"Ling is like ," Jose Mourinho had once told Jorge ndes over a bottle of wine. "He craves challenges from his very core. He isn't satisfied with just being good; he wants to conquer. But I think he has even greater ambitions than I did."
Back then, Mourinho had stunned the world by leading a Porto squad of cast-offs and aging veterans to the pinnacle of European football.
Now, ndes looked at the eighteen-year-old sitting across from him and wondered: Could Ling do the sa? Could this teenager challenge conventional wisdom, rewrite the landscape of world football, and create a new era defined by his na?
ndes abruptly looked up from his espresso.
He realized he had still underestimated the young man. Ling didn't just want a career; he wanted a legacy.
His path had to be spectacular, unforgettable, and paved with gold, even if it was strewn with thorns.
"That makes perfect sense," ndes said, a broad, genuine smile spreading across his face.
He leaned forward, his voice low and intense.
"You focus on your training. Leave the business, the dia, and the contracts to . I believe we will write a new story together. A big one."
The conversation between agent and player soon ca to an end as the pact sealed with a handshake.
...
Before they knew it, March 10th had arrived.
The relentless machine of the Premier League churned on, marking the start of the 30th round.
Manchester United traveled to Wales to face Swansea City at the Liberty Stadium.
The rain lashed down in sheets, typical Welsh weather, but United started with a fire that defied the cold.
"Ling receives it on the touchline," Martin Tyler's voice echoed through the broadcast. "He's isolated against Andy King. Oh! The Cow Tail! He has turned him inside out!"
On the pitch, Ling's movent was liquid. With a flick of his ankle, he executed the Elastico, leaving King stumbling in the wrong direction.
Ki Sung-yueng rushed over to cover, throwing his body into a physical challenge.
"Ki cos across to body him," Gary Neville analyzed from the gantry. "But look at the strength! Ling muscles right through him! That is incredible physicality for a winger of his size. He just bounced him off!"
Ling drove into the box.
Rolu Lukaku was occupying the center-backs, shielding the ball with his back to goal, but Ling didn't need the layoff.
He spotted a gap at the near post and unleashed a vicious ground shot.
Bang.
The ball fizzed past Łukasz Fabiański before the Polish goalkeeper could even set his feet.
"It beats Fabianski! In the 24th minute, Manchester United take the lead!" Tyler cried. "Fans, just think back to the match against Swansea at the start of the season. Ling was raw then. Now? His progress is visible to the naked eye. He is dominating gas."
The montum was entirely with the Red Devils. Just five minutes later, the situation on the pitch changed again. Ling cut inside from the left flank, dragging three white shirts with him like a magnet.
Seeing the space open up on the opposite side, he reversed a diagonal pass to the overlapping Ashley Young.
Young didn't hesitate. He whipped a low, curling cross into the corridor of uncertainty.
"Lukaku!"
The Belgian striker threw himself at the ball, his forehead eting it with a thunderous impact.
"Heading it ho! Beautiful!" Neville shouted. "Just five minutes after the opener, Manchester United extend their lead! This is ruthless efficiency."
Inside the Liberty Stadium, the mood was somber.
Swansea fans rose from their seats in despair and began filing out of the exits.
Even with nearly sixty minutes left to play, they simply couldn't bear to watch any longer. This season, Swansea had faced Manchester United three tis across the Premier League and the EFL Cup, and they had been dismantled every single ti.
While Huddersfield had managed to salvage so pride with an FA Cup victory, Swansea faced the grim prospect of a clean sweep of defeats.
As the match resud, United shifted gears.
They focused on defending to conserve energy for the upcoming fixtures, sitting deeper and inviting Swansea onto them, only to spring lethal counter-attacks using Ling's pace.
In the 67th minute, the trap sprung again.
David Luiz won the ball in his own half with a crunching tackle and decisively passed to Mateo Kovačić.
The Croatian midfielder elegantly evaded pressure with a neat half-turn, spotting a run on the right flank.
He delivered a laser-guided through ball over the top.
