Chapter 684 - 9: White-Hot Battle and the Elite Eight Parade! Barrage After Barrage! Another Upheaval! Two Free-Spirited Madmen!

"That goal doesn’t count! I refuse to accept it! Look, there’s a crack here!"

This behavior is indeed unethical, but for the Sweden team, he would rather bear such infamy.

The referee glanced at the soccer ball, not believing his nonsense... If it had been deflated, wouldn’t the players from both teams have noticed with all those passes just now?

Besides, the sound of shooting and passing was crisp; these seasoned players could obviously tell whether there was air or not.

"Beep!" He blew the whistle pointing to the center circle, indicating the goal was valid, but as he ran towards the center, he glanced at Ma’el with astonishment.

What kind of innate divine power?

"Folala...!"

From the sideline, Ma’el ran over this time shouting the celebratory phrase French team players often used. He spread his arms, doing his good brother Van Persie’s signature celebration, lamenting his early departure.

He came to the camera, hugged it, and shouted, "Don’t lose heart, Robin! Wait for me to come back!"

He knew the feeling of leaving the pitch after three losses wasn’t good. He hoped to inspire Van Persie in this way and also hoped it wouldn’t affect his form next season.

After all, at the club, they still have many dreams unfinished and need to team up and score hundreds of goals together!

After doing this, he focused all his attention on himself, thoroughly enjoying this goal-scoring moment.

European Cup goal number 5!

France team goal number 12!

In the data charts of the new battlefront, he has achieved astounding records, obviously smoother than his start at Sheffield United and Arsenal!

This isn’t easy; European Cup matches are definitely tougher than those in the Premier League and Championship.

It seems the effort he put into perfecting his first Level 5 skill before the tournament brought even more game performance than he imagined!

He couldn’t help but imagine how excellent his performance would be with the dipping shot and crossing skills he has now trained up to Level 5, with three outstanding Level 5 skills.

Ma’el soared over the advertising board, waving his right hand to the cheering France team fans on this side, "Yeah...!"

After this match, they are going to enter a whole new stage!

The knockout stage, surely a battleground full of unexpected temptations and crises, a heaven and hell dilemma, altogether fascinating!

There’s a chance they smoothly advance from the top 8 to the top 4, then to the final!

There’s also a chance, due to a minor mistake, they stumble midway, becoming mere contrast to the mighty figure of the ultimate champion.

...

At Warsaw International Airport, Van Persie, carrying his bag and holding his phone, suddenly saw something and stopped in his tracks.

"What’s wrong?" His agent asked puzzled.

Van Persie turned around facing the opposite direction and said, "I don’t want to leave; I want to stay here and watch the rest of this European Cup."

"Watch the rest?" The agent looked astonished, "Are you sure? Why change your decision suddenly? Robin, your mental state isn’t right; you have to go home and recuperate with your family.

"The new season is not far away; this failure is nothing. You still have the chance to achieve greater success at Arsenal.

"If you really collapse, that would be the greatest loss."

"No, I’m fine."

With determination in his expression, Van Persie stepped forward, tearing the ticket to shreds to show his resolve, "Although the Netherlands team lost, my good friends haven’t lost, right?

"Ma’el, Rosicky, Sagna, Koscielny, Chamberlain, Walcott, Gilbert are all still here. I want to be with them till the end, let’s go back."

His agent wanted to say more, but eventually followed him.

Van Persie first called Arshavin to ask if he had left, and upon finding out he hadn’t, invited him to watch the match together.

After hanging up, he smiled and reached out to Wenger, seeking organizational acceptance.

...

"Scratch!"

At Poznan Stadium, Swedish defender Olsson fiercely slid and tackled, his boot studs viciously struck the front of Ma’el’s shinbone.

"Ah...!"

Ma’el clutched his legs and fell to the ground, and the French team’s players instantly surrounded the referee and Olsson, "Hey...!"

This is their captain, the team’s most lethal striking force; if he’s injured, how will they play the remaining matches?

"Savage! Savage!" Deschamps fumed on the sidelines, immediately waving for the team doctor to come on and check Ma’el’s condition.

The referee didn’t hesitate this time, directly giving Olsson a Yellow Gem Card, but this clearly didn’t satisfy the French team players, who hoped for a yellow card citing ultra-dangerous behavior.

The Sweden team players panicked a bit, Eevee and some others came over and shoved with the French team players, the two teams forming a circle around the penalty area.

"Feel anything here?"

The team doctor crouched beside Ma’el, checking his injury amidst the chaos, "How about here? Does it hurt? How about taking your socks off?"

Ma’el nodded, took off his soccer socks, and immediately saw his shattered shin guards.

Imagining, had it not been for the shin guards, maybe his leg would be in the same state... He glanced back at the offending defender but unfortunately, this isn’t a boxing ring; it’s a soccer field.

"Should be okay." The team doctor felt a few times and concluded, "It’s a blunt injury; I’ll cool it down and relieve the pain for you."

"Sizzle..." He took out a compound chlorothene spray and started applying it to Ma’el’s shin, spraying for over ten seconds, producing a lot of smoke-like dry ice.

Ma’el leaned his head back a bit, and after treatment, he followed the team doctor off the field, waiting for the instruction to rejoin the game.