"Short passes at the back—Barcelona are building beautifully."
"Piqué steps forward—threaded through to Rakitić!"
"Rakitić goes long over the top, splitting the defense!"
"Suárez beats the offside trap! Lovren's tight to him!"
"He hits it first time!"
"Sliding challenge!"
"Matip with a full-blooded slide—he blocks Suárez's shot!"
"The ball deflects behind—Barcelona win a corner."
"Messi takes it short to the near post—Suárez with the glancing header!"
"Side netting! Camp Nou gasps again!"
"For a second, the home fans thought it was in!"
...
"Henderson wins it back deep—excellent tackle!"
"Plays it into Lucas, who spreads it wide."
"Mané collects, finds Firmino—quick one-two down to the byline!"
"Back to Mané—cross to the far post!"
"Salah lunges in! Umtiti with a crucial block!"
"The two collide heavily!"
"Still no goal!"
Jon Champion was almost out of breath in the commentary booth. Jim Beglin tried to squeeze in a word but simply couldn't find the space.
Neither side was willing to ease off. They went at each other relentlessly, the tempo cranked up to a blistering pace.
"The game is being played at breakneck speed. This is a serious test of stamina and endurance."
"The first team to lose focus will make a mistake—and at this level, any mistake can cost you."
"To reach this stage of the Champions League, you have to be as strong as Barcelona or Liverpool."
Leo Lin was completely absorbed in the match. Out on the pitch, every step felt driven by instinct.
He kept moving constantly, making sure he always had space, never allowing himself to be swallowed up by Barcelona's defensive shape.
In the official La Liga studio, guest pundit Dennis Bergkamp couldn't help but praise him.
"What surprises me most about this young Lin is his understanding of movement and the rhythm of the game."
"He truly understands what football is about, and that's why he survives out there."
"With every run, he escapes the defensive net around him. He doesn't remind me of anyone from the past—because he's simply himself."
The two teams refused to back down, trading blow for blow. The match only grew more gripping.
Every Barcelona and Liverpool supporter felt their nerves tighten with every shift in momentum.
"Someone protect me! A game like this leaves you speechless!"
"I can't take it. Just watching makes my heart pound—I can't imagine what it's like on the pitch!"
"Football tests every part of a human being. It truly deserves to be called the world's greatest sport!"
Realizing that long-range efforts weren't yielding results, Messi began dribbling more, drifting from the center toward the flanks to isolate defenders and create one-on-one chances.
As a midfielder, Leo Lin didn't chase him wide. That responsibility fell to Robertson, with Henderson frequently dropping back to provide cover.
41st minute!
"Once again down the right—Semedo feeds Messi."
"Back to goal, quick touch—turns inside!"
"Messi cuts in!"
It was that signature close-control burst. His first touch took him past Robertson. As he tried to go again, Henderson stepped across and brought him down.
The referee blew immediately and showed Henderson the first yellow card of the match.
"A tactical foul. Henderson had no choice—he had to stop Messi's cut inside. Barcelona have a free kick in a very dangerous position."
Messi stood over the ball.
Liverpool assembled their tallest wall.
Mignolet barked instructions nervously. Everyone knew how lethal Messi could be from a dead ball.
"Some fans joke that Messi treats free kicks like penalties—that tells you everything about his conversion rate."
"The angle isn't perfect. Will he shoot?"
Lovren, standing in the wall, stared straight at Messi.
The referee whistled.
Messi began his run-up.
Every Liverpool supporter held their breath.
"Messi approaches—"
"He plays it wide!"
No shot. Messi slipped it out to Suárez instead.
Suárez received it and shaped to cross, luring both the wall and the defensive line into retreat.
Meanwhile, Messi had already continued his run, positioning himself at the edge of the box.
Suárez squares it!
Messi meets it—and instead of shooting, lays it back to Suárez again!
This time it's a threaded pass, perfectly weighted, opening a shooting lane!
"Bang!"
A low drive!
Barcelona erupt!
Suárez races toward the touchline in celebration!
Camp Nou explodes in a thunder of noise!
"It's in!"
"Suárez!"
"He delivers! The home crowd's faith rewarded!"
"What a finish!"
"Suárez scores!"
"Barcelona level it at 3–3 on aggregate! And with two away goals, if it stays like this, they go through! The momentum has swung firmly in Barcelona's favor!"
The giant golden cannon tifo began to sway again in the stands as red-and-blue paper balls flew into the air once more.
Leo Lin glanced toward the sideline.
Klopp was clapping repeatedly, urging calm.
Captain Henderson was roaring instructions.
Inside Leo Lin, something ignited.
It wasn't fear.
It was anger. Defiance. A refusal to accept this.
Play restarted.
Several Liverpool players lined up along the halfway line—this was a rehearsed setup.
"Whistle!"
"Liverpool get us underway again!"
"Firmino lays it off—Leo Lin drives a long ball toward Salah!"
With Arnold overlapping to draw attention, Salah had space.
He cushioned it on his chest and immediately cut inside.
From behind, Busquets' knee clipped Salah, sending him tumbling.
The referee blew at once.
"Foul by Busquets! Liverpool have a free kick in a very promising area!"
"But they don't really have a recognized free-kick specialist…"
Just then, Jon Champion noticed something.
"Leo Lin is standing over it."
"Leo Lin taking the free kick???"
Salah had initially stepped up, but after a brief exchange, he handed it over.
No one had ever seen Leo Lin take a free kick before.
He placed the ball.
Stepped back three paces.
Took a deep breath.
Since integrating Zola's skill, that strange sensation had been flowing through him—now gathering in his left foot.
He exhaled slowly.
Began his run-up.
Planted his foot.
Lowered his head to judge the strike point.
Body leaning.
Left leg whipping through!
Clean contact!
The ball rocketed into the air—
"Boom!!!"