[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-start-with-r9-template":3,"chapter-start-with-r9-template-start-with-r9-template-chapter-133":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},1388736,1840,"Chapter 133 - 133","start-with-r9-template-chapter-133",133,"\u003Cp>Thibaut Courtois stood between the posts, his towering frame usually a source of comfort for Chelsea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But as he saw Andreas Christensen step up to confront the onrushing Ling, the Belgian goalkeeper felt his heart sink into his stomach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't dare bet on Christensen making the interception. The Danish defender's body language screamed panic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the distance between the attacker and defender closed, the eyes of 75,000 fans at Old Trafford were fixed on Manchester United's Number 7.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling didn't slow down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He charged at Christensen, his upper body swaying rapidly from left to right like a pendulum.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To Christensen, the movement was hypnotic—a blur of red where reality and deception merged into one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Christensen froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anxiety spread through his limbs like ice water. He couldn't judge which way Ling would go.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The pressure of the moment, the noise of the Stretford End, and the memory of his mistake against Barcelona all crashed down on him at once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unable to bear the torture of waiting any longer, Christensen cracked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He resolutely stuck out a foot—a desperate, lottery-ticket tackle hoping to win a prize that wasn't there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was exactly what Ling wanted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In an instant, Ling's right foot flicked outward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't just bypass the tackle; he vanished from Christensen's peripheral vision. The Chelsea defender's boot hit nothing but air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stumbled, his heart turning ice-cold as he realized he had been humiliated again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling was free.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ahead of him, the passing lanes were open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Romelu Lukaku was peeling off his marker in the center. Juan Mata and Jesse Lingard were screaming for the cut-back, their arms raised in anticipation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in this area, completely unmarked at the edge of the box?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling chose to take it himself!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He inhaled a deep breath of the cold Manchester air, his mind clearing of all noise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stride. Plant. Swing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His non-kicking foot dug fiercely into the turf, anchoring his body as he leaned sideways at a sharp angle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His right leg folded back like a loaded spring, then whipped through the ball with a sharp, terrifying whistle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tens of thousands of fans held their breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>BOOM!!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sound of the impact echoed around the stadium like a cannon shot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball deformed violently under the force of the strike before rocketing toward the goal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It flew in a straight line, rising like a blazing meteor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the perfect embodiment of aesthetic violence!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Courtois reacted at lightning speed. He launched his massive frame to the left, stretching every sinew in his body.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He got a hand to it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He felt the overwhelming force of the ball against his glove, a heavy, bruising impact.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But his wrist wasn't strong enough to stop a missile moving at that velocity and his hand was pushed back powerlessly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>SWISH!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crisp, satisfying sound of the ball hitting the net cut through the air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Courtois landed heavily and instinctively turned his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He saw the ball spinning fiercely against the white netting, tangling in the mesh as if trying to break free and soar into the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A second later, gravity took over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball dropped onto the grass, bounced twice, and lay still.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Courtois felt like the last ten seconds had been a surreal nightmare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But when he looked through the hexagonal mesh and saw the wall of red shirts behind the goal rising in unison, he knew it was real.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>WHOOSH!!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From a bird's-eye view, Old Trafford appeared to ignite.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The stands trembled under the deafening roar, a release of tension that had built up over thirty minutes of tactical deadlock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"GOALLLLLL!!!! MANCHESTER UNITED!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling didn't stop moving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sprinted dozens of meters toward the corner flag, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and ecstasy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dribble. Thunderous shot. Goal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With each accomplishment, the adrenaline spiked higher. He felt every pore opening, every cell in his body vibrating.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This sensation—this power—was why he played football.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He reached the Sir Alex Ferguson Stand. He stopped, clenched his fists, and punched the air rhythmically.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thump! Thump! Thump!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crowd roared in rhythm with his punches, a tribal chant acknowledging their new hero.