"Mateo with the vision... and Ling beats the offside trap!" Tyler scread. "He's in! One-on-one with the keeper!"
Fabiański charged out of his box, trying to narrow the angle, desperation etched on his face.
"Here cos the classic Pendulum Dribble!"
Ling dropped his shoulder left, then right. The legendary move of the Brazilian Ronaldo.
Fabiański bit on the fake, diving to his left. Ling calmly pushed the ball the other way and slotted it into the empty net.
"Beautiful! A brace for him!" Neville exclaid. "Who can break the curse of Ling always scoring in one-on-one situations? He is ice cold!"
"Technically," a pundit in the studio noted later, "De Gea saved one in training last week..."
"We are talking about official matches!" the host laughed. "That brings his league goal tally to 27. He overtakes Salah once again to claim the top spot in the scoring charts."
When the referee blew the final whistle, the score remained 0-3.
Manchester United took all three points and a clean sheet back to England.
...
anwhile, across the country, the title race and the battle for the Golden Boot were heating up.
At the Bet365 Stadium, Manchester City comfortably defeated Stoke City 2-0, with David Silva scoring twice.
The "Blue Moon" army had completed their transformation under Pep Guardiola. Regardless of the opponent, they played with surgical precision. Guardiola watched his celebrating players with a stony expression.
He couldn't help but recall the final match of 2017—his only defeat, at the hands of Manchester United.
He was determined to knock the Red Devils off their perch.
The 2017-18 title, in his mind, could only belong to City!
....
At Anfield, the atmosphere was electric.
Liverpool thrashed Watford 5-0, and Mohad Salah was in scorching form.
The "Egyptian King" scored four goals—two in the first half, two in the second—and provided an assist.
He was involved in all five goals.
Salah demonstrated terrifying efficiency, racking up goals against weaker sides while consistently scoring against top opponents.
Jurgen Klopp's heavy tal football was designed to feed him, and he was feasting.
Social dia was ablaze with the rivalry.
@RedDevil_DNA: "Ling scores a brace and looks unplayable. The Golden Boot is coming to Old Trafford."
@LiverpoolLad: "Salah just scored FOUR goals in one ga. Ling who? The Egyptian King is clear."
@NeutralFan: "This Golden Boot race is better than the title race. 28 vs 27 goals in March? These numbers are ssi/Ronaldo levels."
Elsewhere, Arsenal lost a crucial match 1-2 to Brighton, dropping back to sixth place.
Arsène Wenger looked helpless on the touchline; the "Wenger Out" banners were unfurled once again.
At Stamford Bridge, Chelsea scraped a 2-1 win over Crystal Palace thanks to an Olivier Giroud winner, keeping Antonio Conte in a job for one more week, though rumors of Maurizio Sarri taking over were already circulating.
Tottenham bounced back from their Champions League exit with a 4-1 win over Bournemouth, with Harry Kane scoring twice to keep his own slim Golden Boot hopes alive.
...
On the club bus heading back to Manchester, the mood was light, but Ling was focused on his phone.
He was browsing the updated Premier League top scorers list.
Mohad Salah (Liverpool): 28 Goals
Ling (Man Utd): 27 Goals
Harry Kane (Tottenham): 25 Goals
Sergio Aguero (Man City): 21 Goals
There was a steep drop-off after the top four.
Ling frowned slightly. Salah was scoring for fun. If the Egyptian maintained this rate, snatching the Golden Boot would be incredibly difficult.
However, fate had scheduled a showdown.
After the midweek Champions League fixtures, Liverpool and Manchester United were set to face off directly at Old Trafford.
'Two goals,' Ling thought, staring at the screen. 'As long as I score two goals in that match, I can overtake him again.'
The Golden Boot wasn't just about honor for Ling.
It ant a "Platinum Treasure Chest" from the System.
The rewards from the Gold chests had been powerful; a Platinum chest could be ga-changing.
He needed to score as many goals as possible in the remaining seven rounds.
It wasn't impossible.
He just had to be perfect!
---------
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