Chapter 1 The Beginning

It was nine o'clock in the evening Beijing time, five o'clock in the afternoon local time. With the referee's whistle, the match began.

Once the game started, the Omani players really did seem like warriors blessed by the gods, full of fighting spirit, running all over the field, completely tireless.

In comparison, the Chinese players showed their lack of adaptation to the high temperature, especially the overseas players. Fatigue combined with the heat meant they weren't in good shape.

Zhou Yi was no exception.

After all, he was just a human, not an omnipotent god who wouldn't make mistakes.

With this ebb and flow, Oman naturally gained the advantage on the field.

They controlled the pace of the game, their attacks were fierce, and the Chinese team could only shrink back and defend to avoid conceding a goal.

Sun Pan performed relatively well, repeatedly saving shots from the Omani team.

But his condition wasn't at its best either. He had finished a league game on the evening of June 1st, flew to Oman the next day, and appeared in the match against Oman on the 4th.

Forget about integrating with the team, he probably didn't even have time to adjust to the time difference.

From arriving in Muscat to playing the game, it was only two days, and the actual time spent training with the team was just June 3rd.

How good could his condition be?

It could be seen from several of his saves during the match.

Normally, he would have caught some of those balls directly in his arms, without giving Oman any corner kicks or chances for a follow-up shot.

But today, he could only push a few of them out of bounds, giving the opposition corner kicks.

Compared to his performances for Atletico Madrid, his body seemed heavy, as if he couldn't jump.

Sun Pan was of course aware of his poor physical condition, but he didn't show it. Every time he saved an opponent's shot, he would get up from the ground, wave his fist, and shout.

This was not only to boost the morale of the whole team, but also to cheer himself on.

But even with his constant saves, he couldn't completely stop the opponent's bombardment.

In the 26th minute of the match, Omani midfielder Qasim Said outside the penalty area suddenly unleashed a long shot. The ball skimmed along the grass towards the lower right corner of the goal.

Sun Pan flew to the ground and flicked the ball with one hand.

But because it was so far away, only his fingertips touched the ball, so he couldn't put much force on it. The ball bounced outwards, hit the post, and then rebounded...

Right into the path of Omani forward Aziz Mubarak, who had darted into the box. He stretched out his foot and poked it, the ball flying over Sun Pan and into the goal!

"Aziz—Mubarak!!! goooooooooooAL!!!" The commentator on Omani television shouted excitedly, waving his arms.

Inside the Sultan Qaboos Sports Complex, there was an uproar. Omani fans wearing traditional Arabic clothing jumped up, waving their Omani team scarves, cheering.

At the same time, the Chinese fans sat in their seats with their heads in their hands, the glaring sunlight reflecting off their pale faces.

"Ah, not good! A goal conceded!"贺平He Ping said in disappointment at the scene.

Before the game, he had worried that the hot weather and the lack of rest for the overseas players would be the biggest problems for the Chinese team. Now the problem had erupted.

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Sun Pan, who had conceded the goal, lay on the ground and punched the ground hard.

"Damn it!"

He knew in his heart that this shouldn't have been the result. He also knew why the goal had been conceded—when he exerted force to push off, he clearly felt that the strength from his legs was insufficient, resulting in him not flying far enough when he pushed off. It was just a tiny bit... but that tiny bit caused the goal to be conceded.

If he was in normal condition, he should have slapped the ball out of bounds with one hand, instead of just grazing it with his fingertips.

The TV broadcast gave close-ups of the Chinese players who had conceded the goal. In the shots, many Chinese players had their mouths wide open, gasping for breath like fish out of water, hoping to suck in more oxygen.

Everyone's jerseys were soaked in sweat, clinging tightly to their bodies.

The game had only started for twenty-six minutes, and they looked like they had been pulled out of the water, exhausted, which was heartbreaking and also made people worry about the prospects for the rest of the match.

"Hey, I don't expect to win, a draw would be good enough..." Someone started saying online, and it was quickly agreed upon.

"That's right, that's right, a draw would be good enough. As long as we win one of the next two games, we'll qualify..."

"Oman's scheduling of this game is too much, as expected of a West Asian team, they'll do anything to gain an advantage!"

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The conceded goal damaged the Chinese team's morale. After the game restarted, Oman took the opportunity to launch a major offensive. For a time, the Chinese goal was in a state of turmoil, with constant dangers.

The Chinese fans in front of the TV and in the stands were very worried, afraid that the next goal would be conceded.

On the sidelines, head coach Gao Hongbo had left the coaching bench and was standing outside the field, nervously watching everything that was happening on the field.

But he didn't have a better solution.

It wasn't that there was a problem with the tactical arrangements, but that the players were in poor condition.

