Two: Storm

Although many fans had already anticipated the failure of the Chinese team before watching the game, it was difficult for a few more people to stay calm when the facts were in front of them.

The moment the referee blew the final whistle, the bar was in a mess, the sound of glass rupture, screaming and cries were particularly harsh. The fat man, who was big and thick, cried in a mess, probably lost the money he spent on treating for Chinese football.

In fact, the one who should cry the most is Erzi. Everyone was venting anger on the objects that could not be moved around. As long as they saw those that could be moved, they would smash them. As for those that could not be moved, they would not be able to get along with them for the time being. But Erzi didn't seem to see anything at all. Since Dong Fangzhuo was replaced, he lowered his head and slowly drank the wine, and ignored the reactions of the people around him. He picked up the wine glass, gently shook the wine in the glass, and put it to his mouth. Just as he raised his hand, a bottle of wine hit the large-screen TV worth more than 10,000 yuan, but his movements did not even pause at all. Someone next to him muttered secretly, not only was this person's eyesight was poor, but his hearing was also problematic. Of course, there was another possibility that he had bought insurance long ago.

Suddenly, a cheer came from outside the door, and the bar suddenly became quiet. Many people were holding broken wine bottles and other things in their hands, which seemed inappropriate.

If there were ordinary cheers, people's reaction would not be that loud, but that voice spoke Japanese. Although many people couldn't understand what they were saying, when they heard such sensitive language during this sensitive period, everyone could still react immediately what people outside said, and it was definitely not what they like to listen to.

The fat man took the lead and ran out of the door with a scream. Others followed him out to watch the fun. He saw more than a dozen young people, with plaster flags like suicide squads tied on their heads and red white cloths like sanitary napkins in their hands, shouting while walking. They were using their own bird songs, and no one knew what they were shouting, but fools could guess that they were celebrating was probably the same thing as Chinese fans.

The fat man was angry and threw the bottle in his hand on the way forward of the Japanese. He heard a wonderful "bang!" interrupting the fantasy of the people, and looked here in surprise.

The fat man pulled the glasses, but the fat man was so energetic that he threw away his glasses, pointed at the Japanese and shouted, "Call you so much! I'm in a bad mood, get out of here!"

Several Japanese looked at each other, and a young man who looked slightly larger in front stood up and said in not very standard Chinese: "We are celebrating the victory of our Great Japanese Empire. You are losers, and the weak are not qualified to point fingers."

As soon as he said this, the crowd suddenly became a sensation. Many people who thought that the fat man had done too much became popular and became popular. NND, why did this sound so awkward? Isn’t it just a loss? It’s TMD, the Japanese Empire, as if it was a Sino-Japanese War.

The young man saw that everyone around him was ready to use martial arts, but he was not afraid at all. He raised his head proudly and continued his poor Mandarin: "Chinese people have no quality! If you lose, you have to hit people. If you do it, the front page report in the newspaper tomorrow will definitely be reported in the front page: Chinese football hooligans beat Japanese students after the game. You are different from British football hooligans. They can be proud of their team, but you don't even have the qualification to be proud."

The more and more people around him were surrounded, and when he heard this, he became angry. A few young men rolled up their sleeves and prepared to go up and beat them up, but they were pulled by the people next to him.

When the Japanese young man saw that no one came up, he became even more arrogant. "Chinese football level has always been poor. Whether you like to listen or not, I'm telling the truth." He turned around and took a football from his companion, tiptoed unscrupulously, and continued while tiptoing: "I can make a bet with you. If any of the people present is better than me, I will crawl under his gear, but if the person who lost with me, he will crawl under my gear."

The onlookers whispered to each other. The most basic method of practice in football is to tiptoe, but it is also the most difficult to practice. People with more tiptoe must have a good sense of the ball. As a fan, it is certain that they can play a few balls, but China is not Brazil, Brazil is national football, and China's national sports are table tennis. If you pull any person on the streets of Brazil, it is probably not a problem to tiptoe by 180 times, but among these onlookers, you can't find any tiptoe for fifty consecutive times without landing.

But we can't let the Japanese be so arrogant in our land. It will affect the national system if they say it out. But no expert passed by at this time, and could only watch the Japanese bird laughing proudly while tiptoing. The few little Japanese next to them were still counting loudly. Anyway, those numbers are simple to pronounce in Chinese. Many people who go out to China will not speak Chinese, but those who don't know how to read numbers in Chinese will probably not be able to find them, so they sound very uniform and very harsh at the moment.

