The mont the ball hit the net, Leo Lin sprinted toward the sideline and dropped into an impassioned knee slide!
As his knees skimd across the turf, he slowly straightened his upper body, arms spreading wide with the motion.
In the Spanish comntary booth, Casillas jumped to his feet and applauded.
"Pure elegance!"
"A perfect finish!"
"A flawless knee slide!"
"Lin!!!"
"He's scored for Spain!"
"Beautiful!"
"It's level! Both teams are back on the sa starting line!"
Teammates rushed over, piling onto Leo Lin in a roaring heap. Equalizing just before halfti sent morale through the roof.
The Spanish fans inside the stadium erupted in celebration. In front of TV screens everywhere, countless young supporters stared at Leo Lin with stars in their eyes.
"Dad, I'm going to beco a midfielder like Leo Lin soday!" said a boy in a Spain number ten shirt, sitting rigidly in front of the television.
A kind-looking man patted Rodri on the shoulder.
"Rodri, you're already twenty-one. Lin is only eighteen."
Rodri didn't mind at all.
"So what? He may be younger than , but right now, I think he's better."
"He's my goal."
Scoring the equalizer just before halfti left Leo Lin buzzing. Spain celebrated for a long while before finally returning to their own half.
Once play resud, the remaining minutes passed quickly, and both sides headed into the dressing rooms.
The first half had been exhilarating, gripping every fan's attention. Viewership numbers kept climbing, and the atmosphere in the stadium had reached a fever pitch.
"At the start, things did catch us a bit off guard," Denia said in the locker room. "But I'm glad you adjusted quickly and adapted to their rhythm."
He was midway through his speech, trying to fire the players up, when he suddenly felt that soone closer to their age might be even more effective.
After a mont's thought, his eyes landed on Leo Lin.
Leo Lin was sitting in the middle of the locker room, drinking water and chatting with Ferran Torres about first-half details.
Out of everyone there, he looked the most relaxed.
"Lin, say a few words," Denia called out suddenly.
Leo Lin paused, surprised to be singled out at that mont, but he stood up and walked to the front.
"Honestly, I don't have much to say.
"I don't feel nervous at all, because I'm confident we're going to win.
"We won all three group matches. We beat that so-called iron-tough Mali.
"Tens of millions of fans have placed their hopes on us. We have enormous support behind us.
"So there's no reason for us to feel tense or back down because of any difficulty."
Leo Lin swept his gaze across the room, eting every teammate's eyes.
"I don't know if we'll ever get the chance to fight side by side again after this U17 World Cup. This might be our final song together.
"We've put in far too much effort to reach the semifinals.
"I honestly don't care about the process.
"People always tell to enjoy the journey and not worry about the result.
"But I don't care how much sweat or how many tears the process costs.
"All I want is for our effort to help us beat our opponents."
"Guys, gather in."
Leo Lin raised his left hand high.
Every young player lifted their left hand and linked arms together.
"Everything for football!" Leo Lin shouted.
Everyone roared back in unison, "Everything for football!!!"
...
The second half kicked off!
The tactical battle turned into a direct collision, and the tension on the pitch continued to rise.
Both sides had chances. Both could create real scoring opportunities. Yet both relied on tough, uncompromising defending to keep the other out.
The match grew more exciting and more intense by the minute.
55th minute!
"Midfield battle! Tchouaméni carries the ball—and Leo Lin steps in with another head-on interception!"
Every ti Tchouaméni tried to drive forward, Leo Lin t him squarely.
Facing Leo Lin, Tchouaméni stretched out an arm, trying to hold him off and buy himself a mont.
Leo Lin ignored it completely, driving his shoulder through the contact and forcing his way forward.
As Leo Lin closed in, Tchouaméni twisted the ball to the right, attempting to shield it.
But Leo Lin surged in relentlessly, muscling Tchouaméni aside from the flank.
A brutal tackle!
Caqueret rushed over, Da Cunha pressed from behind—three players swarming him at once.
Using his strength, Leo Lin shielded the ball, stumbled to the ground, and just managed to stab it forward with the tip of his boot.
Beitia collected it, drove forward, and switched play to the left. Spain's attack suddenly opened up.
"One-on-one against Lacroix, Góz looks to go down the line again!"
"Foul! The referee shows the yellow card!"
"Lacroix doesn't allow Góz another chance to cross!"
"Spain win a free kick on the right side of the attacking third."
Leo Lin stepped up to take it, raising one arm high.
France imdiately assud he was signaling a set play, and their defenders tensed up.
In reality, there was no plan at all—Leo Lin was just stretching his arm.
A short run-up.
He strikes!
"A curling delivery toward the far post!"
"Good trajectory!"
"Diving header!"
"Oh! Ruiz misses the chance to put Spain ahead!"
"Under pressure from Konaté, Ruiz couldn't generate enough power, and the goalkeeper gathers it with both hands!"
Ruiz held his head in frustration, while Leo Lin loudly urged everyone to retreat.
France imdiately launched a quick counterattack.
The goalkeeper restarted play rapidly.
Gouiri dropped deep and flicked on with a header to the right!
Adli took off with the ball!
Miranda tid a perfect sliding tackle, clearing it away and drawing loud applause from the Spanish supporters.
"The pace of transitions is incredible. Neither side can afford a mont's lapse!"
"One mistake, and it could be a fatal counterattack!"
They contained each other, attacked each other, and ti slipped away second by second.
By the 70th minute, the score was still 1–1.
Denia made his substitution, bringing on the more attack-minded Victor in place of Miranda.
"Spain want even more going forward. They're trying to settle this in normal ti!"
The tension thickened. Spanish fans waited anxiously for the breakthrough.
Leo Lin kept running tirelessly, hunting for the decisive chance.
76th minute!
"France try to counter again—looking for Adli!"
"Victor is fresh and quicker, and he wins it back!"
"He drives down the wing! Adli chases, but he can't catch him!"
"Góz offers support out wide, dragging Lacroix with him."
"Snap!"
"Snap!"
"A one-two! Beautiful!"
"Victor reaches the byline!"
The perfect opportunity arrives.
This is the mont Leo Lin has been waiting for.
He bursts forward, looping around Tchouaméni with a clever run.
As he reaches the left edge of the penalty arc, Victor cuts it back with a reverse triangle pass.
That familiar Spanish cutback again!
Perfect weight on the ball, leaving Leo Lin just enough space for his run-up.
Two quick steps.
Leo Lin's eyes lock onto the ball.
Gerrard's heavy cannon gleams brilliantly.
A surge of power floods his body, pouring straight into his feet.
Drawing the bow.
Like an eagle spreading its wings, he unleashes the thunderous shot.
"Bang!!!"
Straight into the bottom-right corner!
"Swish!!!"
Goal!
"Hahahahaha!" Derek Rae explodes with excitent.
"My goodness!!!"
"A brace!!!"
"Leo Lin! He's done it again!!!"
"Stepping up at the most crucial mont!"
"Leo Lin scores twice in the U17 World Cup semifinal!"
"What a remarkable young player!"
"What a sensational performance!"
"Among all these young players—"
"Among his peers—"
"He exists on an entirely different dinsion!"
"An overwhelming presence!!!"
...
(60 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser
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