The weather was indeed very hot, so hot that even if you did nothing, your mouth would be dry and you could become dehydrated. Not to mention the players who were running desperately on the field.

Only half an hour into the game, Chinese players kept taking advantage of various dead ball situations to come to the sidelines to ask the coaching staff for water.

They were sweating much more than usual. If they couldn't replenish fluids in time, they would really become dehydrated, and in severe cases, they might faint.

There were no good signs in today's game, as if all the worst situations in the world had converged on the Chinese team.

In fact, Gao Hongbo's goal for this game was not to win, but to draw. A draw would be as good as a victory for him, and completely acceptable. But even so, he didn't expect the situation in today's game to be so severe.

Now it seemed that even a draw wouldn't be so easy to get...

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In the first half, the Chinese team basically didn't have any decent attacks, because almost everyone retreated to their own half to resist Oman's attacks.

Oman's morale was even higher after taking the lead, and they were full of confidence, feeling that they really had a chance to beat the Chinese team at home, so the quality of their attacks was also very high.

The Chinese team had to put in twelve points of effort to cope, in order to barely avoid conceding another goal.

Fortunately, the Chinese team did not concede any more goals until the end of the first half.

When the referee blew the whistle to end the first half, the score was temporarily fixed at 1:0, with Oman leading at home.

"The good news is that we only conceded one goal. The bad news is, looking at the players, it's really worrying how long their stamina can last..." Looking at the Chinese players leaving the field, each one looking exhausted, He Ping said weakly—he was just sitting and commentating, and he felt like he had exhausted all his strength.

He empathized with the players and naturally felt that there was little hope.

Every Chinese player who entered the locker room sat down in their seat and lowered their head in silence.

Everyone was very dissatisfied with the scene and the result of the first half, but they were powerless to do anything.

The high temperature and dehydration made them feel weak.

Everyone who came in did the same, which inevitably made the atmosphere in the locker room oppressive.

As a substitute player, Yan Min sat on the bench in the first half, feeling anxious for the team the whole time. Every shot from the opponent made him squirm in his seat, worried about conceding a goal.

Seeing everyone looking exhausted, he wished he could go on the field himself to help the team. But he also knew that Zhou Yi was right, he was just an intern in the national team, so don't think about getting on the field.

He couldn't contribute his strength on the field, and now seeing his teammates lowering their heads in silence, he was naturally unwilling, so he couldn't help but jump out and say, "What's wrong with you guys? We're only behind by one goal, right? Is it necessary to be so dejected?"

His teammates were startled by him, and someone hummed, "What do you know, intern? This is none of your business."

Ever since Zhou Yi called Yan Min "intern", this name had become Yan Min's standard nickname in the national team. Everyone usually called him that. Sometimes, calling him that was a sign of intimacy and teasing, but sometimes calling him that meant disdain.

Losing already made everyone feel bad, and hearing Yan Min's nagging made them even more annoyed, so the tone of their speech was not very good.

But Zhou Yi stood up and expressed his support for Yan Min: "Yan Min is right, we've only conceded one goal, there's no need to act like it's the end of the world."

The meaning of the words was the same, but the feeling of Zhou Yi saying them was completely different from Yan Min saying them.

The national players who were still dissatisfied with Yan Min just now fell silent.

Zhou Yi continued: "That conceded goal actually had a bit of luck in it, we were just unlucky. But that was just that one time. They didn't score at any other time, did they? We withstood them when their attacks were at their fiercest, so what's there to worry about? Do you think their attacks will be even fiercer in the second half?"

Speaking of this, Zhou Yi paused, as if he had thought of something, and then smiled: "Oh, I hope their attacks will be even fiercer."

Everyone looked at Zhou Yi strangely, not understanding why he said that. During the game, everyone was thinking that they hoped Oman's attacks would be weaker, and even weaker...

"They will definitely strengthen their attacks in the second half, because they are only leading us by one goal now. If they want to make their victory more secure, then they need to score at least one more goal. If they strengthen their attacks, then there will be bigger and more gaps behind them..."

Zhou Yi began to explain to everyone why he thought so.

"And once there are too many gaps behind them, it will be a good opportunity for us to launch a counterattack!" Zhou Yi clapped his hands, also waking up his teammates in the locker room—Zhou Yi was right, if they press forward in a big way, we can launch a counterattack against them!

"That's right, who's afraid of little Oman!" Sun Pan jumped up and said. "If we don't show them what we're made of, they'll really think they can shit on our heads!"

Gao Hongbo had his hand on the doorknob, but he didn't actually push the door open, instead waiting quietly outside.

The atmosphere in the locker room was gradually becoming heated, and he was afraid that if he went in, he would interrupt the fermentation of this emotion.