Volume One: Our Own League Chapter 097: That Kid Is Really Hard to Deal With

Zhang Zhen, left unmarked, seized the oncoming ball and swung his leg for a powerful volley. His foot struck the ball squarely, sending it rocketing toward Class Sixteen’s goal like a bolt of lightning, making Zhuo Jun’s face turn pale. With a resounding thud, Song Xiang appeared before the goal, stretched out his leg, and blocked the shot, only to tumble headlong into the net himself.

Beautiful! What a magnificent defense! Song Xiang’s relentless spirit, his refusal to give up, inspired his teammates. Even as the ball seemed inevitable in its flight toward goal, Song Xiang did not waver, hurling his entire body forward and hooking the ball away with all his might, crashing down so hard he nearly collided with the goalpost.

Song Xiang had given everything, truly risking it all.

Zhuo Jun rushed over, helping Song Xiang up from behind and pulling him into a tight embrace. Every player on Class Sixteen was giving their all.

Xu He watched silently. Their opponents were a team with a soul—a team far stronger than he had imagined.

Yes, to Xu He, Class Sixteen was formidable.

They were bound together like a single rope; their unity and willpower were beyond comprehension. Their journey to this point was certainly not due to luck alone—they had true strength.

A twinge of worry crept into Xu He’s heart regarding this match.

He immediately cautioned his teammates to pay close attention to defense even while attacking, insisting that they could not afford to give Class Sixteen any more chances.

Zhu Ge nodded slightly, indicating his understanding.

But Zhu Ge was still deeply shaken—he had not expected Class Sixteen to be so troublesome. It was clear now that Zhuo Jun was not their only asset; this team concealed its true depth well. He realized he had underestimated them before.

Zhu Ge now understood Zhuo Jun’s eagerness to recruit Xu He. Xu He was the final, perfect piece of Class Sixteen’s puzzle.

A counterattacking team like theirs needed a striker with Xu He’s speed and force. With Xu He, their counterattacks would become sharp as blades—few teams could withstand them.

Truly, Xu He was exactly what Zhuo Jun needed most.

If Zhuo Jun had to choose between Zhang Zhen, Yang Xin, and Xu He, Xu He would undoubtedly be his first pick.

Of the three types of strikers, Xu He fit their team best.

No wonder he’d made such an overt effort to poach Xu He.

Zhu Ge shot Zhuo Jun a fierce glare, muttering inwardly, “You want Xu He? Over my dead body!”

There was no way Zhu Ge would let Xu He go to Zhuo Jun.

Of course, at that moment Zhu Ge glanced at Xu He, torn over whether it was time to send him onto the field.

Meanwhile, the match continued, and halftime was drawing near.

Zhu Ge signaled his teammates to press the attack.

On the wing, Li Jie intercepted the ball from Class Sixteen, played a one-two with Lin Xuefeng, cut to the byline, and sent a precise cross to the center of the box.

Yang Xin charged forward, leapt high, and powered a header at goal.

Li Jie’s cross was perfect, and Yang Xin met it with his head.

Unfortunately, Yang Xin failed to make the most of it; his heading technique was still flawed, and the ball soared high over the bar.

Class Ten’s classmates were deeply disappointed—this should have been a goal.

To be honest, even Zhuo Jun had been startled, thinking they were about to concede. Who knew Yang Xin would squander the chance, failing to find the net? Zhuo Jun let out a sigh of relief.

Still, he would not underestimate Yang Xin.

He silently reminded himself to stick closely to Yang Xin, never to allow him such an opportunity again; otherwise, Class Sixteen would be doomed.

Xu He, too, was filled with regret.

What a golden chance that was.

Song Yu shook his head repeatedly—Yang Xin’s skill still left much to be desired. He was wasting his height advantage.

As the first half drew to a close, Class Sixteen’s defenders remained alert and disciplined, setting up an ironclad formation and giving Class Ten few opportunities.

With Zhu Ge’s long-range shot narrowly sailing over, the first half ended.

The score remained nil-nil.

Neither side had found the net.

As Zhu Ge left the pitch, he couldn’t help but cast a lingering glance at the opposing goalkeeper, Xu Donglai. If not for Xu Donglai, Class Ten would have scored long ago and taken the lead.

But Xu Donglai had risen to the occasion.

After leaving the field, both Zhu Ge and Mu Yang wore serious expressions.

Their opponents were proving far tougher than expected; if they didn’t come up with something new for the second half, the outcome of this match would be in doubt.

At this moment, Xu He hurried over with the water cooler, handing out bottles and towels to his teammates, offering words of comfort. He urged them not to lose heart. Class Ten had already dominated the first half; if they kept up the pressure in the second, Class Sixteen would eventually crumble, and victory would be theirs.

