I Am Scouted by Real Madrid

Chapter 935: Chapter 27

This is already a new generation, the once familiar figures have disappeared, caught in the cracks of time, yet Chen Zhong is unwilling to admit his "aging."

Deafening cheers swept through the Bernabeu, as if they were about to lift off the white dome.

Mbappe’s goal ignited the entire stadium, and youthful passion exploded instantly.

Vinicius and Mbappe held each other tightly, eventually almost being carried to the sidelines by the swarming teammates—Valverde, Bellingham, Camavinga, and others—to celebrate.

The camera keenly captured Chen Zhong on the sideline.

He stood there with hands on his hips, as if he saw the shadow of an old acquaintance in Mbappe, not joining the youngsters in their wild celebration.

He just stood there, with a faint and barely noticeable smile on his face, slightly raising his fist to greet the celebrating crowd.

Meanwhile, on domestic websites, some playful fans directly referred to this as the "calm of an old artist," while the commentators said, "Chen Zhong has seen every scene, this is just a small occasion."

Kaka’s signature sunny smile, Cristiano Ronaldo’s gaze that overlooked everything, Ramos shouting as he commanded the defense line, Saint Casillas’s agile saves in front of the goal... Those faces that fought side by side and shared countless glories and passions, flashed past his eyes like yellowed film.

"Now, I’m the only one left..." A certain feeling silently washed over his heart, but also strengthened it. If this was to be his final stage, then let his story shine brighter.

On the stands, the fans’ singing started again at some point, still the team song, revised, less majestic, but more passionate and inspiring.

The song pierced through the noise, clearly reaching Chen Zhong’s ears.

He straightened his back and looked towards that surging sea of white, his gaze turning resolute and sharp again.

"Captain, well done!" the young Camavinga was the first to rush back, patting Chen Zhong hard on the back, his face beaming with pure excitement. Then came Valverde, followed by Bellingham, Mbappe, and Vinicius, all came over to high-five and hug him.

"That was an amazing pass, captain!" Vinicius shouted.

Mbappe nodded as well, eyes full of pure admiration: "That long pass, the timing was perfect."

Chen Zhong just smiled, high-fiving them one by one, feeling the vibrant energy and trust from the new generation.

He pointed towards the center circle, his voice calm and powerful: "It’s just the beginning, guys! There’s a long way to go, they won’t give up easily. Keep an eye on your positions and stay focused!"

Paris Saint-Germain won’t easily concede, their ambition is to win their second Champions League title.

Enrique stood on the sidelines, his face heavy.

He anticipated Chen Zhong would have an impact, but he hadn’t expected such a heavy blow from him right at the start.

This veteran’s ability to read the game and make decisive passes remains a lethal weapon.

"Push forward! Increase the pace! Hit their midfield!" Enrique shouted loudly into the field, waving his arms forcefully.

He needed to exploit the short moment of slack that might occur after Real Madrid’s recent goal, especially using the speed of Dembele, Barca and others to attack the area around Chen Zhong.

As the game resumed, Paris Saint-Germain indeed launched a flood-like counterattack, just as Enrique wished.

Their pressing became more ferocious, the passes more direct and rapid. Midfield cores Vitinha and Fabian Ruiz tried more to penetrate from the middle and intentionally directed the ball towards Chen Zhong’s area, attempting to exhaust his stamina with continuous impacts.

Dembele obviously harbored resentment for being dispossessed at the start and began frequently utilizing speed and changes of direction to charge at the right flank patrolled by Chen Zhong.

In an instant, Real Madrid’s half was like a warzone. Alonso watched from the sideline with a furrowed brow, worried that the team’s formation was getting flattened, and even more worried whether Chen Zhong could sustain under high-intensity, fast-paced repeated sprints.

However, in the next ten minutes, Chen Zhong demonstrated with his actions what "old demon" experience meant.

He no longer easily attempted high-intensity sliding tackles but instead maximized his positional sense.

He always appeared on the most crucial passing lanes, using precise anticipation for interceptions or interference.

When Dembele again tried to use sheer speed to eat him alive, Chen Zhong skillfully used body positioning, opening his arms reasonably to interfere, forcing Dembele to make a cross with poor quality under pressure, easily cleared by Rudiger.

When Vitinha attempted to engage in close-quarter tussling with him, Chen Zhong quickly and simply dispatched the ball, never giving the opponent a chance to stick close.

With seemingly effortless yet truly wise defensive choices, he neutralized wave after wave of Paris Saint-Germain’s attacking surges.

No one expected Chen Zhong’s performance on the defensive end to be so outstanding.

As if most had forgotten, at the beginning, Cristiano Ronaldo was the king of dribbling in the Premier League while playing as a midfielder.

Alonso’s tense nerves relaxed a bit, but the worry did not disappear.

He glanced at the timer, the match was only 30 minutes in.

He needed Chen Zhong’s experience and organizational skills, especially at the moment of transition from defense to attack, Chen Zhong’s penetrating long pass was a tool to tear apart Paris Saint-Germain’s high defensive line.

But he also knew all too well, Chen Zhong’s fuel in the tank was depleting rapidly.

"Hang in there a bit longer," Alonso silently recited, "at least until halftime."

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