Chapter 32: Deadly Intent

Peilan glanced at his watch once more, realizing that time was running out. At last, he decided to send Dai Zhiwei and the other attacking substitutes to the sidelines to warm up.

With just twenty minutes left in the match, the Hong Kong Island team had adopted a full defensive posture, leaving only Mak Kee up front to hold the line; the rest had all withdrawn into their own half to defend. Peilan immediately felt a headache coming on. Breaking down a packed defense wasn’t just something the Chinese team wasn’t good at—they simply didn’t know how to do it at all.

At Peilan’s signal, the Chinese forwards dropped back, hoping to draw out the opposition and find space to deliver a fatal blow. Unfortunately, the Hong Kong Island team didn’t fall for it. A goalless draw was their goal for this match.

Seeing their approach, the Chinese team pressed forward once again. If you won’t come out, then we’ll crush you completely—compress your space, force mistakes through relentless attacks, and drive you to collapse.

The Chinese back line had pushed up to nearly the halfway line. If not for the rule that there’s no offside once all players have crossed the halfway line, Ren Xing, standing on the halfway line, would have been the player closest to Wang Dalei besides Mak Kee.

In the seventy-second minute, Wu Xi received a return pass from Wu Lei at the edge of the penalty area. Finding no good opportunity, he decided to go for goal himself and fired a fierce shot. The ball traveled at high speed and struck the Hong Kong Island defender Ji Lanma squarely, ricocheting out for a throw-in.

Seeing Ji Lanma writhing in pain on the ground, the referee stopped play and ran over to check on him. It seemed nothing serious had happened; the force of the shot had simply been too great. Ji Lanma was in pain, but no substantial injury had occurred.

Taking advantage of this pause, Peilan brought on Dai Zhiwei for Yu Hanchao.

A few minutes later, Zheng Long broke down the left, shaking off his defender. As he was about to enter the box, he squared the ball to Dai Zhiwei. Dai controlled the ball, sidestepped Fatus, and found himself facing goalkeeper Ye Honghui—only to blast the ball over the bar.

“Damn it! I’m even worse than Wu Lei!” Dai Zhiwei cursed under his breath, thoroughly dissatisfied with his attempt.

He wanted to score so badly that he’d put too much power into it. After the sudden stop, his shooting technique failed him. The Hong Kong Island team escaped disaster.

A collective sigh swept through the stadium. Peilan, already preparing to celebrate, could only wave his hand in frustration, while Dai Zhiwei, grimacing, exhaled harshly and trudged back, his heart full of dejection.

The Hong Kong Island players, already certain the ball was going in, now felt as if they’d escaped the jaws of death.

Play resumed. Dai Zhiwei drifted out to the right, and with his excellent dribbling and speed, he was simply too much for the Hong Kong Island defenders to handle—especially as Dai was fresh from the bench, while the others had already played over seventy minutes.

With Dai Zhiwei’s activity on the right, the Chinese attack gradually began to open up.

He realized the Hong Kong Island team had made him the focus of their marking, but he didn’t care. He called for the ball proactively.

Facing Li Zhihao’s defense, Dai used no fancy tricks—just raw speed to eat up his opponent, then charged deeper into enemy territory.

Three Hong Kong Island defenders converged on Dai at the edge of the penalty area, so he quickly switched the ball to the open space on the right. Zhang Linpeng, making a run forward, seized the opportunity and crossed from the byline. Unfortunately, his cross failed to find a teammate, and the defense cleared it, but the signs of change in the Chinese attack were clear to see.

The revival on the right allowed Peilan’s tactical intentions to be realized. Dai Zhiwei’s breakthroughs caused havoc for the Hong Kong Island team; their once-solid defensive line was now riddled with holes, thrown into disarray by Dai’s relentless attacks.

Soon, the Chinese team besieged the Hong Kong Island penalty area, launching wave after wave of attacks, while their opponents fiercely resisted, almost abandoning any attempt at offense.

Truth be told, the Hong Kong Island team wasn’t exactly renowned for its defense, but today, Lady Luck had deserted the Chinese team.

As the match neared its end, the Chinese side abandoned methodical build-up play, frequently lofting balls into the opposition box in hopes of contesting the second ball and creating chaos.

Unfortunately, they had no dominant aerial threat up front—even with Yang Xu replacing Yu Dabao, they still lacked any real advantage in the air.

It seemed that unless the Hong Kong Island team made a mistake, scoring was next to impossible.