However, the Japanese boy's skills were not hyped. The people around him were 93, and he still smiled without showing any embarrassment. He tiptoed and became more and more angry. He couldn't really do it. He said, "If you lose your skills and hit people, you will be embarrassed if you spread it." Many people took out their cell phones and called the football masters they knew, so that they could rush over and destroy the fierceness of these little Japanese.

"Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred! Hum? Who is Baga?" The Japanese bird had just tiptoed to ninety-nine, and was about to reach the three digits. Suddenly a football flew over and hit him on the tiptoe ball impartially. After the two balls collided, they immediately changed direction. In this case, let alone him, even the king of football, Uncle Bailey, could not tiptoe anymore.

The onlookers, who were full of anger, suddenly saw a turn for the moment, and they all applauded. Looking in the direction of the ball, they only saw a young man with long hair covering his face limping over.

"Second son?" The fat man and the second son were the most familiar, and immediately ran over, "Second son was so good that he smeared this little boy!"

"I didn't smash it, I kicked it." Many people heard the taciturn second son speak for the first time. His voice was still young, but he looked a little tired and mature. However, no one noticed his tone, and he was shocked by his words. A cripple man, who kicked a ball more than ten meters away, could directly hit another ball. Such footing style is probably comparable to the legendary Ronaldinho hit the crossbar in succession with four consecutive kicks. Unexpectedly, this disabled second son is actually a master. No matter what, when a strong support comes, although he is a cripple, it should not be a problem to defeat this little bastard with that kick.

The Japanese were angry at first, but gradually became surprised after hearing the words. The leader stood up and pointed at the second son and said, "You! I want to duel with you!"

"What?" Erzi replied casually, "Is it tiptoeing? I still have something to do, I don't have time to spend it slowly with you. I have to go back to clean up the things they smashed in the bar. Let's change a quick solution."

The Japanese were irritated and roared, "You can compare whatever you say! Can I be afraid of you, a cripple?"

When everyone saw these Japanese tore off their hypocritical masks and exposed their scars, they all accused them loudly, but Erzi was not angry and waved his hand gently to everyone to be quiet and said slowly: "Then let's compare shooting. Did you see it? The big screen TV facing the door in my bar is twenty meters away from the door, each of whoever hits the more will win."

The Japanese bird in the lead changed drastically. Judging from the way the two sons hit him on the tiptoe, they must be a set-piece master. This gambling method is exactly his strength, but he has already praised him for being in a hurry and isn't he slapped himself in the face? People say that Japanese are despicable, and they think of a bad idea in the blink of an eye. The bird stood up and said, "It's not difficult to play, it's difficult to play. You and I are facing the door, tiptoe a few times, and then turn around and shoot the target. Do you dare?"

The onlookers were so angry that they tiptoed and turned around to shoot the target. Moreover, the TV was inside the door, and the ball had to pass through the small door and then hit the TV. Such difficult movements were basically impossible for a normal person, let alone a disabled person who was inconvenient to one foot. Some people started to scold again with bad tempers, and at this time, more and more people gathered around, and some people took the opportunity to take out the DV machine they carried with them to start shooting.

However, Erzi still didn't care and agreed casually, which made the people around him sweat, while the Japanese were secretly proud. Their little abacus was to bully Erzi and his legs were not good enough to turn around, and the bird in the lead was not bad, so their probability of winning was greatly increased.

Everyone stood up one after another and gave up a venue at the door of the bar. Several people with DVs also stood from different angles after discussing and filmed the competition throughout the whole process.

"I have to ask another question," Erzi, who had been talking nonsense, spoke. "Does the bet just now count?"

"Of course!" The Japanese bird gritted his teeth, "I want you to crawl under my crotch and let everyone take a good look."

"Who will come first? Are you or me?"

"Since you said that, I'll do it first." The Japanese bird stood in front of the ball, with his back facing the door, and a proud smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

The Japanese bird turned his back to the bar gate, stepped on the ball with his right foot, gently pulled the ball back and rolled it onto the surface of his feet, flicked the ball on his tiptoe, changed his left leg and took it in the air, tiptoe again, and gently knocked the falling ball on his left thigh. The ball flew to a relatively stable height, turned around, and shot his right foot in the air, and the ball went straight through the bar gate and slammed on the TV.

The people around him stopped breathing. Unexpectedly, this little boy had such good skills, he secretly sweated for Erzi. After the Japanese birdie hit, he proudly said to Erzi: "I'm sorry, I'm using the power too much. I guess I can't watch that TV in the future."

The second son still looked like he was dying and said softly: "It doesn't matter. The TV is broken, and it doesn't matter if it is broken. It's up to me."

