Dominate the Super Bowl-Chapter 384 383 No other choice

Time was not on the side of the Kansas City Chiefs.

Despite Li Wei's ground rush stealing fifteen yards, it came at the cost of using their final timeout, with only twenty-eight seconds left in the game.

Next, the Kansas City Chiefs had no time to huddle; they had to seize the last timeout opportunity to strategize, but it was far from enough.

First and ten, the New England Patriots displayed the dominance and power of champions, creating incredible pressure with just a four-man rush, effectively hitting Smith and causing his pass to deviate slightly—

After catching the ball, Kelsey obviously lost his balance. Rather than advancing, even his steps were clumsy, and he fell to the ground surrounded by three players.

Moreover, time kept ticking away.

This forced Smith to waste an offensive down to spike the ball and stop the clock, recalibrating the strategy in hopes of making a desperate pass completion.

However.

The New England Patriots' defensive group showed absolutely strong and meticulous defense, delivering one of the best pass defenses of the season, leaving no chance for Smith, whose risky attempt for a fifteen-yard middle pass to Hill was denied by the joint efforts of Chung Family and Butler.

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The pass was incomplete.

Fourth and seven, nine seconds, thirty-six yards from the end zone.

"The Kansas City Chiefs have no other choice; they must go for the Hail Mary."

"Now whether it's third gear or fourth doesn't matter to the Kansas City Chiefs; they must play the fourth and they have to score. There's no turning back."

"But the New England Patriots' defensive group presented championship-level performance, pushing the Kansas City Chiefs to the edge of a cliff with no way back."

"Whether the Kansas City Chiefs like it or not, they must take on the Hail Mary."

"From the looks of it, the New England Patriots are ready; but the Kansas City Chiefs are not."

Smith was somewhat frustrated.

The closer to the end he got, the more chaotic he became, his hands involuntarily clutching his head tightly once more.

In his recent passes, he had put forth his best effort, but he consistently felt the despair of a dying struggle, completely dominated by the momentum of the New England Patriots.

Disorganized.

He understood the reasoning; he had the ambition.

But execution was another matter altogether.

Fourth and seven, the Hail Mary, could he really do it?

"Hey, Captain."

A voice called out near him, suddenly, Smith looked up and then saw a blurred face hidden in the billowing steam, continuously exhaling hot breath mixed with scalding sweat blurring the face, but he could still see the eyes behind the helmet.

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"Give it a try."

Light, simple, even with a hint of jest.

"Remember? Leave no regrets."

"We all thought, the weight of life depends on this one pass, if this pass succeeds, what will happen; if this pass fails, what then."

"But the reality is, whether successful or not, it won't completely change our lives. Life is so long, we shouldn't define it by moments of success or failure."

"Michael Jordan played in the NBA for how many seasons, fifteen or sixteen? How many championships did he win, six? Would people say those seasons he didn't win were failures?"

"No. They wouldn't."

"Because what defines our lives shouldn't be a moment."

"The point is, having no regrets, no second-guessing, and being able to confidently say after the game is over, I tried my best without holding back."

"What do you think, Captain?"

"Are you ready?"

Facing the siege, yet still keeping a light-hearted demeanor.

Li Wei's confidence and composure silently refocused the attention of the Kansas Chiefs Offense.

Smith looked at Li Wei, then around at all the faces, sweating profusely, exhausted yet determined, and felt a surge of courage welling up in his chest.

"Keep fighting."

A smile crept across his lips.

Smith straightened his back and squared his shoulders—

For ten years.

He knew his tendency to falter at crucial moments had made him the butt of the entire league's jokes, and nobody, including himself, believed he could transform.

The real heroes of the comeback victories achieved by the Kansas City Chiefs this season were not him; he understood this better than anyone else.

But today, he wanted to try.

Just so he wouldn't have any regrets.

His gaze focused, Smith concentrated on reading the defense's formation.

The New England Patriots had already set up—

In the front line, leaving only four defensive linemen.

In the backfield, cornerbacks stood more than ten yards out, linebackers stood about fifteen yards out, and the safety stood in the end zone, forming a stair-step coverage across the field.

Though ostensibly defending against mid-field breaches and preventing Li Wei from exploiting any gaps again; their real focus remained on the end zone, with all efforts targeted at Wanfu Mary.

They knew they were heading into peril, but advanced toward it nonetheless.

The cold wind was biting, the air seemed to freeze into ice, the intense sweat continued to fall, yet his fingertips tingled numbly, almost unable to stretch out.

At the doorstep of Old Oak Tavern, Provo just couldn't hold back anymore and turned to leave—

He couldn't bear to watch.

In the last game, Provo had used all the strength of his soul, witnessing the Chiefs' comeback through the radio.

But that had drained all his courage and energy; he simply couldn't face it a second time.

Though curious and although every cell in his body was burning, he ultimately didn't have the courage to face such a blow again and controlled himself.

Standing at the door, Provo didn't know where to go. His feet just idly remained in place and then he tiredly sat on the steps, quietly pulling out a cigarette and trying to light it, only to find his hands trembling so badly that the lighter wouldn't spark. Finally, he gave up and just sat there, the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

He wasn't the only one who dared not look directly at the TV screen.

In Old Oak Tavern, West also closed his eyes, quietly listening to the power of his heart pounding against his chest. Then, Smith's command came through the speakers.

"Attack!"

Bang, bang, bang.

The sound of helmets colliding burst out, energy exploded instantly—

The pocket, broken.

Although the Patriots only used four men to rush, their divinely inspired performance in this game greatly boosted their confidence. Even without the help of linebackers, the defensive line still managed to tear through the pocket again.

Flyers, leading the charge.

Crisis.

Yet, Smith wasn't panicking—

The only thought in his mind was: The fight never ends.

He needed to withstand the onslaught of the Patriots, he needed to buy time for the wide receiver to run, he needed to create space for the pass to Wanfu Mary.

"Alex, no regrets."

Smith was backpedaling, continuously retreating, instantly increasing the distance between him and Flyers. At a critical moment, the Kansas Chiefs' offensive line intercepted Flyers for a moment, which gave Smith a brief moment to breathe.

In his continuous retreat, Smith's steps halted abruptly as he turned, the field slightly wet and slippery because he was pushing too hard, and his feet stumbled for a moment.

Ha!

The whole stadium gasped, hearts stopped beating.

Smith, fully focused, completely unaware of the danger, reflexively used his core strength to regain his balance, quickly scanning around with his gaze.

Seeing another defensive tackle on his left struggling to break free from the offensive line's hold and launching toward him like a creature bursting out of a cocoon, storm after storm pounding down on him, he shifted his steps toward the right again.

One step.

—Flyers had already moved a step ahead, extending his arms and lunging toward Smith.