American Football: King of the Bay Area

Forceful and resonant, Lu Ke's voice echoed through the locker room. The sheer power behind his words was a thrilling call to arms, seizing hold of every person's heart!

"Me!" Logan Newman shot to his feet, the first to declare his support. He raised his right hand high, clenched it into a fist, squeezed, and then squeezed harder. Veins bulged on his arm, every muscle in his body tensing to its absolute limit until his fist began to tremble. His answering roar was like a clap of thunder!

"Me!"

"And me!"

"Me!"

Marcus Lynch, Aldon Smith, Kendall Hunter—one after another, they scrambled to raise their right fists, surging to their feet. Their passionate shouts rose and fell in waves.

Then came Michael Crabtree, Ted Ginn Jr., and Kyle Williams. Then Mike Lupati and Chilo Rachal… The entire offense, including the backups, was on its feet. Gradually, more and more right fists shot up until, in an instant, it seemed everyone was standing, their straight, upright arms forming a forest! A vast, mighty forest holding up the very sky above them!

Alex Smith looked up, his eyes flickering as he watched his teammates stand up one by one. The boiling blood in his veins began to roar, surging, surging faster and faster, until he could no longer hold back. He, too, shot to his feet, raised his right fist high, and yelled, "Me!"

After the passionate shout burst from him, the emotion surging in his chest finally found an outlet. He jumped high into the air, ecstatic and completely carried away, as if only at this moment had he truly become part of the group.

Finally, the Defense Team, the special teams, and even the practice squad—everyone, without exception, raised their right fists in unison.

In that vast forest of arms, no one noticed Parris Harrisson. No one noticed Brylen Edwards. And no one noticed Colin Kaepernick. Of course, even if they had noticed, they wouldn't have cared. Because right now, every gaze—scorching and wild—was fixed on Lu Ke.

At the center of their attention, Lu Ke clenched his right fist tightly, the veins on his neck bulging as he roared, "We are warriors!"

"We are warriors!" Involuntarily, all the players roared back, like a pack of wild beasts. Their combined shouts merged into one, stirring up waves of air like a tornado, sweeping through with the force of a tsunami and the might of a thunderbolt. The sheer power was terrifying!

"We are!"

"Warriors!"

"We are!"

"Warriors!"

Lu Ke used every ounce of his strength, screaming the first half of the chant until his voice was hoarse. All the players, in perfect unison, belted out the second half with all their might, again and again, over and over. The momentum climbed to its absolute peak. Throughout the locker room, you could feel the surging, boundless passion. Distorted faces, frenzied roars—they twisted together into a single rope, erupting with an unbelievably powerful fighting spirit!

"Warriors! Destroy them!" Roaring, still roaring, Lu Ke clenched both fists, completely unleashing the power from deep within his Dantian. "AH! AAAAAH!" His cry was like the howl of a wolf, and the entire pack began to answer. Everyone was shouting, everyone was yelling, everyone was clenching their fists, roaring face-to-face. Passion collided, sparks flew, and a monumental life force and fighting spirit truly began to erupt!

The entire locker room pulsed with a fearsome energy.

Outside the locker room, the war-chant-like roars penetrated the door, coming through clearly. Even the door itself began to tremble slightly. Jim Hubble turned to his fellow coaches, spread his hands, and seemed to say, 'See? I told you so.'

The truth was, Jim hadn't wanted to deal with the thorny issue in the locker room. He had been standing stiffly outside, hoping the commotion would die down on its own. Otherwise, if he went in, he had no other recourse besides cracking down with a heavy hand—that was Jim's weak point. Who would have thought that Lu Ke would bravely step up and unite the entire locker room? And now, Jim was taking all the credit.

Kip Kester, Craig Roman, and the other coaches exchanged a look. Their eyes all conveyed the same message:

'Shameless.'

Jim, however, pretended not to see. He waved them over as if to say, 'It's our turn to go on,' then pulled open the locker room door, and they filed inside. They had to hurry with the tactical arrangements for the second half.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back. You're watching Fox Television's live broadcast of the NFL's Week 4 regular season game, with the visiting San Francisco 49ers taking on the Philadelphia Eagles. In the first half, which just concluded, the home team Eagles took a 7-0 lead over their opponents with a fifty-four-yard rushing touchdown. To start the second half, the Philadelphia Eagles will have the first possession."

