No one in the chaotic dressing room paid special attention to Zhuo Yang's actions, only Pique and Busquets followed him closely.

Zhuo Yang went straight to Marcos and greeted him with a smile on his face: "Hey, Rafal, the weather is very nice today." ”

Although Rafalmarcos felt inexplicable, he didn't dare to slack off, and quickly responded with a smile: "Hi, Zhuo ......"

Suddenly, Zhuo Yang's face changed greatly, his smiling face disappeared, his angry eyes rolled wildly, and he scolded sharply: "You dare to look down on me!" A backhand slap smacked Marcos in the face, a crisp sound echoing through the locker room.

Don't talk about Marcos, everyone is confused. All kinds of surprised expressions were written on everyone's faces, and the open mouths were big and small, round and square.

"Lao Tzu kindly took the initiative to come over and say hello to you, you didn't even move when you were fucking sitting, I fuck ......"

'Smack! Another hit.

Marcos couldn't come back to his senses at all, and the others kept their strange stunned appearance and were immobilized.

"I'll make you look down on me!"

'Smack! ’

"Let you look down on me!"

'Smack! ’

In one breath, there are four crisp big mouths, and the gray face of the mixed-race Marcos is smoked to the blue of the firewood kiln, and the sky is clear after the rain**.

"Zhuo Yang, what are you doing?"

"Zhuo Yang, you're crazy!"

Finally someone reacted, Puyol and Xavi snapped, and Henry, Abidal, Keita and others 'whirred' from their seats.

Although Marcos was so stunned that he was dazed, he was also enthusiastic, and 'Biao' jumped up, picked up his fist and smashed it at Zhuo Yang. This was completely a subconscious act after he was attacked, and he didn't think much about it.

Zhuo Yang, who had been prepared, let go of this hook with a short body, and then raised his long body and smashed his iron elbow on Marcos's cheek. Before he could fall, two more lightning-fast punches to the chest slammed Marcos back into his seat.

It's a mental illness! Just because Marcos didn't stand up when he talked to him, he was going to fight? Although the Barcelona dressing room is not known for its unity, how can such a bad thing ever happen, is it Real Madrid?

Marcos was beaten to the point that his cheeks didn't seem to be his. At this time, Marcos had forgotten what to watch, only the stress reaction after being beaten for no reason.

He reached out and grabbed a square stool next to him, which was the temporary seat of the assistant coaches during the chanting, and when he stood up, he was about to pounce and fight with Zhuo Yang.

Zhuo Yang quickly took two steps back, stood in the center of the locker room with his arms down, and a murderous aura quickly filled the air, and Marcoston felt Zhuo Yang's eyes cold to the bone.

"Marcos! You think about it before you do it. Zhuo Yang's voice was as deep as Lu. When you lift up the stool, you don't die. ”

Marcos was frozen in an instant as if he had been pointed, and the square stool had just been leveled, and it was frozen there like a sculpture. He understood and sobered up, Zhuo Yang came for the watch.

For a moment, Marcos had mixed feelings, he regretted that he couldn't control his hands, and regretted that he didn't give the watch to Busquets early to settle the matter.

Seeing that he didn't dare to move, Zhuo Yang turned to pull his Puyol, and his expression changed again in an instant.

"Aunt Pu, I'm miserable~~~~~"

"I'm so miserable, I can't control myself, I have a neuropathy, I have a mental illness~"

Puyol felt that he was about to become insane, and was in a trance by Zhuo Yang's transformation from madman to fool.

"Aunt Pu, don't you know, my disease is called ...... Intermittent rabies ...... No, manic...... Yes, intermittent stress psychology is forced mania, and I dare not be stimulated! ”

"Intermittent ...... Psychology...... Rabies ...... Sickness? ”

"Yes, yes, intermittent stress forced mania, if you are looked down upon, you may get sick immediately, like this. That's how it looks when you get sick, it's so miserable, I can't control my hands and feet at all, I just want to hit someone, I can't control it......"

"Aunt Pu, dear teammates, you are all my relatives, you must not give up on me, enlighten me, save me, and help me."

Puyol was about to hallucinate, as if he was no longer in the Barça dressing room. Only Pique and Busquets knew it, Pique closed his eyes in embarrassment, and Busquets turned his head to look at him: This is your method?

Messi, Ibrahimovic, Henry, these people look at each other. Does Zhuo Yang have rabies? But isn't that the case for rabies? He's too miserable, isn't it, how can a person be able to do it...... Isn't that!

Puyol was at a loss, wanting to give Zhuo Yang a warm hug and a hot hug.

"Zhuo Yang, this ...... Really? ”

"Really, it's true, there's no cure, I'm going to lie to you and let the Mexicans rot chicken." It was too slippery for Pujoldin to react.

"Why is there this disease?"

Zhuo Yang's distorted face changed from crying and mourning to deep and solemn in an instant: "I don't know, anyway, if I suffer from stimulation and look down on me, racist ...... Racism? ”

His face became hideous and pompous again: "You dare to racially discriminate against me? ”

'Whew' came out with his swing leg and kicked Marcos on the square stool that was still holding like a fool. The force was so great that the square stool flew away through the airMarcos was still unmoving, like the cup that was pressed after shutting out the banknote.

The square stool smashed against the wall in front of it and shattered.

'Oh hit~~~~'

Zhuo Yang turned around on the spot with the help of inertia, as graceful as a ballet, and the roundabout kicks were hearty. The top of his right foot struck Marcos' shoulder and neck junction from top to bottom, and he was planted to the ground like a felled tree.

"Stop!" Puyol, who was about to get out of his brain, hurriedly grabbed Zhuo Yang and hugged him, for fear that he would beat people to death again. The sound of gasps in the locker room was like a pressure cooker.

Messi, Xiaobai, and Coffee also pounced on Zhuo Yang Tuantuan and hugged him, and the others had various expressions, some were angry, some were excited, some were embarrassed, some were staggered, and some had been confused from beginning to end.

Zhuo Yang's expression had regained his indifference, he let several people hold him like a bundle, no longer talking nonsense, and there was no resistance at all, just staring coldly at Marcos, who was lying on the ground with his head half-tilted and also looking at him.

The eyes of the two were woven together in a mixture.

Marcos had fear in his heart! When he grew up in the slums as a child, he was also a bad boy who did a lot of bad things, a junior gangster, and a gangster like him had a mystery-like worship of the big brother on the road. In the face of ordinary people, the thugs are arrogant and can be bullied wantonly, but the eldest brother can make them tremble with just one look, even if they have never seen the eldest brother before, but they have heard of the reputation of the eldest brother.

Although he left the slum at an early age, the psychological inertia of childhood is not so easy to eradicate. For Marcos now, the notorious Zhuo Yang is the kind of big brother today.

"What's going on in the mess? You guys...... Aunt Pu, what are you doing together? When it was time to read the scriptures, Guardiola, who had just pushed the door in, immediately lost his face when he saw this, but then he was startled by Marcos lying at his feet.

"Ouch fuck, you're fucking fucking here......"