Chapter Twenty: Counterattack

The fans of Munich 1860 sang loudly from the stands, witnessing a transformation in their team. Bayern Munich, on the other hand, was uncertain whether to rejoice or worry. The previously timid Munich 1860, who had been retreating into their own half, now launched a counteroffensive—their once soft punches now bore unmistakable force.

"The match has reached the seventieth minute. Both sides are exhausted, yet neither coach seems intent on making substitutions! With the current intensity of play, bringing on fresh legs might disrupt the rhythm," the commentator remarked.

Chen Nu was clearly puzzled. When did Munich 1860 become so tenacious? Since when did they start showing such resolve?

"Beautiful! Mo Mo! Mo Mo receives the pass at the edge of the penalty area! He shoots! My goodness! Mo Mo again!" In this match, everyone watching Mo Mo sensed a difference in him. Once, he was obsessed with breaking into the box and challenging the goalkeeper head-on, but now?

Now, Mo Mo resembled a seasoned campaigner—whenever an opportunity arose, he unleashed a shot, swift and decisive! Even winning a corner would be worthwhile.

He shook his head, watching as the ball sailed wide of the goal. Mo Mo quietly resolved that next time, he would keep his composure—too much excitement, and he'd send the ball flying.

The match pressed on, the contest growing fiercer. By the seventy-sixth minute, Munich 1860 had amassed six yellow cards, their defenders each sporting one as if it were a badge of honor. Bayern Munich had three—Linke, Lizarazu, and Effenberg. Tempers flared on both sides.

"Lizarazu and Linke advance for the tackle. Mo Mo, like a magnet, draws defenders to him! Mo Mo attempts a long-range shot!"

It was Mo Mo's sixth shot from distance, the trajectory not ideal, but Linke managed to nick the ball.

"The ball is traveling fast, it clips Linke! Unbelievable!!!!!!"

Munich 1860's fans erupted in cheers. What just happened?

Just now, Mo Mo had hammered the ball towards the far post on his right. Kahn had already launched himself, a lion in pursuit. But the ball struck Linke—specifically, his right thigh, as he faced Mo Mo.

The ball deflected, dropped to the ground, and bounced its way into the net!

"2:2! Munich 1860 has equalized! Wait, this goal is counted as Linke's—it's an own goal!"

Mo Mo's lips curled into a smile. He thought to himself: If there were such a thing as a luck stat, his would surely be maxed out. But was luck alone enough? Before this goal, how many shots had Mo Mo taken!

He raised both arms triumphantly, heading to the corner flag before the Munich 1860 supporters, hands held high.

The fans of Munich 1860 were ecstatic, loudly chanting Mo Mo's mantra: "Once a Blue, always a Blue!"

Whose home ground was this? Bayern Munich's? No! Munich 1860 claimed half the ownership.

Coach Pacult of Munich 1860 had been anxious, but seeing his team turn defense into offense, he suddenly understood—their real strength lay in attack. Why forsake their best asset?

Bayern Munich's coach Hitzfeld, meanwhile, wore a somber expression. If not for so many previous mistakes, this one would have been easier to accept. But he had to admit—his veterans seemed unfocused.

"Incredible—Munich 1860 has equalized! I thought this would be a slaughter," Chen Nu exclaimed, surprise woven through his voice. In the first half, as Munich 1860 was pressed into submission, he had secretly sighed, expecting a crushing defeat. But when Munich 1860 unleashed their full attack, their defense improved as well.

Ballack’s demeanor was gloomy. Munich 1860’s control in midfield had surged, and Pizarro could no longer orchestrate the same behind-the-defense plays.

Ballack felt the weight of expectation. Rumors spoke of the "Ballack Law"—that any team he played for would always stumble at the final hurdle, doomed to second place, never to claim the crown. He yearned to refute this legend, yet...

Just as Ballack pondered this, he and his teammates, through quick passes, penetrated Munich 1860’s defensive third. Yet the distance to the penalty area seemed insurmountable.

Ballack played the ball tactically to Pizarro, who surged forward in a rapid dribble!

"Shao Jiayi moves in for the tackle. Pizarro turns, sending the ball high toward the edge of the penalty area. Is it too high? Ballack! Ballack! Brilliant! Ballack controls and beats his man!? No! No!! No!!! My word!!!!!! Beautiful!"

Moments ago, Ballack had passed to Pizarro, who, displaying dazzling footwork, outmaneuvered Munich 1860’s veteran Hofmann.

Shao Jiayi arrived in time, forcing Pizarro wide. Undeterred, Pizarro sent in a cross from the byline toward the penalty area. Ballack sprang forward like the wind.

With two Munich 1860 defenders flanking him, Ballack burst between them, chesting the ball down and volleying it mid-air. The ball rocketed like a missile, crashing into Munich 1860’s goal.

Simon Jentzsch lay on the ground, helpless. He reacted, but only after the ball hit the net. Too fast—the shot was too quick, sudden, and precise.

Bayern Munich retook the lead, 3:2. The Allianz Arena erupted as Bayern fans celebrated the defeat of their city rivals—nothing brought them more joy! It was a battle for survival, a duel to the death!

"Ballack! Ballack scores for Bayern Munich, taking the lead! The match has reached 82 minutes! What can Munich 1860 do now? That was magnificent—a display of pure individual brilliance! A world-class goal!"

Compared to Ballack’s thunderous strike and Pizarro’s swift breakthrough, Mo Mo seemed almost insignificant.

But does it matter if the goal is hard-won, or if it's the result of an opponent's mistake? If you score, you're a good striker! Mo Mo’s eyes burned with passion, even as Bayern fans cheered and their players celebrated wildly.

Hey, it's not over yet! Why celebrate so soon?

Mo Mo turned his gaze toward Bayern Munich’s goal, where the aging Lion King stood guard, his two worn-out teeth on display before him.