A fully exposed defensive line lay wide open in front of him—no protection, no cover.
Leo Lin didn't even bother to trap the ball. Instead, he cushioned it lightly with the joint between his ankle and calf, giving it a subtle twist forward.
A world-class touch in stride.
He never slowed down. If anything, he accelerated—man and ball moving as one—charging straight at Juventus' back line.
"Big chance! Liverpool on the Counterattack!"
"He's driving straight at the penalty area! With no Defensive Midfielder shielding the back line, Juventus are in real trouble—Leo Lin can shoot from distance!"
After just two touches forward, the Juventus defense reacted immediately.
Chiellini stepped out decisively, setting himself for a one-on-one challenge.
Leo Lin didn't hesitate. Like a wild bull breaking loose, he surged again—accelerating, shifting direction, nudging the ball with the instep of his left foot before exploding toward the left channel.
A continuous, high-speed burst.
Chiellini was beaten—but he knew he absolutely could not let Leo Lin go.
Behind him was nothing but open grass. If Leo Lin got through, it would almost certainly be a goal.
Gritting his teeth, Chiellini made his choice. He lunged and grabbed Leo Lin from behind, clutching his shirt even as Leo Lin had already broken past him. Dragging him back with brute force, he leaned his weight down, nearly dropping to the turf to increase friction, finally halting the run.
"Beep!!!"
The whistle had barely sounded when Leo Lin spun around and jabbed a finger straight at Chiellini's nose.
Young as he was, there wasn't a trace of fear in him. His eyes burned, his presence pressing forward with pure intensity.
"That's a cynical foul—and it's denied a clear one-on-one chance!"
"This is serious for Juventus. Their players are surrounding the referee—they're clearly worried about a red card."
The foul occurred right at the top of the penalty arc.
The stadium fell into a tense silence. Juventus fans held their breath. Liverpool's traveling supporters roared in protest. The referee hesitated for a moment.
Then, after just a few seconds, his hand went to the back pocket.
Derek Rae's voice rose.
"Regular Champions League viewers know—the red and yellow cards are kept in separate pockets. And the red card usually comes from the back."
"Oh—and there it is!"
"Chiellini is sent off! That is absolutely a red-card offense!"
"He denied Leo Lin a clear goal-scoring opportunity!"
Chiellini clutched his head and stayed close to the referee, protesting furiously.
On the touchline, Allegri stormed toward the fourth official, furious. Klopp, naturally, stood firm in support of the decision.
"That's enough, Allegri. Don't push your luck."
"Two more steps and that's a red card plus a penalty. You should be thankful Chiellini fouled him early. He's lucky."
Klopp's sarcasm only fueled Allegri's anger, and the two managers erupted into a heated exchange.
Liverpool fans celebrated wildly, which only inflamed the nearby Juventus supporters. On the pitch, Chiellini kept arguing.
Liverpool players urged him to leave quickly and stop delaying the restart. The balance of the match had already tilted toward Liverpool.
Tensions flared everywhere—on the field, in the stands, on the benches. The referee blew his whistle repeatedly, demanding calm, and moved to the sideline to warn both managers to step back.
As Chiellini was escorted off, Leo Lin couldn't hide his satisfaction.
Before exiting, Chiellini pointed at him.
"You little punk. Don't let me see you on the streets of Turin!"
"You think you can beat us like this? Dream on!"
Leo Lin laughed and rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms.
"Don't let you see me on the streets of Turin?"
"After we beat you, I'm heading to the streets for some barbecue. Hope you show up."
"Chiellini, maybe give Suárez a call. Those famous teeth of his are perfect for barbecue. Bring a couple more guys too—otherwise I'll beat you so badly even your own mother won't recognize you."
Chiellini froze.
He had meant to intimidate the youngster—but instead, he'd run into someone even fiercer.
An articulate, composed, slightly handsome bully.
In the live chat:
"I'm calling it—Liverpool are favorites now!"
"Chiellini misses this match and the second leg because of the red. Massive blow for Juventus."
"He lost his head. If I were him, I'd rather risk the one-on-one than take the red."
"What are you talking about? He stopped a guaranteed goal. That's a textbook tactical foul."
...
With Chiellini gone, Juventus hadn't yet realized something else—
A perfectly positioned free kick now awaited Leo Lin.
And earlier in the tournament, he had already shown glimpses of his free-kick ability.
Juventus stacked the tallest players into the wall. Leo Lin stood over the ball, focused.
His Free Kick technique felt alive.
He took a deep breath.
Salah made the first move, darting away in a decoy run to disturb the wall.
Leo Lin followed through immediately—clearly going for goal.
He locked his core, channeling his physical power to generate maximum Curve and a sharper, faster drop.
"Bang!"
He struck it cleanly.
The ball soared.
Khedira leapt desperately to block, but the shot arced beautifully through the air—
Clearing the wall—
Then dipping viciously—
And crashing into the top-left corner!
Buffon didn't even move.
The stadium fell into stunned silence.
Juventus fans were left in disbelief.
Liverpool supporters erupted in worship.
"Oh!!!"
"Hahahaha!"
"Leo Lin!!!"
"That free kick against Barcelona earlier—he didn't score, but the quality was there!"
"And now he's buried it!"
"A magical, plunging free kick!"
"Brilliant!!!"
"An outrageous arc, vicious dip, blistering pace and power!"
"That's his ability!"
"So young—and so composed!"
Leo Lin sprinted toward the corner, pointing fiercely at the Liverpool crest on his chest.
The traveling fans mirrored him, thousands of fingers pressed to the badge—countless crests beating as one.
In the live chat:
"Who said Chiellini stopped a goal? Well—now what?"
"He couldn't stop it—and he got sent off!"
"Juventus are in serious trouble. Down to ten men and trailing—how do they recover?"
"One goal isn't enough! We've got the extra man—Liverpool need to push for another!"
...
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