In the 12th minute of the match, CSKA Moscow, stinging from the early goal, orchestrated a beautiful and incisive attacking move.
It started with their "New Tsar," Dzagoev.
He received a sharp pass from his teammate in midfield, took one clever touch, and deftly lofted the ball over the head of Nemanja Matić.
It was a pass that exposed the primary vulnerability of a three-center-back formation, especially one that Manchester United didn't use often.
The high positional demands left a gap, and a hole appeared in the central defense.
Aleksandr Golovin, the 21-year-old prodigy, saw it instantly.
He suddenly accelerated, a blonde blur ghosting into the heart of the defense.
He controlled the ball and evaded Chris Smalling in one fluid, terrifying motion before decisively taking a long-range shot from just outside the 18-yard box.
Thump!
With a dull, heavy thud, the ball was struck with venom.
It swerved, it dipped, and it arrived in front of the goal in an instant.
David De Gea, who had been a spectator, reacted with superhuman speed.
He launched himself to his right, his body fully parallel to the ground, and with his strongest hand, managed to palm the rocket of a shot wide.
A world-class save.
CSKA Moscow fans, who had been on their feet, clutched their heads in collective disappointment. But just as quickly, the dismay turned to pride.
A unified, spirited roar erupted from the shirtless home supporters.
"HOORAY!!! HOORAY!!! CSKA!"
They believed. They had seen a crack in the armor.
As long as they maintained this level of play, they could surely equalize or even turn the match around.
On the sidelines, José Mourinho was apoplectic.
He spun away from the pitch, his face dark, and angrily waved his arms.
"Keep the press! Intensify in the midfield and the attacking third!" he roared, his voice cutting through the noise.
"Don't be stupid with the ball in our half! When you win possession, long passes! Forward! Quickly!"
Manchester United's primary tactic for this match was clear: utilize Romelu Lukaku's immense strength as a target man to create vertical space for Jeremy Ling, allowing the winger to maximize his 1-v-1 dribbling strengths against a slow backline.
But just moments earlier, the United players, perhaps lulled by their early goal, had attempted to advance through slow, short passes.
This compressed their own formation, invited the press, and led directly to the vulnerability Golovin almost exploited.
The match continued.
In the 17th minute, CSKA Moscow won a corner on the right side.
Golovin, his confidence high, trotted over.
After signaling to his teammates, he delivered the ball directly toward the penalty spot.
But the delivery was poor.
The football swerved inward too severely, a gift for the man in goal.
De Gea, exuding an aura of utter calm, leaped high above everyone, plucking the ball from the air with two hands.
He didn't dally. Using all his strength, the Spaniard hurled the ball out like a javelin, a 60-yard "grenade" toward the center circle.
The counter-attack was on.
Manchester United's players, drilled for this exact moment, swiftly surged forward, resembling an unstoppable iron cavalry.
They aimed to drag the game into open, chaotic play.
The Russians were naturally robust; they could leverage their physical advantage in the pushing and shoving of a set-piece defense.
But that very same physical, heavy-set build made it difficult for them to cope with rapid, high-speed transitions.
As the football dropped toward the center circle, Romelu Lukaku, who had already anticipated the ball's landing point, was in motion.
"Romelu, here!"
Ling shouted at the top of his lungs, accelerating down the left flank while simultaneously keeping his head up, his eyes tracking the frantic movements of the scrambling defenders.
Hearing the familiar voice, Lukaku forcefully held off Wernbloom, using his body as an unmovable shield.
He met the ball in the air and delivered an impeccable, cushioned flick-on header, perfectly into the space Jeremy was attacking.
Under the gaze of tens of thousands of fans, Ling deftly controlled the ball, killing its momentum with one perfect touch of his right boot.
He didn't even wait for it to settle.
He immediately exploded forward with a powerful burst.
He kept the gaffer's instructions in his mind.
He couldn't just be a speed merchant.
He had to make it harder for them to defend.
At that moment, CSKA Moscow's formation, which had been set for a corner, quickly shifted.
Both wing-backs dropped straight back, sprinting toward their own penalty area, aiming to intercept Jeremy Ling with sheer numerical superiority.
But Jeremy Ling hadn't wasted a single one of his tactical training sessions.
He knew exactly how to make this attack more threatening.
As he approached the byline, he gradually slowed down, a clear, telegraphed signal of his intent to cut back onto his right foot and into the penalty area.
Viktor Vasin, the defender who had been skinned for the first goal, naturally couldn't let him have his way.
He decisively stepped out to confront him, calling desperately for his teammate, Mário Fernandes, to provide cover.
Seeing the two players charging at him from front and back, forming a pincer, Jeremy Ling slightly spread his arms.
He adopted a familiar ball-protection stance, his body low.
He suddenly dropped his shoulder, faking the cut-inside hard.
Having witnessed Ling's convincing feints just minutes earlier, Vasin didn't dare recklessly stick a leg in.
He planted his feet, bracing for the cut.
But in that very instant, as Vasin froze, Ling didn't cut inside.
He had bought himself the half-second he needed.
He swung his right foot and, with perfect technique, struck the bottom of the football, whipping it.
