Football: My AI System Provides Max-Level Predictions-Chapter 704 - 496: Nie Weiping Supports Tang Long: Football Is More Interesting Than Go! Agüero Finally Gets His Wish!

In the Go dojo named after himself, Chess Saint Nie Weiping was playing a game.

Though it seemed he was playing, his mind was not at ease.

Because on the dojo's television, a match between Manchester City and Chelsea was being broadcast.

Elder Nie's eyes would frequently wander towards the TV.

Nie Weiping once said, if he had to rank his personal hobbies, football would be first, bridge second, and Go could only take third place.

Ever since Tang Long emerged in European football, Elder Nie never missed any of Tang Long's matches.

He would even wake up early to watch Champions League games.

In his own words, "It's not easy for China to produce a great football star. Tang Long is a once-in-a-century talent. I am getting old; I cherish every day I can watch football. If anyone stops me from watching his games, they can forget about asking me to play Go!"

The commentator's voice roared from the TV.

"Tang Long!"

"Tang Long scored a goal!"

"What a world-shattering goal this is!"

"A direct lob from outside the penalty area, no, from the skies outside the penalty area!"

Pop!

A black piece fell from Nie Weiping's hand onto the Go board, knocking away a white piece.

The opponent was startled, "Teacher, what's wrong?"

Nie Weiping's face was flushed red, watching Tang Long astonishingly rise into the air on the TV to perform a whip-leg shot to score!

"Hahaha! Just as expected!"

Such a splendid scene appeared; Nie Weiping could no longer focus on playing Go with his student.

He suddenly stood up with a swoosh, clapped vigorously, and the sound reverberated throughout the Go institute, leaving all the disciples dumbfounded.

They were used to it; every night when Premier League games were on, the teacher would turn the TV volume up in the dojo.

Playing Go requires a quiet environment, but the teacher would tell them it was to test if they could keep their composure amidst external distractions.

Of course, everyone just laughed it off, knowing Elder Nie was making excuses to watch football himself.

There were not many people at the Go dojo in the evening, so nobody minded.

However, they had never seen Elder Nie so excited while watching football, not even when the Go container in front of him got knocked over by his body, with pieces scattered all over the place.

Everyone curiously gathered around to look up at the TV with Nie Weiping.

After witnessing Tang Long's aerial whip-leg shot, these Go players, who were usually calm and seldom engaged in intense sports, had their mouths wide open, amazed by Tang Long's elegant form.

"Football can be played in the air? I thought it was only played on the ground."

"Is this the Tang Long Elder Nie often mentions?"

"What a strange posture, it looks a bit like Tae Kwon Do?"

Nie Weiping was still clapping and laughing heartily, happier than ever, a look the students had only seen in faded old photographs of Elder Nie in his championship-winning youth.

After laughing, Elder Nie suddenly froze, his body shook, and he started to faint from dizziness!

The disciples quickly helped him onto the sofa and placed a supplemental oxygen machine on his nose.

After several breaths of oxygen, Elder Nie gradually regained consciousness, and the disciples breathed a deep sigh of relief.

With a flourish, Nie Weiping snapped open his folding fan, revealing four large characters to everyone:

[Divine Kick]

Upon recognizing their teacher's calligraphy, a disciple said, "Teacher, take care of your health. Isn't football just about 20 people chasing one ball? Don't get too excited..."

Just as he finished speaking, the disciple was met with a heavy fan to the head, crying out "Ouch" and covering his head.

"You must be brainless from playing Go too much," Nie Weiping disdainfully said, "Football is much more interesting than Go! Thirty years ago, when I was playing bridge with Old Deng, I said the same thing!"

"I mean, I'm worried watching football might make you too excited, which isn't good for your health," the disciple said, feeling wronged.

Nie Weiping chuckled dryly, "Come on now, guiding you poor players at Go makes my emotions more volatile, just look at that lousy move you made earlier!"

Everyone's eyes turned to the Go board, indeed noticing a white piece in a very awkward position, an obviously bad move.

"Watching more of Tang Long's games could even help with your Go; he's made countless Divine Kicks, when will you produce a Divine Hand for me?"

After thinking for a while, Nie Weiping stood up and said to one of the disciples:

"Next month, we are going to France to exchange with European players. Book me a flight to Manchester; I want to see a football match at Manchester's home stadium."

Then he strode towards his study, spreading paper and ink, vigorously starting to write.

Back to the football field.

After a few more minutes, Manchester City got a corner kick opportunity, Ranocchia stood firm and scored by heading the ball with force over Cahill!

This was Ranocchia's third direct goal from a corner this season, an incredible efficiency, with goals even surpassing some forwards.

Conte was pushed to the edge, fighting back hard, retreating is not an option!

Remove a defender, add a forward!

Batshuayi replaced Alonso to strengthen the attack.

"Chelsea lined up with four forwards!"

"Hazard, Costa, Pedro, and now the new Batshuayi, four forwards attacking Manchester City!"

"Batshuayi shoots!"

"Bravo saves it!"

"What a pity, if he scored on his first touch after coming on, it would be just like Tang Long's substitute appearance earlier this season."

"Chelsea gained a corner kick opportunity."

Agüero wasn't feeling too good.

Looking at the ticking time on the Etihad Stadium's scoreboard, he thought, "Counting down, just under ten minutes left, when will my second goal come? Am I really only going to score one goal again?"

Actually, Tang Long didn't let Agüero down.

Throughout the match, he provided Agüero with at least three chances, but the Argentine only capitalized on one, so Agüero couldn't blame Tang Long, only his own poor accuracy.

To stimulate his teammates' attacking enthusiasm, Agüero frequently dropped back, got the ball, and urged the formation forward.

But haste makes waste; patience is necessary.

Often, forwards eager to score find themselves unable to. The more anxious they get, the harder it becomes, while accidents often cause laughter and tears.

"Concentrate, do not relax!" Captain Kompany shouted, calling his teammates to pay attention to their positioning.

At this moment, Fabregas took a corner kick, the ball drew an arc high in the air.

Agüero, focused on quickly launching a counter-attack, dribbled forward but with steps too big, losing control as Kante smartly intercepted it.

After winning the ball, Chelsea immediately launched a second attack on the spot, Kante quickly passed the ball to Hazard.

Agüero was secretly angry at himself, thinking, "I lost that ball, I have to win it back!" He turned around and ran back.

"Hazard, Hazard one-on-one with Kolarov."

"Little steps, he went past him!"

"Hazard cuts in!"

"Shot!!!"

The commentator practically screamed the words.

The audience's hearts were in their throats, everyone's eyes were fixed on the ball flying toward the goal.

"Oh no, this shot looks off-target..." Just as the words left the mouth.

"Huh?" Suddenly, a burst of surprise swept the crowd!

"Did it go in?"

The commentator's voice was full of disbelief.

"If I didn't see it wrong, Hazard's shot deflected off Agüero's sliding crotch and went into the net," the commentator quickly added.

"The distance was too close, the goalkeeper really had no time to react."

"But it turned out to be an own goal!"

Bravo looked at Agüero with a face full of grievances, Kompany and Stones were dumbfounded.

Why was this forward back in this position?

If he hadn't blocked it, the ball would have just gone out of bounds.

Agüero got up from the ground, holding his crotch, feeling bewildered all alone in the wind.

Hazard grinningly picked up the ball from the goal, deliberately jogged past Agüero, and whispered, "Thanks, bro."

When the display at the Etihad Stadium showed [own goal] in subtitles.

Agüero's legs seemed nailed to the ground, his hands burrowing deep into his hair, with an expression full of anguish.

"Ah... why did this happen..."