“It’s still not enough!” Dai Zhiwei muttered; he still hadn’t quite found his rhythm. After all, there was a world of difference between playing for the national team and his club.

Of course, the most glaring difference was something he’d never admit publicly: at Evergrande, his teammates included the likes of Goulart, Elkeson, and Paulinho—top foreign imports. But for the national team? Dai Zhiwei could only give a wry chuckle.

As the match approached stoppage time, Zheng Long’s pass was headed clear by Ji Shili. Zheng Zhi pounced for a long-range shot, but Bai He, ever alert, rushed out to challenge.

Zheng Zhi managed to get his shot away, but under Bai He’s pressure, it lacked both power and direction—hardly a threat.

Yet, in his haste, Bai He forgot to tuck his hand behind his back. Zheng Zhi’s shot struck his outstretched right arm, and the ball deflected wide for a corner!

“Handball!”

“Handball!”

Zheng Zhi and the other Chinese players near the penalty area all threw up their arms, surrounding the referee, signaling that this should be a handball and a penalty.

But the referee’s whistle signaled only a corner, leaving the Chinese players incensed. Certain it was a handball, they crowded around the referee, pleading their case and plunging the scene into chaos.

In the end, the referee had to use a yellow card to quell the protests.

“Too high!”

The ensuing corner, taken in growing desperation, was overhit and sailed out for a throw-in on the far side.

Watching the ball fly out, Dai Zhiwei stood on the grass with his hands on his hips, helpless and frustrated.

“If we can’t even beat Hong Kong Island, we’re even worse than them!” he said with a bitter smile.

Hearing a commotion, Dai looked to the touchline where the fourth official had raised the electronic board: five minutes!

“Well, that’s generous!” Dai nodded slightly. Five minutes of stoppage time was a lot, especially for a second half with no goals or major incidents.

Now, it was up to the Chinese players on the pitch.

Once more, Dai Zhiwei received a pass near the edge of the penalty area. Fatus and Li Zhihao immediately closed in on him.

Li Zhihao pressed forward, using his strength to try to knock Dai off balance.

But with a quick feint and a nimble shift of his body, Dai Zhiwei slipped past him, flicked the ball past Fatus, and surged toward the box.

His goal was clear: break past Fatus and charge into the penalty area.

However, the Hong Kong Island defenders weren’t about to give him so much space. Li Zhihao, having been beaten, stuck out a desperate leg and tripped Dai, preferring to commit a foul rather than let him enter the box.

Li Zhihao’s challenge was fierce. Dai went down and lost control of the ball, while Li Zhihao raised his hands, hoping to appear innocent and avoid conceding a free kick.

But the referee’s whistle didn’t come—because as Dai fell, he used his own momentum to push himself upright again, stumbling forward in an effort to reach the ball.

Dai knew the Chinese team lacked a top free-kick specialist; the odds of scoring from this position were slim.

Fatus wasn’t moved by Dai’s persistence. Instead, he doubled down on his defense, crashing into Dai with even greater force.

To his astonishment, Dai, knocked down once more, still refused to give up—hooking the ball with his foot, he managed to wrest back control even as he fell.

Fatus, unwilling to concede, charged in again, while Li Zhihao also turned and closed in, determined to stop Dai for good.

This time, the combined effort of the Hong Kong Island center-backs finally brought Dai down just outside the penalty area—a clear free kick.

“Damn!” Dai pounded the turf in frustration. The opponents were using fouls to stop him, and there was little he could do.

The direct free kick was blocked by the Hong Kong Island wall, but Jiang Zhipeng collected the rebound.

“Here!”

Dai ran out of the box, again calling for the ball. Jiang Zhipeng, without hesitation, passed it to him.

“Again!”

Dai turned, beat a man, and darted toward the penalty area. Fatus, in a panic, slid in and brought him down yet again.

The referee’s whistle sounded promptly.

Fatus wanted to argue with the referee, but Dai Zhiwei sprang up, glanced around, and quickly played the ball.

The Hong Kong Island defenders, startled, forgot about the whistle and scrambled back to defend.

But they were too slow for Dai’s quick pass. Zheng Zhi received the ball and, without even looking at the defenders closing in, slipped it out to Wu Lei on the left.

At the same time, Dai Zhiwei sprinted forward, charging straight into the penalty area.

Wu Lei received the ball on the left, with no defenders in sight. He made a slight adjustment to his stride, then, with his preferred foot, whipped in a cross—