[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-start-with-r9-template":3,"chapter-start-with-r9-template-start-with-r9-template-chapter-117":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},1388704,1840,"Chapter 117 - 117","start-with-r9-template-chapter-117",117,"\u003Cp>The match resumed, but the dynamic had shifted irrevocably. The \"11-Second Goal\" hung over the stadium like a toxic fog.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jose Mourinho, smelling blood in the water, didn't sit back. He prowled the technical area, barking instructions in Portuguese and English.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He saw the fear in Kieran Trippier's eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He saw the hesitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Push right! Overload right!\" Mourinho screamed at Valencia and Mata. \"Isolate the kid on the left!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a ruthless adjustment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By shifting the United formation slightly to the right, he forced Tottenham's midfield to shuffle across.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This left Ling isolated on the left flank, one-on-one against Trippier. A gladiator duel where one combatant was armed with a spear and the other was holding a plastic fork.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mauricio Pochettino saw the danger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stood on the touchline, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had a choice: Stick to his philosophy or survive?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Son! Christian! Drop back!\" Pochettino yelled, his voice cracking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Spurs retreated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The famous \"To Dare Is To Do\" motto died a quiet death as Eriksen and Son Heung-min dropped into wing-back positions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tottenham shifted into a cowardly 5-4-1. Harry Kane was left stranded on an island up front, watching the ball fly over his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The home fans, packed into the tight stands of White Hart Lane, began to turn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They felt suffocated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the final season at the Lane, They wanted glory, and Instead, they were watching their team cower in their own box.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is fucking embarrassing!\" a Spurs fan in the front row screamed, kicking the advertising hoarding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Attack them! We're at home for fuck sake!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>26th Minute\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nemanja Matic won a loose ball in midfield and sprayed it wide to the left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling trapped the ball on the touchline. He didn't move immediately. He just stood there, staring at Kieran Trippier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trippier backed off, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was already suffering from PTSD from the first goal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew he couldn't dive in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he committed, Ling would ghost past him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he stood off, Ling would run at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Dele! Dele, help me out!\" Trippier screamed, his voice laced with panic. \"Get over here!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dele Alli, Tottenham's enforcer in midfield, sprinted over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dele was a different beast to Trippier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was nasty. He was physical. He was the classic Premier League \"shithouse\" who would smile while stepping on your ankle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I got him,\" Dele growled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He closed Ling down aggressively.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he came in, Dele's left hand grabbed a handful of Ling's jersey at the shoulder—a subtle, dirty tug designed to throw Ling off balance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the \"Dark Arts\" of football.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Got you now, you little shit,\" Dele muttered under his breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling felt the tug.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't complain to the referee and he didn't dive either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He decelerated sharply, coming to a dead stop.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dele, expecting a sprint, slammed the brakes, his momentum carrying him slightly too close.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling shielded the ball with his body, feeling Dele's chest pressing into his back. He glanced up, scanning the pitch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, pure instinct took over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling didn't turn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flicked his right heel backward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball rolled perfectly through Dele Alli's open legs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A nutmeg.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ultimate disrespect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oh, he's absolutely done him!\" Gary Neville gasped on commentary. \"He's sent Dele packing for a hot dog!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dele stumbled, his legs tangled in humiliation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The passing lane was wide open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Matic surged into the space Ling had created. With Dele pulled out to the flank and nutmegged, the center of the pitch was naked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Trippier is frozen,\" Neville analyzed. \"He should have covered, but he's terrified of Ling. United have the overload!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Matic drove forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He slipped a pass to Juan Mata, who had drifted into the \"Number 10\" pocket.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Romelu Lukaku began a bulldozing run into the box, dragging two defenders with him like a gravity well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jesse Lingard buzzed around the edge of the area.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the away end, the United fans began to chant, their voices echoing off the corrugated iron roof.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oh when the Reds! (Oh when the Reds!) Go marching in! (Go marching in!) Oh when the Reds go marching in! I want to be in that number!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Singing their anthem on enemy territory gave them a twisted, sadistic satisfaction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mata, seeing the white shirts collapsing into the middle, didn't shoot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He used the outside of his boot to flick a delicious switch-ball out to the right flank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonio Valencia was galloping into space. He didn't take a touch. He whipped a low, curling cross toward the back post.