Chapter 264: Massacre

On March 4th, AC Milan hosted Empoli at the San Siro.

For this match, Ancelotti chose to field Suker and Inzaghi as the dual strikers, with Kaka still playing in the attacking midfielder role.

By the 20th minute, AC Milan was already leading 2-0.

A goal every ten minutes—Suker and Inzaghi each scored one.

But for Empoli's defense, conceding goals wasn't the worst part—it was the two phantom-like strikers that haunted them.

Inzaghi's movement was already notoriously hard to track, but paired with Suker, their runs on the flanks became even more maddening.

They'd often crisscross their runs, throwing Empoli's defense into utter disarray.

"Mark Inzaghi!"

Empoli defender Vanigli shouted.

His center-back partner Raggi responded quickly, "He's on your side now!"

Vanigli took a closer look—sure enough, Inzaghi was right in front of him.

But where was Suker?

Vanigli hastily turned his head to the side. No sign of Suker. He let out a sigh of relief.

But in the very next second, Suker suddenly popped up in front of him—startling him.

"Watch out! Suker is cutting in!"

With his teammate's warning ringing in his ears, Vanigli immediately stopped and locked onto Suker.

But Suker didn't even make a move. He simply trapped the ball from Kaka, glanced up, and played a clean through ball.

Inzaghi instantly darted forward!

"INZAGHI ONE-ON-ONE!!!"

Commentator Aldo Serena roared.

Inzaghi charged into the penalty box and, just before the goalkeeper could close him down, slotted the ball into the far corner.

The shot didn't have much power, but it squirmed right under the keeper's arm and into the net.

3-0 to AC Milan by the 25th minute.

"Inzaghi scores his second—what a 'brilliant' run!"

That was all Aldo Serena could say.

Truthfully, even he couldn't make sense of Suker and Inzaghi's movements. They just seemed to run around aimlessly—left, right, back, forward.

But somehow, they kept scoring.

So, if they score goals, that must mean the runs are good, right?

"Are these two guys ghosts or what?"

Vanigli stood there slack-jawed.

The moment he located one of them, the other would just pop up out of nowhere. One simple through ball and Inzaghi was in on goal.

Suker and Inzaghi's movements were utterly unreadable.

The two of them darted back and forth in the gaps between defenders—sometimes cutting in, sometimes dropping deep.

When the defense focused on Inzaghi, Suker made his move.

And when they turned their attention to Suker, Inzaghi became even more dangerous.

This match was downright terrifying for Empoli.

Yes—terrifying!

These two guys would suddenly appear in their vision, standing in bizarre positions, and then the next second they'd be tearing through the box.

They were like ghosts.

Vanigli was beyond frustrated.

He would've preferred to be bullied by Shevchenko all game—at least that made sense—rather than deal with these two phantom freaks.

In the corner, Suker and Inzaghi embraced, laughing loudly.

"Hahahahahaha!!"

"Beautiful pass!"

"Brilliant run!"

The two strikers hyped each other up.

Ancelotti's tactics were working.

Before every pass, they'd glance at each other—just one look was enough. This elevated their chemistry beyond just instinct and into a level of conscious control.

When Inzaghi made a forward run, Suker could choose to pass—or fake it and go himself, using Inzaghi's decoy run.

Inzaghi's tactical value had expanded.

Suker's options had multiplied.

Even Ancelotti on the sideline looked stunned.

He expected it might work—but this?

Before, Inzaghi was just a ghost—a lone opportunist with no tactical contribution outside of finishing.

But now, with Suker beside him—it was a parade of ghosts.

The two of them had Empoli's defense in total chaos.

Their spooky, elusive movement was on full display.

The Two Ghosts Strike the Door!

And the door was getting blasted to pieces.

In the 44th minute—

Seedorf dribbled down the flank.

Suker positioned himself centrally, with Inzaghi at the far post.

Both surged forward at the same time.

Seedorf whipped in a sweeping cross.

"Seedorf's low cross—it's going toward the back post!"

The camera focused on Inzaghi—but in the next moment, Inzaghi suddenly stopped his run.

Wait... the ball didn't come?

Where was the ball?

Commentator Aldo Serena and everyone watching the broadcast scratched their heads.

The broadcast switched cameras—zooming in on the goal.

There, lying quietly in the net, was the ball.

"It... went in?"

Aldo Serena was stunned.

When did that happen?How did that happen?

At this point, Suker was already sprinting to the corner to celebrate.

The Milan fans at the stadium were also stunned for a moment, then erupted in cheers.

But for Serena and those watching at home—they just wanted to know: how the hell did that go in?!

Then came the replay.

From a close-angle camera.

