Chapter 79: Stamford Bridge's Absolute Domain
Two weeks later, London.
The night at Stamford Bridge was humid and thick.
Though it was March, a rare dense London fog lowered visibility. The spotlights hit the turf, creating hazy halos and adding a touch of mystery and solemnity to this blue fortress.
Champions League Round of 16, Second Leg. Chelsea vs. Borussia Dortmund.
The 1-0 result at Westfalen in the first leg left the Dortmund players fuming. Their head coach, Terzić, confidently stated at the pre-match press conference: "At home, we were just a bit unadjusted to Lin's physical play. In London, we'll use speed and passing combinations to bypass that 'moving wall'."
Dortmund's starting lineup was highly targeted: Adeyemi, Malen, and Brandt—all speedsters and agile players.
Their tactical intent was clear: since they couldn't out-muscle him, they would tire him out.
In the dressing room.
Lin Yuan was adjusting his armband. Mourinho walked over and handed him a piece of gum.
"You don't need to chase them tonight," Mourinho whispered, his eyes gleaming with the cunning of an old fox. "Spread the net and wait for them to crawl in themselves."
Lin Yuan took the gum, popped it into his mouth, and the corner of his lips curled into a playful arc.
"Understood. Tonight, I'm not the butcher; I'm the hunter."
..."Peep—!"
With the referee's whistle, the match began.
The forty thousand fans at Stamford Bridge were prepared to see their captain charging around like a tank, knocking the Germans over left and right.
But soon, everyone—including the opponents and the spectators—realized that today's Lin Yuan had become somewhat "lazy."
He didn't press aggressively like in the first leg, nor did he cover the wings. He was like a stabilizing anchor, firmly rooted in the core area from the top of the center circle to the edge of his own penalty area.
15th minute.
Borussia Dortmund launched a quick counterattack. Brandt had the ball in the middle and saw Lin Yuan standing nearby without lunging forward.
"An opportunity!" Brandt rejoiced. He thought Lin Yuan was wary of the space behind him or was conserving his energy.
Brandt drove forward, attempting a through ball to the diagonally cutting Adeyemi.
However, at the very moment he went to pass,
the previously "static" Lin Yuan suddenly took a step sideways.
Just one step.
But this seemingly casual step precisely cut off the ball's only path.
"Thud."
Lin Yuan didn't even need to stretch his leg; the ball, like an obedient pet, hit his instep and came to a halt.
Brandt was stunned. It was a suffocating feeling, as if you had meticulously calculated everything only to find your opponent already waiting for you at the finish line.
"This is your speed?"
Lin Yuan stepped on the ball and looked up at Brandt, his eyes as calm as a pool of stagnant water.
Deep in his retinas, the system interface emitted a faint blue light:
[Consumed 15,000 notoriety points (Gains from the Battle of Westfalen).]
[Passive Aura Skill 'Absolute Domain (Level 1)' activated.]
[Current Effect: Within a 15-meter radius of the host, enemy passing accuracy is forcibly reduced by 15%, and psychological pressure is increased.]
This was the latest weapon he had exchanged using the massive amount of malice collected during that deafening war of words at Westfalen. In this invisible force field with a 15-meter radius, he no longer relied solely on the explosive power of Savage Physique to chase. Instead, like a spider weaving a web, he used terrifying anticipation and system corrections to weave an invisible net.
32nd minute.
Refusing to give in, Adeyemi tried to use his speed to overpower Lin Yuan. He cut inside from the wing, preparing to brush past him.
Lin Yuan still didn't sprint at full speed. He simply adjusted his body orientation and used his shoulder to slightly block the path inside.
This tiny movement forced Adeyemi to slow down and change direction, attempting to go around the outside.
But that was exactly what Lin Yuan wanted.
The moment Adeyemi changed direction, his rhythm was disrupted. Lin Yuan extended his long leg and, like using chopsticks to pick up food, precisely and elegantly hooked the ball away from Adeyemi's feet.
Adeyemi's momentum carried him two meters forward. When he looked back, the ball was gone.
Stamford Bridge erupted in thunderous applause. It wasn't for a violent collision, but for this suffocating art of defense.
"He's strolling!" Lineker exclaimed from the commentary box. "Lin Yuan is like he's taking a stroll in his own backyard tonight! Dortmund's speedsters look like flies hitting an invisible wall in front of him!"
Dortmund grew increasingly desperate.
They found that no matter how they passed, the man wearing the number 44 jersey always appeared in the ball's path. He was like a giant magnet, sucking away all the threat.
43rd minute.
Dortmund pushed their entire line forward, trying to pull one back before half-time.
Lin Yuan controlled a long pass from Hummels with his chest.
At this moment, Dortmund's midfield was empty.
Lin Yuan didn't even look. The moment he received the ball, he had already drawn that lethal trajectory in his mind.
[Scalpel Through Ball (Grade A)] activated.
He flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot.
The ball hugged the turf, carving a graceful arc that bypassed Emre Can, penetrated Süle's defensive zone, and found the already sprinting Osimhen.
One-on-one!
Osimhen didn't even need to adjust. Facing the rushing Kobel, he easily chipped the ball into the net.
1-0!
Aggregate 2-0!
After scoring, Osimhen sprinted toward the corner flag, while Lin Yuan just stood there, adjusting his jersey—which wasn't even messy—and waved slightly toward the stands.
That composure was even more chilling than his roar at Westfalen.
The second half turned completely into a ball-control drill for Chelsea.
Dortmund's mentality crumbled. Their proud speed was useless against Lin Yuan's "bear traps."
75th minute.
The recently substituted Malen tried a long-range shot from the edge of the box.
Lin Yuan simply took a step forward, his massive frame completely blocking the angle. Panicking, Malen slipped and completely mishit the ball.
Mocking laughter rang out across Stamford Bridge.
88th minute.
Chelsea counterattacked again. This time, Palmer broke through on the right and crossed the ball, and Enzo arrived late to slot it home.
2-0.
Aggregate 3-0.
Chelsea advanced to the Champions League quarterfinals with ease.
The moment the final whistle blew, the Dortmund players collapsed to the ground like deflated balloons. They hadn't lost to physicality, but to intelligence—to an order that made them feel powerless.
After the match, Mourinho walked onto the pitch and gave Lin Yuan a hug.
"Tonight, you reminded me of Makélélé in his prime, but you're even more aggressive," Mourinho praised.
Lin Yuan took off his captain's armband and toyed with it in his hand.
"Bumping into people is physical work, Boss," Lin Yuan said nonchalantly. "Occasionally using your brain to play saves some energy."
Mixed zone.
Reporters were surprised to find that Lin Yuan hardly had any mud on him today; his jersey was as clean as if he had just put it on.
"Lin, is this what you meant by 'dominance'?" a reporter asked. "You looked very relaxed tonight."
Lin Yuan stopped and looked back at the brightly lit Stamford Bridge.
"When a lion is full," Lin Yuan said calmly, "it doesn't need to roar. It just needs to watch quietly, and the prey won't dare to move."
He turned around, leaving a dashing figure for the cameras.
"When is the next draw? Whether it's Real Madrid or Bayern, let them come."
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