Chapter Thirty-Two: The Battle of Destiny

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PS: Every dawn, the first thing I see are the four recommendation tickets sent by the Prefect of Bozhou. Truly heartwarming.

Have you watched the one on Central TV?

After landing, upon arrival at the hotel in Seoul, Mo Mo received a message from Li Qing.

“The battle of destiny is about to begin. I won’t disturb you anymore. Rest well.”

Battle of destiny? Mo Mo was unaware that, back home, the news had already spread. The match between Brazil and Costa Rica was expected to be a foregone conclusion, but the final outcome hinged on China versus Turkey. Whoever won would become the undisputed runner-up in the group and advance to the last sixteen. If it ended in a draw, for China, it meant defeat.

Learning this, Mo Mo was momentarily stunned. How had a draw with Costa Rica led to this situation? In the original history, China had lost twice and was already confirmed eliminated before facing Turkey. Now, unexpectedly, there was still a chance to reach the last sixteen?

During the days leading up to the match, Mo Mo went to challenge Su Yichen every day at the scheduled time, training actively. Finally, after one session, the nearly 2,000 accumulated training points suddenly dropped and turned red. Mo Mo was taken aback and found that every attribute on the profile had risen by a notch. It was maddening for someone with obsessive tendencies.

This also made Mo Mo realize the difference between automatic and manual training points. Manual points could be used to boost certain attributes first, while automatic points were distributed more evenly, only impacting attributes after accumulating to a certain threshold.

Unlike the farewell battle of the original history, this match could be called the battle for advancement, or perhaps a final farewell. Who would have thought that a mere draw with Costa Rica would give China—once resigned to not reaching the last sixteen—a chance to go further?

June 13, 2002 (Thursday), 14:30. The previously overlooked China vs. Turkey match was now receiving unprecedented attention. High up in the stands, banners proclaimed, “Milutinovic leads China into the last sixteen,” and “Five-time legend coach into the last sixteen.”

Turkey’s lineup (3-5-2):

Forwards: No. 9 Hakan Sukur (Parma), No. 11 Hasan Sas (Galatasaray)
Midfielders: No. 10 Yildiray Basturk (Leverkusen), No. 21 Emre Belozoglu (Inter Milan), No. 20 Hakan Unsal (Blackburn), No. 8 Tugay Kerimoglu (Blackburn), No. 22 Umit Davala (AC Milan)
Defenders: No. 3 Bulent Korkmaz (Galatasaray), No. 4 Fatih Akyel (Fenerbahce), No. 2 Emre Asik (Galatasaray)
Goalkeeper: No. 1 Rustu Recber (Fenerbahce)

China’s lineup (4-4-2):

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Forwards: No. 10 Hao Haidong, No. 20 Yang Chen
Midfielders: No. 18 Li Xiaopeng, No. 8 Li Tie, No. 15 Zhao Junzhe, No. 3 Yang Pu
Defenders: No. 21 Xu Yunlong, No. 14 Li Weifeng, No. 17 Du Wei, No. 4 Wu Chengying
Goalkeeper: No. 22 Jiang Jin (captain)

This match could be called a battle for life and death for both teams. Assuming Brazil defeats Costa Rica, the most crucial thing now is to produce a winner in this match; otherwise, Costa Rica would benefit.

Looking at both starting lineups, Turkey’s Ilhan Mansiz was left on the bench. The Turkish coach Gunes was almost superstitious in his insistence on playing Hakan Sukur every game, and the attacking midfielder Hasan Sas had performed outstandingly, relegating Ilhan Mansiz to substitute appearances in the first four matches. Center-back Alpay was suspended, but Hakan Unsal returned after his own suspension.

Mo Mo felt a strong empathy for Ilhan Mansiz’s untapped talent. After all, when he went to Hannover 96, he was promised to play half the matches, but ended up being used like toilet paper—needed when called, discarded once done. This made Mo Mo furious.

