Mourinho shared their sentint.
Staring at the celebrating Ling, he suddenly broke into a wide grin.
What defines an explosive point player? It's the ability to create ti and space through individual skill, leaving opponents no chance to organize a solid defense, thereby generating opportunities for their team in attack.
And Ling? After a season of refinent, he's gradually developed the capacity to shatter opposing defenses in an instant.
Though it's not yet consistent, there's plenty of ti ahead.
On the opposing side, Brighton's coach Hughton's face contorted with rage as he roared onto the pitch, "Mark that guy out of the ga! At any cost!"
After all, no one wants to be reduced to a footnote in soone else's highlight reel.
The Brighton players snapped out of their shock, gritting their teeth and glaring viciously at Ling.
At this stage of the match, the final outco hardly mattered.
If they couldn't stop Man United from winning the title, preventing Ling from claiming the Golden Boot award would be a consolation.
Thus, when play resud, Brighton intensified their defense on the right flank, determined not to let even a fly through.
Fouls beca increasingly frequent.
Waist-high grabs, reckless slide tackles, fierce physical clashes... Under such circumstances, not even Ling—who hasn't reached his peak potential—could prevail.
Even Diego Maradona himself would have been powerless.
Manchester United quickly switched the direction of their attack, trying to stretch Brighton's defensive line and create space for Ling.
But Brighton didn't fall for it at all.
In the 34th minute of the match, Pogba delivered a precise through ball to Lukaku, who executed a burst of speed, charged into the penalty area, and fired a shot into the bottom right corner of the net.
2-0!
In the 54th minute of the match, Mourinho, watching Ling being fouled repeatedly, decisively substituted him with Rashford.
If an injury occurred because of a single match, it would be a lifelong regret for both the team and the player.
Besides, there was still the more crucial Champions League final ahead.
When Rashford delivered a cutback from the byline in the 72nd minute and Pogba followed up with a long-range screar, the match had already lost all suspense.
For the remaining ti, Manchester United kept passing the ball around in their own half.
The caras frequently panned to the stands, where many creatively designed banners were on display.
For instance, a striking Chinese slogan: "You're next!" Accompanied by the Real Madrid crest.
Another example was a massive "21＞18," symbolizing Manchester United's imminent 21st English top-flight league title.
As for what the 18 represented? It was, of course, the number of titles won by their arch-rivals, Liverpool.
This infuriated many Liverpool fans watching the match, who wished they could pull the Manchester United fans out of their TV screens and give them a beating.
'Just wait till next season!'
Beep-beep-beep!
The dull ti passed quickly, and finally, the referee blew the whistle.
The full-ti whistle signaled the end of the match, but the celebrations were just beginning, as Manchester United had secured the Premier League title one round early!
70,000 Manchester United fans raised their hands and jumped wildly.
Old Trafford seed to tremble with the excitent.
Soon after, the stadium DJ played Manchester United's anthem, and the uplifting, passionate lody burst forth.
"Glory, Glory, Man United!"
"We're the champions of england!"
"..."
Everyone seed to be in a dream.
Compared to the previous 20 titles, this one felt even more precious.
Because they had faced the strongest opponent—Pep Guardiola's Manchester City.
While Man City had achieved a 19-match winning streak, scoring 2-3 goals almost every ga and winning matches with ease, Manchester United's victories had been far more stumbling.
There were draws against weaker teams and even situations where they were overturned.
But only after enduring prolonged hardships does the final victory taste sweeter, and Manchester United fans truly understood the aning of this saying.
On the pitch at that mont, Ling stood frozen, unsure of what to do.
Reflecting on his life since rebirth, he had always aid for championships, but when the dream finally ca true, how should he greet it with what kind of emotions?
He didn't seem as excited as he had imagined, or perhaps he was overly excited.
In any case, the emotions in his heart were incredibly complex.
After a long while, Ling flashed a bright smile at the cara and waved vigorously.
He knew his parents were definitely watching.
...
Thousands of miles away, in Guofeng Shimao Residential Area, Bincheng, China.
"Congratulations to Manchester United, congratulations to Ling, for winning the 2017-18 Premier League title!"
"Since the end of the Ferguson era, Manchester United seed to have reverted to decades ago."
"The team hit a low, with poor match results, fluctuating player form, and an overall gloomy atmosphere within the squad."
"..."
Yan Lanxia and Ling Changzheng listened to the sounds coming from the television, their eyes fixed on the familiar young man on the screen.
The forr's eyes were slightly moist, her heart aching for her son's efforts.
The latter lit a cigarette, swelling with pride over his son's achievents.
Over all these years, aside from financial support, they hadn't given Ling much assistance, leaving them with a lingering sense of guilt.
They felt they had failed as parents. Of course, Ling would never think that way.
"Husband, am I dreaming? Did our son really win the championship?" Yan Lanxia asked in disbelief.
Ling Changzheng took a deep drag. "That's right, our son is the champion! And it's the Premier League of all things!"
"Do you think he'll co back this sumr?" Yan Lanxia suddenly thought of sothing.
Ling Changzheng sounded uncertain. "He should, right? He has almost a month off."
Yan Lanxia murmured to herself, "That's good. I've been learning to make lots of healthy als lately—guaranteed to be both delicious and nutritious."
Before long, Ding-dong, ding-dong—the sound broke the atmosphere in the room.
Yan Lanxia picked up her phone and opened WeChat.
There were all kinds of congratulatory ssages.
Ling Changzheng was the sa, grinning as he slowly replied.
...
The city was also going wild.
In university dormitories, boys were howling with excitent, shouting "Man United is aweso!" and "Ling is aweso!" everywhere.
So even sprinted around draped in Man United flags.
The dorm supervisors were terrified, almost dialing the police.
Although Dong Fangzhuo had won the Premier League before, he had rarely played, and it was so long ago that young people weren't familiar with him.
But Ling was different.
Chinese fans had watched him grow up—from the Man United youth team to the first team, from substitute to starter—witnessing every goal he scored.
It felt as if they had experienced it themselves.
An unprecedented excitent surged within them, making it impossible to suppress their shouts and roars.
So hurried to online shopping platforms to order a Man United No. 7 jersey, only to find that even last season's jerseys were sold out when they clicked into the official flagship store.
...
The scene shifted to Old Trafford.
Ling wrapped an arm around Rashford's shoulder. "Do you know when they hand out the Premier League trophy?"
"You don't even know that? It's definitely after the next league match. I bet you've never even touched the Premier League trophy." Rashford put on a disdainful expression.
Valencia promptly gave him a knock on the head. "You only joined the first team two seasons ago—you haven't seen it either!"
"Exactly, these youngsters can't compare to us." Ashley Young flashed a row of gleaming white teeth, his grin stretching almost to his ears.
"Ling, I wonder who's been in the Premier League for over a dozen seasons but still hasn't scored as many goals as you did in one." Scott McTominay chuckled.
The Man United veterans' faces darkened at that.
Ashley Young counted on his fingers for a long mont before slowly saying, "Well, it's not . I've scored 41 goals."
anwhile, Valencia, Matic, Fellaini, Mata, and others chased McTominay until he fled with his hands over his head, laughing all the way to the dressing room.
After this match concluded, only one final round remained in the league—Man United versus Watford, again playing at ho.
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