"Oh my!"
"Oh my!!!" Derek Rae shouted.
"What kind of match are we witnessing right now?!"
"Liverpool have scored again! The aggregate score is level!"
"Leo Lin risked everything to set up Mané's low finish. Liverpool have seized their opportunity early in the second half!"
Across livestream platforms, the comnt feeds exploded.
ssages poured in so fast that many streams began to lag.
There were simply too many viewers.
Too many reactions.
Because the brilliance of this match had far exceeded anyone's expectations.
"To make it through the storm, you need more than skill—you need courage like Leo Lin!"
"Lin! The Liverpool player who excites the most!"
"What more can you say? This is football—just enjoy it!"
"Wait… is Lin injured? Did I just see blood?!"
In order to deliver the assist, Leo Lin had lunged forward to push the cut-back pass.
His body lost balance and pitched forward, his forehead scraping violently against the outside edge of the left goalpost.
If not for his powerful core strength twisting his body sideways at the last mont, his shoulder would have slamd into the post as well.
It wasn't a full collision—just a scrape.
But at that speed, it felt to Leo Lin like a knife had sliced across his forehead.
Derek Rae saw the close-up replay.
"Leo Lin has a cut on his forehead. It looks a little over one centiter long, and the blood is flowing freely!"
"Liverpool's dical staff are sprinting onto the pitch with the dical kit!"
Anfield instantly fell silent.
The score had just been leveled, yet nobody celebrated.
Every fan stared nervously at Leo Lin, who lay on the ground clutching his forehead while blood seeped through his fingers.
Bayern fans sensed a glimr of hope.
So of them leaned forward, staring intently at Leo Lin.
At that mont, their greatest wish was simple—
That Leo Lin would be substituted.
"This doesn't look good. The blood is already seeping through Leo Lin's hands."
"The broadcast cara is showing Bayern supporters. Just look at their expressions. I won't say they wished for Leo Lin to be injured, but now that it's happened, I can say they definitely hope he goes off."
"They want him substituted. So far in this match, Leo Lin has one goal and one assist—directly involved in both Liverpool goals."
"Even though Thomas Müller's brilliant run earlier gave Bayern the aggregate lead, Leo Lin imdiately responded by assisting Mané to level the tie."
"Unfortunately, under the current scoreline, Bayern would still advance."
"Because Müller's goal was an away goal. Under the Champions League knockout rules, if the aggregate score is tied, the team with more away goals progresses."
"So Liverpool still need one more goal to secure a place in the final!"
"It's cruel—but that's football."
In the studio, Steven Gerrard stared nervously at Leo Lin.
At that mont, his feelings were the sa as every Liverpool fan.
No Liverpool supporter wanted to see Leo Lin substituted.
He was the core of the team.
The true driving force on the pitch.
"I think you should co off, Lin," the Liverpool team doctor said after examining him.
"The wound is fairly large. A simple bandage won't completely stop the bleeding. And it's a tear, not a closed cut. Every ti you exert force, the wound could reopen and split wider."
Hearing this—
Leo Lin smiled.
Yes.
The broadcast cara zood in on him.
Blood running down half his face—
And he was smiling.
He patted the doctor on the shoulder.
"Every Bayern fan wants substituted right now."
"But that's exactly why I have to stay on the pitch."
"Don't worry."
"It's just bleeding."
"Bandage it."
"If you take off now, you might as well just kill ."
One doctor imdiately began treating the wound.
Another ran over to Klopp.
This wasn't a decision the dical staff could make alone.
They had to report the situation honestly.
The broadcast cara turned to Klopp.
Liverpool fans began to worry.
Judging by the doctor's hurried pace and anxious expression, the situation seed worse than expected.
After hearing the report, Klopp looked toward Leo Lin.
Leo Lin looked right back.
In that gaze—
Klopp saw burning determination.
He saw an unyielding fire.
Klopp slowly shook his head.
If he were thinking only about protecting the player, he would substitute Leo Lin imdiately.
But looking at him now—
He knew he could never take this warrior off the battlefield.
To do so would be an insult to a fighter's honor.
"No substitution."
"Absolutely not."
Leo Lin nodded and smiled at Klopp.
By that mont, the dical staff had finished bandaging the wound.
Every fan in Anfield stood up.
All eyes locked on Leo Lin.
When they realized he would not be substituted—
A deafening roar exploded across the stadium.
And not just inside Anfield.
Liverpool fans watching at ho, in pubs, on the streets, and everywhere around the city erupted in celebration.
The entire city of Liverpool was shaking.
Inside the stadium, it began quietly.
One fan shouted.
Then two.
Then hundreds.
Then tens of thousands.
"MVP!!!"
"MVP!!!"
"MVP!!!"
Leo Lin simply smiled freely.
He blew a one-handed kiss toward the Liverpool supporters—
Then prepared to return to the pitch.
Watching it all unfold, Derek Rae spoke with deep emotion.
"This is Leo Lin."
"Just look at the love Liverpool supporters have for him."
"He has practically beco the new king of Anfield."
"This is what it ans to be a truly complete midfielder!"
...
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