The broadcast returned to Lincoln Financial Field, where the two teams, back on the field, were once again the center of attention. San Francisco 49ers fans could vaguely sense that the players' morale seemed different, but the change was too subtle to be easily caught through a television screen—

Besides, the broadcast couldn't keep its cameras on the San Francisco 49ers players the whole time. This was, after all, the Philadelphia Eagles' home turf. Plus, it was Michael Vick and the offense who were taking the field first in the second half. So, the camera just flashed past them.

"Damn it!" Chris Wilson slammed his fist on the table in frustration, not because of the team, but because he wasn't there in person. Sitting in a bar, there was no way for him to cheer them on properly.

Turning his head, Chris saw the helpless look on Cliff Hart's face. His flag, which could have fluttered proudly in the stadium, was nearly touching the ceiling in the bar, leaving no room to unfurl it. So, it could only lean in the corner, looking utterly lonely.

"Damn it!" Chris swore again. He wanted to cheer for the team, but he didn't even know where to start. The feeling of powerlessness was awful. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Noah Parker raise his glass in a toast, as if trying to make the best of a bad situation, or perhaps in agreement with Chris's cursing. This made Chris pause for a moment, then chuckle in spite of himself.

The second half began. The now-united San Francisco 49ers offense had to temporarily suppress their excitement and sit on the sidelines, watching the opposing offense perform while hoping their own Defense Team could stop them again. Unfortunately, they were disappointed.

After the halftime adjustments and planning, Michael Vick seemed to have finally woken up. He opened up the field with consecutive passes—three successful completions out of four attempts—plus a running play. The entire drive was executed with formidable power, reminding everyone of last year, when this very quarterback had steamrolled his way through the regular season and came incredibly close to winning the MVP award.

The 49ers Defense Team, having readjusted their rhythm, once again found themselves on the back foot.

They had anticipated Vick would speed things up, but the extent of the acceleration was beyond their expectations. However, the defensive players didn't let up easily. They proactively stepped up their game, and gradually, their defensive intensity and rhythm noticeably improved, matching the Eagles' offensive tempo.

Their pass defense once again showed its prowess. More importantly, their quarterback pressure also found its rhythm again. They sacked Michael Vick once, made two ferocious stops on LeSean McCoy, and forced three hurried throws, successfully containing their opponents.

And so, the game became a spectacle. In the back-and-forth between the two teams, the 49ers repeatedly forced the Eagles into difficult third-down situations. However, Vick used the read-option, taking full advantage of his running ability, and in this clash of titans, he always managed to keep leading his team down the field.

The entire drive consumed a full four minutes and fifty-three seconds. The Eagles actually managed to break into the 49ers' red zone. In the end, on a three-yard run by Michael Vick himself, they scored a touchdown. The special teams then kicked the extra point, extending the score to 14-0.

For the San Francisco 49ers, this was undoubtedly a bucket of cold water dumped on their heads.

After waiting for nearly five minutes, the fire from the halftime locker room speech had gradually cooled. The Defense Team's outstanding performance still wasn't enough to stop their opponents, and the score gap had now widened to two touchdowns. This wasn't just bad news; it was terrible news.

When the San Francisco 49ers offense took the field again, on the very first down, both the left and right sides of the Offense Line failed to block their men. Two Philadelphia Eagles players, Jason Babin and Cullen Jenkins—one cutting inside, the other looping around the outside—combined to charge viciously at Lu Ke. They were so fast it was as if the 49ers' pocket protection was made of paper. Lu Ke hadn't even finished his drop-back before he felt an immense pressure crashing into him—

—like a monstrous wave crashing down on him, cutting off his breath completely.

No chance. Not a single chance. Lu Ke didn't even have time to react. It wasn't until he felt the impact from behind that he realized the pocket had completely collapsed. He only had a split second to shout 'Copper Skin Iron Bones' in his mind before he was slammed to the ground like a porcelain doll.

Strangely, his body didn't feel the slightest bit of pain. But his vision was tumbling violently, as if the whole world were flipping upside down. The world seen through his helmet shattered into countless fragments, which were then completely jumbled into a chaotic mess, just like a completed jigsaw puzzle being destroyed.

The powerful impact slammed into him. Lu Ke could even feel his helmet knocking against his head, and the crushing pressure on every bone and muscle in his body. It felt like... like being run over by a steamroller.

The only difference was, Lu Ke felt no pain at all, which was truly bizarre.