Chapter 936: Chapter 27_2

On the other side, Enrique seemed somewhat agitated.

The "attack Chen Zhong" strategy he had meticulously planned did not achieve the expected results.

The 35-year-old veteran stood like a rock amidst the raging stream, not only resisting the onslaught but embodying the stability that anchored Real Madrid’s defense.

Paris Saint-Germain’s offense looked lively, yet it consistently lacked a truly lethal blow to threaten Courtois.

Chen Zhong acted as a stabilizing force, his presence empowering his younger teammates in defense.

At the final moments of the first half, Paris Saint-Germain gained an excellent opportunity.

After a breakthrough on the left flank, Dembele completed a highly threatening toe-poke shot at the edge of the small penalty area before Rudiger! Courtois swiftly reacted, blocking the ball with his leg!

Immediately afterwards, Dembele’s chaotic follow-up shot deflected off the retreating Valverde and went out at the baseline!

The Bernabeu was filled with exclamations, followed by applause for Courtois and Valverde.

The corner was taken, and amidst the disorder, a Paris Saint-Germain center back headed toward the goal! The ball flew toward the net with a whoosh! In this critical moment, a white figure appeared in front of the goal line—it’s Chen Zhong!

With an almost instinctive reaction, he sidestepped and blocked the ball with his chest! The ball hit his chest and bounced out of the penalty area!

"Chen Zhong! Goal-line clearance!" The commentator’s voice was filled with incredible shock, "At critical moments, it’s always this veteran appearing in the most deadly positions! He saved Real Madrid! Unbelievable!"

After completing this crucial clearance, Chen Zhong staggered a couple of steps to stand firm. He clutched his chest, gasping for air, as sweat trickled down his cheeks like a stream.

Teammates rushed over to pat and embrace him.

The singing from the stands grew louder again, this time infused with supreme respect for the legendary veteran.

The halftime whistle finally sounded.

Real Madrid headed for the locker room with a 1-0 lead.

In the locker room, Alonso’s gaze immediately focused on Chen Zhong. He didn’t immediately assign tactics but instead went to Chen Zhong’s side and quietly asked, "How are you feeling, Chen? Your chest?"

Chen Zhong took a deep breath, pulling out a relaxed smile, "It’s just a bruise; I’m fine. I just need to catch my breath."

"Listen," Alonso’s voice was low yet clear, ensuring every player could hear, "Paris Saint-Germain will pounce like hungry wolves in the second half. Enrique’s sole goal is to break us down, especially..." he paused, emphasizing, "break down our midfield core, exhaust Chen Zhong’s stamina. They’re going to come faster, harder, and more focused in attacking Chen Zhong’s side in the second half."

He turned to the tactics board, speaking faster, "Vinicius, Bellingham, you two need to retreat deeper! I’m not asking you to come back to defend but to protect! Disable Vitinha and Ruiz’s receiving points, cut off their supply lines to Dembele! Valverde, you and Camavinga are the barricade, you need to cover more ground, share the pressure for Chen Zhong! Chen," Alonso looked at him again, "save every ounce of energy. Prioritize defensive positioning, lessen unnecessary sprinting. I need your brain, your passing that slices open the defense lines! Keep the spark of counterattack in your hands!"

On the other side, the atmosphere in Paris’s locker room was oppressive and filled with hostility.

Enrique’s face was ashen, his voice was like an ice pick, "A 35-year-old guy is playing you all around in circles?! It’s disgraceful! Increase intensity! Dembele! Barcola! I want you to be like nails beside him! Apply maximum pressure with every touch! Force him to sprint with every defensive return! Vitinha! Fabian! Pass the ball quicker to their vulnerable zone! I want him on the ground! Before he falls, get me a goal to equalize the score!"

As the second half began, Paris Saint-Germain’s offensive surged to almost frenzied levels.

Dembele, Barcola were like two untiring assault vehicles, repeatedly attacking Real Madrid’s right flank.

Every time Chen Zhong had the ball, at least one Paris player would shadow him closely, aggressively colliding and interfering with his feet.

Vitinha and Fabian Ruiz’s passes were more direct and penetrating, specifically targeting the space behind Chen Zhong’s coverage area.

Stamina, this invisible barrier, was approaching Chen Zhong as it crushed down at an alarming speed.

Every time after an interception, the turning initiation was slightly slower than the first half; every precise long pass followed by retreating into position made the breathing much heavier. Sweat had already blurred vision, relying only on willpower to support each movement.

Twice, Dembele leveraged absolute speed to bypass him, forming dangerous crosses from the flank, fortunately, Rudiger performed heroically to resolve the danger.

The cheers from the stands became louder wave after wave, every breakthrough against Chen Zhong pulled tightly at the Real Madrid fans’ hearts.

"Chen Zhong looks so exhausted!" The commentator’s voice carried anxiety, "Dembele’s speed is indeed a significant test for someone his age. Alonso must consider making adjustments; is he going to let this distinguished veteran exhaust his last bit of energy under such high intensity?"

Minute by minute, time went by, and the game reached the 65th minute.

Paris Saint-Germain’s furious attacks finally paid off.

In a quick counterattack, Barcola forcibly broke through on the flank and made a back pass, Dembele near the penalty spot struck fiercely at the ball! Courtois made yet another world-class save, palming the ball over the crossbar!

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