"The pitch has descended into complete chaos—both sides are erupting into a massive confrontation!"
"From what we can see, Firmino and Henderson have each been shown a yellow card. Both teams have come out extremely aggressive!"
On the touchline, Krawietz and Mourinho were locked in a furious argument, the two shouting at each other relentlessly. Even when the referee rushed over to intervene, the situation refused to cool down.
"The referee has now shown yellow cards to both Krawietz and Mourinho as well! The match has only just begun, and already four people have been booked!"
The fans in the stands were going berserk. The broadcast cameras could barely capture a clear overhead view of the pitch.
The riot police's shields finally came into real use, desperately blocking the constant barrage of flying debris.
Across all the livestream platforms—
"Kickoff just happened, and I don't even dare imagine what's coming next."
"This is the magic of the North West Derby. Add a knockout match, and the tension is maxed out!"
"This is insane. What kind of match is this? This isn't football—it's war!"
"If you put me on the pitch right now, I'd probably be scared to death."
Once play resumed, Leo Lin was still being hounded by Manchester United's three-man press. This wasn't normal pressure—United's challenges were downright dirty.
In the 20th minute, Leo Lin was fouled again. As he slowly rose from the turf, his eyes blazing with anger, he stared straight at Mourinho. Then he pointed at him and smiled.
"You want to play like this, huh?"
Leo Lin spoke with a grin.
"Then I'm more than happy to play along."
Leo Lin had always lived by one principle since the day he first touched a football.
When you face an opponent full of malice, what do you do?
Run away?
Feel fear?
Give up?
Damn it.
Pick up the sword lying on the ground and raise it high.
And remember to point the blade at your enemy—because that's how you pierce their heart.
Play resumed, and Leo Lin drew his blade.
He feared no collision.
9th minute of the match!
"Midfield scrap! Leo Lin is almost single-handedly battling both Matic and Herrera!"
Leo Lin eyed Matic as he carried the ball, then sprinted in from the side with a flying tackle—perfectly timed.
"Flying tackle! He muscles Matic aside and wins it cleanly!"
"Liverpool have a chance to counter, worked out to the left!"
"Mané twists past his marker and drives into the box!"
"He shoots!"
"De Gea gets a hand to it and pushes it away!"
"What a save!"
15th minute!
"Leo Lin drops deep to receive, controlling the ball centrally."
"Nimble footwork."
"He dips his shoulder, feints, bursts left!"
"Stops suddenly, cuts again—he's through!"
"Outside-of-the-foot pass to the left!"
"What a ball!!!"
With his back to goal, Leo Lin feinted, spun, and created space in one fluid motion.
He lifted his head toward the right—then played his trademark no-look pass.
His perfect vision picked out Mané charging forward on the left.
A gentle flick of the ankle, and Mané exploded past his defender, clean through on goal.
The angle was tight, with little chance to shoot.
Mané squared it across the face of goal!
Salah came flying in at the far post!
Just as he was about to strike, Valencia threw himself into the block, Jones dropping low to cover!
Two textbook defensive blocks, forcing Salah's shot out for a corner.
"Liverpool are starting to take control here. Their attacks are coming in waves, overwhelming Manchester United."
"Leo Lin hasn't been affected by Lukaku at all—if anything, he's playing better."
"Time and again, his clever dribbling and passing are catching United's back line off guard."
United's defense was being pushed deeper and deeper. Even Lukaku had been forced back toward midfield to help harass Leo Lin.
And that was exactly the moment Leo Lin had been waiting for.
21st minute.
Mignolet was comfortable on the ball at the back. United were sitting so deep that there was no high press at all.
Mourinho repeatedly motioned downward with both hands, signaling his players to stay calm. What he wanted was a low block.
Only that way could they lure Liverpool's defenders forward and strike on the counter.
Leo Lin dropped quickly to offer an option, Lukaku tight on his back.
Henderson received, turned, and Leo Lin darted away with a clever run, creating space.
Henderson's pass was perfectly weighted.
As Leo Lin prepared to cushion the ball, Lukaku desperately chased back and lunged in again.
Facing the onrushing Lukaku, Leo Lin focused intently. At the moment of control, he subtly changed the angle of his ankle—turning a first touch into a flick.
The ball slid beautifully straight through Lukaku's legs.
The entire Liverpool crowd burst into laughter.
"Hahahaha!"
"A perfect nutmeg! Lukaku's been sent to the floor!"
After completing the nutmeg, Leo Lin took the ball on his left foot, then glanced back disdainfully at Lukaku lying on the turf.
He stood tall, his presence completely overwhelming.
This wasn't showboating.
Leo Lin was baiting.
While it looked like he was provoking Lukaku, his peripheral vision was locked firmly on Matic.
He was luring Matic into a challenge.
Humiliation was unbearable.
And sure enough, Matic charged in blindly, anger clouding his judgment.
Mourinho sensed something was wrong, but before he could shout a warning—
Leo Lin flicked the ball again with his left foot.
Once more, the ball traced a gorgeous path straight through Matic's legs.
"Woah!!!"
This time, even Manchester United fans couldn't help but gasp.
On the sideline, Klopp covered his face with both hands. He couldn't believe what he'd just seen.
"My god!"
"That's art!"
"Leo Lin has cut straight through Manchester United's midfield—Liverpool have a five-on-four counterattack!"
Jon Champion cried out.
"Leo Lin drives forward with the ball—tremendous pace!"
With the boost of his Wind Chaser Kaká skill, Leo Lin surged ahead in long, powerful strides.
Facing United's exposed back line, with no holding midfielder left to shield them, the defense looked like meat on a chopping block in his eyes.
The Red Arrow Trio had already surged into the box. Leo Lin cut through like there was no one there.
He burst into the penalty area, squaring up Jones.
A right-footed feint, a perfect stepover into a left-footed cut inside!
No extra touch—he strikes it first time!
A low drive toward the bottom-left corner!
The ball flew as if guided by a navigation system, arrowing straight into the corner.
"It's in!!!" Jon Champion roared.
"That goal is pure art!"
"Leo Lin nutmegs two men, storms into the box, and finishes it solo!"
"He always turns godlike in derbies!"
"Leo Lin is Manchester United's nemesis!"
"He was brilliant in the last North West Derby!"
"And now, once again, he steps up and opens the scoring for his team!"
"One–nil!!!"
"Liverpool take the lead!!!"
...
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