Chapter 188: The Assassin!

"AC Milan's offensive is getting fiercer, but they're also very wary of our counterattacks!"

Commentator Klaušević's voice was tight with tension.

Even though they were in the lead, there was still unease.

AC Milan had taken control of the game's tempo, steadily building up their attacks and piling on the pressure again and again.

Shevchenko was repeatedly threatening in the penalty area.

Though he hadn't scored yet, the danger he posed was making everyone extremely nervous.

He was known as Ukraine's "nuclear warhead" for a reason — his skill was terrifying.

The match continued.

After Dinamo Zagreb took a free kick from the back, they immediately attempted a counterattack along the flanks, but their wings were completely shut down.

Suker had no choice but to pass the ball to the middle. Modrić received it and tried to pass back.

But just then, Gattuso suddenly emerged from the side and slid in, taking the ball away.

The ball landed right at Kaka's feet.

Kaka turned with the ball in one smooth motion.

Facing this sudden development, Vukojević bit the bullet and stepped forward to try and disrupt Kaka.

But Kaka dragged the ball sideways and immediately burst forward, effortlessly bypassing Vukojević and lifting his head to look toward the penalty box.

"Watch Shevchenko!"

Klaušević shouted in alarm.

But then Boban, next to him, interjected, "No, it's Inzaghi you should watch!"

Just then, Kaka slipped the ball into the gap in the defense.

Inzaghi, who had been lurking on the edge of the penalty area, first moved laterally to create space and then dashed forward.

The assassin strikes!

Deadly and precise!

"Inzaghi!!! One-on-one!!!"

Inzaghi took the ball and surged forward. Though not fast, he was in the perfect position and instantly shot at goal.

The ball rolled low toward the far corner.

Goalkeeper Grestic lunged, but the ball slipped right under his armpit and into the far corner.

At the 31st minute, Milan capitalized on a midfield interception and launched a swift counterattack.

Inzaghi's ghost-like run resulted in a one-on-one goal.

After scoring, Inzaghi sprinted to the corner flag, grabbed it, and let out a triumphant roar.

They had equalized!!

A crucial goal.

On the sidelines, Ancelotti finally exhaled and sat back down.

On Dinamo Zagreb's defense , Šimunić and Jarny exchanged glances.

"My bad, I didn't see him."

"I'm at fault too!"

They shared the blame.

Truthfully, their entire focus had been on Shevchenko. Who would have expected Inzaghi to suddenly break in?

Not to mention the timing and angle were perfect.

Most shockingly — this was Inzaghi's first touch of the entire game!

And he scored with it.

Suker watched Inzaghi retreating and grinned, "A real ghostly assassin — one strike, one kill!"

"Luka! Luka!"

Suker excitedly ran to Modrić.

Seeing Modrić's confused expression, Suker's eyes sparkled.

"Pass me the ball! I can make those runs too!"

Inzaghi was an assassin, no doubt.

But Suker had the traits of one as well!

Modrić frowned. "Inzaghi barely touches the ball and has Shevchenko to draw attention. That's how the defense lost track of him."

"You're constantly involved — it's hard for you to make those unnoticed runs!"

Suker drew too much attention.

He couldn't become Inzaghi if it meant giving up the ball entirely.

But Suker's eyes still gleamed.

"Who said I want to be like him?" Suker grinned. "We're not the same kind!"

Modrić blinked, then understood: "Got it!"

Suker laughed. "Inzaghi sneaks in the dark — I'll walk up and stab you in broad daylight. Just pass me the ball!"

"Understood!"

Modrić nodded instantly.

Suker returned to his position on the wing, subtly flexing his body, clearly getting pumped up.

Cafu noticed Suker staring at him, eyes gleaming.

It was the gaze of a hunter.

Suddenly, a chill ran down Cafu's spine, and he shivered involuntarily, feeling the pressure mount.

Modrić's gaze was burning bright.

He knew he had to step up.

He couldn't keep hiding behind Suker, letting him bear all the offensive burden.

They were a team!

As a striker, Suker's job was to score — not to drop back and organize.

To Modrić's stubborn mind, a striker retreating meant the midfield had failed!

He had to deliver.

No matter if it was Pirlo or Zidane on the other side, he needed to show what he was made of — maybe not equal them, but at least deliver a killer through ball to Suker.

"Can Luka do it?"

Mandžukić asked worriedly.

Suker glanced at him.

"What kind of arrogant attitude makes you doubt Luka?"

Mandžukić grinned, "I just think his job is to organize from deep — and the pressure's huge. I mean, it's Pirlo!"

Suker smiled: "Don't worry. Luka's got this."

