On November 6th, the great war was imminent, and the whole of Paris was like a powder keg, which could be blown up at the slightest moment.

Everyone is holding their breath and for Paris, they lost to Liverpool in the first round and now it's their revenge.

In the training base, Yi Le and others sat in rows, waiting for Boas to explain the tactics of the game.

Today's Boas is different from the sloppy image of the past, and he dresses himself extremely smartly.

The stubble on the chin was shaved clean, the messy hair was neatly trimmed with hair wax, and the guy also wore a straight suit with a tie, and a handkerchief was placed in the breast pocket on the front of the suit, and the most annoying thing was that the handkerchief was folded into a fancy shape.

Boas maintained his character, smiled gently, patted the blackboard lightly and said:

"Gentlemen, this is our tactical arrangement for this game!"

Yi Le and the others subconsciously shuddered, and now Boas made them feel as if they were coming out of the closet.

Villas-Boas explained tactics on it, while Neymar pulled a chair forward, sat down next to Yi Le, and whispered, "Boss, what's wrong?" ”

Yi Le looked at Boas suspiciously, shook his head and said, "I don't know, it seems to be stimulated." ”

"Because of Klopp?"

Yi Le nodded and said, "It should be him!" ”

Neymar looked at Boas again and said, "He never wears a suit, and this pair is too clean, he is not used to it, is this a gentleman?" ”

"Gentleman of shit!"

Kimpembe on the side scolded in a low voice: "Gentlemen are not like this, I have a friend, their family used to be a nobleman, but now it is in decline, but the habits of the nobility have not been thrown away, it is a kind of temperament from the inside out, not something that can be supported by clothes alone, the head gives me the feeling that I don't feel like a gentleman, but ....."

Kimpembe said with a constipated face: "Comrade! ”

Hearing this, Yi Le and Neymar glanced at each other and nodded slowly.

"Kimpemby!"

Boas's gentle voice sounded, and Kimpemby subconsciously shouted, "Chief, I'm here!" ”

Kimpemby got up, and he stood there stiff.

Boas chuckled at him and said, "Don't be nervous, I'll tell you a story!" ”

"Have you ever heard a story about a boy in a family who was bullied by his brother?"

Jin Pengbei was confused, but still nodded; "The elder brother bullies the younger brother, which is also common in real life!"

Boas said faintly, "That... Is it the younger brother who bullies people? ”

Kimpembe blinked...

"How old are you, Kimpembe?"

"Report, I'm 23 years old and I feel like I'm energetic!"

"Oh~~~~" Boas grinned and said, "Wag, how old are you?" ”

The Senegalese boy didn't know what it meant, so he could only be honest; "Boss, I'm 19 years old!"

Boas nodded and smiled: "Very good, I hope you can learn more from Liverpool's Trent Alexander-Arnold, the 19-year-old Paris starter, this may become a good talk!" ”

After saying this, Boas glanced at Kimpembe lightly.

Kimpemby only then realized that Boas was warning himself.

And... This Nima is naked revenge.

This thing definitely heard the conversation just now.

But... Scare me one for Mao.

What about easy?

What about Neymar?

Kimpembe turned his head to look at it, only to see Yi Le and Neymar looking at each other, as if they had never said a word.

Kimpembe was about to cry.

Honest man, you deserve to be bullied!

The tactical lessons didn't last long, Liverpool and Paris were both familiar with each other, they generally knew how to play, and the so-called tactics were just small choices based on some small routines.

......

Time passed little by little, and night fell.

The entire Paris metropolis is lit up with neon, and even brighter than day near the Parc des Princes.

In this game, the Paris police dispatched a lot of people to maintain order in the arena.

In the first round of the game, neither of them was very convinced, and it was easy to misfire and cause conflicts.

And England fans are notoriously bad-tempered, and this edition of Parisian fans is not a good one.

In order to avoid fights and brawls, on-site supervision has been further improved.

From 4 o'clock, fans from both sides began to enter the stadium singing their respective team songs.

About an hour later, the stadium was filled with cheers from Parisian fans.

The Parisian fans responded well to Yile's expectations, and they silenced all the voices of the Liverpool fans.

This is their home stadium and there is no room for other cheers at the Parc des Princes.

This is a sacred place that all Parisians need to protect!

"This is Paris!!"

"This is Paris!!"

"We are PSG! Victory and glory will be ours in the end! ”

"We are elegant, pure, brave Paris Saint-Germain!!"

The sea of blue and black was churning, the huge Paris flag was shaking in the wind, and the fireworks in the east stands were already in full swing, adding to the excitement of the match.

"Welcome!! Welcome to Paris Saint-Germain! This is the Parc des Princes, so please respond to me with the loudest voice you can and how you want to win! ”

Rumble!!!!!!!

Wow!!!!!!!!!

In the passionate shouts of old Monet, the whole stands were boiling, and the Parisian fans were shouting wildly.

'I've just been given the starting line-up for both teams and I'll call out every player's name.

"First of all, Liverpool, goalkeeper Alisson!!"

Hush~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Defender - Van Dijk !!"

Hush~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mane !!"

"Firmino!!"

"Salah!!"

With the name of every Liverpool player appearing, the Parisian fans will boo wildly, trying to overwhelm each other in momentum.

Liverpool's away fans are desperate to influence something, but they are weak and are no match for the huge base of Parisian fans.

After introducing Liverpool, it was PSG's turn.

Parisian fans can't wait.

The big screen suddenly lit up, and a young figure appeared on it, seeing this figure, the Parisian fans unconsciously began to shout.

Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Respond to him with your greatest zeal, with your most pious cry, Paris Saint-Germain Forever No. 21, our beloved King! A super midfielder in Paris! ”

Old Monet's face was flushed, and he shouted in non-standard Chinese: "Yi !!!! Happy!!!!!! ”

Rumble!!! Rumble!!! Rumble!!!

Suddenly, the drum sounded, which came from the die-hard stands, and dozens of people such as Bi Yalong stood in front of the big drum, beating rhythmically.

Ever since they competed against the Chinese team, they have loved this domineering instrument.

I heard that the Chinese call it 'war drums'!

It's a great name.