[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-start-with-r9-template":3,"chapter-start-with-r9-template-start-with-r9-template-chapter-116":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Start with R9 Template",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1388702,1840,"Chapter 116 - 116","start-with-r9-template-chapter-116",116,"\u003Cp>The ball hit the net.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sound—a sharp, violent ripppp—was the only thing audible in the entire stadium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a moment everyone on tottemham sides was stunned silent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Davinson Sánchez, Tottenham's record signing, stood frozen in the six-yard box.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked like a man who had walked into a room and forgotten why he was there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had spent the last 48 hours studying video tapes of Manchester United's number 7.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had notes on his iPad: Watch the cut-inside. Don't dive in. Force him wide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the notes didn't say anything about what to do after eleven fucking seconds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Reality crashed back in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hugo Lloris scrambled up from the turf, his face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He punched the grass so hard a divot flew up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"FUUUUUUUUUCK!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scream echoed around the silent penalty area.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had been made the highlight reel victim again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lloris turned on his defenders, veins bulging in his neck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What the fuck are you all doing?!\" Lloris roared, pointing a shaking finger at Vertonghen and Sánchez.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We haven't even started! Why are you standing there like fucking statues?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Wake up! Jesus Christ, wake up!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"They walk into our box in ten seconds! Ten seconds! What am I supposed to do?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one answered him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vertonghen looked at his boots.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sánchez looked at the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They chose silence because there was no defense for what had just happened. It was indefensible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was embarrassing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thirty yards away, Son Heung-min stood with his hands on his hips, watching the wild celebration in the corner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He felt a sick, heavy feeling in his stomach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn't just disappointment, it was a creeping sense of crisis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He watched Ling slide on his knees, surrounded by Pogba and Lukaku.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'Nineteen.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that tap-in, Ling had nineteen Premier League goals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Son clenched his jaw.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had 24 Premier League goals in his entire career so far.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The gap was closing terrifyingly fast.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The record for the most goals by an Asian player in the Premier League—a record Son rightfully felt belonged to him—was under threat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'He's catching up to me me,' Son thought, a bitter taste in his mouth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'Luck played a part today, sure. But luck follows him.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Good evening, viewers... and... well...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Martin Tyler's voice faltered for the first time in years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If you have just switched on your television sets, do not adjust the picture. The scoreline is correct.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Manchester United have launched a Blitzkrieg in North London! They have the ball in the net just eleven seconds after the referee blew his whistle!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It is absolutely unbelievable!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gary Neville, sitting beside him, was frantically checking his notes, looking stunned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It's the fastest goal of the season, Martin. Without a doubt,\" Neville said, his voice rising in pitch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I'm looking at the history books... This is the third-fastest goal in Premier League history!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ledley King is number one—9.9 seconds. Alan Shearer is second at 10.4 seconds. And now, Ling clocks in at 11.1 seconds.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Eleven point one,\" Neville chuckled, shaking his head. \"That's an unlucky number for Spurs, isn't it?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@SpursOfficial: Kickoff... and... Goal for Manchester United. 0-1.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@ArsenalFanTV: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. LADS, IT'S TOTTENHAM! WHAT DO WE THINK OF SHIT?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@RedDevil_DNA: I went to the toilet as the whistle blew. I came back and we're winning. WHAT HAPPENED?!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@TacticalTim: Is Mourinho a wizard? That was a fucking voodoo not a tactics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@LingFan99: 11.1 seconds. Lloris is officially Ling's lucky charm. Does anyone have the QR code for that temple? I need to donate five quid immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@UnitedStand: BUILD THE STATUE ALREADY!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Down on the touchline, the scene was almost comedic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mauricio Pochettino and Jose Mourinho had walked toward each other to shake hands, smiling like old friends.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The whistle blew. They extended their hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Roar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their hands were still extended, locked in a handshake that never happened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A photographer snapped the picture—two legendary managers looking like confused statues.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Slowly, silently, they withdrew their hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mourinho turned around and jogged over to Rui Faria.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His face was bewildered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"How the hell did that happen?\" Mourinho whispered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faria was laughing, gesturing wildly. \"Jones hoofed it. Lukaku bullied Vertonghen. Lingard shot. Lloris saved. Ling tapped it in. Boom. Simple.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faria wiped a tear from his eye. \"Boss, it's a shame you missed it. Maybe next time, keep your eyes on the pitch instead of hugging Poch.