Seeing Huang Kaiwen standing at the foul spot, Hart couldn't help but start to get nervous.
Even blocking long-range shots from midfield made his hands ache, and this was over 20 meters closer, with a set-piece run-up, even a fool knows it would hurt more to block it.
Pain is the body's self-protection mechanism.
Even if he wanted to overcome it, there was no way.
Cold sweat appeared on his forehead.
Hart lifted his arm and wiped it with the sleeve of his jersey, but sweat slid down the other side of his forehead.
His footwork started to become disordered.
Finally unable to hold it back, Hart began to talk to himself neurotically: "Revenge is a facade, a sheer act of willfulness. Revenge does not lead to justice. The evil suddenly perish, pain vanishes, leaving me alone to savor the taste of suffering..."
Bang—
Huang Kaiwen ran up and swung his right foot at the ball.
