At kickoff, Su Hang surged forward immediately. Only when Mascherano intercepted him did he stop and glance back to assess his teammates' positions.
He hadn't used a Moment Card yet.
Because the use of Moment Cards came with restrictions.
Normally, a Moment Card's duration lasted anywhere from five to fifteen minutes, depending on how powerful the card's effect was—the stronger the card, the shorter its duration.
And in each match, a player could only activate one Moment Card, preventing any "stacked cheats" from happening.
So, to play it safe, Su Hang planned to activate his around the seventy-fifth—or even the eighty-fifth—minute mark.
That was also why, the first time he used Zidane's Moment Card, he waited until the very end.
Su Hang: "Hey, did you change the rules? I waited to use the first card for a reason!"
Author: "No, the rules were always like this. I just forgot to explain them earlier—my mistake."
Bang!
Right from the restart, Argentina launched an intense press.
Spain tried to hold possession with back passes but couldn't escape that first wave of mad-dog pressure.
In the first half, Spain's response in such moments had been to pass back to the goalkeeper.
Casillas would then blast the ball upfield—only for Spain to lose possession again.
But this time…
Alonso launched a long ball straight toward the attacking zone!
Lose it right away?
No!
Of course not!
Up front, Su Hang had already muscled into position against Argentina's defensive midfielder, Mascherano, raising his hand and signaling for the pass.
His message was clear: I've got this guy beaten—send it my way.
Whether in basketball or football, that act of backing into an opponent and demanding the ball carried a hint of mockery.
And sure enough, "Mr. Angry" Mascherano wasn't having it.
Mascherano (furious glare): ???
He kicked and shoved at Su Hang's back in frustration, but it was useless.
At 1.83 meters, Su Hang's frame completely dwarfed Mascherano's 1.74.
With his 90 Strength attribute, Su Hang was a monster in physical battles.
Outside of a few bigger, stronger defenders, he had almost no equal.
On top of that, he possessed "Baptista's Beastly Physique," which triggered "Physical Overpower," and the "Running Posture of the King of Portugal," which activated "Leave Them in the Dust."
Once he pinned you behind him, fouling was basically the only option left.
Thud!
Su Hang brought the ball down cleanly.
The "Ice Prince's Waltz" gave him remarkably soft touch.
Though Mascherano's pressure made it less elegant, preventing him from linking up with "Bergkamp's Back-to-Goal Split," Su Hang held him off, spun with the ball, and broke free.
That move—borrowed from Morientes—was pure class.
Thud!
Su Hang flicked the ball forward, bursting past Mascherano before he could regain balance.
At that moment, he wasn't fighting alone.
Morientes: "Oh, great. You force me out of the national team, then use my signature move to humiliate opponents. Fantastic!"
Beep!
The referee's whistle cut through the noise.
He pointed at Heinze and raised a yellow card.
"Oh! A yellow card! Heinze's in trouble!"
"After Su Hang dribbled past Mascherano, Heinze came charging in and body-checked him down."
"No question about it—a clear foul. And given the proximity to the box, the yellow is fair."
"This is a dangerous free kick. Spain's chance has arrived!"
"As expected of the captain of both Real Madrid and Spain, Su Hang truly is Aragonés' secret weapon."
"Barely a minute on the field, and he's already created danger! His impact is far greater than anyone imagined!"
"No wonder they say, 'Above is heaven, below is Su Hang!'"
Su Hang: ???
Su Hang: "Can we stop with the puns already?"
"Spain has plenty of free-kick specialists—Luis García and Alonso both take them for Liverpool."
"Xavi handles them for Barcelona."
"And David Villa has scored some absolute beauties from free kicks."
"Wait—what's Su Hang doing?"
"Is Su Hang about to take this free kick himself?"
"Oh! That's… that's a bit awkward. He's not one of Spain's regular free-kick takers. Even if he won it, it feels a little... overreaching."
To some, it looked like Su Hang was trying to steal the spotlight.
Ordinarily, Spain's designated set-piece takers wouldn't yield.
Especially on this semi-rebuilt Spanish team full of rising stars—each one with their own pride and ego.
At such times, even following the coach's tactical roles was already an effort.
Many stars tried to stand out, even if it meant going off-script.
Su Hang: ???
But faced with Su Hang's steady, determined gaze, the others hesitated.
"I've got no objection," Alonso said first, stepping back.
Calm and thoughtful by nature, he saw something dependable in Su Hang.
And even if Su Hang was just fired up, that was normal—players who just came on were always eager.
Letting him take it might even motivate him more.
After all, Su Hang was also the one battling for those long-ball duels.
Most outsiders didn't realize it, but players knew that was a bruising, blue-collar job.
Constant physical clashes.
After every match, he'd be covered in bruises.
Injury risk? Through the roof—highest for minor knocks, second-highest for major ones.
It was the same kind of high-risk role as the lightning-fast forwards—who ranked second for minor injuries, first for serious ones.
But while those speedsters earned goals, assists, fame, and love from fans, the target man faded quietly into the background, his contributions hidden.
Just look at Argentina's backup striker, Cruz—his stats and performances were stellar.
Yet he was always a substitute, whether for club or country.
If those numbers came from a winger, he'd already be hailed as the next Maradona.
That's basically Robben-level right now at Chelsea—or Bale's level at Real Madrid after Ronaldo's move.
Top-class players—just with fewer appearances.
By that same logic, Alonso understood Su Hang's position—and so did Xavi.
After all, Alonso's full name was Xabi Alonso.
Xavi: "…"
Luis García and Villa reluctantly stepped aside as well.
They weren't overthinking it.
But both owed Su Hang—he'd been the one to volunteer for the bench, allowing them to start.
The media had expected Su Hang and Raúl to start up front, with Raúl taking either García's or Villa's spot.
Su Hang stepping back had given them both their chance.
Now, Su Hang placed the ball and backed up toward the left side.
The free kick was just left of the penalty arc—perfect for a right-footed curler.
And the greatest right-footed curve in the world belonged to…
Thud!
Su Hang spread his arms wide, body leaning sharply to the left.
The angle between his ankle and the ground was no more than forty-five degrees—an angle that could easily snap a bone.
That kind of shot had only ever been seen from one Englishman before.
Whoosh!
The ball soared over the Argentine wall—not that height mattered.
Even if they averaged 1.9 meters, this strike would've cleared them anyway.
The curve was magnificent—
like a perfect Banana Free Kick!