Bang!
The ball soared.
It was a brilliant, arcing rainbow of a cross, flying with pace and precision toward the far post, over the head of the last defender.
Romelu Lukaku, who had never stopped his run, discreetly placed his hands on the defender's shoulders.
It was a veteran move, just enough to gain leverage without drawing a foul.
He used it to leap high, rising above the defense, and executed a Belgian-style thunderous finish.
His header was pure power.
The goalkeeper, Akinfeev, reacted quickly.
He got his hand up.
But unfortunately for him, he encountered the type of point-blank, powerful rebound that goalkeepers despise most.
He could only watch in despair as the ball brushed past his palm and bulged the back of the net.
0-2!
After scoring, Lukaku didn't celebrate alone.
He roared, pointed right at Ling and ran with him toward the corner flag.
There, the two struck a pose: back-to-back, arms crossed celebration.
"WHOA! WHAT A GOAL!"
"Beautiful cross, beautiful header! A devastating counter-attack from Manchester United!"
"In the 17th minute of the match, Manchester United adds another goal! From De Gea's hands to the back of the net in less than 15 seconds!"
"Darren, look at Lukaku and Ling! They are absolutely tearing this CSKA backline to pieces!"
Darren Fletcher's voice was electric.
"Steve, that was textbook! De Gea's throw, Lukaku's flick, and the pace and delivery from Ling... that was special."
Steve McManaman was audibly impressed.
"That's what you call a 'Mourinho' goal, Darren. A rapid transition. But the quality... look at this cross from Ling. He doesn't just blast it. He slows down, he buys the space, and he whips it to the perfect spot. Lukaku can't miss from there. What a connection those two are building."
On the pitch, the other Manchester United players gathered around, watching the two celebrate on their own.
Their expressions were tinged with a bit of "Dad" resentment.
Ashley Young was the first to jog over, pressing them with a grin.
"Alright, when did you two secretly practice that? You're leaving the rest of us out!"
Ling just chuckled twice, wisely choosing not to answer.
Lukaku followed suit, scratching his head with a foolish, happy grin.
By the pitchside, José Mourinho could no longer contain his confusion.
He turned to Rui Faria. "How has Ling's recent training been going? His data."
"Why... why does it feel like he has improved so suddenly? Again."
"Very good, boss. All his stats are improving," Faria said, rubbing his chin as he voiced his professional speculation. "His power output, his recovery... it's all trending up. It might just be his growth period. He's still young. Sometimes, it just clicks."
Then the coaching bench fell silent.
Mourinho certainly knew that players experience rapid growth phases, or "golden periods," during their careers.
Some even have multiple. He didn't dwell on the "why" for too long.
He just turned back to the pitch, a rare, satisfied look on his face.
Soon, the match resumed.
The Manchester United players' morale was soaring.
They felt full of energy, continuing their intense high pressing, using this relentless approach to suffocate their opponents.
Even with CSKA Moscow's famed resilience, they couldn't organize an effective high defensive line.
They were terrified of the pace.
They were forced to constantly retreat and compress their formation, getting pinned down in their own penalty area.
With United's wing-backs, Blind and Young, pushing forward like extra attackers, Jeremy Ling was able to drift inside, taking on the role of a "nine-and-a-half."
Combined with Mkhitaryan drawing away defenders, he became even more effective.
He delivered two more precise through balls just outside the box to Lukaku within the next ten minutes.
Had the Belgian not been so unlucky with his finishes—narrowly missing the target both times—the scoreline would have changed again.
In the 28th minute: Mkhitaryan, finding space, unleashed a long-range shot. It deflected off a defender and spun out of the box.
Wernbloom controlled the ball and quickly advanced forward.
A swift counter-attack for CSKA!
Wernbloom spotted an opportunity and passed to the diagonal forward.
The "New Tsar" Dzagoev attempted to control and dribble past Matić in one move.
But the Serbian was a rock.
He read the play, stuck out a long leg, and intercepted the ball.
As everyone knows, the most dangerous moments in football occur during transitions.
At that very moment, CSKA Moscow's formation had just spread out, and they completely failed to retreat in time.
Matić played a simple, diagonal long ball to Jeremy Ling, who quickly drove forward.
Vasin, the beleaguered marker, was torn.
He was terrified.
Is he going to cross? Is he going to cut inside?
Before he could decide, Ling didn't even bother to feint.
He took one look and crossed it with his left foot, carving a beautiful arc toward the center of the box.
The delivery wasn't as perfect as his last one, but it didn't need to be.
Lukaku used his brute physical strength to muscle past the aging Berezutski, winning the header again.
This time, Akinfeev was well-prepared, barely parrying the powerful header away with his forearm.
But CSKA Moscow's crisis wasn't over.
Henrikh Mkhitaryan, who had followed the play, was lurking.
The rebound fell perfectly to him.
He darted out and completed the lethal follow-up shot, smashing the ball into the open net.
0-3!
In less than 30 minutes, the match seemed to have lost all its suspense.
Of course... seemed.
Because CSKA Moscow's nickname wasn't just for show.
They were the "Red Army."