Dominate the Super Bowl-Chapter 1186 - 1185: Killing the Game

Who! Who can stop Li Wei!

Wembley is engulfed in a frenzy.

But Jaylen has no time for awe, no time for frustration. With a bump and a flick, he pushes Hardman aside and is already charging full speed toward Li Wei.

Speed, it’s his forte, and also his only reliance.

Jaylen grits his teeth, fueling his soul, and pushes his speed to the limit, his eyes and mind focusing solely on that number twenty-three.

Running, sprinting all-out.

Then, millions of spectators worldwide witness a strange scene.

On the green field of Wembley, a streak of blue is chasing a streak of red with all its might, both figures pushing their speed to the maximum.

Comparable to an Olympic hundred-meter finals.

No flash, no gimmicks, just a pure, simple contest of speed.

Twenty-yard line.

Fifteen-yard Line.

Dazzling footsteps become a blur, white lines flow under their feet extending like a roaring river, continuously surging forward.

The blue team is gradually getting closer to the red team.

At this moment, a familiar scene at Wembley awakens memories, English fans have witnessed countless classic battles here.

Chelsea’s blue and Liverpool’s red.

Manchester City’s blue and Manchester United’s red.

Of course, that’s not all, the red-blue rivalry belonging to the British Isles stretches far beyond these, extending through history; and now this scene should be added to the heritage left by the NFL at the London Bowl.

The heat of the red, the surge of the blue.

Amidst the pursuit and collisions, passion ignites, and the audience witnessing this moment cannot control themselves, hyped up with no regard for distinction.

The blue is running faster and faster, closer, astonishingly closer.

Ten-yard line.

Five Yards.

Everything turns into shadows and light, cutting off the world’s breath and heartbeat in an instant.

Jaylen only feels himself starting to burn, his body dissolving in the gale, entering an egoless state, becoming the one in legends who pursues the Sun.

Reaching out, as if he could touch it.

An incredible burst of energy erupts in his body, continuing to sprint wildly.

Then, he raises his right hand, piercing through flames and light, feeling the kind of heat that’s almost burning his skin, a maddened look flashing in his eyes.

Like Icarus.

If embracing the Sun ends with free-falling into the ocean and being shattered, he doesn’t mind; he just wants to touch the Sun before he falls.

Get closer, even if it means disintegrating, it doesn’t matter.

Ah, ah ah! Ah!

Jaylen doesn’t know where the energy erupting from came from, incredulously taking a step further forward, and with this simple step, he catches up to twenty-three, and his right hand finally touches the shoulder, finally feeling the scorching heat and pain and touches that Sun.

Tap tap tap, tap tap tap.

Jaylen, oblivious, sprints with all his might, unbelievably shortening the distance further and completing the overtaking.

Like the desperate reversal at the finish line in an Olympic hundred-meter final, overturning the situation by a mere fraction, crossing the line first.

The excitement, the thrill, adrenaline, and dopamine fully erupting, destroying reason instantly, leaving the mind blank.

Wait, wait—

Abeat too late, Jaylen realizes that the red twenty-three is completely out of sight, left entirely behind.

Something’s off, but he can’t quite recall what.

Following momentum, his steps continue forward, shockingly crossing another line, the tumultuous crowd at the stands overwhelming him.

Jaylen hesitates, abruptly stops himself, and turns around in disbelief:

Goalpost, end zone line, and only then, Li Wei.

Only now does Jaylen realize he ran too far, dashing gloriously out of the end zone, while Li Wei stands firmly within, his face under the helmet smiling brightly, watching him with eyes gleaming.

Oh God, can he disappear now? Immediately, right away.

Jaylen’s breath gets stuck, and his vision darkens.

Ah ah ah, ah ah ah!

The next moment, Wembley loses its mind, the overwhelming cheers and applause cascade down like a midsummer afternoon storm, echoing around the world.

And in front, Los Angeles Chargers players gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, each dazed and lost.

"Unbelievable!"

"God, unbelievable!"

"Forty-eight meters, with only forty-eight seconds left before halftime, but Kansas City Chiefs seized the chance, using a Wuju Merchant offense to completely take control, Mahomes, Li Wei, and Kelsey’s trio performance is flawless, Hill, Watkins, and Hardman’s coordination is absolutely seamless."

"This young offensive group has completed a full transformation with a season and a half of integration, finding their rhythm, finding their tacit understanding and feeling, using a Wuju Merchant offense to help Mahomes regain his game state, utterly destroying the Los Angeles Chargers’ defense with an unparalleled stance."

"For Los Angeles Chargers, it’s a heavy blow."

"They tried their best, not only tried their best but performed excellently, top-notch; they cornered the Kansas City Chiefs enemy, yet in the final forty-eight seconds failed in their final attempt."

"Watching helplessly as the defending champions erupt once more, the crushing passing attack makes the Los Angeles Lightning Defense Group seem like inexperienced students, bewildered, dizzy, unable to keep up."

"Los Angeles Chargers painstakingly regained momentum, and it was instantly crushed, the situation now incredibly difficult."

"Who knows, maybe Kansas City Chiefs killed the game with this offense."

"Of course, we hope not, Los Angeles Chargers still have chances in the second half..."

Bla bla bla, commentators in the live broadcast room are trying to regain composure, after all, the score gap isn’t large, only two possessions difference, anything is possible in the second half, and Los Angeles Chargers have proven this more than once this season.

However, the situation on the field doesn’t reflect this.

Bosa gasps, looking around at those blue players, standing there confused and dejected, lost, exhausted, as if they had just endured a battle to the death with a Dementor, even the capacity to stand barely available.

Not just the Defensive group, the Offensive group also feels downcast.

Rivers is trying to motivate the players, laying the groundwork for halftime adjustments and rejuvenation, but the weak, scattered gaze focus on the ground lacks the ability to respond.

Despair is slowly gripping their hearts—

At the London Bowl, they’ve also experienced long flights, cross-continent challenges, away game pressures, and managed to hold onto the game with sheer determination in the first half, even seeing the glimmer of hope, fighting spirit ablaze; only to be completely crushed now, making it seem their efforts are futile regardless.

That emptiness, that helplessness, amidst Wembley’s ecstatic cheers and support, rolls into a storm, entirely losing direction.

This should’ve been the Los Angeles Chargers’ home game, but now the songs from Arrowhead Stadium are reverberating in their ears.

"He’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere, he’s the Edgerunner, Li Wei Li Wei Li Wei!"