Xu He kept stressing the need to continually pressure Class Sixteen’s defenders, insisting they couldn’t hold out for a full match.

Indeed, near the end of the first half, Class Sixteen’s defense had shown signs of strain. It was just a pity that Yang Xin missed that crucial chance; had he scored, the match would have been decided.

Xu He was fully invested and earnest—one of the most dedicated players on Class Ten.

Both Zhu Ge and Mu Yang considered whether it was time to send Xu He in. It was obvious: Yang Xin’s presence had little impact this match. Zhuo Jun had marked him out of the game, rendering him almost invisible.

Yet Yang Xin’s height was a unique asset.

With him on the pitch, the opposing defense felt immense pressure, especially since he could tie up Zhuo Jun’s attention. So, they hesitated—should Xu He replace Yang Xin?

Fifteen minutes of halftime passed quickly.

Both teams returned to the field, unchanged.

Yes, Zhu Ge and Mu Yang ultimately chose to stick with Yang Xin, believing his presence created more pressure for the opposing defense.

Xu He, of course, was unaware of this.

He stood on the sideline, shouting encouragement, roaring support for his team, hoping they would perform brilliantly in the second half and seize victory early.

As the second half began, Class Ten immediately launched a beautiful attack.

Mu Yang, Zhu Ge, and Zhang Zhen combined at the edge of Class Sixteen’s box, their slick passing cutting open the defense—even Zhuo Jun was left behind.

A chance!

A golden opportunity!

Zhang Zhen swung his leg for a fierce shot.

The ball streaked toward goal, fast and sharp—a certain goal, it seemed. But Xu Donglai flung himself sideways and palmed it out for a corner, keeping his net intact.

Zhang Zhen clutched his head in disbelief, exclaiming that an alien had descended.

He was bewildered—Xu Donglai was just too strong, almost inhuman. How could he stop that shot? Had he taken some kind of superhuman drug?

Zhu Ge and Mu Yang rubbed their eyes, hardly able to believe what they’d seen.

In the stands, Song Yu’s eyes shone with excitement. “A real talent!” he exclaimed.

In this match, Xu Donglai was nothing short of miraculous.

Yet Zhu Ge and the others refused to give up. They signaled for continued assault—surely Xu Donglai’s goal was not made of iron, impenetrable.

Lin Xuefeng and Li Jie devised a corner kick routine that threw Class Sixteen’s defense into chaos. Li Jie then whipped in a pinpoint cross to the towering Yang Xin.

This time, Yang Xin muscled Zhuo Jun aside and leapt for a header.

Class Ten’s classmates leaped to their feet in excitement—only to watch the ball drift wide.

After landing, Yang Xin glared fiercely at Zhuo Jun, then stormed over to complain to the referee, claiming Zhuo Jun had pulled his shirt and pinched him, ruining his header.

The referee shook his head, unmoved—he had seen nothing.

Yang Xin was furious, flinging harsh words at Zhuo Jun, and if Zhang Zhen hadn’t held him back, who knows what trouble might have ensued.

The referee immediately showed Yang Xin a yellow card as a warning.

In the stands, Song Yu shook his head repeatedly—Yang Xin was still too green, far from the finished product.

Zhu Ge saw it too; he realized Yang Xin should not remain on the pitch. Zhuo Jun had led him by the nose, and he was being utterly outclassed. If he stayed on, Zhuo Jun might even force him off the field.

Yang Xin’s emotions were unstable.

Moreover, he wasn’t providing the impact they had imagined—perhaps it was time to try someone else for unexpected effect.

Both Zhu Ge and Mu Yang turned to look at Xu He on the sidelines.

They reckoned Xu He would pose a greater threat than Yang Xin.

Zhu Ge shot Mu Yang a look, seeking confirmation to bring on Xu He. Mu Yang nodded in agreement.

Mu Yang was all for putting Xu He on.

At this stage of the match, Class Ten needed fresh blood, new attacking power, and new tactics.

Their current approach had been figured out by Class Sixteen, who were handling it with ease. Continuing like this would not change the game.

Change was necessary!

Zhu Ge shouted to the sideline, “Xu He, warm up!”

At these words, Xu He jumped to his feet, stripped off his jacket, and raced to the sideline to warm up. His heart thudded with excitement, his eyes gleaming with resolve—this was his chance to shine.

Zhuo Jun, hearing the call, was momentarily stunned. He spun around to warn his teammates, “Attention, they’re bringing on Xu He. Stay sharp—that guy’s not easy to deal with.”