"Report it."

  Gao Shen walked back to the visiting team's coag bench, took a water bottle from Carlo, shouted something to Lucas, and began gulping down water.

  He wasn't och, but the iy of the game was taking its toll. His throat was dry, his energy sapped.

  This kind of game ure torture.

  Damn Mourinho.

  Lucas, knowily what Gao Shen wanted, immediately begaing the pyer data he had been trag—performance levels, physical ditions, and activity rates.

  Gao Shen's eyes narrowed as he caught onto something.

  Adriano was finished.

  After the first 60 minutes, his output had dropped drastically. His running had decreased, and his overall activity och had plummeted. The Brazilian forward was no longer effective.

  "I k. This guy 't still be that strong. How long has he been out of form now?" Gao Shen muttered.

  But before he could sit back down, he saw movement from the Inter bench. Mourinho had stepped out, and standing beside him was Cruz, ready to substitute in.

  "Damn it!" Gao Shen cursed aloud.

  Sure enough, ih minute, Mourinho made his first substitution, with Cruz repg Adriano.

  As Cruz stood by the sideline waiting to e on, Mourinho, already walking back to his bench, g Gao Shen with a smirk. It was a look that said: Whatever you've seen, I've seen it too.

  Gao Shen gritted his teeth, letting out a bitter smile. "Show off all you want, Mourinho. Let's see if you're still smiling at the end."

  Mourinho roving to be as difficult to deal with as ever.

  "Should we make ges too?" Carlo asked, his tone cautious.

  Gao Shen thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not yet. It's not the right time."

  He didn't believe Mourinho could hold out defensively for the entire 90 minutes.

  With that thought in mind, Gao Shen moved back to the toue and sigo his pyers to push the pace.

  If this was going to be a battle of endurahey would press Inter until something gave.

  Inter Min wasn't an easy oppo, and Mourinho always emphasized physical fitness. Breaking their resistance would take a toll, but Napoli had no choice—they had to fight.

  …

  "Whatever the result tonight, this Napoli team is impressive," Boas remarked from the home team's coag booth.

  "It's their fitness," Mourinho said, his toter-of-fact.

  Boas nodded in agreement.

  Earlier in the season, the media had released running statistics for Serie A teams, and Napoli's numbers were staggering. Their overall running distances far exceeded their advantage iandings.

  Curiously, while pyers like Vidal and Hamsik stood out, Napoli's individuals didn't domihe charts. It wasn't until the data was recalcuted as average running distances per 90 mihat the full picture became clear: Napoli topped almost every category.

  The discrepancy was due to their heavy squad rotation. Pyers like Thiago Motta, i, Biglia, and Rakitic had pyed extensively in the Champions League but fewer minutes in Serie A, which diluted their totals. Adjusted for pying time, however, Napoli domihe league in fitness and work rate.

  This reflected two key strengths of Gao Shen's team: physical ditioning and squad depth.

  Their rotation system had ehat every pyer on the roster, even the 16-year-old Verratti, had seen pying time. Though Verratti had only made two substitute appearaotaling around 50 minutes, he trained regurly with the first team and impressed in the reserves.

  Gao Shen's rotation strategy aying dividends, keeping his squad fresh across three petitions. Their fitness and rotation plemented each other perfectly.

  In trast, Inter Min's relian a smaller core of pyers was a clear disadvantage. In a war of attrition, they simply couldn't pete with Napoli.

  It was a carefully id trap.

  Still, Mourinho wasn't relying on endurao win. His focus was on defending. That was airely different game.

  As the match dragged on, both sides were showing signs of fatigue. The relentless paapoli had set was a moal test for any team, but even their reserves of energy weren't infinite.

  Mourinho refused to believe that Napoli's pyers were indomitable.

  "You bluff all you want, but the pyers och will break eventually," Mourinho muttered, grinding his teeth.

  …

  By the 70th minute, Napoli's relentless waves of attacks had slowed down.

  It was clear to everyohat both teams were running on fumes.

  Inter Min, focused solely on defense, had less ground to cover than Napoli. Destroying was easier thaing, and their pact shape required less energy to maintain.

  "It looks like this will end 0-0," one entator remarked.

  "That's a result both sides live with. But for Napoli, it would be a frustrating oute, they've domihe game yet failed to break Inter Min's defense."

  "Mourinho's defensive anization is remarkable. Even uhese circumstances, he's kept his team intact. It's a testament to his coag skill."

  "But what's surprising is that Gao Shen hasn't made a single substitutio."

  The camera pao the sidelines, showing Mourinho standing just outside the home team's dugout. He was chewing gum, leaning casually against the post, but the tension in his eyes was unmistakable.

  In trast, Gao Shen ag by the toue, visibly restless.

  The match had es most precarious stage.

  The clock approached 75 minutes, and Napoli had started to ease off slightly, their high press no longer as sharp.

  "Giuseppe, they're pulling back a bit," Mourinho muttered to his assistant, Baresi.

  "Yes, I noticed," Baresi replied. "They're probably running out of steam. It's been over 70 minutes of high-iy football."

  Mourinho thought for a moment, nodding. "Push our line forward a bit, but make sure the defeays protected."

  "Should we make a substitution?" Baresi asked.

  Mourinho hesitated.

  "Muntari's been iive today. Rakitic has pletely shut him down."

  Mourinho hen shook his head. "But I 't move Mai. He's beiralized by Di María, but bringing on Córdoba would weaken that side even more."

  Baresi waited for his boss to make a decision.

  After a minute of silence, Mourinho's mind wandered baething Gao Shen had said before:

  "Jose, you're either extremely cautious or you go all in. And people like you usually end up losing big."

  Gao Shen had said it with a grin during a casual card game at a UEFA-anized event. The memory stung.

  Damn you, Gao Shen, Mourinho thought. You may have been right that night, but I'll show you now.

  "Substitute Muntari. Bring on Balotelli," Mourinho ordered.

  "You're sure?" Baresi asked.

  "I'm sure. Let's see if he deal with three strikers.

  he 80th minute, Balotelli, wearing Inter's No. 45 jersey, stepped to the sideline, ready to e on.

  Seeing this, Gao Shen smirked. "So, this is how he's going to gamble. Stack the attack. Oriker isn't enough, so he'll add another. And if two aren't enough…"

  After a moment's pause, Gao Shen's eyes narrowed.

  "He's throwing everything at me. Fine, Mourinho. Let's fight!"

  Turning to his bench, Gao Shen signaled decisively.

  "Pastet ready. You're ing on for Thiago Motta. We're ging the formation!"