez cursed for a full ten minutes in the locker room.

After his tirade, he showered Zhang Kuang with praise, and in the final five minutes, he made new tactical arrangements:

Zhang Kuang acted as a free agent in the attacking third, while Yellen positioned himself in front of the opponent's defense, always pushing back and in a position where he could break the offside trap at any moment, effectively preventing Grenoble's formation from pushing too far forward.

The others were focused on defense, specifically containing Grenoble's most active Japanese midfielder and several forwards. Humbert was also tasked with assisting Sorin in guarding the goal, rushing to the goal line to cover any gaps when the opponent prepared to shoot.

The atmosphere in the home team's locker room was completely different.

The 3-3 scoreline left Grenoble's players both excited and frustrated. Excited because they had scored three goals in the first half against one of Ligue 1's best defensive teams.

Frustratingly, they were up by two goals but were tied by a single player.

Mohammed Bazdarevic closed the door and looked at his players.

He showed no anger, no blame.

His tone was calm, as calm as if he were chatting with a friend.

"You played very well in the first half." His first words made everyone look up.

"Our tactics were executed perfectly. We shut down Pedretti, we controlled the midfield, and we breached Auxerre's goal three times."

If someone had told me before the game that the score would be 3-3 at halftime, I would have said that was impossible. But our performance deserved that score.

He paused.

"but."

Everyone knew that "but" was coming.

"The opposing team has an ace player, and that ace player is Zhang Kuang. This is the configuration of a top team. He scored two goals and assisted one.

His second goal—that solo run from midfield—wasn't a tactical problem. You defended very well, double-teaming him, triple-teaming him, and he still got past you.

That goal wasn't a tactical error; it was a result of overwhelming individual skill. You don't need to feel ashamed of that goal.

He walked to the tactics board, picked up a marker, and drew a big red circle over Zhang Kuang's name.

"The core issue in the second half is only one: how to curb arrogance."

The players looked at each other in bewilderment.

They had used two or three men to contain him, but his explosiveness, speed, and dribbling skills when breaking through on the wing made all the defense futile.

"I know what you're thinking," Bazdarevich said. "You're thinking—we've used three men, why can't we stop them?"

No one answered, but everyone's expression said "yes".

"Because we weren't tough enough on him," Bazdarevich's voice turned cold. "In the second half, we can be more aggressive in our defense against him. We can tackle harder, engage in more physical battles, and use more dirty tricks—anything is fine as long as we don't get a red card."

Matsui Daisuke sat in the corner, touching his chest, which was still throbbing from the impact.

He had seen strong players before, but the kind of strength that was arrogant wasn't strength in terms of muscle mass, but rather an overwhelming dominance in terms of bone density, muscle density, and body structure.

That feeling is like trying to crash a bicycle into a tank; you're always the one who gets hurt.

"Matsui," Bazdarevich called his name.

Matsui Daisuke raised his head.

"In the second half, you should move further forward and avoid getting too involved in defense. We need to utilize your attacking abilities and look for opportunities in the gaps in Auxerre's defense."

Matsui Daisuke nodded, but he knew in his heart that the focus of the second half was not his attack, but how to limit that Chinese player.