In an instant, every eye in the stadium locked onto Leo Lin.
Standing in the wall, Piqué watched the ball rise toward him. He knew it was coming his way.
He leapt in a hurry, stretching to his absolute limit, twisting his neck midair to meet it.
He got there.
Leo Lin had only just mastered Zola's free-kick skill and was still short on refinement. The angle wasn't quite sharp enough. The ball smashed against Piqué's forehead!
Ter Stegen had already braced himself for a shot heading toward goal. By its original trajectory, it was indeed dipping toward the area just under the crossbar.
But at its peak, it struck Piqué and ricocheted high into the air!
Liverpool fans thought the chance was gone.
Because of the heavy deflection, the ball looped far away from Ter Stegen's position, and he hesitated—choosing not to come out.
Firmino and Umtiti leapt to contest the dropping ball!
This time, Firmino won it!
Newton's coffin lid might as well have flown open!
He nodded it down toward Leo Lin!
Leo Lin charged in and struck on the volley!
A soaring, full-blooded volley!
"Swish!!!"
Clean.
"GOAL!!!!!"
"Unbelievable!!!!!"
"Fantastic!!!!!"
"Holy—holy *!!!!!"
"What a volley!"
"Lin scores an absolutely stunning goal!!!"
"Brilliant!"
"Lin puts Liverpool back in front on aggregate! It's 4–3 overall!"
"And if it ends like this, Liverpool go through!!!"
The moment it hit the net, Leo Lin sprinted toward the touchline, launched into an explosive front flip, then lifted his shirt to reveal his sculpted abs to the world.
Every livestream erupted. The ESPN broadcast was in complete chaos.
Jon Champion's voice rang out with unrestrained excitement.
"Leo Lin restores Liverpool's aggregate lead! It's 1–1 at Camp Nou, and Liverpool have their precious away goal!"
"This match has been magnificent!"
"Both teams have shown immense attacking quality, and once again it's Messi and Leo Lin who stand out for their respective sides!"
Live chat exploded.
"Even though the free kick was blocked, the quality was obvious. When did Lin learn that? Is he going to start taking more?"
"This is strange—I don't remember him ever taking free kicks before."
"Has Lin improved again?!"
...
Far away in a small bar in China, Charles Lin sat leisurely sipping cocktails with his wife, the replay playing on the screen in front of them.
"See that? That's my son. Brilliant, isn't he?"
Lin's mother nodded, took a sip of her blue cocktail, and asked,
"When did he learn to take free kicks? Did you teach him?"
Charles Lin thumped his chest proudly.
"Of course! Like father, like son. I only gave him a few pointers—who knew the kid would understand it so thoroughly?"
Back on the pitch, Leo Lin—walking back after his celebration—suddenly sneezed.
He had the strange feeling he'd just been falsely credited for something… though he couldn't quite place it.
...
The remaining minutes of the first half ticked away.
Both teams headed down the tunnel.
Camp Nou was no longer as deafening as it had been at kickoff. Barcelona fans stared at the bright red 1–1 scoreline with frustration.
They had expected the great cannon of Camp Nou to blast the invaders to pieces.
Instead, the invaders had caught the cannonball midair, chewed it twice, swallowed it—then spat it straight back.
Barcelona still trailed by one on aggregate.
In the Liverpool dressing room, Klopp was delighted, clapping vigorously—almost like an excited penguin.
"You were magnificent out there. That's the best I've seen you…" he began, launching into his familiar opening line.
"For the next 45 minutes, we don't back down!"
"We do not drop deep unless it's absolutely critical!"
"We do not retreat unless it's life or death!"
"I want you pushing up. Attack!"
"Seize every counterattack opportunity—that's what we must do!"
On the other side, Barcelona continued emphasizing attack. For them, goals were everything.
Both broadcasts were dissecting the first half, with Messi and Leo Lin drawing the most attention—especially Leo Lin.
"Lin really seems to evolve," Gerrard said, half-laughing. "Is he developing faster than normal human beings?"
He glanced around—no one laughed.
No one thought he was joking.
"If he maintains this level in the second half, when the transfer market values update tomorrow… I can't imagine what happens to that €40 million figure."
"He's young, and he's proven himself in the league, the Champions League, and even the U17 World Cup. I'd say his value jumps to €65 million. Maybe higher."
Henry watched Leo Lin intently.
"That might even be low," Carragher added. "I'd say €70 million."
As they debated, the second half began.
Barcelona surged forward aggressively.
Liverpool responded with relentless running, gradually pushing Barcelona's shape outward.
They didn't sit deep.
They stood tall.
They went toe-to-toe with Barcelona.
And at the heart of it was Leo Lin, tirelessly covering ground for his teammates.
"Barcelona try again down the flank—Leo Lin flies in with another block! Clears it long!"
"You can see him everywhere!"
"In every unnoticed angle! Every shadowed corner of the pitch!"
"Wherever he's needed, Leo Lin appears!"
Watching him sprint, Jon Champion felt a swell of emotion.
"Before the match, Liverpool were not the favored side. Perhaps in recent years, their record and squad depth haven't quite matched Barcelona's."
"But that doesn't mean you surrender."
"What Leo Lin and Liverpool are showing tonight is exactly that."
"A bad script is not an excuse to give up."
"Tom Hanks' early films received little praise. But audiences still loved his performances."
"So let me say this."
"Friends, don't abandon your gifts just because you didn't start well."
"I promise you—everyone has something that shines. You just have to find it."
"Life is a journey."
"The scenery along the way is different for everyone. Some see breathtaking views. Some see bustling cities. Some see nothing more than wildflowers by the roadside."
"But if you know how to appreciate them, even wildflowers have their own fragrance."
"After all…"
"Life is meant to be lived for yourself."
...
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