The mont the shot hit the net, Leo Lin exploded with joy. He sprinted toward the touchline like a rocket and threw himself straight into the air.
His agile body traced a perfect arc before crashing hard onto the turf.
But Leo Lin didn't feel a thing. Using the montum, he pushed himself up, spread his arms wide, and celebrated with sheer dominance.
"What an absolutely explosive celebration!"
"Who taught him to celebrate like that?!"
"Who taught him to show off like that?!"
"Damn, that's cool as hell!"
Even Jon Champion couldn't help letting a curse slip.
Jim Beglin beside him was equally fired up. After holding it in for a while, he finally blurted out, "Unbelievable!"
Live chat exploded.
"Leo Lin's shot was like lightning ripping through the night sky—fast as the wind!"
"Who's Chalobah? Where did Doucouré go?!"
"What kind of madness lets Leo Lin score a goal like that?!"
"He's only eighteen! Eighteen years old, scoring minutes into his Premier League debut?!"
"He stood up to Doucouré and overpowered Chalobah—this kid is unreal!"
Liverpool players sward Leo Lin. The front three wrapped around him from left, center, and right, hugging him tightly and shaking him like mad.
"I bloody love you!"
"That was massive!"
"I love this—absolutely love it!"
Firmino was especially ecstatic. Ever since Leo Lin had been promoted to the first team—and especially after beating him in the arm-wrestling contest—Firmino had taken a real liking to him, offering support and guidance within the squad.
This ti, Firmino was the first to encourage him again. Deep down, he'd always felt this young man would make a real difference for the team.
And now, that feeling had co true.
Mané even pinched Leo Lin's cheeks, as if trying to confirm whether this kid was actually real.
Only then did Leo Lin suddenly co back to his senses—the score had rely been leveled.
For Liverpool, a match against Watford was one they had to win. Three points were the goal. Leo Lin imdiately began gesturing for his teammates to head back toward their own half.
At that mont, the system notification sounded in his mind.
"Congratulations, Host. You have successfully completed your league debut mission. Reward: 150 points!"
Leo Lin was thrilled. One hundred and fifty points secured.
That alone completed half the progress needed to unlock the next skill draw. With ten points earned per match, it ant that ten consecutive wins would allow him to draw a new skill after ten gas.
Thinking of that, Leo Lin nodded happily.
In his mind, ten straight Premier League wins already felt as easy as eating and drinking—though, in reality, Liverpool had only just equalized against Watford.
That's how people are.
In fantasy, the mountains always seem endless. Only when you stand at the foot of one do you realize the distance between dreams and reality.
After the equalizer, Liverpool pushed forward aggressively. Watford stayed compact, maintaining their disciplined zonal defense and controlling the tempo.
The goal lifted Liverpool's spirits, and their movent on the pitch beca noticeably sharper.
Chalobah and Doucouré tried to repeat what they'd done in the first half—using physicality to suppress Liverpool's midfield and limit their attacks.
But they soon realized sothing had changed.
It was as if a ghost was drifting through midfield, swaying with the flow of the ga, always appearing in the right place at the most critical mont.
61st minute!
"Liverpool push forward again. Emre Can tries to carry it upfield."
"Doucouré gets a foot in—any danger?"
"Leo Lin steps in again!"
"Brilliant physical challenge! He knocks Doucouré aside and wins it back!"
"Chalobah closes from behind—Leo Lin shields it and lays it off to the right!"
"One against two!"
"Leo Lin stands firm in midfield like an immovable pillar!"
"Good lord, that's powerful!"
Even Jon Champion himself didn't realize it—this was the first ti in his long comntary career that he'd sworn twice in such quick succession.
Leo Lin's performance after coming on was simply beyond anyone's expectations.
Most fans had assud that a young player facing the physically dominant Chalobah and Doucouré would be crushed instantly.
Instead, Leo Lin stood tall in midfield, radiating one word:
Stability.
His overwhelming physical presence imdiately turned the tide in midfield, allowing Liverpool to seize control of the match's rhythm.
"Control the midfield, and you control everything!"
"From this mont on, the balance of victory has tilted toward Liverpool!"
"If Watford want to hold on to this draw, they'll need to give absolutely everything—150 percent!"
Watford did exactly that. Their forwards dropped deeper, forming a compact defensive block in an attempt to protect the draw.
With the opposition retreating, Liverpool found more space at the back. Under no pressure, Lovren even carried the ball forward himself, pushing close to the halfway line to help organize play.
74th minute!
"Liverpool on the attack again—here they co!"
"Long ball out to the right—Salah's there!"
"He cuts inside, beats one man."
"He goes again—past another!"
"Drifting toward the center!"
"He shoots—just wide!"
"Salah's curling effort grazes the post and goes out—so close to taking the lead!"
Even as Liverpool's montum surged, luck seed to have taken up residence in Watford's ho.
79th minute!
"Doucouré tries to dribble forward but Henderson wins it back."
"Henderson pushes on."
"Space on the left—finds Leo Lin. Is he thinking about a long shot?"
"Mané shoots from a tight angle!"
"Straight at the keeper—too central, chance gone."
Live chat was in a frenzy.
"Liverpool, just score already! There's no ti left—just take one chance!"
"What are they doing? Don't they know missing chances gets punished? This is football, not a ga!"
"Oh no… I've got a bad feeling. Don't tell Liverpool are about to be held by Watford."
In the broadcast, Jon Champion's voice carried a hint of concern.
"Watford have parked the bus. Their defensive setup is working, completely shutting down Liverpool's space. They need a goal quickly—ti is running out."
But the more urgent Liverpool beca, the more chances slipped away. Even by the 85th minute, there was still no breakthrough.
Then, suddenly, Leo Lin—who had been lurking in midfield—burst forward, making a late run toward the attacking third.
This wasn't part of Klopp's instructions.
But Leo Lin had spotted a gap.
87th minute!
"Liverpool keep pushing—ti is nearly gone."
"Disruptive movent—excellent!"
"Played into the middle, Leo Lin receives it."
"He drives forward—could this be it?"
Henderson and Emre Can made crossing runs, drawing defenders away. Leo Lin, ever alert, raised his hand to call for the ball.
As he turned with it, only Cleverley stood in front of him.
No hesitation.
He burst forward, dropped his shoulder to the left, and used his body to lock Cleverley out.
He forced his way past Cleverley's left side.
Now at the top of the box, four defenders stood in front of him.
Leo Lin knew carrying it any further would only close down his space.
The best option was to shoot—now.
The Riise Howitzer lit up in a flash of golden light!
Leo Lin crouched slightly, swung his left leg, and struck with everything he had.
Bang!
The shot smashed into a defender—Firmino reacted instantly and fired the rebound!
And then—
"Oh my!"
"Leo Lin creates another goal!"
"My word!"
"He's orchestrated a coback on his debut!"
"Leo Lin!"
"He'll never have to worry about playing ti again!"
"Because from this mont on!"
"Since Gerrard left!"
"Liverpool's long-struggling midfield has finally found their son of hope!"
...
Get early access (60 chapters ahead) plus other series available only on P@treon
[email protected]/GhostParser
User Comments
0 comments from readers