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn't the best cross Valencia had ever hit. It was slightly behind the play.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jan Vertonghen was marking the zone. He should have cleared it. But the Belgian looked heavy-legged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He tried to adjust his feet, got them tangled, and the ball skidded past his heel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"He's missed it!\" Martin Tyler shouted. \"Vertonghen has missed it!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball fell to the back post.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A bald head gleamed under the floodlights.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was Ashley Young, the veteran winger-turned-fullback, who had ghosted in completely unmarked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't smash it. He simply opened his body and side-footed a controlled push-shot back across the goal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bang!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hugo Lloris scrambled across his line, but he was beaten before he moved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball nestled into the side netting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>0-2 Manchester United!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"IT IS TOO EASY!\" Neville screamed. \"Tottenham are falling apart! Ashley Young finishes it off, but the build-up was magnificent!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lloris sat on the goal line, staring at the grass.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Fuck off,\" he whispered to no one in particular. \"Just fuck off.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The away end detonated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>United fans were jumping, hugging, and falling over seats. They had expected a war but they were getting a massacre instead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"WE WANT THREE! WE WANT THREE!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the middle of the red sea, a burly fan in a black jacket was jumping higher than anyone else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was screaming, veins popping in his neck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"YES! SMASH THEM! SMASH THE SPURS BASTARDS!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his excitement, he threw his arms up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His jacket zipper, which was loose, slid all the way down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The red shirts around him froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Underneath the black jacket was a bright red jersey... but it had a white cannon on the chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the sponsor said 'Fly Emirates'.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An Arsenal jersey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A United fan next to him blinked. \"Mate... what the fuck are you wearing?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Arsenal fan looked down, realized his mistake, and frantically zipped his jacket back up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Uh... nothing. Just... you know. Hate Spurs.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The United fan paused, then burst out laughing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He slapped the Gooner on the back. \"Fair play, lad! The enemy of my enemy is my friend! Get this man a beer! We're all Reds today!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"SMASH TOTTENHAM!\" the Arsenal fan screamed, raising his fist, accepted into the tribe for 90 minutes of shared hatred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, in the home end, the exodus had begun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tottenham fans were streaming toward the exits after 27 minutes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They couldn't stomach it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the touchline, Jose Mourinho wasn't smiling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was a shark who had tasted blood!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A 2-0 lead was dangerous. He knew United had been fragile lately. He didn't want to sit back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wanted to destroy their morale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He whistled sharply, calling Nemanja Matic over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Nemanja!\" Mourinho barked, grabbing the Serb's arm. \"Do not stop. Spread them out. Use the width.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mourinho pointed aggressively at the space behind Lukaku.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Make the forwards drop deep, pull their center-backs out, and then kill them with the runs in behind. Exploit Ling. Trippier is dead on his feet. Kill him.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Understood, Boss.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The match resumed, but the atmosphere had turned toxic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Tottenham players were losing their heads. Frustration boiled over them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dele Alli crunched into Mata late. Dembele left a boot in on Pogba.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pochettino's side, usually so easy on the eye, had turned into a street gang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the South American influence—if you can't win the game, win the fight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"They are losing their discipline,\" Neville noted. \"Spurs are trying to kick United off the park.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball rolled out to the left flank again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling collected it. Eric Dier was tied up with Matic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No help was coming to him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was Ling vs. Kieran Trippier. Round Three.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trippier looked like a man facing a firing squad. He was breathing heavy, sweat dripping into his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling didn't pass. He drove at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He started the step-overs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'Right foot over. Left foot over.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shifted his body weight violently from side to side, his hips swiveling like a pendulum.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"He is hypnotizing him!\" Tyler shouted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To Trippier, the ball seemed to be in two places at once. His brain couldn't process the feints. His feet felt like they were stuck in concrete.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'If I tackle, he goes past me. If I wait, he shoots.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling saw the hesitation. He saw the fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He dipped his shoulder to the left...\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>",1496,"2026-06-05T22:48:23.062Z",1,"novelbin.me","03907b8ed8f6465a5a3bdc0b13a88fec5fb2adb7a81546ff61c2615cb1e43631","start-with-r9-template-chapter-23","start-with-r9-template-chapter-22",371,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fstart-with-r9-template-cover.jpg"]