Chapter 42: China?

The roar throughout the Allianz Arena never ceased.

This match had truly been a roller coaster. Just a moment ago, the crowd was still marveling at how Schalke 04’s goalkeeper, Neuer, was standing near the center circle, appearing as if he might join the attack at any second. And yet, it was this very goalkeeper who had stifled Mo Mo’s otherwise unstoppable counterattack, only to launch a perfect counter-offensive of his own.

Mino, who had been planning to leave, remained in the stands. In Chinese parlance, he felt there was something worth watching here. The Bayern Munich scouts had evidently taken notice of Neuer as well. In fact, almost every scout who had come to evaluate Mo Mo was now paying attention to the goalkeeper. Arsenal, in particular, who were desperate for a long-term successor in goal, made a heavy note in their record books.

Simon Jentzsch looked dejected. He had actually touched the ball on that last play, but he couldn't quite keep it out. The ball found the back of the net, and Schalke 04 leveled the score at the Allianz Arena. Mo Mo applauded; there was little to say about that goal, but did they really think it was over?

As the match continued, 1860 Munich launched a series of fierce attacks, yet they couldn't break through Schalke 04’s defense. Mo Mo had a few chances on breakaways, only to be stopped before he could even enter the penalty area. Neuer’s range was immense; if one were to look at his heat map, he resembled a defensive midfielder or a fullback more than a keeper.

"The first half ends with Schalke 04 leveling the score thanks to Neuer’s bizarre assist. Hopefully, Mo Mo can deliver a better performance in the second half," remarked Wattley, a journalist for the *Munich Evening News*, from the press box. "It seems this Chinese boy’s weaknesses have been found! I think he’ll end up just like Chen and Yang, struggling in the second division."

The surrounding crowd began to chime in, discussing how Mo Mo lacked physical strength, had no advantage in height, and wasn't particularly fast. With everyone "nitpicking" in unison, Mo Mo was being painted as nearly worthless.

In normal circumstances, no one would have bothered to challenge them, but there were several journalists from Chinese newspapers and television stations present. After all, there were two Chinese players in this league, and both were performing well—not to mention Mo Mo, even Shao Jiayi had firmly secured a starting spot.

"Please retract your remarks. Speaking ill of others behind their backs is not a noble thing to do," a flushed Chinese reporter spoke up righteously. Most people wisely fell silent, but Wattley did not.

"Look, look! The Chinese!" Wattley sneered. "What, am I wrong? I am merely stating the facts."

Seeing Wattley’s aggressive stance, the Chinese reporter turned beet red, unable to find a comeback. To be fair, while Mo Mo’s speed wasn't slow, it wasn't exactly world-class, and his lack of height and strength were undeniable flaws. Watching the reporter struggle to respond, a smug expression crept across Wattley’s face.

"What? Nothing to say? I see no future for Mo Mo in this match. You Chinese are just blowing smoke, and the big clubs were fooled for a moment, but they will realize the truth soon enough!"

That was a step too far; did he think the major clubs were fools? The comment gave the Chinese reporter an idea.

"Is that so? Then let’s count Mo Mo’s goals! He is very much in the running for the Bundesliga Golden Boot this season."

It was a heavy blow, and Wattley was momentarily choked for words. Lack of speed, height, or strength might be valid criticisms, but all that truly mattered was scoring goals. Mo Mo’s performance had been impeccable, and since his debut, no matter how much people criticized him, he had remained a prolific scorer. Just like Hao Haidong—no matter how much one disliked him, he was undeniably the Chinese national team’s greatest striker, with 41 goals to his name.

"Then let’s see how many he scores this match! If he scores one—no, two more—I will apologize to you!" Wattley retorted, sounding flustered and indignant. Was a hat-trick really that easy to complete? It was an obvious deflection; one goal a game was a decent return, especially in the Bundesliga, where goals were notoriously scarce.

"The second half continues. There seemed to be some friction in the press box during halftime, but it doesn't appear to have escalated into a major conflict."

Mo Mo walked back onto the pitch. The second half officially began.

"Ha! Look, was I not right? Mo Mo is still being contained. He has no way to score. This German goalkeeper is truly something!" Wattley’s boisterous voice carried across the stands, intentionally aimed at the Chinese reporters.

And at that moment, they had no rebuttal; Mo Mo was indeed being stifled. Mo Mo himself felt a sense of bewilderment. What was going on? Why was he constantly being dispossessed? After yet another ball was snatched away by the suddenly appearing Neuer, Mo Mo’s expression turned to one of disbelief. Even though he had braced himself for this, he couldn't adjust to the reality of a goalkeeper playing with such uncharacteristic aggression.

"Sixty-four minutes in, and Mo Mo seems completely neutralized by Schalke 04. The coach on the sidelines is already telling Martin Max to warm up."

Time was running out for Mo Mo. Wattley laughed loudly, acting in a way that hardly befitted a disciplined German. With the match situation as it was, the coach’s intent to make a substitution was clear—he clearly felt Mo Mo had nothing left to offer.

Wattley felt he had won. He stood up, speaking with the tone of a victor: "Look! I have exposed a lie, a manufactured idol."

In truth, a single match proved nothing, but Wattley acted as if this were the most important game in history. No one attempted to argue; the situation on the pitch was clear: Mo Mo had no way to break through, and Neuer always managed to resolve the crisis.

However, was there truly no way? At least for now, Mo Mo was indeed helpless, and his teammates were beginning to lose their patience.