Football: My AI System Provides Max-Level Predictions-Chapter 772 - 556: This car, the old man didn’t push it! The two limped, the suspense of the second half arises again!_2

After all, at 33 years old, I am no longer that swift young man.

So, with cunning, he chose to dribble slowly towards Robertson.

When the distance between them narrowed to less than a meter, Robertson couldn't hold back, instinctively stretching out his foot to try and intercept the ball.

But this move played right into Robben's trap.

With a light tap from Robben's left foot, his body flew past Robertson like a swallow, effortlessly dribbling and starting to cut inside.

"Here he goes again!"

Seeing this, Diego exclaimed inwardly, aware of the danger but obliged to rush forward on defense.

Last season, Diego was still Robben's close teammate, very familiar with his playing style.

He knew well that once Robben charged forward, defending him would be next to impossible.

"Get out of my way!"

Robben shouted with a smile, deftly nudging with his left foot, squeezing Diego behind him.

Seeing his former teammate pass him so easily, Diego was frantic and instinctively tried to grab Robben's shirt.

This was something Guardiola had specifically instructed before the game, preferring to commit a foul and concede a free kick rather than allowing Robben to cut and shoot.

Robben was sweating profusely from the intense run, his jersey already sticky. When Diego reached to grab him, he only caught a hand full of sweat, missing his mark completely.

This time, in the midst of cutting inside, Robben took a moment to glance at Bravo.

Bravo was already prepared, slightly crouched and staring intently at Robben with a look of determination and focus.

Their eyes met in the air, and instantly, Robben knew Bravo was fully ready to dive.

But how could that deter him?

Inwardly, he resolved, "This time, I still aim for the far corner, and the same angle; I want to shatter your confidence!"

Robben locked eyes with Bravo, not even glancing at the ball beneath him.

Because he had absolute confidence in his skills, even at high-speed dribbling and cutting, the ball seemed tethered by an invisible string, always under his control.

At the right moment, he lifted his foot to shoot without hesitation!

"Ouch!"

A cry of agony pierced the stadium's air.

Robben's kick missed the ball, striking a hard object instead, which hit his toes with a resounding "slam."

The massive impact made his body instantly lose balance, flipping like an out-of-control top in mid-air before crashing heavily to the ground.

"Wow, unbelievable!" The commentator's voice was filled with shock.

"Robben's cut-in shot was tackled by Tang Long!"

"Did he just appear out of nowhere? A moment ago, he wasn't even in the camera's frame!"

"That was Tang Long's first tackle of this match."

Robben lay on the ground, waving his hands and loudly signaling to the referee for a foul.

But the referee saw everything clearly; Tang Long had precisely tackled the ball from the side first, while Robben's kick only hit Tang Long's shoe.

So the referee held up both hands, decisively signaling the match to continue.

Tang Long didn't spare Robben a glance while he lay on the ground, swiftly dribbling forward.

Robben's kick was powerful; although Tang Long's thick kangaroo leather shoes protected his feet, he still felt a slight ache.

However, the game's pace was so fast that Tang Long had no time to feel pain, with only one thought in mind: Attack!

He quickly charged forward and precisely passed the ball to Ranocchia, who came to meet it.

Ranocchia's earlier wonderful pass at the game's start bolstered his confidence.

Now, even with his back to the goal and Vidal tightly marking him, he was fearless, relying on his tenacious spirit and excellent skills to forcibly turn and pass the ball to the distant Agüero.

Agüero watched the ball fly his way, already spotting Sterling cutting closely along the offside line.

In a quick decision, he rushed forward, leaping high before the ball landed, and with a pounce like a leopard, headed it elegantly toward the middle.

"The transition between attack and defense is astonishingly fast!" The commentator shouted excitedly.

"Agüero heads the ball directly to Sterling!"

"Hummels is on the other side, Sterling is one-on-one with Martinez!"

"Sterling, Sterling!"

"His body twitches exaggeratedly, like a flexible eel!"

"A nutmeg, he's just nutmegged Martinez!"

"Neuer breaks out, Sterling shoots—"

With a bang, Sterling's shot struck Neuer's head straight on as he came out with his arms spread.

The immense force sent the ball soaring high, much like a bird taking flight.

Hummel swiftly returned to defend, decisively heading the ball away before it hit the ground, sending it toward the sideline stands.

"Ju—"

With the ball's exit, the referee decisively blew the whistle signaling the end of the first half.

Dejected Sterling stood still on the pitch, eyes filled with disappointment and self-reproach.

Moments later, he fell to his knees, pounding the ground with his fists, muttering repeatedly:

"Damn it, damn it!"

The missed one-on-one opportunity cost him a chance to help his team overtake the score before halftime.

Sterling was filled with regret, endlessly blaming himself for wasting Agüero's perfect pass.

His heart was in turmoil, eyes slightly reddening with a sudden urge to cry.

He couldn't help but ask himself: Why after all these years, hasn't my one-on-one technique improved at all? Am I not working hard enough, or is my direction wrong?

Meanwhile, Manchester City loyalists behind the goal began ridiculing Sterling for his missed chance.

The jeers pierced Sterling deeply, making him even more dejected as he knelt, unwilling to rise.

Until Tang Long ran over from afar, reached out, and firmly pulled him up.

"Sterling, pull yourself together, let's keep fighting in the second half!" Tang Long's voice was firm and resolute.

Tang Long led Sterling toward the player's tunnel.

Sterling, hanging his head, expressed his remorse:

"I'm sorry, Tang, I couldn't score..."

As Tang Long comforted Sterling, he inadvertently looked up, spotting Robben limping past.

"Ouch, ouch."

"Sss..."

Robben grimaced, his face marked with pain.

His attempt had hit his toe compeltely, drawing blood and staining his socks inside his shoes.

Tang Long also felt a sharp pain in his ankle.

Robben's kick had hit him hard as well.

Previously, the match's tension had kept him from feeling pain, but hearing Robben's moans, it suddenly struck him intensely.

"Sss..." Tang Long couldn't help but suck in a breath, limping as he walked and resting his hand on Sterling's shoulder for balance.

Robben, hearing Tang Long's intake of breath, looked back at him.

Seeing him limp, Robben's face darkened.

"This guy gets the advantage but acts innocent, is he deliberately mimicking me? Fine, in the next half I'll show you my capability!"

Robben's intense pride flared suddenly; he bit his lip, straightened his slightly hunched body, braced against the throbbing pain, accelerated, waving his arms quickly as he flashed past Tang Long and sprinted down the tunnel...