The ball had indeed been aimed toward Inzaghi, but along the way it deflected off an Empoli defender's thigh—redirecting it to Suker.

Suker didn't even take a shot—he just charged forward and chested the ball into the goal.

Aldo Serena grabbed his head and shook it in disbelief.

"This game must be driving the camera crew mad—because you can never predict who will score for AC Milan or how they'll score! Even the camera got faked out!"

Suker slid across the turf in celebration.

Seedorf, Inzaghi, and Kaka all rushed over to join him.

After celebrating—

Seedorf chuckled, "That was a ridiculous goal…"

Even he hadn't expected that to go in like that.

"Who cares? A goal is a goal!"

Suker waved it off.

He held out his hand and shouted, "Pippo! High five!"

Inzaghi smacked it hard.

The two draped their arms around each other, laughing.

Seedorf and Kaka watched them, thinking silently:

Thank God they're on our side.

With a four-goal lead at halftime, AC Milan was basically home and dry.

In the 55th minute of the second half, both Suker and Inzaghi were subbed off.

They came off the pitch buzzing.

"You could've passed that one to me earlier!"

"I couldn't—you're too slow, they would've caught up!"

"Can't you trust me for once?"

"You already wasted five of my passes!"

Suker muttered.

Inzaghi was a pure opportunist—deadly in front of goal.

But when he got fewer chances, he made every one count.

Now, with Suker feeding him nonstop, he was getting greedy—he even tried to look flashy.

That's right.

Inzaghi tried to dribble past someone.

When he tripped over the ball doing stepovers, Suker nearly shoved the ball down his throat.

Inzaghi scratched his head awkwardly.

"Just that one time!"

Suker rolled his eyes. "That one time ruined my trust in you!"

Just be your ghostly self, Pippo—no need for tricks.

He was getting too greedy.

"Pippo, great game!"

Maldini sat behind them, smiling as he watched the pair bicker.

After a high-five, he turned to Suker.

"Suker, you were fantastic today!"

Suker nodded. "I'm applying for the No.9 jersey when I get back!"

"What am I supposed to wear then?" Inzaghi grumbled.

"You take 99—time to move on, old man!"

"You little punk, you've got a long way to go!"

"Still want those assists?"

"Kaka can assist too, y'know?"

They kept bantering.

Maldini chuckled at these two goofballs, feeling deeply content.

Even after he retired, he believed this group could lead Milan to glory.

The full-time whistle blew.

AC Milan destroyed Empoli 6-0 at home.

In the second half, Shevchenko and Kaka added a goal each.

They completely shellshocked Empoli.

During post-match handshakes, the Empoli defenders looked at Suker and Inzaghi with sheer dread.

They had made them forget how to play football.

"The match is over—AC Milan wins 6-0! This game proves their incredible form continues!"

"Suker and Inzaghi's first-half display was simply astounding!"

"In three days, the second leg of the Champions League Round of 16 kicks off—we wish Milan the best as they aim to reach the quarterfinals!"

March 7 – One Day Before the UCL Round of 16

Suker received a call from Modric.

"Did you watch Lyon's game yesterday? Dujmovic scored a screamer to eliminate PSV. Lyon's into the quarterfinals!"

Suker replied, "A fluke, probably?"

"Even if it was, it shows his confidence is back! Honestly, I think all his screamers are flukes," Modric joked.

Suker laughed. "How about you guys?"

"We lost away to Liverpool in the first leg, but it's not a big gap. We'll make it up at home!" Modric grinned. "If we meet you in the quarterfinals, don't expect mercy!"

"Heh."

Suker snorted. "Anyone can talk big. Just hope you don't draw Milan."

They chatted a bit more.

"By the way," Modric asked, "did Adidas invite you to shoot the World Cup ad?"

Suker nodded. "They did, but I turned it down. We didn't even qualify—what's the point?"

Modric nodded. "Yeah, I refused too. Man, I really want to play in the World Cup."

"Just wait," said Suker. "Bilic will call us up for the national team. Four years from now—it'll be our time."

Modric agreed. "I heard Simunic might get called up too."

"Like I care? You and I are the core—he's a backup. If he starts drama, we back Srna as our captain."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Don't worry. If he acts up, we beat the crap out of him. He'll behave."

Modric was speechless.

But he knew Suker meant it—and he'd probably help too.

"We'll see." Modric laughed. "Good luck in your next game—I'll be waiting in the quarterfinals!"

Suker: "Honestly, I kind of hope Liverpool knocks you out—so we can get revenge."

"Get lost!"

Modric cursed playfully before hanging up.

Suker put down his phone and turned to the TV.

Bayern Munich had just arrived in Milan, led by Oliver Kahn.