inspire-indiana Chapter 739: 1 Laughter Shocks the Whole Audience, Overwhelming Momentum
Chapter 739: 1 Laughter Shocks the Whole Audience, Overwhelming Momentum
Just at this moment.
Outside the venue, a strong wind suddenly blew up, violently hitting the glass curtain wall, making a muffled "bang bang" sound, as if even the heaven and earth were trembling for the coming storm.
The air froze and time seemed to stand still.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for the crisp sound of the first serve, waiting for the boy called "devil" to tear the peace apart with tennis again.
And at this moment, Beichuan gave them an extremely gentle smile.
That smile was like the warm sunshine of early spring, gently shining on the court, as if it could melt the hardest ice in winter.
The corners of his mouth were slightly raised, with just the right arc, neither appearing ostentatious nor impolite, like a white plum blossom quietly blooming in the mountains in the early morning, elegant and quiet.
The sunlight slanted through the towering glass dome of the stadium, dancing between his smooth black hair, outlining a faint halo, making him seem as if shrouded in a soft mist.
His eyes were as clear as lake water, yet bottomless, as if they contained countless untold stories.
At this moment, these eyes were calmly gazing at the German troops opposite. Their gaze was like the wind blowing across the lake, without causing any waves, but it caused ripples in people's hearts.
this moment.
The audience seemed to see the devil's smile.
Their originally noisy discussions suddenly stopped, as if an invisible hand had strangled their throats.
In the stands, a middle-aged man tilted his beer glass slightly, and the golden liquid slowly overflowed and dripped onto his dark blue clothes, but he was completely unaware.
His pupils contracted violently, as if he saw something beyond common sense.
Not far away, a young girl was tightly holding a cheering flag with the word "Beichuan" printed on it. Her fingertips turned white due to the force, and the flag trembled slightly in the breeze, just like her chest which was heaving violently at the moment.
Her lips trembled slightly, as if she wanted to scream, but no sound came out - that smile was too clean, too pure, and instead revealed a suffocating sense of oppression, as if it did not come from a mortal, but from a god from some ancient legend.
Even the whole body began to tremble involuntarily.
Not only the spectators in the stands, but even the substitutes on the sidelines tensed up unconsciously.
The air seemed to become thick, with a hint of metallic chill, and every breath was like inhaling tiny ice crystals.
The wind had stopped at some point, even the flags had fallen down, and the entire stadium fell into an eerie silence.
The sun is still bright, but it is no longer warm. Instead, it covers everyone's skin like a thin layer of frost.
Someone subconsciously touched his arm, where a layer of fine goose bumps had already appeared.
That feeling is like suddenly staring into the eyes of a sleeping tiger in the deep mountains and forests - it doesn't roar or pounce, it just looks at you quietly, but you know that it can tear you to pieces at any time.
Of course.
It’s not that there are no fans of Kitagawa or the Swiss U-17 team at the scene.
After a brief silence.
"Beichuan, Beichuan, sweep across all directions!"
A sharp female voice cut through the silence, like a knife piercing through silk.
Immediately afterwards, the second sound, the third sound... rang out from every corner of the stands.
The voice was a little timid at first, but soon it gathered into a torrent.
A girl with twin ponytails stood up suddenly, her cheeks flushed red, and her eyes flashed with an almost fanatical light.
She waved her arms, her voice almost tearing her throat: "Beichuan! We believe you!"
Her voice inspired the crowd around her, one, two, ten... more and more audiences stood up, raised their cheering items, and waved national flags and banners.
The stands seemed to have become a boiling ocean, with red and white flags rolling like waves, and shouts surging towards the center court like a tide, wave after wave.
"Invincible! Invincible! Invincible!"
These three words were shouted out in unison, with a metallic rhythm, as if a war drum was beating in the chest.
The sound echoed repeatedly in the huge stadium, hitting the reinforced concrete walls and bouncing back, layer upon layer, forming a blood-pumping sound wave.
The sunlight seemed to become even more scorching at this time, shining on Beichuan's shoulders, making his shadow slender and firm, like a sharp sword drawn from its sheath, pointing straight ahead.
His figure appeared more upright under the focus of thousands of eyes, and the corners of his clothes swayed gently in the breeze, as if carrying the weight of the entire country.
In an instant.
Waves of sharp female voices echoed throughout the entire arena.
Cheers came one after another.
The sound was mixed with the shrill whistles, the banging of drumsticks, and the clash of metal banner stands, interweaving into a frenzied symphony.
The air was filled with the mixed smell of sweat, perfume and popcorn, so hot that it was almost suffocating.
The lights in the stands had all been turned on at some point, and the snow-white beams of light pierced the dome like sharp swords, illuminating the entire stadium as if it were daytime.
The numbers on the electronic scoreboard kept jumping, reflecting the letters "VS" and flashing scarlet light, as if foreshadowing that a battle of blood and fire was about to begin.
It was a scene comparable to that of the German U-17 team entering the field.
At that time, the German troops stepped into the field with uniform steps, and their leather boots made a dull echo on the ground, like a chariot rolling over the earth.
Their captain, Jurgen Borisovich Polk, walked in front, his bald head shining coldly under the light, like a piece of obsidian polished by time.
His eyes were cold and his lips were tightly pursed, like a walking statue of the god of war.
At this moment, although the Swiss team did not have such a strict formation, they shook the whole audience in another way - they did not need iron-blooded discipline, just a smile and a shout were enough to ignite the enthusiasm of the entire city.
Amidst the cheers.
The Swiss U-17 team continued to walk towards the center of the field.
Peter Lambiel walked in the middle of the team, his eyes wandering around like an alert hound.
His cuffs were slightly rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms.
His gaze finally fell on the bald young man in the German queue. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he was examining an incomprehensible existence.
"Is this Jurgen Barisavich-Polke, captain of the German U-17 national team?"
He whispered to himself, his voice almost drowned out by the noise, but with a hint of surprise that was hard to conceal.
"Why does he give people a feeling that he is even more experienced than the boss in charge?"
He narrowed his eyes and looked at the other person carefully.
Jurgen stood there with his back straight and his hands hanging naturally, but he exuded an invisible pressure.
His bald head shone bluish-gray under the light, and the shallow lines on his forehead looked like they were carved with a knife, deeply embedded in his skin.
His eyes were as calm as an ancient well, as if he saw through all the vanity in the world.
Peter's heart tightened, and he wondered: Is this really a boy under twenty? His gloomy demeanor made him look more like a veteran who had experienced countless battlefields, rather than a young man who had just started out.
"He's already so bright at such a young age. It's hard to imagine what he'll become in the future. Will he become a monk?"
As this guy's low murmur sounded.
There was a hint of teasing in his words, but it couldn't hide the shock in his heart. He subconsciously touched his hair, then quickly withdrew his hand, as if afraid of being noticed.
"That's his brother whom I met in England."
Henry Nobel III stood beside him, his hands in his trouser pockets, his head slightly tilted, his eyes fixed on Kitagawa.
His blond hair shone softly in the sunlight, and his blue eyes flashed with a complex emotion.
He curled his lips and said in a low voice: "Although they are our opponents at the moment, I have to sigh that their family is really quite perverted."
"One who is so clever and cunning at such a young age, and one who has already reached the top professional level with a bare head."
When he said this, there was no jealousy in his tone, only a kind of helplessness that was almost awe.
He looked at Beichuan's back, which looked particularly thin in the sunlight, yet extremely tough, like a thin bamboo that could bear a thousand pounds of weight.