China’s starting lineup was relatively young. One of the two main pillars, Fan Zhiyi, was still injured, and Sun Jihai, who carried high expectations, had no chance to play. The captain’s armband went to goalkeeper Jiang Jin. Up front, the pairing of Yang Chen and Hao Haidong remained unchanged, while the defense was guarded by the youthful center-back duo of Du Wei and Li Weifeng.

Before kickoff, everyone in the Chinese team seemed eager to prove themselves. Originally, the only match they had considered losing was against Brazil. Now, facing Turkey, they actually had some confidence, especially Hao Haidong, who boldly declared that the goals he hadn’t scored before would be made up in this match—a hat-trick!

Coach Bora Milutinovic signaled everyone to stay calm. Though the team settled down outwardly, they remained excited inside, including Yang Chen, whose quick, shallow breaths Mo Mo could sense. Mo Mo could understand.

How could they not be excited? If they made it through this match, China would break into the last sixteen of the World Cup, and Milutinovic would add yet another achievement to his legendary resume—leading five underdog teams into the World Cup last sixteen.

The rousing national anthem sounded, igniting the hearts of every Chinese fan and every Chinese person present. This was the flame of victory, the hope of breaking into the last sixteen. They were writing history, with each step taken marking a new stride for the Chinese team.

Mo Mo stood up as cheers erupted all around. Tell me, where is this? Seoul, South Korea? No! It feels like China. Look at the sea of red in the stands, the massive national flags, four directions adorned with fiery red flags, red streamers flying everywhere, the long, resonant voice of China rising.

Countless arms raised, everyone singing the national anthem. Come on! World Cup, come on Turkey, come on, last sixteen!

Every heart was burning with fervor—just one more match, just one more match!

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A shrill whistle sounded. Cheers swept across the stadium. I imagine the Chinese fans were thinking: Hurry! Hurry! We’re ready to step into the last sixteen! Hurry!

The Chinese team wore red jerseys, surging into Turkey’s half like wildfire. Turkey, clad in white, began their counterattacks. Yet, watching from the sidelines, two men frowned in unison—Mo Mo and Bora Milutinovic exchanged glances. Too excited! The players on the field were too excited.

“Li Xiaopeng! Beautiful! Li Xiaopeng with a lightning pass into the box! Who’s there? Yang Chen! Yang Chen!”

Chen Nu’s voice crackled with excitement. At this moment, Chen Nu was wearing a Chinese jersey, a headband inscribed “Advance to the last sixteen.” From the start, China plunged straight into a fever pitch, every player a volcano, running actively, fighting aggressively, full of attacking energy.

Indeed, in the fourth minute, No. 18 Li Xiaopeng got the ball, sprinted down the flank, and just as a Turkish player moved in for a tackle, Li Xiaopeng didn’t hesitate for a moment, sending a rare, precise chip pass into the center.

“Yang Chen! Yang Chen’s speed is incredible! Yang Chen! Yang Chen heads the ball!”

It was a perfect pass. Mo Mo keenly sensed that with Yang Chen’s speed, he could definitely reach the ball! The drop point was ideal, about two meters ahead—if he got to it, there was an eighty percent chance of scoring!

Yang Chen saw the ball too. He was thrilled—was he about to score? He accelerated. The Turkish defenders had not expected China to play with such explosive aggression—they’d never been like this in the previous two matches!

Yang Chen outpaced the defenders. Now, all he saw was the ball! Turkey’s goalkeeper, Rustu Recber, pupils contracted, wishing he could curse his damned defenders, but now wasn’t the time. He leaped decisively!

Yang Chen, burning red like a shooting star, Rustu Recber’s deep black, threatening to cover everything. The next moment, Seoul seemed to tremble. Mo Mo and Bora Milutinovic stood up together, staring at each other in disbelief.

“Yang Chen! Yang Chen heads the ball!”

Well, this chapter ends once again with Chen Nu’s roaring voice. Starving now—off to breakfast.

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