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Other United players rushed over wildly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lukaku grabbed Ling in a headlock, screaming into his ear. Mata jumped on his back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were a mass of celebrating red bodies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the edge of the celebration, Paul Pogba jogged over, clapping his hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But deep down, the Frenchman felt a twinge of discomfort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For someone with Pogba's showman personality, performing before tens of thousands and receiving this kind of adulation was the ultimate drug.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He naturally wished to bask in the same glory as Ling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'That should be me,' Pogba thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'I should be the one driving forward, shooting from distance, hearing my name sung.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Mourinho's tactics had him shackled in a defensive pivot, limiting his forward runs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wanted to be the Number 10. He wanted the freedom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, David Luiz wasn't looking at the crowd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was shaking his afro wildly, celebrating with a manic grin. Then, he turned toward the Chelsea bench.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He locked eyes with Antonio Conte.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luiz slowly, deliberately, raised an eyebrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You threw me away. Now look.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"OH MY WORD! WHAT A HIT!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Martin Tyler's voice cracked with excitement in the commentary gantry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The boy is dynamite! After dismantling Chelsea's key defensive structure, Ling bypassed Christensen with contemptuous ease and unleashed a thunderbolt!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Courtois got a hand to it, but he might as well have tried to stop a freight train! The power was absolutely immense!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It is the deadlock breaker!\" Gary Neville chimed in, his voice filled with admiration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We talked about Kante. We said he was doing a job. And he was! For thirty minutes, he was brilliant.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"But that is the difference with world-class players,\" Neville continued. \"They only need one moment. Ling sold Kante the dummy, left him on the floor, and then destroyed Christensen. It is ruthless. It is clinical.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Look at the replay, Martin. The balance to shift the ball past Christensen... the Dane is terrified of him. He dangled a leg, and Ling punished him.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The internet exploded instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@RedDevil_DNA: OH MY GOD! LING HAS JUST BROKEN THE NET! 🚀🚀🚀 #MUNCHE\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@CFC_Fan: Christensen... get out of my club. He's absolutely crumbled again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@TacticalTim: Kante played the perfect game for 34 minutes. Ling ended him in 2 seconds. That is the cruelty of football.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@UnitedStand: THE POWER ON THAT SHOT! Courtois nearly lost his hand! 1-0! GET IN!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@PunditPat: David Luiz staring down Conte is the highlight of the season for me. The revenge arc is real.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the pitch, the Chelsea players were shell-shocked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"FUCK!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thibaut Courtois cursed loudly, pounding the turf with his massive fist to vent his frustration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball had been reachable, which made the failure burn even more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Andreas Christensen stood with his hands on his knees, staring at the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His stomach churned violently, the familiar wave of nausea washing over him. He wished the ground would swallow him whole.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Further up the pitch, N'Golo Kante stopped in his tracks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He scratched his head helplessly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had given his all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had followed instructions perfectly. He had studied the tapes. And yet, he had been beaten.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A flicker of disappointment crossed his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'I let him go.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the thought vanished almost instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>N'Golo Kante was not a man who stayed down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At age seven, he was scavenging through trash on the streets of Paris to help his family survive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At eleven, he buried his father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At nineteen, he was rejected by academies for being \"too small\" and was playing in the ninth division.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had fought for every scrap of food, every contract, every tackle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Over the years, pursuing his football dream had brought him countless setbacks, but each time, he doubled his efforts to overcome them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had won the Premier League with Leicester when nobody believed in them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had won it again with Chelsea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What was getting beaten once?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'It was just another tackle to be won later.'\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kante took a deep breath, regained his composure, and jogged back to the center circle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His honest, humble face was filled with a terrifying resilience.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'The game is not over,' Kante thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'I will get him next time.'\u003C\u002Fp>",1378,"2026-06-05T22:48:23.062Z",1,"novelbin.me","18d9a4923cdb29caaefa5c913f6a98d9643e584310421fbb7e65c6db92bcb334","start-with-r9-template-chapter-134","start-with-r9-template-chapter-132",371,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fstart-with-r9-template-cover.jpg"]