Dominate the Super Bowl-Chapter 1108 - 1107 Passion Burning

The scalp goes numb.

The whole team is dumbfounded, staring at the scene unfolding before their eyes—

Li Wei, did his knee touch the ground? Was the play dead? Did Smith complete the tackle?

Smith rolls like a bowling ball, seemingly about to bring Li Wei down with a tackle, but in an instant, he loses track of Li Wei, only catching a glimpse of a red blur.

"Li Wei..."

"Li Wei!"

In the live broadcast, Michaels has lost all composure, his mind blank, unable to commentate, repeating that name over and over as the shock and excitement surge from his feet all the way up to his brain.

Li Wei’s figure is in disarray, using both hands and feet, close to collapsing.

His chest heaves like a broken bellows, struggling to draw in oxygen, the pain spreading from his lungs to his entire body, threatening to come apart at any moment.

Yet, Li Wei doesn’t give up—

Refuses to give up.

Forty-five-yard line.

Forty-yard line.

Li Wei looks ready to fall, yet somehow, propelled by sheer will, he continues to advance, leaving all of Arrowhead Stadium in shock.

Carter watches dumbfounded, his blood boiling, unable to utter a sound.

Until a shout reaches his ears.

"Fly!"

It’s Felix.

He stands passionately, raising his arms high in a fervent scream.

Thirty-five-yard line!

"Fly!"

Carter can’t control himself, standing up again, joining Felix—

Li Wei! Li Wei!

Be careful, Amos is closing in.

In the chaotic turmoil, Amos stumbles like a newborn calf, unsteady, almost face-planting, but, he still targets the red silhouette, gritting his teeth and chasing after it.

A strike, intercept at the waist!

However, Amos is a step too slow, just as he’s about to block Li Wei, Li Wei barely maneuvers past, continuing to run forward.

Amos’s fingertips seem to graze Li Wei’s tattered jersey.

Clenching his fingers, he grasps only air.

Amos hurriedly follows.

Thirty-yard line!

"Fly!"

Ariana can’t control herself, clenching her fists and shouting along.

It’s from the heart, from the soul, the ardor and passion clustering together, echoing beneath the nighttime sky of Arrowhead Stadium.

Li Wei stumbles precariously, seemingly about to fall apart.

Li Wei and Amos keep half an arm’s distance, surging forward chaotically, taking steps on clouds.

Twenty-five-yard line!

"Fly!"

Li Wei regains his balance, stands upright, his ground-pushing strength reasserting, reclaiming his pace amidst chaos.

Push, push! Push!

Step by step, visibly widening the gap between Li Wei and Amos.

Amos despairs, his heart tightens, trying to leap forward by pushing off, only to find his footing fumbling, unable to exert force, unable to dive forward.

Even with full force, Amos manages a brief gain, only to be outstripped by Li Wei’s returning speed.

Desperation.

Twenty-yard line!

"Fly!"

Gradually, more people stand in Arrowhead Stadium.

Their gazes intense, ablaze with passion.

Their emotions surging, their blood pumping fiercely, inexplicably tearing up, joining in the arm-raising cheers across the place.

Indeed, the Kansas City Chiefs face another crisis, potentially their toughest moment in three seasons; but they need not worry nor fear because Li Wei continues to run on the field, continues to battle in the competition.

As long as Number 23 remains, their fighting spirit will not extinguish!

No challenge, no predicament, no limit, will stop them.

Perhaps they may lose the game, for in the world of competitive sports, no one wins forever; yet they will never abandon the fight.

Fifteen yards!

"Fly!"

In sight, Li Wei runs faster and faster, burning like a flame, illuminating the entire field, as brilliant as a midnight sun.

Swoosh!

Behind him, a black cloud of pursuit, chasing relentlessly like an army.

Yet, they all struggle at Li Wei’s heels.

No one can approach. No one.

Ten yards!

"Fly!"

Five yards!

"Fly!"

The shouts intensify, in Arrowhead Stadium, connecting tumultuously, releasing unbelievable energy.

Until Number 23’s red silhouette crosses the end zone—

Silence.

The whole crowd, breathless, stunned.

All eyes on the man standing tall in the end zone, holding their breath, watching Number 23 reverently.

Then—

Ah.

Li Wei, looking skyward, roars.

Fully unleashed, the growl climbs to a peak, fierce with fighting spirit, a wave of heat sweeping the stadium.

Ah! Ah ah ah! Ah!

Step by step, explosion.

The man, sweating profusely, face flushed, in disarray, his clothes tattered, without his helmet, his jersey and pants muddied, all scars worn as medals, his hair dripping sweat.

Yet, he radiates intimidation.

That fierce drive, that spirit, that aura, dominates the field.

Behind, the throng chasing can only look at his back, helpless.

Next second, Arrowhead Stadium erupts in fever.

"Ah ah ah! Ah ah ah!"

Energy, burning unreservedly.

Carter goes mad, utterly mad.

At this moment, he feels something more beautiful than victory, his heart pounding, warmth and joy, as emotions burst forth.

It’s unrelated to victory, solely about the burning sense of battle.

He feels the pulse of vitality.

Just a touchdown, but only those at Arrowhead Stadium understand, it’s far more.

"Fly!"

"Fly!"

Arrowhead begins to shake, the energy like seas and mountains, sweeping across the field.

In the hospital, awaiting scan results, Mahomes sits patiently in the waiting area, eyes fixed on the TV screen.

Next second, fist clenches, he roars.

"Well done!"

Mahomes quickly realizes he’s in a hospital, ready to apologize, but notices the relatives and patients all standing in applause and cheers.

The nurse nearby looks on helplessly, bemused.

"Patrick, be careful, careful of the injury."

Mahomes obediently sits, grinning wide, "Even if I’m not there, I’m fighting with them."

"Do you believe it? We will win."

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