Erzi picked up the ball and stood at the position where the Japanese were standing just now, facing the door, gently pulled the ball to the foot with his lame left foot and swung it upwards. The ball flew high, and pointed again on his left shoulder. The ball slowed down. He turned around and paddled the ball to the ball on his right foot. The football flew into the bar gate along a steady straight line. With a light bang, it slowly hit the center of the TV.

The emotions of the audience around him were immediately ignited, and a shocking cheer burst out. Although the ball was not fast, the angle and trajectory were perfect. The sweat on the Japanese head dripped. According to his estimate, it would be good to hit the target in this way, five goals would be worth it at his level. The second son probably couldn't hit one. Fortunately, the first ball was hit, which was also his extraordinary performance. He pretended to be very relaxed to put pressure on the opponent. If the opponent could not hit the opponent, then he had the initiative. He didn't know that the cripple in front of him could tie it easily. Now he was nervous, but the more nervous he was, the less it was easier to play.

Erzi glanced at Little Japan with a joke and walked away with a smile. Little Japan gritted her teeth and walked to the ball, but he was impatient and couldn't even maintain his normal state. He didn't even score in the goal. The onlookers were generous and booed him with the warmest booing.

The little Japanese glared at Niko, but Niko was unmoved and easily hit the ball on the TV. The current score was 2:1.

"Do you want to compete?" asked Erzi, the bar bar jokingly.

"Compare! Of course, you have to compare!" The Japanese face looked very ugly. He himself knew that hitting the first ball was lucky, but hitting the same target in the same pattern for two consecutive goals was definitely not a coincidence. He couldn't help but regret that there are 1.4 billion people in China, and there are countless hidden masters. His own level is just a little better than ordinary people, so he came here to brag and provoke a real master. But the problem is that he is arrogant and he will never allow himself to bow to the Chinese and have to commit suicide.

But the technique is there. The third ball of the little Japanese still failed to hit. If the second ball of the bar hits the ball and he still fails to hit the next ball, the game will be over. The little Japanese looked at the football outside the door and gritted his teeth, but there was no way. He could only pray to their Amaterasu bullshit god in secret, hoping that it could cause trouble in secret and no longer let the opponent hit.

But he seemed to have forgotten that this was China's territory. What was their turn to do? The third ball, the second son still used the same footwork to smash the ball on the TV. With a light bang, it sounded like a fairy music in the ears of the Chinese audience. Now the score is 3:1.

The Japanese have basically lost, with two goals left. As long as he misses one goal, he loses. Even if he hits both goals, the second son can win the game as long as he hits another goal. The five-ball system is the same as the penalty shootout.

The little Japanese may have accepted his fate. He was discouraged and kicked the fourth goal in a hurry, but naturally missed it. The game was over, and the people around him burst into shocking cheers, as if they were even more excited than the Chinese team entering the World Cup.

The Japanese bird walked back to the team in disgrace. Several Japanese began to roar in Japanese, as if they were accusing him of failure. They glanced at the second son from time to time, their eyes were very fierce.

The people around had already been full of anger. When they saw that Erzi finally defeated the Japanese, they were excited and shouted and made noise. Many people remembered the bets before the game and started to make the Japanese fulfill their bets, that is, they crawled through the second son's frame. There were quite a lot of people doing things like this. When the first person shouted, "Japans, crawled through your grandpa frame," everyone shouted loudly together. This scene almost scared several Japanese.

Another Japanese man stood up and said in broken Chinese: "Are you the owner of this bar? Your skills are very good, but we are not convinced because you are opportunistic and your ball speed is very slow every time you shoot a target. This is too difficult. Our people shoot the ball speed very fast. This game doesn't count!"

People around them scolded the Japanese for being despicable and shameless and lost, but Erzi only smiled and walked to the side of the ball without saying a word. He knocked the ball on his right heel, and flew upwards on his left foot. Then he stabilized the ball on his outside of his right foot, gently swung it to the left side of his body, turned around, and shot the ball vigorously. The ball rang along a straight line through the bar gate and smashed it hard on the TV inside. A loud bang came. In people's surprised eyes, the display screen of the super-attack TV was smashed one after another, and the football stopped in the empty TV.

A magical skill! Everyone around was stunned. Even the little Japanese who was talking nonsense just now couldn't speak. No matter how difficult the technology was, just smashing such a thick TV screen with one ball from 30 meters away, this force is not something ordinary people can imagine. If it is a shot, how many goalkeepers in the world can hold on? It's a pity that this person is a cripple, otherwise he could lead the Chinese team to the World Cup alone. The method is very simple. He just needs to shoot.
Chapter completed!