[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-start-with-r9-template":3,"chapter-start-with-r9-template-start-with-r9-template-chapter-144":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},1388752,1840,"Chapter 144 - 144","start-with-r9-template-chapter-144",144,"\u003Cp>The match at Old Trafford settled into a rhythm that could essentially be described as a tactical stalemate, orchestrated entirely by Jose Mourinho.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the 38th minute, United won a free kick on the left flank. Paul Pogba stood over the ball, surveying the box before lofting a high, curling delivery toward the penalty spot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Romelu Lukaku wrestled with Simon Kjær, but the Belgian striker, noticeably heavier due to his recent muscle gain, failed to generate his usual vertical leap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kjær cleared the danger, and the moment fizzled out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From then on, Manchester United engaged in a fierce midfield battle, prioritizing defensive shape over attacking flair. They were content to let Sevilla hold the ball in harmless areas, waiting like a coiled spring for a counter-attack that didn't need to be rushed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sevilla, wary of the pace of Ling and Rashford, hesitated to commit too many bodies forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Compounded by Vincenzo Montella's indecision on the touchline, the Spanish side's efforts were toothless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It has gone a bit flat here, hasn't it Gary?\" Martin Tyler noted on the commentary. \"United got the early goal and have decided that is enough entertainment for one half.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It is professional, Martin,\" Gary Neville replied. \"Mourinho is thinking about Sunday. He is killing the game.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The referee blew the halftime whistle to a ripple of polite applause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aside from the lightning-fast opening goal, the first half had been a masterclass in game management, if not excitement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside the home dressing room, Mourinho kept his speech brief. He didn't need to shout. He praised the discipline and instructed them to stick to the plan: secure the victory at the lowest possible energy cost.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looming large in his mind was the weekend's fixture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liverpool were coming to Old Trafford for the North West Derby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jurgen Klopp's side, bolstered by the colossus Virgil van Dijk and the free-scoring Mohamed Salah, were a different beast in the second half of the season.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mourinho needed his soldiers fresh for that war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the adjacent dressing room, Montella was trying to rally his troops with impassioned speeches about pride and history, but without tactical solutions, his words rang hollow against the locker doors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The second half resumed, and the pattern remained unchanged. United absorbed pressure with arrogant ease.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, in the 76th minute, the trap was sprung.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lukaku, using his immense strength, backed into Kjær near the center circle, holding up a long ball before flicking a header out wide to the left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Rashford was onto it in a flash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young Englishman carried the ball to the byline, chopped back onto his right foot, and curled a devious cross that bypassed the entire Sevilla defensive line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ball drifted toward the far post.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It's a great ball!\" Tyler shouted. \"And look who is there!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ling had ghosted in from the right wing, completely unmarked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He simply opened his foot and cushioned a side-footed volley back across the goal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The net rippled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ling finishes it! 2-0 on the night, 4-1 on aggregate! That is game, set, and match to Manchester United!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The section of the stadium housing the tour group from China exploded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Wei and his fellow travelers were jumping up and down, their cheers piercing through the roar of the Stretford End.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had traveled thousands of miles for this moment, and their hero had delivered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Clinical,\" Neville said. \"He does absolutely nothing for twenty minutes, then pops up in the six-yard box like a veteran striker. His movement is scary.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The rest of the match was a formality. Sevilla's players moved like zombies, their spirit broken. In stoppage time, Ling nearly added a second, his curled effort grazing the outside of the post, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peep-peep-peep!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The final whistle confirmed it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Manchester United were in the quarter-finals!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@RedDevil_DNA: \"Quarter-finals baby! First time since Moyes! Mourinho is cooking. Bring on anyone! #MUFC\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@TacticalTim: \"Boring game after the first goal, but who cares? Professional job. We move to Liverpool on Sunday.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the post-match press conference, Mourinho was in his element.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sat back, radiating the kind of confidence that borders on arrogance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Manchester United last reached the quarter-finals in 2014,\" Mourinho began, reminding everyone of the club's recent failures before him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Since then, nothing. So, I must praise the lads. They are stronger, more united, and they showed great resilience.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Mr. Mourinho,\" a journalist asked, \"what are your targets now? The semi-finals?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mourinho raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. \"Semi-finals? I do not play for semi-finals. I only fight for the championship.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The room buzzed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pens scribbled furiously. It was classic Mourinho box office—creating a narrative of dominance that few other managers could pull off. When asked about his preferred opponent for the next round, he shrugged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The draw is random. I don't know. Whoever we face, we will give them hell.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While United celebrated, drama was unfolding elsewhere in Europe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Six hours later, at Wembley Stadium in London, the mood was apocalyptic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tottenham Hotspur had crashed out. Despite taking an early lead through Son Heung-min, Spurs had collapsed in the second half against the wily Juventus.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gonzalo Higuaín and Paulo Dybala scored two goals in three minutes, overturning the tie with ruthless Italian efficiency.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mauricio Pochettino hurled a water bottle into the turf, screaming \"Damn it!\" as the final whistle blew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His team had played the better football, but they lacked the \"dark arts\" required to win in Europe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the other touchline, Massimiliano Allegri simply adjusted his tie, his expression unreadable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@SpursyOfficial: \"Lads, it's Tottenham. We fucking bottled it again. How did we lose that? #COYS\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>@JuveFan: \"Football is played for 90 minutes, not 45. This is the history of the Tottenham.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another two hours later, at the Camp Nou in Barcelona, a different kind of masterclass was taking place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the 63rd minute, Lionel Messi received a pass from Ousmane Dembélé. The Argentine genius, sporting a bushy beard that fans called his \"Gold Miner\" look, danced through the Chelsea defense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He skipped past Antonio Rüdiger, nut-megged Andreas Christensen, and fired a low shot past Thibaut Courtois.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>3-0 Barcelona.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Messi raised both hands to the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was his 29th goal of the season, and he looked unstoppable!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under Ernesto Valverde, Barcelona remained unbeaten in the league and were cruising in Europe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Valverde smiled from the sideline; he was building a machine to rival Guardiola's era!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the match ended, Chelsea were out and the miracle they were hoping for never came.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonio Conte faced the cameras in the tunnel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The stress of the season, the failed transfers, and the player power struggles finally boiled over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't hold back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The players played with fear,\" Conte spat, looking like he had torn a handful of hair from his own head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"They were selfish. And the individual mistakes? Christensen played like shit. You cannot win Champions League games when you defend like children.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a bridge-burning interview.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Conte knew the end was near. Rather than wait for the mutiny to consume him, he had decided to light the match himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>---------\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Read 40 chapters ahead and support me on patreon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>patreon (.)com\u002FNewbietranslator\u003C\u002Fp>",1197,"2026-06-05T22:48:23.062Z",1,"novelbin.me","28d31e2f92600afda087fd39ab0c792f29a82bdd8c0db6365271bad2d345d8b0","start-with-r9-template-chapter-44","start-with-r9-template-chapter-43",371,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fstart-with-r9-template-cover.jpg"]