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mourinho shook his head, a smirk creeping onto his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Damn it. That goal has completely disrupted my game plan. But... what a wonderful February this is going to be.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind them, on the bench, the new signings were in shock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mateo Kovacic swallowed hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He leaned over to David Luiz.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Do they... do they always play like this in England?\" he asked in broken English.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>David Luiz let out a loud, cackling laugh. \"No idea, brother! It must be that Manchester United luck!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luiz leaned back, crossing his arms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had a feeling joining this team was the best decision of his life!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A few yards away, the mood was apocalyptic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mauricio Pochettino turned and viciously kicked the plastic siding of the dugout.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>BANG!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The force shook the camera mounted above the coaching area. If he hadn't ducked, the lens would have smashed him in the head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Usually, Pochettino was calm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was philosophical.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But everyone has a breaking point.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the eruption of months of accumulated stress.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The schedule was brutal—United, Liverpool, Arsenal, Juventus.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the board? They demanded Champions League football. They demanded trophies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And they gave him a budget of £40 million.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked across at the United bench. Mourinho had spent £100 million in the summer and just added more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pep had spent the GDP of a small country.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'It's impossible,' Pochettino thought, the bitterness rising in his throat. 'How am I supposed to compete with this?'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he forced himself to breathe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was the leader. If he cracked, the team cracked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He strode to the technical area, clapping his hands aggressively.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Heads up! Focus!\" he screamed at Dier and Dembele. \"Establish the line! Press them! Do not let them breathe!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The match resumed. But the damage was done and Spurs were rattled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>United, sensing blood in the water, launched an aggressive press.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They didn't sit back and they hunted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The effect was immediate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under pressure from Lingard and Matic, Tottenham's midfield crumbled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The passing lanes were cut. The ball ended up back at Jan Vertonghen's feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked up. Panic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dier was marked. Sánchez was marked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The nearest open teammate was twenty yards away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vertonghen couldn't risk losing it again. He did the only thing he could—he hoofed a miserable, high ball upfield.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That is food and drink for the defenders,\" Neville noted on commentary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Harry Kane battled bravely, fighting through the sandwich of Smalling and Phil Jones to flick the header on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But United were sharper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonio Valencia snapped onto the loose ball, beating Son to the punch. He played a crisp diagonal pass to Pogba on the left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>United broke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Watch this transition,\" Neville said. \"Pogba clips it long... to Ling!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball soared toward the right flank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kieran Trippier, Tottenham's right-back, was caught too high. He backpedaled frantically, terror in his eyes. He knew he didn't have the legs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling killed the ball dead with his chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He faced Trippier up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is a mismatch,\" Neville said. \"This is what we call 'isolated dominance'.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pochettino had played Trippier for his crossing ability, hoping to pin United back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he had overlooked one fatal flaw: Trippier couldn't defend one-on-one against elite speed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling dropped his shoulder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trippier froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling blew past him on the outside like he was standing still. Trippier tried to grab his shirt, but he grabbed only air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"He's ghosted pass him!\" Tyler shouted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling reached the byline. He looked up. Romelu Lukaku was charging into the box.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling whipped a low, hard cross toward the near post.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lukaku arrived like a freight train and he met the ball on the volley.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thwack!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The net rippled—but it was the side netting. The ball whistled inches past the post.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crowd groaned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lukaku stomped the turf in frustration, spitting on the grass.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Fuck!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned to Ling and gave a thumbs-up. \"Great ball, kid!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I forgot you're left-footed!\" Ling shouted back, grinning. \"I should have played it a yard further forward!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lukaku waved him off, laughing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>United were purring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were 1-0 up, playing at the Devil's Home Ground, and they looked like they owned the place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---------\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Read 30 chapters ahead and support me on patreon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>patreon (.)com\u002FNewbietranslator\u003C\u002Fp>",1437,"2026-06-05T22:48:23.062Z",1,"novelbin.me","41cfdc05b110944fcd9f583127c613411d291df41523d4ef3a7dad1645a59216","start-with-r9-template-chapter-22","start-with-r9-template-chapter-21",371,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fstart-with-r9-template-cover.jpg"]