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"Alright, I'll distribute it to the left flank, so wait for it."

"Yes."

As Puyol switched to center-back, Real Madrid shifted their offensive strategy to long-ball play.

Ho-young and van Nistelrooy, positioned as the two strikers, dominated the aerial battles, while Robben and Raul swapped positions to intensify their crossing plays.

Barcelona, who had been controlling the flow of the match, could no longer hold the upper hand.

Every ti they tried to cut off the ball, Real Madrid's piercing counters left them reeling.

The second half was nothing short of a war.

Eto'o went down from a back tackle by Pepe and was injured. Fortunately, it was a minor injury, so he was able to receive ergency treatnt and continue playing.

But that wasn't the end.

Next, Raul fell and hurt his wrist, and he too continued playing after only minimal treatnt.

That much was still manageable.

However, after being tackled, Argentine Robben suffered a more serious injury and had to be substituted for Malouda.

All twenty-two players were giving their all in an intense, hard-fought battle.

As a result, by the 65th minute of the second half, a total of 12 yellow cards had been issued.

Then, when Iniesta twisted his ankle and went down, Pepe was shown a red card.

At the sa ti, Iniesta was also subbed off and replaced by Alexander Hleb.

Just when it seed like the ga was shifting in Barcelona's favor, Alves, who was marking Malouda, stepped on his wrist with his studs, sending the situation spiraling out of control.

It even escalated into a brawl.

Only after veterans like Puyol, Raul, and Zidane intervened and cald the players down did the chaos subside.

And the balance between both teams was restored.

Alves was sent off.

[Alves pleads with an indignant expression, but the referee pulls out the red card without hesitation.]

[It's the right call. That was clearly intentional.]

Footballers are human too. When matches overheat, there are monts when they lose control of themselves.

One footballer, notorious for biting opponents, once said:

—Sotis, when you're fully imrsed in a match, you lose your mind.

This was exactly one of those monts.

[The two teams are separated by just a single point. One poor pass, and the trophy right in front of them could slip away.]

[Exactly. If Barcelona holds on, their chances of winning the league rise dramatically. Even though there are gas left, the remaining opponents are all relatively weak.]

[anwhile, Real Madrid needs to push harder. They need to add more attackers or take so risks.]

The score still stood at 0-0.

Desperate, Real Madrid's players launched a furious offensive.

The fiercer their attacks, the more heated the ga beca. Tempers flared, and players known for fragile ntal strength began to lose control.

Then, around the 72nd minute of the second half.

Thud!

Piqué's silent back tackle brought Ho-young crashing to the ground.

It happened in a mont, while Puyol and Busquets were marking him.

Tweet!

As soon as the whistle blew, one player charged at Piqué.

"You son of a bitch!"

It was captain Raul, who had been holding his teammates' emotions in check earlier.

But now, he had completely flipped.

He grabbed Piqué by the collar and hurled curses at him right in his face.

"You looking to die?"

"What, are you his damn babysitter?"

"I'll see you on the national team. I'll make sure you realize what you did today."

Raul was seething, aggressively driving the tension higher.

Seeing Ho-young clutching his shin in pain had sent him over the edge. He looked like he could throw a punch at any mont.

That wasn't like him at all, but this ti, he couldn't just let it slide.

Even if only to intimidate the opponents and reduce the frequency of their tackles.

It was one way to protect Ho-young.

The explosive confrontation only subsided when Carles Puyol intervened.

"Piqué! Get over here!"

Puyol cald Piqué down and pulled him away, while Raul reached out a hand to Ho-young and asked,

"Is your leg okay?"

"Uh... yes."

After receiving treatnt from the dical staff, Ho-young grabbed Raul's hand and sprang up.

"Feels better than I thought."

"What? Better?"

"Yes. I don't know why, but my body's itching to move. It's driving crazy."

Sotis people feel that way.

Just like the others had earlier, when they beca overly imrsed in the match.

The adrenaline rush had fully kicked in for Ho-young as well.

"How much ti is left?"

"About 30 minutes or so?"

"Perfect. One goal every 10 minutes will do the trick."

"What?"

And now it began.

[Ho-young adjusts his run-up distance. Standing next to the ball are Roberto Carlos and Zinedine Zidane.]

[Is Ho-young going to take it himself? It's a good spot for a left-footer, so maybe Carlos would be a better choice.]

[Still, you never know. Ho-young's left foot is powerful, as we've already seen. Victor Valdés must be feeling the pressure.]

Valdés was well aware of that and braced himself ntally.

'It's highly likely Ho-young will take it.'

Lately, Ho-young's kicking form had been on fire.

Just look at how Júlio César injured his finger trying to stop a shot during the Inter match.

Pep Guardiola had also warned his players to watch out.

Valdés ticulously adjusted the wall, leaving no gaps.

Then it happened.

[Carlos makes a move! Shoots!]

[Ah! It goes past!]

A feint.

The real run-up ca right after. It was Ho-young.

The ball was 25 ters from goal.

He struck it with his left foot.

All the talent needed for a powerful free kick was there.

The ball scread through the air toward the goal.

Thump!

"...?"

Wooooooaaaaaaah!

There was no need to say anything.

The perfectly struck ball rocketed into the top right corner with speed and weight.

Valdés moved instinctively, but that was all he could do.

