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December 18. The EFL Cup quarterfinal pre-match press conference.
Manchester United manager José Mourinho wore an expression of open disdain and arrogance—his customary attitude when facing a sworn rival. Sitting beside him was David de Gea, the current core of United's squad.
Fans liked to joke: across all of Manchester, De Gea is the only true "dad."
His terrifying goal-line ability and lightning-fast reactions—especially his trademark low save with legs spread wide—had long made him a fan favorite.
United's overall form this season hadn't been particularly convincing, but thanks to De Gea's outstanding performances, they had surged through the EFL Cup and successfully reached the quarterfinals.
In the league, they currently sat fourth, snatching a position that many felt should have belonged to Arsenal.
"Mourinho, does facing your archrivals in such a crucial knockout match carry extra aning?"
"In a decisive elimination ga like this against Liverpool, will you make tactical adjustnts?"
"Regarding Liverpool's most talked-about young player, Leo Lin, will you prepare specific counterasures?"
Mourinho's answers to questions like these were all cut from the sa cloth.
"We're here to reach the semifinals. Whether the opponent is Liverpool, or the dog tied up at Liverpool's training ground, I don't care."
"Lin?"
"Is he really that good? What exactly would require to make special arrangents?"
A Liverpool reporter hidden among the press corps let out a cold laugh and shot back.
"But The Sun recently published secretly fild footage from Manchester United training. In the video, you were clearly setting up a three-man rotating defensive sche—a three-against-one plan. Wasn't that designed specifically for Leo Lin?"
Mourinho froze for a mont. Then he stood up and walked out without saying a word.
On the way back, he was already calculating how to make The Sun pay.
The Sun—a newspaper neither Liverpool players nor fans would ever agree to cooperate with.
They thrived on players' gossip and malicious fan narratives, loved secretly filming closed training sessions, and fabricated or distorted stories to chase traffic.
Their most infamous stunt was the fabricated stampede incident targeting Liverpool supporters, a deliberate attempt to sar the club.
Both sides had prepared thoroughly for this knockout clash, and Klopp had drawn up brand-new tactical adjustnts.
Once again, Mourinho had fooled everyone. He had indeed prepared a tactical plan—and it was aid squarely at Leo Lin.
Mourinho knew exactly who powered Liverpool's midfield. Cripple Leo Lin, and Liverpool's counterattacks would lose their bite.
A knockout match tied to the EFL Cup title, featuring two absolute sworn enemies—every possible factor was maxed out. The intensity was comparable to modern warfare.
Before fans had even entered the stadium, large-scale clashes had already broken out.
The venue was unprecedentedly set at Wembley Stadium. Manchester United supporters entered through the front gates, while Liverpool fans were routed through the rear, completely separated.
Major broadcasts went live early. In the ESPN livestream alone, viewer numbers had already surpassed one million, with no visible upper limit.
Comnts flew past at lightning speed, so fast that even the comntators struggled to catch a single one.
"Fans, we're just one hour away from kickoff. Both teams have submitted their starting lineups."
"Manchester United first."
"Goalkeeper: De Gea."
"Defenders: Darmian, Jones, Smalling, Valencia."
"Double pivots: Matic, Herrera."
"Left: Martial. Right: Ashley Young. Central attacking midfielder: Mkhitaryan."
"Striker: Lukaku."
"Now Liverpool, sticking with their favorite 4-3-3 formation."
"Klopp really is a romantic at heart."
"Goalkeeper: Mignolet."
"Defenders: Robertson, Lovren, Matip, Arnold."
"Midfield: Wijnaldum, Henderson, Leo Lin."
"Front three: Mané, Firmino, Salah."
"Both teams have fielded their strongest available lineups. Who will advance to the EFL Cup semifinals? Let's find out!"
Final words echoed through both dressing rooms.
Lukaku kept clapping and firing up his teammates. Though he had taken the most criticism in United's squad this season, he was also their top scorer.
On the other side, Liverpool's dressing room felt far calr. Captain Henderson gestured for everyone to gather in.
"Guys, today we fight for the shirt on our backs!"
"Given that our opponent is Manchester United, we play without limits—no holding back, no restraint!"
The mont Henderson said this, Leo Lin felt goosebumps ripple across his skin, a surging power welling up inside him.
"So today, our goal isn't just to reach the semifinals—because our opponent is Manchester United."
"Our goal is to fight for the shirts we wear, to fight for Liverpool's honor!"
"For the fans who traveled far, bought tickets, and have supported us every step of the way—we must beat Manchester United!"
As they walked out of the dressing room, the Manchester United players all looked dangerous.
Lukaku looked dangerous too, though with a faintly comical edge—solid and imposing, yet oddly goofy.
Leo Lin walked near the back of the line. To his right were Herrera and Matic, both wearing grim expressions. Mourinho's three-man rotating pressure sche was designed entirely around him.
Referee Oliver could feel the thick killing intent behind him. He hurriedly led both teams onto the pitch, worried things might explode at any mont.
The instant they erged, the shouting between Manchester United and Liverpool supporters grew even louder.
Boos filled the sky. Leo Lin could almost sll gunpowder in the air—the atmosphere felt like a battlefield.
Both teams took their positions. Oliver checked his watch and blew the whistle.
The match officially began.
Liverpool kicked off, with Firmino dropping the ball back to Leo Lin.
The tempo imdiately beca brutal.
Mourinho had instructed his players to collide relentlessly.
In the 9th minute, just after Leo Lin released a pass, Lukaku smashed into him off the ball, knocking him flat to the turf.
The referee rushed over and showed a yellow card, but it did nothing to calm Liverpool's anger.
16th minute.
Henderson charged straight at Lukaku. This sprint wasn't about winning the ball—it was payback for Leo Lin.
His position made it easier for him to go straight at Lukaku.
"Beep! Beep!!"
"Lukaku is down as well!"
Mourinho imdiately turned it around.
"Klopp, you piece of trash!"
"You want to play dirty, is that it?"
Klopp laughed and fired back, "You know better than anyone who started playing dirty!"
Manchester United players sward Henderson. Firmino rushed in to back him up, slamming into Lukaku and knocking him down again.
The referee showed Firmino a yellow card too, but by now, no one could hold the situation back.
A massive confrontation erupted between both sides.
In the stands, fans began lashing out as well, boos shaking the stadium.
Riot police tensed up.
The war had truly begun.
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