Mandžukić sighed, "Let's hope so."

AC Milan had equalized thanks to Inzaghi's ghostly run.

Dinamo Zagreb restarted the game.

"This is dangerous — Dinamo is being overwhelmed in midfield."

Klaušević watched Pirlo steadily orchestrate the game, aided by Kaka dropping back, and Milan was advancing confidently.

"Where's Suker?" Klaušević began looking for him. "He should be helping Luka in midfield."

He spotted Suker.

Suker was hovering in the half-space between the center-back and full-back, gliding up and down, with no intent of dropping back.

Instead, Mandžukić had started retreating to help Modrić organize the play.

Suker pushed up again, sticking to the defensive line.

Cafu closed in.

He watched the play ahead but kept Suker in the corner of his eye.

Suker knew Cafu was watching and pretended to drop back — Cafu followed him immediately.

When Suker stopped, Cafu returned to his post.

"Suker's being marked."

Bešić muttered.

Assistant coach Kleiman nervously added, "But Suker's not easy to mark!"

Even if they marked him, so what?

Once he accelerated, he could shake anyone off.

Still, Cafu was experienced — he kept a strategic distance from Nesta.

Once Suker tried to make a run, they'd close in together.

On Milan's bench, Ancelotti noticed Suker's position and raised an eyebrow.

That placement — he was clearly preparing for a forward run.

But they had planned for this. Filippo had drilled their defense hard.

They should be prepared — at least not caught off guard!

Right now, Cafu and Nesta were both tracking Suker. That kind of striker was hard to mark once he got going.

Meanwhile, Dinamo Zagreb's midfield fought hard to press.

"Rakitić, shift over!"

"Drop back!"

"They've switched sides!"

"Luka, push up!"

Šimunić shouted defensive commands.

All the while, he kept an eye on Shevchenko's movements.

Even though Inzaghi scored, Shevchenko was still their biggest threat physically.

Suddenly, Modrić lunged forward, challenging Kaka.

Kaka instinctively shielded the ball, but Rakitić also rushed back and poked it away.

"Nice!"

Vukojević roared and passed to Modrić in the open.

"They've intercepted! Dinamo has a chance! Who will Luka pass to?"

Modrić drove forward with long strides.

But he didn't pass.

He charged up the central axis, with Mandžukić and Valjević drawing the defense.

"Mark your man!" Maldini shouted. "Ivan!"

"I'm here!"

Gattuso slid in from the side — the timing was perfect, textbook tackle form.

But Modrić stepped on the ball with his left, spun, and dragged back.

"A Marseille Turn!! Zidane's signature move!!"

Commentator Klaušević shouted.

Modrić's elegant spin evaded Gattuso completely.

"Damn it!"

Milan's center-back Stam cursed and yelled: "He's going to pass!"

Sure enough, Modrić sent a diagonal through-ball between the center-backs.

"Close the gap!"

Cafu and Nesta both moved in to seal off Suker's path.

But — Suker hadn't moved.

Just as they stepped up to block, Suker pivoted and darted around from the side.

"Damn it!"

Cafu cursed and reached out.

But the moment Suker's foot pushed off the ground, he shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Suker was running!

"SUKER!!!!!!—"

Klaušević shot to his feet, voice cracking with excitement.

"He's off!!"

Suker's legs moved with blinding speed — he was wind itself.

Wind roared past his ears.

His black hair flew backward.

In this moment, he pierced AC Milan's defense!

Yes!

He had Inzaghi's awareness.

He had elite off-ball movement.

But if you think he is Inzaghi — then you're asking for pain!

He was never Inzaghi.

Not a sneaky assassin.

He didn't need stealth — he had blinding speed and explosive power!

He sprinted!

Whoosh whoosh whoosh!!

Suker's blistering pace quickly pulled him ahead of Cafu.

He took the ball and surged into the penalty area.

"I'll contain him! Don't panic!"

Nesta moved to intercept.

Near the left post, Suker suddenly stopped, then pulled the ball back and accelerated again.

"What the hell is this speed!?"

Nesta cursed and spun to chase.

They were half a step apart.

Suker was now near the six-yard box, facing the end line.

"Don't let him shoot!"

Stam yelled to his partner.

Nesta tightly marked him.

But then — he saw Suker's calf twitch.

A flash of white!

Whoosh!!

Nesta instinctively turned his head.

He saw the ball hit the net.

"A goal?!"

Nesta was stunned.

How did it go in?

He didn't even see the shot!

But the roar from the Dinamo fans told the truth — it was a clear goal.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAH—————

"GOAL!!!! SUKER!!!!!"

"My God!! He has this kind of technique too?! That's unbelievable!!"