Because of the flat trajectory and the spin, he couldn't even read the direction.

[If Xavi, who was in the wall, had been just a bit taller, he might have blocked it. But what does that matter? That mid-range shot, fired with monstrous power and technique, was practically a lethal weapon. Even if you knew it was coming, there was no stopping it.]

Real Madrid's opening goal finally ca after about 70 minutes.

Ho-young clutched the crest on his jersey and faced the roaring crowd. But this was only the beginning.

Barcelona, demoralized to the core, couldn't withstand Madrid's pressure and conceded another goal just five minutes later.

Around the 72nd minute, Piqué was sent off for a foul on Ho-young's run, pushing Barcelona into an even deeper crisis.

9 vs 10.

It was too late to turn things around.

Guardiola tried to salvage things with a deep defensive line, but the issue of open space remained.

And for Ho-young, space was his best weapon.

He didn't let the opportunity go to waste. He went wild.

Tweet—

As the final whistle blew, everyone at the stadium was in shock.

The Madridistas were in stunned euphoria, while the culés from Catalonia looked like they might pass out from disbelief.

[5-0. Can you believe it? This might go down as Barcelona's worst day.]

[Real Madrid played well, but honestly, it felt more like Barcelona underperford. Maybe they used up all their energy in the match against Manchester United a few days ago.]

[That might be it. Still, above all else, the finishing ability of Ho-young, who scored a hat-trick, was simply phenonal. I think he'll be getting a new nickna tomorrow—maybe 'Barcelona Killer.']

[As long as there are no lingering injuries, it was a perfect day.]

With that, Real Madrid jumped to first place in the league, now leading by 2 points.

If they won all four remaining matches, the title would be theirs.

And on this day, Ho-young fulfilled ssi's challenge to win by more than two goals, acquiring 'Unrivaled Football Sense (SS 2).'

He also t Thierry Henry's conditions—'Win the match,' 'Score with an inside shot,' and 'Record 5 attacking points in El Clásico'—earning 'King's Curling Shot (SU).'

But the hellish schedule wasn't over.

Three days later, the Champions League semifinal second leg was held at Santiago Bernabéu.

Seven minutes into the match, the Real Madrid supporters began chanting the Juanito cheer.

It was a long-standing tradition of Real Madrid—done when they needed to overturn a result, starting precisely in the seventh minute of the first half.

Perhaps thanks to that, Real Madrid seized control of the ga early on.

Mourinho's concerns grew deeper.

He had carefully crafted a tactical plan based on the first-leg draw, but now he was in a dilemma.

If he attacked too much, the defense would collapse.

And understandably so—Vieira was suspended, and Sulley Muntari, his replacent, lacked chemistry with Cambiasso.

He instructed them to apply heavy pressure on Ho-young up front, but with their movents overlapping awkwardly, it wasn't effective.

"Damn it."

Mourinho swallowed dryly.

It felt like the well-prepared gears had gone out of sync.

To make matters worse, with Júlio César out injured, Francesco Toldo had to start. And his performance was shaky throughout.

[Francesco Toldo, standing at 2 ters tall, seems off today. Is it the lack of match sharpness? Even his specialty, dealing with aerial balls, looks poor.]

[If Real Madrid keeps sending crosses, this could be dangerous. Van Nistelrooy and Ho-young, playing as a two-top, are winning the aerial battles against Inter's defenders.]

[This is unfolding similarly to the recent El Clásico.]

Strike while the iron is hot. Real Madrid ramped up their flank attacks.

In midfield, Sneijder and Diarra stabilized the build-up, while Malouda and Zidane delivered sharp crosses from the second line.

And they kept up their communication.

"Ho-young, for the next 15 minutes, I'll keep it short. Be ready. After that, I'll start sending them to the center."

"Got it."

After forming a new plan with Zidane, Ho-young entered the box and stirred up the defenders.

Crosses started flying toward the center just as the defenders' movents were in chaos.

Thump!

[Goaaaaaaal!]

[The ball t Ho-young's head, deflected off a defender's foot, and went in!]

"Whooo!"

Ho-young, having forced in the goal by the 30th minute, brought out his long-missed "Whoo!" celebration.

It was even more emotional, being the goal that reversed the aggregate score.

At that mont—

"Siuuuuuuu!"

His teammates sward in like a tsunami, piling on top of him.

Bernabéu erupted into a frenzy over Ho-young's goal.

The aggregate score was now 3-2.

Even if they conceded one, they would still go through to the final on away goals.

They were just one step away from the final.

[Can you believe this, folks? Ho-young has scored his eighth goal in the Champions League!]

[That puts him level with Lionel ssi. Honestly, he might win the Golden Boot in the Champions League.]

At the top of the scoring chart stood ssi and Ho-young, tied with 8 goals each.

Trailing just behind was Manchester United's Cristiano Ronaldo, with 7 goals.

If they could just make it to the final, it was well within reach.

And in the end, the match was not turned around.

Inter managed an equalizer in the second half, but that was the extent of their coback.

Tweet—

The final score was 1-1.

With an aggregate of 3-3, Real Madrid advanced to the final on away goals.

Their opponent would be either Manchester United or Barcelona.

The final curtain of the season was approaching.

(To be continued.)

You are reading All Football Abilities Are Mine! Chapter 191 - 192: The Terror of Ho-young (3) on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
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