Chapter 19 He Has Grown Stronger

The wind blew gently.

At this very moment, the San Siro Stadium was a sea of roaring sounds.

The rise of every newcomer on the green pitch is always built upon the corpses of others, and now for Mo Mo, the time had come to prove himself.

Player training system, reborn! With so many resources tilted in his favor, there was no reason not to make a name for himself!

Mo Mo paid no attention to Gattuso, who had fallen to the ground behind him. His target was singular: to charge, charge, and charge straight into the penalty area, and make all those jeering, noisy people shut the hell up.

Mo Mo's heartbeat accelerated. AC Milan's defensive line stood resolute and steady.

Would Mo Mo shatter AC Milan's defense, or would he end up battered and bleeding?

"Come on! Yes! Just like that! Put it in the back of the net!"

Hector Cuper's eyes were locked firmly on Mo Mo, his fists clenched tight. That's it! Go! Let them all know that this transfer was my right decision, let them know you are no paper tiger!

Far away in Portugal, Zlatan Ibrahimovic was watching the match through the television alongside Mino. Their expressions were equally intense; Ibrahimovic had even stood up, ready to unleash a wild roar.

Mo Mo felt his legs grow heavy. He desperately wanted to stop and catch his breath, but truly, he could not stop now!

"Mo Mo! Mo Mo is charging toward AC Milan's penalty area! How long has it been? How long has it been since he played with such unbridled abandon?"

From behind came the faint sound of Gattuso's angry roar. The two AC Milan central defenders in front of Mo Mo remained remarkably composed, keeping their bodies slightly bent to maintain a safe defensive distance.

Back at home, Wattily's face was flushed red. Even knowing his voice could not possibly reach the pitch, he continued to bellow at the screen.

"Stop him! Stop him! Stop that Chinese bastard!"

Finally, AC Milan's central defenders could retreat no further. But the exact moment they both stopped to brace, Mo Mo played a sharp through ball, slicing it right through the narrow gap between them.

Both defenders stretched out their legs, one after the other, but failed to touch the ball.

"Dida! Dida rushes off his line!"

Dida was the goalkeeper of the 2002 World Cup champions, Brazil. Standing at 1.95 meters tall, he possessed a massive wingspan and lightning-fast reflexes. While his limited active range was a weakness, his positioning, shot-stopping technique, and physical coordination were universally praised.

As AC Milan's starting goalkeeper and Christian Abbiati's chief rival, he had pulled off numerous spectacular saves. Yet this time, he had exceptionally chosen to rush out. Could he pull off another miracle once again?

Moving at lightning speed, Mo Mo left the two AC Milan center-backs behind. They attempted to grab and pull him, but managed to brush only the hem of his jersey.

"Mo Mo! Mo Mo has shaken off the marking of AC Milan's central defenders! What is this? This is a direct challenge for the duel!"

Chen Nu's voice sounded astonished. Of course, had he been able to hear the foreign commentators, he would have realized their focal points were entirely different.

"Dida! Dida! Dida has actually chosen to rush out? Simply incredible! Dida is Brazilian, yet he plays nothing like a typical Brazilian. And yet, here he is, rushing out!"

Dida, a late bloomer, had long warmed the bench for the national team, and now was his time to prove himself.

Right now, Mo Mo and Dida stood on a single-log bridge. To use an old Chinese saying: when narrow paths meet, the brave shall prevail.

Faster, faster! He needed to be even faster!

Mo Mo felt as though his entire body was about to take flight. His eyes were slightly moist, the veins on his neck bulging. With his mouth wide open and eyes wide, he thought: *Come on! Come on! A goal! A goal!*

Dida spread his arms wide, like a giant net closing in on Mo Mo. The two of them touched the ball almost simultaneously!

"Mo Mo! Mo Mo attempts a lob shot! No!!!"

Chen Nu roared, his face filled with sheer disbelief. Mo Mo lay sprawled out on the turf, while Dida stood directly over him, clutching the football tightly in his hands.

"Don't worry, I've got this!"

Dida said with a smile to the retreating defenders. Gattuso let out a long sigh of relief before shooting a fierce glare down at Mo Mo.

The moment Dida smothered the ball, Hector Cuper felt entirely hollowed out, standing frozen in a daze.

Ibrahimovic's roar echoed through the Portuguese villa.

Hao Haidong covered his forehead with his hand, muttering, "Ah, sigh! Ah, sigh! If I had taken that shot, it would have been a goal!"

AC Milan fans cheered Dida's name. Dida! This was Dida! They had the most reassuring defensive line, much like Iker Casillas would later be for Real Madrid.

Gattuso looked down at Mo Mo, who was still lying on the grass, frowning slightly. Then he stepped forward, extended a hand, and spoke.

"Not bad, kid! But I won't give you another chance like that."

Mo Mo climbed back to his feet, his eyes burning with fighting spirit. He smiled and replied, "Is that so? We'll see about that!"

Watching the broadcast from home were also Kohler and Lehmann.

Lehmann curled his lips in displeasure, switched off the television, and muttered under his breath, "This kid! Feels like he's gotten stronger!"

Kohler could not help feeling a sense of lingering fortune.

"Good thing, good thing this kid went to Serie A! No, wait! Good thing he wasn't this physical back then, or else I would have... well, it would have just taken a bit more effort."

The match resumed. With a throw-in from Dida, AC Milan used Rivaldo as the arrow head to pierce fiercely into Inter Milan's heartland.

Unfortunately, Inter Milan knew AC Milan far too well, especially Rivaldo's traits. They had analyzed him inside and out, just as other teams had their own tailored methods for dealing with Mo Mo.

AC Milan could not break into Inter Milan's penalty area, and the match settled into a balanced deadlock.

The duel between Mo Mo and Gattuso continued unabated. Mo Mo was usually on the losing end, but he was never truly broken.

At the very least, Mo Mo was now capable of holding onto the ball.

Witnessing this, Hector Cuper could not help murmuring to himself, "Should I suspend him for a few more matches? Just to focus purely on muscle training?"

Meanwhile, back in Germany, Schalke 04's young goalkeeper Neuer watched Mo Mo on television, shaking off his previous sluggishness. *Damn it! Damn it! What's wrong with liking to rush out? Who wrote the rule that a goalkeeper must stay glued to his line?*

With every fearless physical collision Mo Mo made, Neuer's eyes filled with burning determination. *This guy! He has grown stronger!*

The whistle blew for halftime. Hector Cuper was relatively satisfied with the overall state of the pitch.

However, a new problem had surfaced in his mind.

Previously, Cuper had signed Mo Mo because of his strong ability to seize and create opportunities—in other words, his exceptional individual capability.

Yet under these circumstances where he was heavily clamped down, why not try involving two or three players in combination play?

Football was supposed to involve multiple passes followed by a shot! Who played like Mo Mo, always embarking on long solo runs?

Once the ball reached Mo Mo's feet, it practically never came back out. Yet in previous matches, hadn't Mo Mo's few passes yielded rather good results?

"Mo Mo! Come here for a moment, I have an idea."

Mo Mo raised his head. He did not yet fully grasp what this meant, but he would understand later: this was the beginning of his transformation into a striker who could both pass and score.