After signing with AC Milan, I will be the king of football!

Chapter 1531: Chapter 430: Disliking Away Goals

Carvalho immediately kicked the ball upfield with a big boot.

Drogba, dressed in a black jersey, charged towards Barca’s penalty area like an African elephant.

”Foul, foul quickly!!!”

shouted Guardiola.

The backfield is too empty now.

If Drogba gets the ball, we’re done.

Busquets bared his teeth, waiting for the opportunity.

When he tackles, he likes to wait for the opponent to get close, then launch a sudden attack; many opponents can’t believe how such a tall guy can go to ground so quickly.

Now he’s the only one in the backfield, and Busquets knows he only has one chance.

Drogba successfully received the ball and quickly charged towards Barca’s penalty area.

Busquets clenched his fists, waiting for Drogba to come closer.

Closer.

The distance between the two grew smaller and smaller, and finally, Busquets moved.

He charged head-on at Drogba.

Busquets is a smart guy.

He knows charging like this will force the opponent to shift and change direction, so he held back a bit of strength while running, waiting for the moment Drogba changed direction.

As expected.

Drogba skillfully flicked with his right foot, trying to shake off Busquets.

But Busquets immediately turned and tackled.

Drogba went down, clutching his leg and rolling on the ground upfield.

Busquets didn’t get up either since Drogba fell on him; he figured he could claim injury too.

”Bastard...”

Huntelaar rushed over, and Valdes quickly blocked him.

Busacca watched the Chelsea players rushing upfield, his heart sinking.

Damn, this is going to be trouble.

Busacca pulled out a card, holding it up as he rushed into the crowd.

”Yellow card, actually this foul should be a red card. Busacca is being too cautious today, Busquets was the last outfield player besides the goalkeeper.”

”Yes, but Drogba seems injured.”

”Could be, but Higuain has been warming up for a while, so it shouldn’t delay much.”

”Coach Zhang, did you notice, Chelsea is very much like the old Real Madrid; they rush in extremely fast when conflicts happen, and by the time their opponents come over, they’re blocked outside.”

”Haha, the team Huang Kaiwen plays for certainly has that characteristic. Huang Kaiwen is impressive, but he gets injured easily, so his teammates worry when he’s fouled, and they get quite agitated when rushing in.”

”[Chelsea U18] indeed.”

”Coach Zhang can really sugarcoat things, always felt like those Real Madrid players are like a gang.”

”Not really, not really. When Huang Kaiwen doesn’t get fouled, Real Madrid players rarely lay hands on opponents.”

”Bull, you must not be counting Pepe. Even if Huang Kaiwen isn’t fouled, Pepe tends to hit whoever he wants.”

”Hahaha, that’s hilarious. Huang Kaiwen always says Pepe isn’t a bad guy, but Pepe sure has committed many malicious fouls.”

”I’d like to see Pepe tackle Huang Kaiwen, let’s see if he fouls like that.”

”Don’t worry, he won’t. Huang Kaiwen gets along well with everyone. Look at De Jong, he took out Tevez, and Tevez hasn’t returned yet.”

”Wasn’t it said it was accidental?”

”Just words, De Jong’s a sly one too, I watched the replay repeatedly, and that guy went straight for Tevez from the start.”

”Damn, Huang Kaiwen truly has charisma. Didn’t expect De Jong to stand up for him even when they’re not on the same team.”

Busacca tried to separate the players.

Higuain replaced the injured Drogba.

Barca’s players forming the wall started inching forward, and the referee, seeing them not stopping, waited to discuss with Busacca to waste time.

Busacca felt a headache coming, pointing and pulling out the yellow card to show it to Piqué, sternly saying, ”If you take one more step, it’s a yellow card. If you like, feel free to try.”

”As you wish, sir.”

Busquets shrugged and said.

The wall was finally set.

Huang Kaiwen looked up at the time below the scoreboard.

92:11.

There should be a few more minutes of stoppage time.

But there aren’t many chances left.

This might be the best opportunity.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, then began his run-up.

Left foot, right foot.

His right foot planted as he swung his left foot, brushing the underside of the ball.

Bang—

The ball successfully sailed over the wall, and Valdes, standing in front of the goal, was very focused, diving immediately towards the left side of the goal, his body fully stretched out, but there was no time for Valdes to celebrate.

As he dove, something felt wrong; the ball was higher than he expected.

Damn!

Feeling a gust of wind brush past his face, Valdes closed his eyes.

As if that would let him escape what was coming next.

But whether he looked or not, the ball had squeezed in at the junction of the crossbar and the post.

Bang—

Camp Nou fell into a vast silence.

Only the visiting fans’ stands were going crazy.

”Saint Kevin!!!”

”Saint Kevin!!!”

”Saint Kevin!!!”

The traveling Chelsea fans shouted for the first time today.

Their cheers shook the earth.

Mourinho’s face was flushed with excitement, jumping and punching the air on the sidelines again and again.

Commentators in over 200 countries worldwide were shouting the same name.

”Kevin!!!”

”Kevin Goal!”

”GoalGoalGoal!”

”Kevin scored at the most crucial moment, bringing the aggregate score to 4:4. The Catalans, who were celebrating for a week, were finally panicking. If the score stays like this, they’ll be eliminated on away goals.”

”At the start of the match today, Kevin had a free-kick opportunity and chose to pass, but none of the Chelsea players anticipated his genius assist, wasting it. This time Kevin chose to shoot, and indeed succeeded.”