A surge of rage shot from Leo Lin's core straight to his head. He was furious—he had been certain that shot would go in!
Liverpool players all clutched their heads in disbelief. Everyone felt the sting of that missed chance.
So Liverpool fans had already thrown their hands into the air to celebrate—only for the Anfield post to deny them.
"What a sha!" Derek Rae sighed, shaking his head.
"Unfortunately, it seems the post at Anfield wasn't on Liverpool's side today."
"Leo Lin executed that brilliantly. That explosive feint-shot into a cut is sothing most players simply cannot do."
"He had already committed to the shooting motion, yet with sheer explosive strength and body control he twisted his body mid-action and converted it into a shot."
"Even though Neuer had already started diving, the replay shows his hand never touched the ball."
"If it had been just two centiters further to the left, it would have gone in."
"But that's what people an when they say: miss by an inch, miss by a mile."
After that miss, many neutral fans felt Liverpool's montum had run out.
"Honestly, they've played this well and still can't score. At this point it's not just about ability. Lady Luck is clearly on Bayern's side tonight."
"Does anyone else think Bayern have been incredibly lucky? Two-man advantage in the first leg, and several escapes already in this one."
"What a pity. This Liverpool team could have reached the final and restored their glory—but it might end here."
On the touchline, Klopp kept clapping furiously alongside Krawietz, shouting encouragent to his players.
Throughout Anfield, the anthem "You'll Never Walk Alone" echoed endlessly, loud and unwavering.
Ti ticked away second by second.
Bayern Munich had completely abandoned attacking.
Earlier they still shifted into a 4-2-1-3 during counters, but after the match passed the 80-minute mark—with barely a dozen minutes left including stoppage ti—Bayern fully switched to a 4-5-1.
Thomas Müller dropped deep into midfield to defend. With his superb positioning and anticipation, he repeatedly intercepted passes and shut down Liverpool's through balls.
Lewandowski, nominally the striker, hovered around the halfway line, tirelessly pressing and harassing defenders.
Bayern Munich stood united.
"Look at Bayern Munich's tactical discipline."
"If they do reach the final, they will absolutely deserve it."
"The machine-like precision that defines German teams and players."
"They're executing Heynckes' tactics ticulously—and very effectively."
"They survived the early storm after conceding two goals, then adjusted tactically, scored through Thomas Müller, and now are executing this defensive plan perfectly."
"Bayern Munich have pulled themselves back from the edge step by step through tactical adjustnts and flawless execution."
"Veteran coach Heynckes truly has extraordinary experience and tactical mastery."
Liverpool players were visibly becoming anxious.
Ti was running out.
Even Lovren began carrying the ball forward and attempting long shots, but that kind of attack clearly wasn't going to work.
On the sideline, Klopp kept shouting loudly while pressing his hands downward.
"Stay calm!"
"Stick to the original tactics!"
"Fullbacks push forward, center backs stay on the halfway line—don't give them counterattacks!"
Leo Lin was exhausted. Another brutal battle.
He could feel blood slowly seeping through the bandage on his forehead, yet he kept running relentlessly.
88th minute.
"Salah attacks down the right!"
"He cuts into the box!"
"Cuts inside—low-angle shot! Blocked by Boateng!"
"Liverpool win a corner!"
"This could be their last chance of the match."
"Once the corner is taken we'll enter stoppage ti—and that will likely only be a few minutes."
"Almost the entire Liverpool team has pushed into the penalty area!"
Alexander-Arnold sprinted to the corner flag, quickly placing the ball.
He initially intended to leave the kick to Lallana, who was walking toward him.
But then he glanced up.
Because he had gone to retrieve the ball and began stepping away from the corner spot, Bayern's defenders had relaxed slightly. They stood loosely scattered and weren't fully set yet.
But inside the box, Leo Lin—wearing number 8—was staring directly at him.
Sending a signal.
He was completely unmarked.
Inside the penalty area, Leo Lin was incredibly tense.
He had spotted the defensive lapse instantly.
His eyes locked onto Alexander-Arnold.
He couldn't shout. If he did, Bayern defenders would react imdiately.
This was a golden opportunity.
He could only hope Alexander-Arnold understood his gaze.
Leo Lin stared intensely at him—silently praying.
The young fullback had just taken two steps away when he looked up and t Leo Lin's eyes.
He understood.
Imdiately he spun around and struck the corner.
"Bang!"
Alexander-Arnold whipped in a perfectly curling cross.
The entire stadium jumped to its feet.
Boateng suddenly realized the danger.
Humls sprinted toward Leo Lin.
But it was too late.
Leo Lin rose high into the air.
Completely unmarked.
He powered a header toward goal.
Heading wasn't his strongest skill—but he was unmarked, and Alexander-Arnold's delivery was perfect.
"Bang!"
Leo Lin's header rocketed toward the top-right corner.
Every eye in Anfield followed the spinning ball as it flew toward the corner of the net.
"SWISH!!!"
Goal!!!
Gerrard nearly lost control. His eyes were already red.
"LIN!!!"
"LIN!!!"
"GOAL!!!!"
"Oh!!!"
"OMG!!!"
"GOLD!!!!"
"UNBELIEVABLE!!!"
"Can you believe it?!"
"Can you believe what just happened?!"
"Alexander-Arnold's corner of the century!"
"Leo Lin scores!!!"
"It's him again!!!"
"A header!!!"
"A last-gasp winner!!!"
"An 18-year-old has just shattered Bayern Munich's dream of reaching the final!"
"He saved Anfield!"
"He has beco the savior of Liverpool fans everywhere!"
At that mont—
Night had fallen over Liverpool.
Dark clouds hung above the city's lights.
It was already late, yet Liverpool was blazing with light.
The brightest, loudest place in the entire city was Anfield.
Tens of thousands of red-clad fans stared at one figure on the pitch.
That figure tore off his shirt and waved it wildly.
He sprinted across the field, leaped over the advertising boards, and plunged into the arms of the Liverpool supporters.
A determined face.
Muscles carved like stone.
Blood seeping through the bandage on his forehead once again.
That small figure raised both fists high—
Just like Steven Gerrard on the night of the Miracle of Istanbul.
Liverpool's never-surrender spirit had been passed down in this mont.
Bloodied Leo Lin!!!
Liverpool take the lead!!!
The corner of the century!!!
A breathtaking winner!!!
...
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